I will read just about anything put in front of me, which can be a mistake.
It was 1840, and this area of Wisconsin was still a wilderness. There was no Wilton and no Highway 131, and it would be several years before Esau Johnson paddled up the Kickapoo.
Egads, here we are, in a new year, and once again it is time to gaze into the rearview mirror at the stories of 2014 disappearing in the distance.
It has been more than 10 years since it was possible to buy a copy of the Milwaukee Journal Sentinel locally.