Fucking Wall

The emphasis is on the first syllable. Say second syllable soft and drawn out. Without intention to be offensive, the word is a capsule of anger, fear, resentment, displeasure, sorrow, grief, love, and hatred. Fucking wall.

Fall is a time I get up early and leave home before even the farmers. I'm fortunate to have permission from some of them to hunt ducks on their property. Driving north a few miles from my house I cross Vinburn Road. Looking left, right, the left again, I look west toward that fucking wall. Aaron would rarely be with me on these morning jaunts but he'd be somewhere if not for the fucking wall. I resent that concrete monster and the decision that placed it there. It took my son.

Walls don't give back, they take. A decision was made to put this manslaughter 20 few feet from the edge of the road. For what reason? To hold mulch--as if it would walk away without a four foot high, two foot wide mass of concrete and steel. The Berlin wall was only 8 feet higher and no wider. Hundreds of people died trying to escape. They died in the death trap in Berlin--shot by the keepers of the wall. None were killed by the wall. Aaron died trying to escape the death trap on Vinburn--who killed Aaron? The wall?

In any year I drive over 30,000 miles. I pay attention to where concrete monsters lurk. With satisfaction I noticed a similar business on Hwy 19 outside of Waunakee took their wall--which was more than 20 something feet from the road, and moved it well away from harm's way. They put it in their parking lot where disasters are avoided. That's considerate. I have never seen another mulch security wall as massive and as close to a road. Fly to it and take a panoramic view on
The view of 4048 Vinburn Road, 53532 might be the view Aaron saw. Disgusting how close this piece of shit wall is to the road. I strongly dislike this wall.

Rebuilding our lives is not reasonable. We do the work that needs to be done, but you can't rebuild a family life without the family. I could rebuild without our home, or clothes, or belongings, but not without our son. The fucking wall was rebuilt though. Nothing to it I suppose. Haul away the broken piece and stack a new half ton block. Business as usual. Gotta keep the shit mulch right there---can't put it behind the barn. God knows you can't sell mulch from a many hundred acre farm unless you display it 20 too few feet from the road. Bullshit. Move the fucking wall.


My son was disgusted by greed. He had sorrow in his heart for the carnage caused by greedy pursuit of more than a fair share. Aaron died because of someones insanely greedy marketing idea. Aaron enjoyed music. They keep making new music. OAR will be in Madison on November 1. Aaron should be there. The wall should be moved. My heart aches. I want to cry.

Fucking wall.