IN
JIM’S OPINION:
FRIDAY,
7/30:
And welcome to the weekend!
You know how I always joke in here about how I may be
becoming a cranky old man? Well, to start said weekend
herewith are two examples that I may actually be turning
into a C.O.M., two stupid examples of things that irritate
me, one that’s justified and one that’s just me being me.
The first is when you go to a grocery store that has people
bagging your groceries. I have very few pet peeves in the
world, but one of the few that I do have deals with the bag
of baby spinach I buy every week. Now, those of you who’s
eaten baby spinach know that it’s a rather delicate food; it
can get squashed quite easily, which results in the nice
firm leaves turning into mush. So whenever I buy a bag of
spinach and stick it on the checkout belt, I always put it
on the belt last, the universal signal that it should go in
my (reusable) bag last.
Only, almost every single bagger I’ve had this year DOESN’T
put it in the bag last. I’ve had many people throw a loaf
of bread on top of it; I’ve even had someone put several
cans of garbanzo beans on top of my spinach. If I stick the
bag of spinach on the belt last, it’s because I want it in
the bag last. I don’t want it buried and turned to mush
under garbanzo beans. I want it in the bag last!
And I know you’re trained to put bread last in the bag so it
doesn’t get crushed, but consider the physics—a one pound
loaf of fairly sturdy bread, or a 5-ounce bag of delicate
spinach leaves. Which one of those do you think is gonna
lose the battle?
See? Cranky old man in training, especially when I get out
of the store and rearrange my bag so that the spinach is on
top, all the while cursing the grocery bagger under my
breath.
(And speaking of cranking old man in training, you should of
heard my reaction just now when Microsoft Word told me the
above sentence was a run-on sentence. I know it was a
run-on sentence, you stupid program. I wrote it that way on
purpose!)
The other thing sometimes brings a smile of wonder to my
face probably speaks more to the fact that my dream job is
beach bum...but why do people wear a T-shirt and shorts, and
then tuck the T-shirt in the shorts (perhaps even topping
the whole ensemble off with a belt)? It’s summer—you’re
allowed to be casual, you’re allowed to be free, you’re
allowed to be a bit of slob if you’d like.
Dare to be different, dare to be wild--don’t tuck your
T-shirt (or any shirt) into your shorts.
That’s it for today from the cranky old man in training. I
feel much better now. Monday, another example (if we
actually needed one) that I’m a dork.
No, really. I can prove it. And it has to do with, believe
it or not, Art On The Rocks, a place where I’ll be this
weekend. Hope to see you there; if not, enjoy the next few
days!
(jim@wmqt.com)
THURSDAY,
7/29:
Well, we had a blast.
The “we’ to whom I’m referring is “Day With A Dork” winner
Jessica Anderson and her daughter Amanda of Little Lake.
I’m thinking that until we spent four hours together
yesterday they didn’t actually understand just how far you
can go to push the limit of “dorkdom”, but we certainly
tried! Between their limo ride into Marquette (thanks to
marquettelimo.com), lunch
at the Landmark, and the two hours we spent on the air, I
think their heads are still spinning.
At least I hope their heads are still spinning!
If you wanna see pictures of the little escapade, just click
here.
It’ll take you to a picture gallery on our Facebook Fan
page, and you’ll get a chance to see just what it IS like to
spend part of a “Day With A Dork”!
****
Now, speaking of acting like a dork, we have another contest
we’ve just started that will allow you to, perhaps,
transcend dorkdom. It’s our “Fairground Frenzy” contest,
where you could win a pair of passes to the U.P. State
Fair. The passes allow you to get into everything,
including the concerts, and to win, you just have to imitate
your favorite farm animal!
While it IS dorky, it’s not very hard, and we’re hoping to
have a little fun with it. Speaking of which, we’re also
setting up something that may allow you to have a little fun
at the
Marquette Rotary West Seafood Fest
in a month.
More details on that forthcoming!
(jim@wmqt.com)
WEDNESDAY,
7/28:
And it’s Dork Day today!
