Wither Wisconsin?

I love maps. I always have. I like seeing what's where, even though I'll never get to most of the places that I now know where they are.

Some of it is, likely enough, sentiment. Me Grandpa Joe and I would look over maps at his kitchen table as I grew up, doing what I just said: seeing what's where. But he would also tell me about the places he'd been and how he got to them. He liked to travel by road, driving himself as much as he could. His son, me Pops, did too (they didn't call him The Road Warrior at Electric Eel for no reason), and I do as well. So it's nice to know what's where.

It was honestly like buying a new novel when I treated myself to a new road atlas a couple years ago. I got to pore over maps and see how places had changed and what new routes there were since I last studied them. I tell you, I can get to the immediate vicinity of any part of the United States just off the top of my head until yet. It's trivial knowledge, but fun for me.

And then there's the shapes and figures a map offers. I was always fascinated with how states and nations looked on a map. I still think, as I first concluded years ago, that Wisconsin appears to have been spewed from the mouth of Michigan's Upper Peninsula. Really. Vomited right out, a supreme act of regurgitation. Pull up a map these United States today and study it. You'll agree with me.

No offense, Wisconsin. Okay, maybe a little.