Now and then, when people ask me where I am from, I always hesitate, as in my mind it is complicated. This is not because I have lived in many places while growing up; until I went to college, I lived in only one house my entire life. Rather, it is because my hometown is considered quite obscure in our increasingly urbanizing world, where one must always say where their hometown is near to help others orient themselves. This is a product of our increased ability to move further from home than ever in our history, and yet therein lays my hesitation. For the sake of having to explain myself, I do say, “Edgar, Wisconsin, which is near Wausau, [in central Wisconsin].” However, my heart lies within a place that offers more than both Edgar and Wausau could provide combined. The place: The Town of Cassel.

While the nearly 36 square miles are gridded with the straight, rectangular road system provided by the Public Land Survey System that quarters many Midwestern states, it is hardly a hindrance to the beauty of the land. From the top of any tall silo, or the crest of one of the highest points (near the corner of Cardinal Lane and Scotch Creek Road, or just west of State Highway 107), the true nature of the rural agricultural community can be seen almost completely, with the shadowy inselberg of Rib Mountain overlooking from afar. With lush green landscapes dotted with barns in various orientations--some red and some white, some utilized and some abandoned--their presence recalls the importance of the need for many farmsteads in a small area to supply the many cheese factories, once more numerous than bars. Despite the considerable clearing and control of the original forests for the immigrant settlers, the trees remain abundant, gracefully disrupting the bright green and browns of the fields with darker green. One specific line of trees marks the level path left behind from the railroad that brought goods and news back and forth in the early days of development.

While this is only true for the summer months, much beauty can be seen throughout the year. In the fall, the corn fields dry to a golden brown, and the musty smell of their husks mixes with the air. The trees shed their leaves in an array of matching colors, leaving the remaining green to the evergreens and the pumpkin patches that bring forth their best orange globes. From here winter drapes the ground in a crystalline layer of snow, freezing the ground to the harness of concrete. The forests open up their inner secrets as they lay bare, their branches sporting an intricate pattern that the gray skies silhouette. At night, all is quiet as you brave a deep freeze to lay and look at the stars, exceptionally bright on a clear night, untainted by the haze of city lights. The only disruption you can make is the sound of snowmobiles gliding across the snow. Finally, spring returns the green to the land, the ground growing soft and moist, ready to be prepared for a new growing season. The snowmelt runs into the valleys, causing the creeks to overflow their banks, tripling in width and depth, oftentimes flooding the road just so. Spring also gives rise to a valley of mist each morning, a blanket of gray that hangs above the water. We return to summer, and the cycle starts anew.

Accenting the beauty of the botanic world is the presence of the animal kingdom. Indeed, what beautiful wildlife! Drive past any field, and you will find cattle grazing in the pasture. At times, one finds deer just feet from you, posing like statues near the trees. The occasional bear trots by up the road. At night, the coyotes yelp and play in the distance. Underground, the garter snakes, and ground squirrels keep out of sight. The geese fly overhead, their formation pointing often to the northwest or southeast, resting at the ponds nearby. Many songbirds come to call, bringing about the names of many roads, such as the brilliant cardinal; the humble bluebird; the flagrant blackbird; and the swift martin, all undone in speed by the buzz of the diving hummingbird. However, in the marshy bogs of the township, the crown jewel is that of the great blue heron and the sandhill cranes; with their almost exotic appearance, it is a treat to see them standing calmly and regally at the opposite end of the field you may be working on.

It is unlikely that you will drive through without seeing a tractor on the road. The majority of Cassel's citizens work the land, providing the basic needs our society demands from them constantly. They live by honest means and help each other out when called upon. There is no rest for many, as there is always something to be done to get ahead. Yet, despite this strenuous mentality, one finds a serene calm as they view from afar, and relaxed conversation with their fellow man. Even the most occupied can find time to play card games with their families. You are known by all, and each has just the advice you may need for whatever path in life you take. Since its beginning in 1891, the main foci include a love of neighbor, a strength of family, and a fear of the Lord. Many of the early families maintain their existence here, three or four generations later, despite the call of business and opportunity beyond its borders. Thus a strong, entwined atmosphere is woven, as the township continues to produce its humble contribution to the world.

Now, no matter your path in life, no matter how busy you may be, it seems every once in a while one finds themselves thinking about what defines them. Often this leads to an excursion down memory lane, as it is ultimately the past locations, events, and decisions you make that end up defining you. For many, one’s hometown will come to be one such defining feature of one’s past. No doubt yours could have a similar vibe as the one described here, or it may have its own quirks that allow you to reminisce. Nonetheless, it was here that you grew up, where you learned how to play and work, the place that made you who you were. It is a place that even after many years away from it, you can still come back to and roll down the roads you traveled many times before. Soon, it is then that you come over a hill, across the bridge, around a corner, through a tunnel, past the trees, beyond the paved road, whatever it is, and you see it: the place you first truly called home. The place that knows your name as you know ita own.

Happy 125th, Town of Cassel. You are indeed a fortified castle to those who call you home.

We’ll see…

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