Admittedly, every day with me is a dork day, but today’s the
capital “D” Dork Day, as I get to spend some time with the
winner of our “Day With A Dork” contest, Jessica Anderson of
Little Lake. She’s bringing along her daughter, Amanda, who
was a big reason she entered the contest in the first place.
We’ll have a
limo pick them up and bring
them into Marquette, where we’ll have lunch at the
Landmark before doing
whatever it is we’re gonna do. I’m even gonna try and get
Jessica to write part of tomorrow’s blog.
After all, if you’re spend a “Day With A Dork”, you should
do everything the dork does, right?
I’m still amazed at the...power this contest had. Even when
Loraine went into Globe Printing Friday to pick up her
books, one of the people working there saw me with her and
said, and I quote, “Look—it’s the Dork”. I’ve gone into
restaurants & stores all across Marquette County and have
gotten the same result. In fact, I’ve even been walking down
the sidewalk and had someone lean out their car window and
shout at the top of their lung, “Hey Dork!”
That means two things—the first is that the marketing
concept of branding really works. The goal for a business is
to give yourself a “brand”, something that people respond to
and remember, something that will always make them think of
you, and think of you before any of your competitors. So in
this case, I’ve given myself a brand.
Unfortunately, and this is the second thing, that means I’ve
branded myself as a dork. Something tells me that maybe,
just maybe, I should’ve thought this through a little
better.
Oops. I guess we can blame
Dr. Pepper for that. After
all, they’re the ones who wanted us to come up with a
contest like this!!
If you can listen this afternoon, you’ll find out the final
results of the contest when Jessica and Amanda join me on
the air. If you’re away from the U.P., I’m sure you’ll be
able to read all about it (maybe even in Jessica’s words,
and most definitely with pictures) here tomorrow. That,
after all, will be the day that I start me RE-branding
campaign.
Assuming, of course, I can ever shake the “dork” brand that
I’ve built up for myself over lo these many years...
(jim@wmqt.com)
TUESDAY, 7/27:
I would like to announce to the world the arrival of Loraine
first “child”, a bouncing 180-page book entitled “Elwood’s
War: A U.P. Son in the U.S. Army Air Force, 1943-1944”. It
was delivered Friday afternoon to the author and a spouse
who could not be more proud!!
Loraine’s been working on the project for a couple of years
now, and it’s finally over. The book’s the story of a
19-year old kid from Marquette named Elwood Norr, told
through the letters he wrote home to family and friends,
about his experiences growing up, getting drafted, going
through all kinds of Army training camps during World War
II, getting assigned as a ball turret gunner in a B-17, and
how he was killed when his plane was shot down during a
mission over Germany.
The amazing thing about the book (and remember, I’m the
proud spouse and am allowed to use words like “amazing”) is
that despite the ending, it’s a very funny and compelling
story. Elwood was quite the kidder, never taking himself or
his situation very seriously, and that really comes through
in the letters. And all the historical info Loraine adds to
the letters gives you a good taste of what it was like
growing up in Marquette in the 30s and being anywhere in the
U.S. during the Great War.
The first official act with the book was to present them to
the two people without whom it would not have been
possible—Elwood’s sister Jean and his best friend Ray. Jean
provided the vast majority of letters and pictures, while
Ray contributed many memories and a few letters of his own.
Since the two of them hadn’t actually seen each other in
over a decade, we picked Ray (and his wife Betty) up and
drove them over to Jean’s for the actual book unveiling,
where they were both tickled to death (and that, by the way,
is a MAJOR understatement!).
Loraine didn’t write the book to become famous or to make
money; she wrote it so that Elwood Norr would not be lost to
the ravages of time & history. After all, he deserves that.
And since she’s making sure copies of the book get to as
many libraries and museums as possible, Elwood’s story (and
his life) will be kept alive for generations to come. She
just wishes she could do the same for the other 243 men &
women who died during the war, 243 men & women whose stories
also deserve to be told. But since it took her 3 years for
this one book, it’ll be around the year 2778 before she
finishes the project.
At least she won’t be bored for the next several centuries!
