Revisiting Green Bay, Wisc - Part Two.

I miss my young friend Jerry Sule, a Plumber in Green Bay, Wisconsin although we still keep in touch through the Internet links. When he was w=about seventeen the two of us drove from Green Bay all the way down to the Southern most of New Mexico, I was in my thirties then and was a student at the University of Wisconsin at Green Bay, UWGB. The trip was part of my program for my Independent Studies at the University. I designed my own course through a program called , University Without Walls, a program set up by the UW-Madison, Wisc. I qualified myself to be allowed the program which included having a grade 3/75 average and writing a letter of proposal and deliberating my intention which was handed to four different faculty members at the University and later an interview by the same Professors to make sure I knew what i was doing. I did not have to appear before and meeting and was given the green light. My first trip was to England ad later followed by the trip to The South Western States of New Mexico, Arizona and Colorado. The rest was history that I most probably have repeated umpteen times in this lengthy Blog. #greenbaywisc, #uwgb, #uwmadison, 

I owed the Sulle Family a debt of gratitude for having been allowed to sleep in their basement while I was going to school at UWGB. Mrs. Mariane Sulle was like my mother and Chuck Sule was like an older brother who accepted me into his family despite having five young boys of their own. During those days it was told that the Sule Brothers rule Green Bay, you get into trouble with one and you bear the consequences of meeting the other four. I remember getting into trouble at a bar called The Duck Duck Goose located in on East Main Street and was about to be knifed by a Mexican when I saw a large arm held the man in a strangle hold and I saw it was Jerry Sulle who happened to be there. I eat, sleep and shit the Sules' on Hickory Drive and got to know Tanya the Husky bitch who likes to snap at your fingers if you try to be nice to her but after sometime we got to know each other and I enjoyed walking her around the area. My first boy, The Naz, used to visit me and got know Tanya better than I did. During these years of my life I used to call it of Basement and Boxes, Unsui - The Way of the Cloud, it was the essence of my physical existence back then, it was minimal living, traveled very light as a homeless. 

While attending school I used to live on Humboldt Road very close to the University. It was an old wooded farm house with a dilapidated barn that housed among other things a relic Bi-plane or what used to be one. Two wooden silos lean precariously next to each other as though hoping for support. The farm house was over a hundred years of age was a picture worth a Norman Rockwell painting. In later spring and summer as far the eye can see is the green corn field and later in winter a sea of pure white snow, it did wonders to my sensual senses and set my imagination drifting far and wide.. The owner, my Landlord was a Mr. Leon P. Lodl, about in his early fifties at the time, worked with the water department I think and lives alone at the house, most of the time. Leon also bought and owned a church up North in Iron Mountain, Michigan, and was in the process of renovating it into a Ski Lodge. I went up there with him a few times especially during the Fall season when the leaves turn their colors. Standing at the top of the International  Iron Mountain Ski Ramp  one can see four States all at once and the sea of colors like you have never or will never experience radiates from where you stand making it another picture worth to be painted as a Norman Rockwell...you just have to Be there. #ironmountainskiram, #normanrockwell, # 

I stayed at the old Farm House of Humboltd Road for two years and was at my creative high while attending college as an Art student. I had a few relationship while I was drifting back and forth doing my studies and I was becoming an alcoholic and drug  abuser which mostly was Marijuana as I never like to used any other than. However the combination of all the circumstances of my life back then I was attached to these destructive habits as a result. As the devil is in the details, I will not dwell too deeply beyond what is, as my private life draws a line here. I owe it to all those i fell in love with and shared a few years here and there a debt of gratitude and the hope for forgiveness for all my wrong decisions and poor moves. I am simply moving on and let this be my final effort at reconciliation with myself of things done wrong in the past; I will no more be attached to this scenario that was my past. As i have mentioned before I simply am writing as my mind dictates as my subconscious reveals itself time and again of this  narrative, it is sometimes like watching lumps of shit surfacing out of the depth to remind you of who you are or you think you are.

Leon Lodl was a jazz and classical music lover and had a great collection of related albums which we would listen to every evening while laying in bean bags facing a blazing fire over a bottle of red wine, what else could go wrong? Leon was a very deep and knowledgeable well respected by his peers. and had four adult children who visited him every now and then; he was divorced and thus lives by himself. He drove an old black colored Beatle Bug which had a small trailer attached behind with which he hauled the materials he needed up north. He had my respect and admiration the man who was voracious reader and at one point decided to apply to work on Tonga Island out in the Pacific somewhere. The Farm on Humboldt Road was one of the conner stone of my life where I learned about life like I could have learned nowhere else; it was what it felt like being a complete Green Bay boy; Ya Hey! Green Bay!