The Summer Project: The last Wisconsin July (2000)
Most of these summer recollections have been from my youth. After 18 years out west, I wanted to share one from my adulthood: the summer we moved from Madison to Utah.
Lori and I had known a change was coming. I had interviewed in Salt Lake in early June, and other newspapers were calling. Initially, The Salt Lake Tribune didn't hire me -- I found out later the paper was looking to hire a little cheaper than what I was already at. But there was no rush. Lori and I settled into another Madison summer ... and summers in Madison and Wisconsin were always great.
Then around the beginning of July, I got a call asking if I still wanted the job. Another opening happened, and they now needed someone experienced to come in to fill the void. I got the offer on a Saturday, Lori and I took all day Sunday to decide if we wanted to make such a bold move, and Monday, I accepted. We had a little more three weeks before I started, and we would make the big move in about six weeks so Lori could finish up her last class at the UW.
Three weeks and I would no longer be a Wisconsinite.
So there was packing those three weeks, of course. But it was still a Madison summer. I was still working. We still had plans that were made and people to see amid the upheaval.
I don't remember what we did for July 4, which was a Tuesday night -- probably not much because I would have worked the next morning. I finished out the softball season.
We went with friends to Spring Green to see "Midsummer Night's Dream." We met first at a bar for drinks, then saw the play. The whole time, I felt a little bittersweet -- I was going to miss these friends, and I was going to miss just being able to go out on a Saturday night, get some beers, and enjoy summer (I knew I was in for working every Saturday night for the first time in my career because neither of my previous jobs had Sunday editions). I wasn't even sure if I could easily get beers in Utah ...
Lori's sister and her family camped at Devil's Lake, and we drove up for a few hours on a weekday afternoon/evening. We hiked and had dinner. This was fun, but again, it felt like a goodbye.
Lori's family also came down to bring some things back up north. Her nephew told us that her mom said "I wish things wouldn't change."
I'm sure I walked the Elver Park trail and looked at the capital from the top of the hill one more time. I'm sure I jumped into the apartment complex's pool one last time. I'm sure I rode my bike on the trail I used to enjoy west of the city.
I think my coworkers threw me a going away party, because I know I received a Capital Times jacket and hat (I still own both) as a parting gift. Maybe it was at Alt 'n' Bach's? Or that bar by the Coliseum? Or maybe I'm thinking of after a last softball game? And that's the thing -- these last days in Wisconsin were such a paradox, because I didn't want them to end, but I also wanted to go. As a result, the time is just a blur.
On the last day of work, I said my goodbyes and left and -- this I'll never forget -- "Californication" by the Red Hot Chili Peppers was playing on the radio as I drove onto Fish Hatchery Road toward downtown to pick Lori up. I hear it now and still think of that day. We didn't move to California, but we did move west, and the song just seemed to fit.
That Thursday, we loaded up the Corolla and drove to Chicago. My friend Marc was getting married and I was in the wedding party. The ceremony was on a Friday, and Saturday we saw family and other friends. Again, the mood was somber. My high school friends we hung out with that night were never that far away, but they would be now.
The next morning, we left my Mom's around noon, drove down to the I-88 tollway and headed across Illinois toward Utah. We had packed the Corolla as much as we could, with enough stuff for me to get through a couple weeks. It took a day and a half to get to Salt Lake. We had a day to find an apartment, and Lori would fly back to Madison. I'd fly back a couple weeks later (and my first days in SLC will be for another blog post) and make the big move, and we would officially be Utahns.
We've never regretted moving to Utah, and we love the life we have here. But those last couple weeks, in retrospect, were rough -- and not just because physically moving sucks. We chose to go, but for the first year or two, the pull to move back after the Olympics was strong. Our friends all had kids around the same time, and a little part of me wishes all the kids could be good friends too because we'd be close. Plus, we missed the Midwest. In fact, that was the only drawback of moving to Utah was moving away from Madison.
But ... it was time. And after the Olympics, we discovered something -- we loved Utah and felt fortunate to have landed someplace this special. That said, I think we needed to pull the Band-Aid off quicker on the move. Three weeks wasn't much and was frenetic, but during a Madison summer, during my favorite time of year, amid so many people to see and adventures remaining, everything seemed then, and now, kind of heartbreaking.