Now, the book goes out. The copies that aren’t being given
away will be on sale at both Snowbound Books and Book World
in Marquette; there’s also a book signing at Snowbound on
August 28th, where both Loraine and Elwood’s sister Jean
will be present. You can also take a look at it at the Peter
White Public Library, as well as the Carnegie Library in
Ishpeming (the town in which Elwood’s family got its start).
It’s kind of funny; we’ve never had kids, but the book
arriving last week gave us insight into what new parents
must go through. I spent the entire week on call, waiting
for the phone to ring and tell me that the books were ready
to pick up. And while I didn’t have a hospital bag packed, I
can now totally empathize with what it’s like dealing with a
due date (the book came a day after said due date). And
Loraine is experiencing much the same thing, in that she
holds her newborn in her hands and just smiles contentedly,
forgetting all the pain and work that went into giving it
birth.
Weird, huh?
Anyway, I’m not going to be like some parents and be
obnoxious to the point of obnoxiousness talking about our
new ‘child”. I’m just proud of what Loraine did, and wanted
to share it with the world. And since, well, this is my
world, consider yourself now in the loop!
(jim@wmqt.com)
MONDAY, 7/26:
Where the heck did July go?
I mean, I know there’s still a week left in the month, but
the last four weeks just seem to have shot by like Lindsey
Lohan after she spies a free glass of vodka. It feels like
it was just yesterday we were getting ready for the Fourth
of July parades; now, that’s almost a month behind us, and
we’re starting to deal with stuff that deals with
potentially ugly issues, issues like going back to school or
even (gasp) winter clothing.
It’s just not fair.
I don’t know if it’s just me or if this month has whizzed by
for you as well, but it just doesn’t seem right. July is the
month for being lazy. July’s the month for enjoying the sun,
for having a picnic, and for going on long, meandering bike
rides with no particular destination in mind. July’s the
month we always enjoyed as kids, and when it’s taken away
from us as adults, we wonder what we did to upset the gods
of Karma.
I haven’t had the chance to do it much this month, but
whenever I’m out on one of my half-days and I see a group of
kids playing and laughing, I always have this urge to run
over to them and tell them to enjoy a day like that while
they can, because before they know it, the real world
intrudes and those days become evermore so fleeting. But I
don’t, because I know the kids wouldn’t understand and also
because I don’t want to end up as the featured star of the
next day’s Mining Journal police log.
I know I’ve babbled in here a lot recently about Sheryl
Crow’s song “Summer Day”, but there’s something about that
tune that harkens back to the days when I could actually
enjoy a July afternoon of running and playing like a kid. I
don’t know if the orchestration reminds me of the music I
heard when I was young (which it does), or if the lyrical
content offers up the image of a carefree day in the sun
(which it also does), but there’s something about the song
that strikes a chord in me. Whether it’s a wistful chord or
a chord of longing, I’m not quite sure. But I’m thinking
that chord, whatever it is, is another reason why I’m
wondering where July went.
Sadly, August doesn’t seem to offer much respite, either. I
just looked at my calendar and was flabbergasted by what I
saw. I have the sad (and scary) feeling that that month will
shoot by before we know it, and then I’ll soon hear those
fateful words from Karl, the words he utters every year just
to get a rise out of me--“Jim, did you know that the
earliest measurable snowfall in Marquette was on September
18th? That’s only a few weeks away!”.
No Karl, I didn’t. Thanks for telling me!!
8-)
Reading back on this, it almost seems like I’ve fallen into
some kind of deep, melancholy funk about the rapidly
disappearing days of summer, and I want to assure you that’s
not (entirely) the case. I’m just stunned by the rapidity
with which it’s gone by this year. I mean, I know that time
seems to speeds up the older you get, but this year it’s
taken a quantum leap over previous years.
It just caught me by surprise.
So despite Art On The Rocks and Ore To Shore and another
Music In The Village and Fall Fest and the Seafood Fest and
everything else going on in August, I’m gonna make sure I
carve out some time to enjoy summer before it goes away. I
just hope Mother Nature (and the gods of Karma) play along.
(jim@wmqt.com)
FRIDAY,
7/23:
I can’t believe it’s almost over.
