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This is a story that, at it’s essence, is all about making friends. It seems simple enough, meeting people, getting to know them, finding common ground, having a few drinks, and exchanging contact information. But the way Ian Abston tells it, if you’re a newbie here in Milwaukee, it is something that’s very...
Summer 2018. The day was a grey heat. Air that hung to you. It was the first full day of World Cup matches, and Three Lions Pub was humming, expectant. Spain and Portugal weren’t facing off for another couple of hours.
On Mother’s Day, I decided to spend my time with a friend. My friend James is one of those people who always knows something exciting going on. He has an unmatched zest for life and when he proposed we go to the Milwaukee Museum Mile at noon that Sunday, I gladly said yes. He always has good intel on neat happenings in the city.
If you’ve attended an event hosted by Milwaukee Film, there’s close to a 100% chance you’ve run into or at least seen Kristopher Pollard. I have run into him on and off over the years, and have always meant to sit down and have a chat with the man who, as membership director, has grown the organization from the 400 or so members they had when he started to nearly 5,200.
The summer I returned to the Midwest, my parents took me with them to the sprawling garden center in the country by their home to pick out the flowers they felt were missing from their already ornate planting beds.
Every time I see a pregnant woman I think of it as a rare sign of optimism. Well, baseball season is starting so there’s that too. But to bring a human being into this world seemingly takes a lot of courage these days given the current political, environmental and social climate.
It’s time for my mea culpa, Vampire Weekend.
I have been gluten free, except for the breaded fry incident back in December, for about four months. Before you groan and stop reading because you don’t want to hear about somebody else’s diet for the millionth time, I want you to know I was you a few months ago.
Passed away. Passed on. Laid to rest. Crossed over. Bit the dust. Kicked the bucket. With Jesus in Heaven. On the other side. Sleeping with the fishes. These are some of the ways we refer to people who have gone to their eternal rest or, in other words, are dead.
I’m a guy who is only slightly past middle age. And like most people my age I tend to have a penchant for the past. I still think Abbey Road is the greatest album of all time. I think the greatest era of film is the 70s. I still kind...
Growing up in the 90’s, the concept of “Stranger Danger” was drilled into my head. I remember my school making us watch disturbing videos about ominous windowless white vans and how we were to run, RUN kids, in the opposite direction if we were to see one.
As we’ve grown to annoyingly expect, at the end of each year, Facebook’s news feed is consumed with post-after-post of friends, family members, and old acquaintances sharing their New Year’s resolutions.
Sorry for the pretentious rant, but The Oscars are just not what they used to be.
There has always been a part of me that has been a cowgirl. As a kid, I wore cowboy boots, collected a menagerie of porcelain horses, had a favorite stuffed horse that I took on vacation with me, and in summer I visited my friend Marcia whose pony would buck and kick when he got tired of me riding him bareback.
So you made it through the polar vortex of 2019. Me too! I had a lot of time to think during those bitter cold days and I thought a lot about my values, my hopes, my dreams.
It was a typically warm summer night in St. Louis, and Phil Sklar and Brad Novak pulled up to Busch Stadium to take in a ballgame. They love baseball, and taking in a game wasn’t out of character for them. They went to games all the time.
Written and drawn from the perspective of a 5’4″ midwesterner
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