"You get so used to it," he said. "I know a lot of people who do that."

In February 2003, in this town of about 7,500 people surrounded by farmland, the workers at the Tyson meat-processing plant went on strike, after the company offered a contract with significant cuts in wages and benefits. On the drive into Jefferson, huge yellow signs saying, "Fair Contract!" and "We Need More than Chicken Feed!" lined the road. The town's Main Street overflowed with strikers heading to and from picket duty, reporters from the national media, and even, on occasion, a few big names such as Dennis Kucinich and AFL-CIO president John Sweeney. Supporters from around the country and the world donated over a million dollars.

And then, 11 months later, it ended. The workers were forced to accept a contract containing terms almost identical to those offered before the strike, or risk having the workers who Tyson brought in to cross the picket line vote to decertify the union. The National Labor Relations Board has ruled that workers brought in to undermine a strike can be considered permanent replacements and can vote to decertify the union after a year.

The contract decreased starting pay from $11.10 to $9 an hour, froze pensions for workers hired before the strike, eliminated pensions for workers hired after the strike, cut vacation time, and increased health insurance co-payments for a new, less comprehensive health care package.

The media left, the international union left, the strike headquarters closed down, the company ordered the yellow signs removed, and the workers and residents of Jefferson were left trying to make sense of it all.

"Everyone has left, and Jefferson is still struggling," Patti Lorbecki, owner of the local Piggly Wiggly grocery store, said. However, unlike the highly-publicized strike, the continuing hardships here have failed to attract much attention.

About 200 of the 465 workers who went on strike are now back at the plant, joining the 200 workers who crossed the picket line. Most of them are working 36-hour-weeks, but the company has said they hope to have everyone back to full-time soon. About 25 former Tyson employees remain on the recall list, and the rest have found other work, or simply refuse to return to the plant.

Meanwhile, according to Tyson's financial statements, company-wide profits increased by 65 percent as compared to the same period last year.

Inside the plant, tensions between the employees who crossed the picket line, commonly referred to as "replacement workers," and strikers remain. According to Weissmann, one worker was almost fired for wearing a pro-union shirt under her work uniform. One Tyson supervisor found his tires slashed at a recent wedding.

"I don't know anybody who talks to [the replacement workers], period," Weissmann said. "I know there's one at my end and I don't see anyone talk to him besides [other] replacement workers."

When Weissmann returned to work in March, he said his supervisor told him he wished the strike would go away. "I said, 'Geez, the strike is never going to go away.'" He added that he knew workers at a nearby dairy plant who went on strike for 59 days several years ago. "They still talk about it," he said. "What do you think the feelings of the worker are after 11 months?"

Mike French, a forklift driver at the plant for 29 years and a union steward, also went back to work in March. On a recent afternoon, he sat at a table outside Tan-a-Latte, a coffee shop and tanning salon on Main Street, where some Tyson employees worked during the strike, and reminisced. This was his first strike.

"The facts are our contract is a piece of shit," he said. "They're providing jobs, but nothing with the jobs." Nonetheless, he said he has no regrets about going out on strike. "I have dignity," he said. "I feel myself and my brothers and sisters are worth something. Being out on strike so long, it hurt, but it was worth it. And, to sit back and 10 years, 20 years from now, say, 'I was part of this fight. I did not back down.' I am proud. Proud of everyone, of our brothers and sisters who walked the lines with us."

For those still waiting to return to work, it hardly seems like the strike is over. Ron Zimmermann, an elevator operator at the plant, has not yet been recalled. "My wife keeps asking me why [I want to go back], and I don't know why," he said. "I put in 19 years there. I want to have some closure, I guess. I want to leave on my own terms. I don't know if I'll stay."

Zimmermann's situation is currently under review by union stewards. The workers on the recall list are supposed to be brought back once the current employee in their position leaves. Zimmermann's replacement has left, but he has received no notice from Tyson. Tyson plant manager Dev Travers declined to comment. Arkansas-based Tyson spokesperson Ed Nicholson vigorously denied allegations that the company is using the strike to downsize the plant.

The stories Zimmermann has been hearing from friends inside the plant have made him anxious. "I've heard so many horror stories," he said. "Our people, we don't dare do one thing wrong. They're going to go out of their way to get our old people in trouble. If you say the word scab, you're in a lot of trouble." He added, "I'm sure I'm going to have a lot of resentment towards the company people, not all of them, but there's some of them that, from what I've been hearing, they've won, they're the victors, and they're going to let you know it."

Zimmermann said his unemployment check is just enough to cover groceries and the medical insurance he took out in case of an emergency -- and it will run out in two weeks. He has been working odd jobs where he can, but said he doesn't know what he'll do if he's not back in the plant soon. His wife works at a local credit union; they have no children.