Maybe it would have been easier if we moved in November ...
Lori and I had known a change was coming. I had interviewed in Salt Lake in early June, and other newspapers were calling. Initially, The Salt Lake Tribune didn't hire me -- I found out later the paper was looking to hire a little cheaper than what I was already at. But there was no rush. Lori and I settled into another Madison summer ... and summers in Madison and Wisconsin were always great.
Then around the beginning of July, I got a call asking if I still wanted the job. Another opening happened, and they now needed someone experienced to come in to fill the void. I got the offer on a Saturday, Lori and I took all day Sunday to decide if we wanted to make such a bold move, and Monday, I accepted. We had a little more three weeks before I started, and we would make the big move in about six weeks so Lori could finish up her last class at the UW.
Three weeks and I would no longer be a Wisconsinite.
So there was packing those three weeks, of course. But it was still a Madison summer. I was still working. We still had plans that were made and people to see amid the upheaval.
I don't remember what we did for July 4, which was a Tuesday night -- probably not much because I would have worked the next morning. I finished out the softball season.
We went with friends to Spring Green to see "Midsummer Night's Dream." We met first at a bar for drinks, then saw the play. The whole time, I felt a little bittersweet -- I was going to miss these friends, and I was going to miss just being able to go out on a Saturday night, get some beers, and enjoy summer (I knew I was in for working every Saturday night for the first time in my career because neither of my previous jobs had Sunday editions). I wasn't even sure if I could easily get beers in Utah ...
Lori's sister and her family camped at Devil's Lake, and we drove up for a few hours on a weekday afternoon/evening. We hiked and had dinner. This was fun, but again, it felt like a goodbye.
Lori's family also came down to bring some things back up north. Her nephew told us that her mom said "I wish things wouldn't change."
I'm sure I walked the Elver Park trail and looked at the capital from the top of the hill one more time. I'm sure I jumped into the apartment complex's pool one last time. I'm sure I rode my bike on the trail I used to enjoy west of the city.
I think my coworkers threw me a going away party, because I know I received a Capital Times jacket and hat (I still own both) as a parting gift. Maybe it was at Alt 'n' Bach's? Or that bar by the Coliseum? Or maybe I'm thinking of after a last softball game? And that's the thing -- these last days in Wisconsin were such a paradox, because I didn't want them to end, but I also wanted to go. As a result, the time is just a blur.
On the last day of work, I said my goodbyes and left and -- this I'll never forget -- "Californication" by the Red Hot Chili Peppers was playing on the radio as I drove onto Fish Hatchery Road toward downtown to pick Lori up. I hear it now and still think of that day. We didn't move to California, but we did move west, and the song just seemed to fit.
That Thursday, we loaded up the Corolla and drove to Chicago. My friend Marc was getting married and I was in the wedding party. The ceremony was on a Friday, and Saturday we saw family and other friends. Again, the mood was somber. My high school friends we hung out with that night were never that far away, but they would be now.
The next morning, we left my Mom's around noon, drove down to the I-88 tollway and headed across Illinois toward Utah. We had packed the Corolla as much as we could, with enough stuff for me to get through a couple weeks. It took a day and a half to get to Salt Lake. We had a day to find an apartment, and Lori would fly back to Madison. I'd fly back a couple weeks later (and my first days in SLC will be for another blog post) and make the big move, and we would officially be Utahns.
We've never regretted moving to Utah, and we love the life we have here. But those last couple weeks, in retrospect, were rough -- and not just because physically moving sucks. We chose to go, but for the first year or two, the pull to move back after the Olympics was strong. Our friends all had kids around the same time, and a little part of me wishes all the kids could be good friends too because we'd be close. Plus, we missed the Midwest. In fact, that was the only drawback of moving to Utah was moving away from Madison.
But ... it was time. And after the Olympics, we discovered something -- we loved Utah and felt fortunate to have landed someplace this special. That said, I think we needed to pull the Band-Aid off quicker on the move. Three weeks wasn't much and was frenetic, but during a Madison summer, during my favorite time of year, amid so many people to see and adventures remaining, everything seemed then, and now, kind of heartbreaking.
Maybe it would have been easier if we moved in November ...
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