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Twenty-nine hours I decided to stay awake for the holiday, because I didn't want to oversleep and miss out on a free meal. To pass the time I revamped the archives for the journal one more time. I just wasn't happy with the look of the last changes that I had made a few days ago. I think the highlight of the holiday for me was hearing the stories of what my father did as a child. Since he wasn't around my grandparents felt free to tell me all sorts of things that he did when he was little. Its fun to imagine him being a little terror growing up. The stories let me understand my father better. I'll have to ask him about some of them the next time we talk. All of these stories have a very strong sense of Milwaukee in them. They grew up in different parts of the city over the years and saw the neighborhoods change with time, but most of this is foreign to me. I may have been born in Milwaukee, but I never really had that strong a sense of the city when I was growing up. Then when we moved out of the city to the country when I was a teenager all traces of Milwaukee seemed to leave me. I didn't spend my teenage years hanging out in Milwaukee. I didn't become an adult in the city. My memory of Milwaukee is from the viewpoint of a child. It all seems so distant to me.
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