The Tyson plant's low gray buildings sit next to the Rock River just two blocks off Main Street. For many workers and residents of Jefferson, the plant has always been the town's center. Many fished and swam in the river overlooking the buildings when they were children, as their fathers worked inside. The plant continues to have a powerful hold, not just on the town's economy, but on its psyche as well. In years past, before Tyson purchased it, the plant was considered a solid part of the local community. Now, according to everyone from the local plumber to the town's mayor, all of that has changed.

"It will take a long time to heal," said Jefferson mayor Collin Stevens, adding that many people have moved away in search of work. "[Workers] don't always win in a situation like that."

Local businesses, already hit hard by the strike, continue to suffer. At Safari Sporting Goods, owner Bob Kramer, who donated hand warmers to workers on the picket line, said business has picked up a little, but remains slow. "Most of [the strikers] spent all their savings," he said. "We're kind of a luxury business. We're last on the totem pole here."

A few blocks over, at the Luedtke plumbing office, owner John Luedtke could barely contain his anger. His company had worked as an independent contractor inside the plant for 50 years. When the strike came, he refused to cross the picket line. He explained, "When you sit next to an employee in church or stand next to them in line at the grocery store, how can we not honor their strike?"

Once the strike ended, he expected he would be called back, but he has still heard nothing from Tyson. He declined to give a specific dollar amount for the business lost, but said it was "significant," and that he has been struggling. "It cost everybody," he said. "None of the contractors have been asked to come back in. You're taking a serious amount of money out of the economy of south-eastern Wisconsin."

Although he refused to cross the picket line, Luedtke did not think the strike was a good idea. "Nobody benefited from it," he said. "The Jefferson people became the sacrificial lamb. What about those of us who got killed in this thing?"

In April, Tyson sent Joyce Reed, a community relations manager, to Jefferson to meet with the Jefferson Development Commission, and offered to donate some food and money to local events and charities. The Daily Jefferson County Union ran a front-page article with the headline, "Tyson asks, 'What can we do for Jefferson?'" describing the meeting. According to the paper, Reed "first offered some statistics, saying that the company processes enough chicken wings to make a stack that would travel two times to the moon and back each year." Then, she said, "I'd like to apologize for the situation that occurred. It was tough on the community."

Months later, residents are still angry about the article -- and the suggestion that Tyson could ever repair its relations with the community. Many cut out the article and kept it at their offices or on their refrigerators, circling or highlighting what they believed to be the most outlandish parts. French, the striker, said the community should take the donations offered by Tyson, but added, laughing, "It's like you go to a bar and get a drink from someone you can't stand. Yeah, I'll take it."

For some Jefferson residents, like Cathy Zimmerman, president of the local Stoppenbach Credit Union and wife of Ron, the striker who had not been hired back, the strike has fundamentally changed the way they look at the world."

Many made connections with larger activist communities outside Jefferson. Cathy becomes emotional recalling a visit with students at UW-Madison. "We were leaving and one of the students saw me, maybe looking sad, and he put his hand on my shoulder and said, 'That's okay. We'll keep fighting. We won't quit,'" she said.

Since the strike, Cathy and many other residents and Tyson workers have become active in the fight to keep Wal-Mart out of Jefferson, and have joined with student groups and others to fight Wal-Mart state-wide. "You kind of get into a rut and think it's not going to happen," she said. "But being active in the Tyson strike opened my eyes."

Patti Lorbecki, the owner of the local grocery store, stopped selling Tyson products during the strike, and said she will continue to do so until the workers have a fair contract. Lorbecki is one of the leaders in the fight against Wal-Mart. She said that what happened in Jefferson is part of a larger trend of big corporations with no ties to the community taking over locally-owned businesses.

"The whole idea of looking at Tyson is different. Prior to Tyson taking over, it was looked upon as a very good occupation, a stable job, good benefits," she said, referring to Tyson's acquisition of the plant in 2001. Since its been taken over by Tyson, people don't feel the same towards that plant. People don't look on it with that prestige. You won't have the generations of workers at Tyson anymore. Fathers, grandfathers, moms, daughters and granddaughters."

Meanwhile, workers at a Tyson plant in Cherokee, Iowa have been working without a contract for several weeks, and could soon decide to go on strike. In Dakota City, Nebraska, workers are preparing for a possible strike when their contract expires in August.

Suggesting the workers in Jefferson may support their counterparts in other areas of the country, French said, "I'm glad people are standing up to Tyson. If that's the only thing we accomplished with our fight, it's worth it." He added, laughing, "Where do I send the check?"

The fight against Tyson has changed the community so much that it is hard to find anyone in Jefferson with a good thing to say about the company -- except for Scott and Cindy Howard. While on strike, during the long days spent in the cramped strike headquarters and on the picket line, they grew close. "We can thank Tyson Foods for bringing us together," said Scott, laughing. "That's about the only positive thing to come out of this." The couple got married two weeks ago.