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The Daily Cardinal Est. 1892
Friday, April 26, 2024

After 4 years, A. Miller spins final tale

On some of my longer runs, I make it out to places like Fitchburg and Verona, where they build houses on top of houses that all look the same. Out there it's miles of identical streets and yards and houses, and I wonder if the people out there aren't identical, too. 

 

 

 

Every time I run through the sprawling subdivisions of north Fitchburg, I wonder how anyone who lives there could have any sort of personality, but I have to believe they do. I've met a lot of people who grew up in suburbs and subdivisions, and they aren't all alike. 

 

 

 

Four years ago, the majority of the people I'd ever met in my life either lived at the ends of secluded country roads or in small northern Minnesota towns. They were all unique people, but they've been stereotyped again and again as hicks and rednecks and whatever else. 

 

 

 

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Before I came to Madison, I never considered that I might be racist or sexist or a hick, but over the last four years I've been given a lot to think about'I've also been given a lot to write about, and sometimes I think that maybe I've shied away from some of the biggest topics. 

 

 

 

This is my final column for The Daily Cardinal, and I keep asking myself if I've ever written anything worthwhile. I've never written a column about race or sex or diversity, and sometimes I get the feeling that that makes me an irrelevant writer on this campus. And then sometimes I get the feeling that that makes me all the more relevant. 

 

 

 

Looking back, though, I am glad I never wrote about race or sex or whatever is considered most relevant. Looking back, I only wish I would have written once about canoeing on Lake Mendota and ice skating in Vilas Park. I also wish I would have written about having bonfires on Picnic Point. Maybe that would have been the most relevant column of the year. 

 

 

 

Next year I won't be here, but I hope someone writes a column about going out for pizza with some friends and some strangers, and then going skating under the stars at Vilas Park on a cold February night. I hope someone writes that column and sends me a copy, because it might be relevant. 

 

 

 

I also hope that next year someone writes about climbing trees on Frautchi Point and about climbing up the big hill to the effigy mounds in the woods near Lake Mendota Drive. 

 

 

 

And next year, I hope someone writes a column about paying two bucks to have the time of his life and sit in the front row at a volleyball game or a women's hockey game, because I think that might be something I'd like to read. 

 

 

 

I'd also like to read about what it's like to live in a subdivision or to grow up in a suburb or a ghetto, but I don't think anyone's going to write about that, because it probably doesn't seem interesting. It's interesting to me, though, because I really don't have a clue. 

 

 

 

I only know about growing up in a small town, and most people don't have a clue about that, and maybe they're better for it, but I don't know. 

 

 

 

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