Not a lot happens in Livingston, Wisconsin, but that's changed since the meteor that exploded over the Midwest the other night happened to crack up over the little farming town in the southwestern corner of America's Dairyland.
It just so happens that's where my Dad grew up. His dad, a Rockefeller Republican, was the president of Livingston State Bank -- the only bank in town.
How small is it? Look at the satellite view.
It's a nice little place. Slow movin'. Not a stoplight in the town, or at least there wasn't when I visited there every summer as a kid. A few taverns, an old-timey grocery store and a couple other shops. Back then a few people around town -- namely, a fellow named Muggs who ran the town gas station -- called me Tex and joshed me about my accent and asked where my six-shooters were. He had a big iron chest of soda pop at his filling station.
Well, now meteor enthusiasts who collect meteorites are headed to Livingston. Things must be all astir in Livingston now. I'd kinda like to be a fly on the wall there right now.