I was chatting with a friend yesterday but had to cut the conversation short because I had plans.
“I’m off to see the Statue of Liberty,” I told her.
“Umm, okay,” she responded. “Didn’t know y’all moved to NYC.”
Well, we didn’t (though with our continued eastward migration, it feels like that’s only a matter of time, ha). But in the past few weeks, we’ve been transported to Norway and Switzerland via Wisconsin. Why not the Big Apple, too?
Why not, indeed.
I’m the guy who goes out of his way to see kitschy attractions like the SPAM Museum in Minnesota and Carhenge in Nebraska, so when I saw an Instagram post touting an inflatable Statue of Liberty on frozen Lake Mendota – the centerpiece of the Wisconsin Union’s annual Winter Carnival – I knew I had to visit in person. It reminds me of a scene from the 2004 disaster flick The Day After Tomorrow. The one starring the less-sexy Gyllenhaal sibling (though I suppose some might disagree).
Like so many other Madison traditions, this one started out as a college prank. In 1979, the Pail and Shovel Party, led by two UW-Madison alumni, made a campaign promise to bring the Statue of Liberty to Madison if elected. When they won, they erected a styrofoam Lady Liberty head, arm, and torch on Lake Mendota that February. The tradition continues to this day, though they have since upgraded to a more durable inflatable version.
Getting a photo free of people in the foreground wasn’t easy. Have you seen those Instagram vs. Reality photos that depict the truth behind some of the most popular destination shots?
Yeah. This was like that.
I staked out a spot with good sitelines and waited. And waited. And waited. Time and again, groups would pose for selfies right in front of me. I don’t blame them; it’s a pretty good photo opp (and Lady Liberty was only there for a day and a half). Eventually, I figured there’d be enough of a break in the crowd to snap a pic, and after about 15 minutes, my patience was rewarded.
The ice was extremely slippery, by the way. I mean, I know that’s the very nature of ice, but when you’ve got crowds of hundreds traipsing back and forth over the same spot, it wears it down even more. I almost fell on my ass with the first step I took onto the ice, slipping and sliding comically, arms flailing in a desperate attempt to maintain balance. Graceful I was not, but a little embarrassment was a small price to pay for not falling and breaking a limb. Every step I took afterward was very carefully orchestrated.
In the end, totally worth it. I ventured into the city solo, because Tara came down with a cold and was in no mood to leave the apartment. I parked my car at Olin-Turville Park on Lake Monona and walked the 2.1 miles to the carnival, through downtown and across the UW-Madison campus, then down State Street and past the Capitol on the return leg. I ended up with about 16,000 steps for my efforts, but the sun was shining and the temp reached the upper 30s. All in all, a pretty comfortable winter’s day, and a very scenic stroll.
Walking along the bike path that parallels Lake Monona transported me back to early August, when I drove out to Madison on a clandestine reconnaissance trip. I couldn’t help but recall walking along this same path a mere six months earlier, when it was hot and humid and we’d decided we were going to roll the dice once again, give up everything we’d worked so hard to achieve in Rapid City, and start a new life in America’s Dairyland.
My thoughts were preoccupied with the enormity of such an undertaking that day. The city was right there, gleaming and beautiful, and I wanted it badly…yet it felt maddeningly out of grasp. I wondered if the whole idea was destined to be nothing more than a pipe dream, something that would come up in casual conversation while sitting around our patio in Rapid City. Hey, remember that time we had that crazy notion to move to Wisconsin? Because at the start of August 2022, a lot of different things had to fall into place perfectly for us to have any chance of turning this dream into reality. Finding a job and an apartment to rent from 772 miles away, selling our house, moving, and finding a perfect house out here. It all felt hopelessly daunting.
Even after miraculously pulling off those first four feats in record time, we still had to contend with our new landlord, The Todd.
We met The Todd the day we moved in, on Sept. 1, and took an instant disliking to him. Because as we were signing our lease paperwork, we made a spur of the moment decision to change the terms from one year to six months, opting to pay more per month in exchange for the freedom to leave sooner should that perfect home appear. When we told The Todd our plan to to buy a house and move out in March, he was very dismissive. Especially when we talked about how we wanted land for gardening and privacy from neighbors, among other things.
“Ha! Good luck with that!” he said. “I’ve been in property management for years and there’s shit for inventory out here. You’re going to have a really hard time with that!”
Which, first day in a new apartment (already a sacrifice) in a new state, when we were already feeling a bit homesick and out of sorts, questioning whether this big gamble had been the right or smart thing to do, was not what we wanted to hear.
To be fair, The Todd isn’t a complete dick. He’s always been responsive to our maintenance needs, and when our fridge didn’t work the first few days, he credited us $50 off our October rent without any prompting. His biggest sin might simply be a lack of the warm-and-fuzzies.
What The Todd failed to realize was the fact that his new tenants were master manifesters. Because here we are, preparing to move into a new home with lots of land for gardening and privacy from neighbors, in March. Exactly as predicted.
That’s enough reflecting for one day. We’ve got a Super Bowl to watch (though that 5:30 start time will take some getting used to) and things to do. Let’s go, Eagles!
Mark My Words 
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