In a slightly fuller version of this story, the witness is quoted as saying, “My thought was that he had been drinking. People who have not been drinking don’t do that,” he said. “It’s not a good time to jump in the river.”
I like it that after the goose-chasing river-jumper was rescued, he was arrested on an outstanding warrant for bail-jumping. So you have two forms of jumping right there.
Where the river-jumping season has passed but the peppermint schnapps-drinking season began last week and will continue through the second week in May.
Actually, this past week was the truly dangerous time. The overlap between Oktoberfest beer-drinking and the beginning of the peppermint schnapps-drinking season drives many to such follies as plunging into chilly rivers in pursuit of one-legged geese.
My husband’s first act of journalism was covering a man’s jump into a river in the Midwest during wintertime. Something about a marriage gone bad and too much beer consumed. The man died.
But he still doesn’t understand my refusal to go to the Midwest during the hard winter no matter how many times I explain it. I just have a rule against traveling to places where you can die by GOING OUTSIDE!
Carole, I’ve got a secret. I learned it my first year in Wisconsin. You dress properly, which allows you to go out and experience wonders!
I did not have proper clothing my first winter. But I do now, so if you come visit in January or February, I can suit you up and we can go have us a time.
Sheila, I remember a camping trip in Colorado in November or somewhere around there where I determined to purchase all that I needed before so that *this time* I would not be cold. I was cold. God dammit. I was cold.
Deron, were you wearing silk undies? That’s one of the keys. I advise anyone coming to visit my part of the world in January or February to buy silk undies — unless, of course, they’d like to borrow from me.
I met two men this week at a dinner at Mount Vernon under a tent, and not the camping kind. One man and I were “freezing” and the other was “burning up.” The “burning up” man was from Louisiana and the “freezing” man from the Midwest. So, there went my theory about where a person is raised.
And I do have all sorts of cold weather gear, Shelia. Long johns and so much down that I look like a tractor tire by the time I have it all on. And then I get annoyed that I am living in a place where I have to spend that much time putting on all those clothes and taking them off again. So I’m mad all winter. There’s no hope for me at all.
In a slightly fuller version of this story, the witness is quoted as saying, “My thought was that he had been drinking. People who have not been drinking don’t do that,” he said. “It’s not a good time to jump in the river.”
River-jumping time has come and gone.
And the goose had only one leg. If he hadn’t been drinking, he should have been able to catch it before it got to the river.
There is much to ponder here.
I like it that after the goose-chasing river-jumper was rescued, he was arrested on an outstanding warrant for bail-jumping. So you have two forms of jumping right there.
At least.
I called “Wisconsin” before clicking the link
As: “Only in Wisconsin.”
Where the river-jumping season has passed but the peppermint schnapps-drinking season began last week and will continue through the second week in May.
Actually, this past week was the truly dangerous time. The overlap between Oktoberfest beer-drinking and the beginning of the peppermint schnapps-drinking season drives many to such follies as plunging into chilly rivers in pursuit of one-legged geese.
My husband’s first act of journalism was covering a man’s jump into a river in the Midwest during wintertime. Something about a marriage gone bad and too much beer consumed. The man died.
But he still doesn’t understand my refusal to go to the Midwest during the hard winter no matter how many times I explain it. I just have a rule against traveling to places where you can die by GOING OUTSIDE!
Carole, I’ve got a secret. I learned it my first year in Wisconsin. You dress properly, which allows you to go out and experience wonders!
I did not have proper clothing my first winter. But I do now, so if you come visit in January or February, I can suit you up and we can go have us a time.
It. Is. So. Quiet. You’d love it.
Sheila, I remember a camping trip in Colorado in November or somewhere around there where I determined to purchase all that I needed before so that *this time* I would not be cold. I was cold. God dammit. I was cold.
Oh, I’d never promise anyone they wouldn’t be cold here in the winter! But I’d make sure they didn’t die of it.
Deron, were you wearing silk undies? That’s one of the keys. I advise anyone coming to visit my part of the world in January or February to buy silk undies — unless, of course, they’d like to borrow from me.
silk! fleece! down! wool! goddammit.
I met two men this week at a dinner at Mount Vernon under a tent, and not the camping kind. One man and I were “freezing” and the other was “burning up.” The “burning up” man was from Louisiana and the “freezing” man from the Midwest. So, there went my theory about where a person is raised.
And I do have all sorts of cold weather gear, Shelia. Long johns and so much down that I look like a tractor tire by the time I have it all on. And then I get annoyed that I am living in a place where I have to spend that much time putting on all those clothes and taking them off again. So I’m mad all winter. There’s no hope for me at all.
The suiting and un-suiting routines grow very old, it’s true. So much so that over the years I’ve trained myself to wear less and less winter gear.
I love my mukluks, but damn.
And then there is that Michelin Tire Man look. Not alluring.
P.S. I like the idea of your having met a Burning-Up Man and a Freezing Man. Under a tent.
I met Alfre Woodard too!
Under a tent but not in a dream.
We were sitting in Martha and George’s back porch chairs staring out at the Potomac. Not under a tent and not a dream.