For the last three weeks now, I’ve had a ritual. I get home
from work, I wolf down dinner, and then rewind the tape in
my VCR (yes, I’m still using a VCR. Go figure). I then sit
down, and while scanning through the (many) commercials, see
what happened that morning in the
Tour de France.
And now, there are only a few days left.
I think I’ve written in here before about how I really don’t
watch the Tour for the bike racing; I watch it more for the
French countryside and for the grocery store & gas station
signs. But even I’ll admit that after almost three weeks of
action, you get kind of swept up in what’s going on. Who’ll
make it up the mountain first—Andy Schleck or Alberto
Contador? Will Lance Armstrong ride into another breakout
and win a stage (he almost did Tuesday)? And which rider
will have to drop out because of a broken bone, something
that seemed to happen a LOT this year?
It’s amazing that way.
But my ritual will soon come to an end; after a sprint stage
today, a time trial tomorrow, and the traditional ride into
Paris Sunday, I’ll no longer have the gorgeous French
scenery to gaze at (especially in the sweeping helicopter
shots they use quite a bit, which I’ve jokingly referred to
as Countryside Porn), and I’ll no longer get to squint at a
freeze frame of a gas station sign to try and see what the
price of diesel is.
I guess it I want my France fix, I’ll have to do actually go
over there or something to get it.
Oh, wait...
8-)
*******
Make sure you have yourself a great weekend; I know that
after the last 12 or 13 days, I’m certainly looking forward
to doing nothing much myself. Oh, I’ll be heading over to
the
Outback Art Fair for a
little bit, if only because a). I’m usually at the beach
anyway, and 2). I know a couple of the artists and like to
see what they’re up to. Besides, this year it’s kind of
acting as the appetizer to next weekend’s
“Art On the Rocks”. But
other than that, I’m hoping that my schedule remains
(fairly) empty and that the weather cooperates.
And here’s to hoping that YOU get the same treatment!
(jim@wmqt.com)
THURSDAY,
7/22:
Two observations today, neither of which is important in the
grand scheme of things but both of which I found
interesting, to say the least.
The first is this—did you know you can’t buy a newly issued
jazz CD anywhere in the city of Marquette. That in itself
isn’t much of a surprise; after all, there are very few
places where you can buy a new pop or country CD in the city
of Marquette. That’s just the nature of the music biz these
days. But that observation still struck me as odd.
The story behind it is this—I went to Target to but
Sheryl Crow’s new “100
Miles to Memphis”. Instead of downloading it on iTunes, as
I usually would, I decided to get a hard copy; that way, I
could gaze lovingly upon the pictures of the artist inside.
And since I new Loraine was looking forward to a new
release by one of her favorite jazz guitarists, Lee Ritenour,
I thought I might pick her up a copy of that and surprise
her.
Only, of course, the surprise was on me, because, as I found
after visiting half a dozen stores that sell (or used to
sell) CDs, I couldn’t find the disc she was looking for
anywhere. In fact, the only place I could even find jazz
CDs of any type were at a second-hand/pawn shop downtown,
and those were all used copies of older discs.
Like I said, it’s nothing earth-shattering, but interesting
nonetheless. Now I guess I’ll have to find a different way
to surprise her.
The second observation is this—I read the article in
yesterday’s Mining Journal about how Marquette Township is
thinking about re-doing Werner Street. That’s all fine, but
I do have a suggestion for them—
Redo Brookton Road first.
I was out on an epic bike journey earlier this week when I
found myself tooling down that particular Township street,
and I have to say this—if there is a worse street or road
anywhere in Marquette County, I have yet to see it. The
road’s half potholes and half pavement patches that stick up
several inches above the street, giving you the idea of what
it would by like riding on a giant piece of poorly sliced
Swiss Cheese. It was so hard handling my bike on the street
that I just got off the pavement and rode on the gravel
shoulder which, I have to admit, resulted in a much smoother
ride.
10 minutes later I was riding around the Fit Strip, and even
THAT was a smoother ride than Brookton Road.
