I’ve only lived in Wisconsin for fifty years, but that likely qualifies me as one who is keenly aware when deer hunting season trots into view. And I know who Brett is, or was, or whatever. Hanging on my Christmas tree is a tiny green and gold Packer ornament with a jersey reading “OO” which is about where Brett is these days. Old heroes go down hard, but you’ve got to wonder when BF hit the turf in Minneapolis, if his head, or the turf, suffered the greater damage. I’m also fond of cheese curds.
We have a few heroes in this building, but they mostly hide. For awhile we had Mr. Ken Macha entrenched. Oprah’s mother lives here too, but she’s hardly a heroine. Or maybe she is. I sometimes see her wafting through the lobby, dressed to the nines, ready for her “Chaufee” limo to pick her up. One day I strolled downstairs and Oprah herself was sitting in a chair, all lovely in a chic tweed suit. Surrounded by mountains of the most beautiful luggage I have ever seen, she was reading a book. I was startled when she looked up and greeted me. That’s my O story.
Ex Packer great, Willie Davis is around when he’s in town from L.A. and one year The Five Card Studs played rock n roll in one of the hallways, but other than that, nothing much happens here. Gossip swings through the halls like Tarzan on a greased vine.
Do judges count as celebs? We have a few. Developer Boris Gokhman used to come and go, but not so much these days, as he’s likely busy with New Land Enterprises. Attorneys live here too, or did I mention that? Perhaps the most unusual couple is the Mr. and Mrs. who are genuine firepersons. Or maybe not.
For all the swells in the building, there aren’t that many “vanity” license plates and most of the cars are ho-hum, with the exception of a Masserati and one electric car that is near an outlet. Here and there are golf carts, motorcycles and bicycles (we are very near the Oak Leaf Trail). Now that winter has set-in, many parking stalls are empty, or rarely used. as the owner’s are getting their vitamin D’s in Sedona or Florida. The exercise room, a place I avoid studiously, is silent as a tomb, except on the weekends when a few bodies stagger in to work the StepMaster, and/or run like hamsters on infinite walkways, all the while watching the big television in case good news shows up which it seldom does.
Last year we did have some excitement on New Year’s Eve. A rather expansive party of young people came into the outer lobby and when they were unable to access a party in the building, the leader of the pack, a toned young woman wearing boots and a mini, kicked the door open. Caught on the security tape, it was not a pretty sight, but all ended well when restitution was made and the door was straightened out and the expensive glass replaced. That was some kick…she’d make a great Packer punter.
And to you and yours, a happy New Year.
