Chapter 1 ‘The Ritual’

Summerfest Music Festival
Milwaukee, Wisconsin

A 9-day event, Saturday, June 21st to Sunday, June 29th, 2025

Summerfest filled Milwaukee’s lakefront along Lake Michigan. This event had been their ritual for two years. Food stands and vendor booths ran along the lakefront, with stages set up throughout the festival. Sky gliders passed overhead. Near the south end stood the American Family Insurance Amphitheater. The Hoan Bridge was a picture-perfect sight. It rose above the harbor in the distance. A breeze came off Lake Michigan, enough to cut through the heat of the day. The mid-morning sky was still bright, but dark clouds were gathering in the distance. The scent of rain was in the air.

   The Ferris wheel towered over the festival grounds, rising above the stages, vendors, and crowds below. Summerfest was known as the world’s largest music festival, but for Alan and Maria, it had become something more. It was where two strangers met, became friends, and fell in love. Music came from every direction. Hundreds of local and national artists performed during the nine-day festival. Twelve major stages and several smaller ones kept music going throughout the grounds. The night would end with fireworks.

     Max drove the last leg of the ride while Ken handled the passes. Henry was already talking his way into a better parking spot before they were completely settled.

      Alan barely noticed. He was looking for Maria.

     “Are you good?” Max asked.

     “I’m fine,” Alan said.

      Max laughed. “Sure you are.”

     Alan looked at him and laughed too. “Okay, you got me.”

     He looked back toward the gates. After two summers, he knew where to look for her. They’d known each other for nine days each year, and this was their third summer together.

      Ken slapped his shoulder. “We’ll catch up with you later.”

    Alan moved through the crowd as music and voices filled the grounds. A bass check thudded from a stage as he passed by.

     The breeze carried the smell of deep-fried food and beer.

     Then he heard her laugh.

     There she was. His heart pounded with excitement. He had missed her.

      He couldn’t wait another minute.

      Nine days together were never enough, but for now, they had to be. Everything had changed when he was twenty-two and a beautiful twenty-one-year-old Italian girl walked straight up to him and said hello. She reached out for a handshake.

     “Hello, I’m Maria!”

      This was how he remembered her.

      Her hair was up, and she wore oversized sunglasses and a black T-shirt featuring her favorite opera, ‘La Traviata.’ She loved opera and classical music, while Alan was more of a classic southern rock guy. Their taste in music couldn’t have been more different, but neither of them minded.

    Their different tastes reminded Alan of their first conversation about music. She had asked him what his favorite genre was.

      He said, “Classic southern rock.”

      She laughed. “Of course it is.”

      “What’s wrong with classic rock?” Alan asked.

      “I prefer opera.”

      “Opera?”

      “Yes.”

       He stared at her dramatically.

      “Maria.”

      “Yes?”

      “You are twenty-one years old.”

      “And?”

      “Opera?”

      “It’s beautiful!” she said.

      He laughed. “It’s loud. People yelling in Italian.”

      She gasped in laughter. “That’s offensive.”

      “To Italians,” he said, laughing again.

      “To culture.”

      He had taken her hand. “Okay, you teach me about your opera.”

      “And you teach me your classic southern rock.” Maria smiled.

      “Deal,” he said.

      She knew more about classic rock than he did about opera or classical music. But he was willing to learn.

      Alan brought his attention back to Maria.

      She did it again, this time without the hello. Maria fell into step beside him, like a song he’d been waiting a year to hear. He wondered. Could I love her any more than I already do?

      “There you are,” she said with her brightest smile.

      “And here I am,” he said, smiling back just as wide. When she smiled at him, she had his complete attention. Every part of him focused on her and her alone. They kissed.

      They ate fries, hamburgers, and their favorite fried dough. They tried their luck at ring toss, balloon darts, hook a duck, and skee-ball, then went on rides and watched the amazing Les Claypool work his magic on the bass.

      Alan's friends, Max, Ken, and Henry, usually headed for the games, while Maria’s friends, Val, Becky, and Tina, made the bathrooms their first stop. They came and went throughout the day, laughing as they split off for other stages or wandered through the festival grounds before meeting up again later.

     Then they would spend a few hours together. They moved from one stage to another, stopping for food and catching up on everything they had missed over the past year. The two friend groups mixed right in together. It was easy, the way it always was when they were together.

      At one point, Alan grabbed Maria by the hand and pulled her behind a small building. He backed her against the wall and kissed her.

       “Get a room!” someone yelled from the group.

      Maria broke into laughter against his mouth.

      Alan glanced back toward their friends. “Working on it!”

      That earned another round of laughter.

    One part of Maria’s life never disappeared completely. Men in plain clothes moved through the festival nearby, never close enough to interfere, but never far away either. Alan had gotten used to them. He called them the quiet men.

      There was an invisible perimeter around Maria.

      She had explained it the first time they met. He never pressured her for more details. He only knew the quiet men were there to protect her.

      Night had settled over Summerfest. Alan and Maria walked along the lakefront as the Hoan Bridge glowed across the water.

      Music followed them from the stages behind them.

      “Camper?” she asked.

       He smiled. “Camper.”

       They left the festival hand in hand and followed the lakefront path toward the marina. After cutting through a small street, the campsite came into view.

      Near the lot, the smell of fresh-cut grass mixed with exhaust from the generators and parked vehicles. He had parked his small rig two rows from the pathway, near a lamppost that hummed low. As they reached the door, Alan pulled her into a kiss that said everything the year apart hadn’t. He opened the camper door and watched her walk in first.

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