They say happy cows come from California, but I disagree. I am not ashamed to admit that the Badger State beats out the Golden State for the place where the best cheese comes from, just as the Green Bay Packers rule the football nation. There is a special spot in my heart that will always belong to Wisconsin, particularly to one small city bordering Lake Michigan.

Do you find my stately obsession random? Well, maybe, although those who know me are aware that most of our conversations are plagued with my non-sequiturs. When a friend in seventh grade asked me for a good April Fools’ joke to play on one of our favorite teachers, I quickly responded, “Wisconsin,” a state that had never crossed my mind for more than a second before. After seeing my friend’s confused face at my one-word answer, I suggested that she tell our teacher that she was packing her bags and moving to Wisconsin. Although the first thing that my 13-year-old mind had seized upon led to a far-fetched and ineffective April Fools’ joke, this was the seed of my obscure obsession that would leave people asking “Why Wisconsin?”

Wisconsin showed up in my life again in a geography bee question in my eighth grade social studies class. The only thing I remember about the question was that it had something to do with the city of Sheboygan. I got the answer wrong, but was curious enough to Google the name of the city. Sheboygan is no Madison or Milwaukee — a California alternative in terms of population might be Manteca, which I’m sure has its redeeming qualities as well — but it has the worthy title of my favorite city in Wisconsin. Not only is the name of the city extremely fun to say, “Sheboygan, Sheboygan, Sheboygan,” but it even trumps sexism by representing both genders. That year, I compiled a list of fun facts about the “Bratwurst Capital of the World” on my blog, which somehow caught the attention of a Sheboygan food delivery company, which broadcast the list to fellow citizens on Twitter.

My ears will perk up at the simple whisper of the word “Wisconsin.” Needless to say, I consider surrounding myself with all things Wisconsin a hobby. I sought the assistance of the Midwestern state’s tourism Web site in concocting a plan to help my parents realize how amazing a future trip to Wisconsin will be. I’m not sure if the appearance of Wisconsin highway maps, travel guides, state park guides and birding guides suddenly flowing into our mailbox has served as an effective subliminal message to trigger a purchase of airline tickets, but I’m sure that my folks will come around in due time. Already a fan of That ’70s Show, the fictional Wisconsin town of Point Place put its episodes in my Netflix Instant Queue. I long for the day when I too can drive in a car with my best friends and yell “Hello Wisconsin!” at the top of my lungs, like the characters do in the show’s opening theme. And when someone says something like “I’m going to visit my cousins in Wisconsin next week,” their coolness factor immediately increases exponentially, putting them in the running for a potential most-amazing-person-ever award. My friend with the April Fools’ Day plot that triggered my fascination for Wisconsin later divulged that she actually had family living in Wisconsin. Go figure.

My Wisconsin obsession follows me everywhere in life. A few months ago, a new neighbor moved in, and when my parents first spoke to him, they discovered that he was — to my excitement — a Wisconsin native. Knowing me, my parents informed him of my love for his home state. When I ran into him, the first thing that he asked was the topic of my major … at the University of Wisconsin. Somehow, he had become convinced that I was a sophomore in college there. I hastily told him that I am actually a sophomore in high school, but he disregards this (despite the numerous times I’ve reminded him) and never forgets to ask me why I am still in San Francisco when I should be attending my classes at the Madison campus. Although our friendship never seemed to blossom like the wood violet, Wisconsin’s state flower, he understood my love for Sheboygan at our first meeting when he said, “I’ve never been to Sheboygan, but everyone talks about it.”

I have yet to grace the state of Wisconsin with my presence, although the fact that Sheboygan is approximately 2,228 miles away from San Francisco is something more familar to me than geometry theorems. I am not a cheese fanatic. I am a little hesitant at the thought of eating bratwurst. And despite what my neighbor thinks, I abandoned my dreams of pursuing higher education in Wisconsin in the eighth grade. But even though the rest of the world doesn’t believe Wisconsin deserves recognition on par with California or New York in pop culture, the state is still nothing to be scoffed at. Tell me, is your favorite city the star of a 1979 board game titled The Creature That Ate Sheboygan? That’s what I thought.

A version of this article first appeared in the Feb. 25, 2011 print edition of The Lowell.

Illustration by Karen Chin