50 for 50: 1994

YEAR: 1994

AGE: Turned 24 on Nov. 6

LOCATION: Milwaukee's East Side, Prospect Avenue, then Prospect Avenue

CUBS' RECORD: 49-64

SONGS I LIKED: "Better Man" by Pearl Jam; "Rocket" by Smashing Pumpkins; "Allison Road" by the Gin Blossoms; "Hold My Hand" by Hootie and the Blowfish

MOVIES I SAW: "Reality Bites"; "Schindler's List"; "Pulp Fiction"

TV SHOWS I WATCHED: "Fraiser"; "Mad About You"; "The Real World: San Francisco"

MUSIC VIDEOS I ENJOYED: "Buddy Holly" by Weezer; "Black Hole Sun" by Soundgarden

VIDEO GAMES I PLAYED: Super Mario Brothers 2, Solitaire Fun Pack

CONCERTS I SAW: Stone Temple Pilots/Meat Puppets; Depeche Mode/The The; Pink Floyd

Lori and I moved in together in October 1994. She had moved into the a small apartment close to downtown, and I was living with my friend Matt in an apartment on Prospect Avenue that was maybe a mile away from hers. But I was spending probably five nights a week at her place -- so much so that I never quite got settled in on Prospect. (One time, her dad was visiting for a several days and I stayed at my apartment, prompting Matt and his girlfriend to wonder if we had broken up ...)

So, getting a place together was the next logical step. We wanted to stay on the East Side, and we ended up really lucking out with the apartment we found, a few blocks up Prospect from my current place. It was on the eighth floor of an eight-floor building, and though there was a taller building behind us, if we craned our necks in either direction, we could see the lake. The apartment had hardwood floors, a dining room, and built-in bookshelves. The roof had a deck on it where you could enjoy the view or lounge in the sun. The building was at least 80 years old and had a classic charm to it.

Oh, the apartment also had old, small elevators -- the kind in which the door swung open, you walked in, the door would swing back to close and the inside door would slide across, and then your ride would begin. Most of our belongs fit into this elevator (on multiple trips, of course), but my couch with a fold out bed wouldn't. We could actually get the couch in, but once it got to the eighth floor, a radiator prevented the door from fully opening, and those couple inches less reduced the space just enough from getting the couch out.

My friends and I tried everything while Lori and other friends brought up stuff in the other elevator, but nothing worked. Taking the door of the hinges wasn't an option -- we would have screwed up the elevator and it was too difficult. We went to a different floor and it didn't work, either. Reed and Rey managed to convince me that the answer was making the couch a little smaller by sawing through a board in the front bottom of the couch and bend it through. I don't know why I agreed to this, but we gave it a try and ... all it accomplished was maiming the couch, still stuck in the elevator.

At one point, the door accidentally closed, and the elevator with the couch -- without any humans aboard -- traveled to another floor, presumably to the surprise of people waiting. Finally, we took the couch back to the first floor. I held my breath that we could get the couch out the door there, but we did. Walking the couch up eight floors on not the easiest staircase took a long time ...

The move was exhausting. Our kittens were a little freaked out during the experienced and hid under the bed as we tried unpacking. We had left the door open, and after meeting our neighbors, one of their big cats -- this thing walked like a bulldog -- wandered in to see what was going on. Iago, our orange tabby, moved cautiously toward it and hissed, as if to say "This is our apartment, not yours!" The other cat wasn't in the mood to argue, turned around and walked out. The cats felt at home after that, then kept us awake by running around their new place all night.

We lived in the apartment for only a year, but we loved it. We were close enough that we could walk to the lake, down to Summerfest, or to Celebrity Club to see Pat McCurdy. Work wasn't far away for either of us (Lori was working at Northwestern Mutual and took a short bus ride into downtown), and many of our friends were living on the East Side, too. 

The only drawback -- not really a drawback, just some weirdness  -- was the building across from us: A priest lived in the apartment from outside our window and had a white closet painted black on the inside, which made the life-sized white statue of the Blessed Virgin Mary all the more easier to see. He would pray to that statue at all hours, and Lori once saw him doing so in his underwear.

But that's just part of the memory of that apartment and a wonderful time in our lives that would only get more wondrous. A year later, we moved to Madison and loved it there, but the apartment and the experience didn't quite compare to our time on the East Side. 

We repaired the couch (pictured here with the metal bracket we drilled in to connect the wood we sawed through) and still have it in our basement. At least when we moved out, we didn't even attempt the elevator -- and walking it down eight flights wasn't as difficult. 

Leaving that apartment and Milwaukee was difficult, but new adventures awaited.