When I was a kid growing up on Fairway Drive in Marquette I
used to ride my bike on Brookton Road all the time and I
seem to recall that even several decades ago the road was in
need of repair. It now appears the situation hasn’t changed
much since the 70s & 80s, even if the road itself has
changed (much for the worse, I might add).
So while I’m sure Werner Street is in need of repair,
Marquette Township officials might want to just drive down
the street from their offices and take a look at Brookton
Road. It might just shoot to the top of their fix-it list.
(jim@wmqt.com)
WEDNESDAY, 7/21:
Another day, another successful tour in the books!
Yesterday, of course, I led a group of spouses/significant
others from the International Society of Biomechanics in
Sports conference at NMU around Marquette, showing them the
sights and talking a little bit about the history of the
city. And I always know things are going well when the
person organizing the tour, who’s lived in Marquette the
last 25 years, comes up to me and says “I didn’t know that”.
THAT’S when you know you have them!
And I don’t know if this is funny ha-ha or funny sad, but my
reputation for leading tours around Marquette seems to be
growing exponentially. I’ve now had requests to lead a
historic downtown tour for ANOTHER visiting group, and when
I was on Third Street for “Music In The Village” last week I
had requests for several business owners to put one together
on this history of that area. And when you add to that the
fact that I’m still trying to figure out when to lead
another South Marquette tour for the Museum (demand seems to
be growing for that one), it just makes me wonder if this is
the start of something big or the start of something that
could soon grow out of control.
Here’s to seriously hoping it’s the former!!!!
8-)
I’m seriously running behind schedule today, so I’m gonna
have to cut this short. Like I said Monday, it’s just one
of those weeks, but since I feel really guilty if I don’t
post something...well, at least I got this up, right?
Now just wish me luck for the rest of the week!
(jim@wmqt.com)
TUESDAY,
7/20:
I’m not sure about this one, but I just read a statistic
that blew my mind—
Only one out of every three Americans would want to travel
into space, even if the trip were free.
ONLY ONE OUT OF THREE????
Excuse my shouting there, but consider that I grew up
wanting to be an astronaut, and that two of the books I’ve
read this year were “How To Build Your Own Spaceship” and
“Riding Rockets: The Outrageous Story of a Space Shuttle
Astronaut” (a very hilarious (and simultaneously touching)
book by former shuttle astronaut Mike Mullane, by the way).
I’ve dreamed of going into space my entire life, and I would
jump at the chance to spend even just a few minutes on the
edge of that blackness. Yet only third of the people in
this country would do the same.
Once again, I guess, I’m an oddball among my own people.
I don’t know why two thirds of all Americans would pass up a
chance to do what less than 400 people in the entire history
of humankind have done. I don’t know if it’s fear of the
unknown or a lack of adventure or what, but a majority of
people say they’d be content never to try something that,
according to every book I’ve ever read by people who’ve been
there, has called a life-changing experience
One of the great stories in that “Riding Rockets” book
concerns what Mullane did his first night up in orbit—he was
so excited by the fact that he was up in space that he
couldn’t sleep, so while his crewmates rested, he floated to
the shuttle’s flight deck and spend the night just watching
the planet pass before his eyes every 90 minutes,
thunderstruck by what he was doing and what he was
experiencing. That’s exactly the kind of thing I would do
if I were ever lucky enough spend a night in space, and
that’s why, I guess, it blows my mind that most people would
never want to even consider trying it.
It’s funny; Loraine and I have heard from a lot of people
about how they could never travel to Europe like we do, and
we always have the same answer—why not? It’s not hard; in
fact, after you’ve done it once, it seems to keep drawing
you back again and again (we’re the perfect examples).
Sure, traveling to Europe—or to space—gets you out of your
comfort zone, but isn’t worth it to see how other people
live? Isn’t it worth it to see how you react and adapt to
differing situations? Isn’t it worth it to see a different
part of the world—or to see the whole world unroll before
you in a mere 90 minutes?
I guess that’s why the statistic blew my mind a little. I
would jump at the chance for a life-altering experience like
heading into space. I was just shocked that more people
wouldn’t feel the same, especially today, 41 years to the
day after perhaps humankind’s most impressive technological
feat ever accomplished.
You know...the landing of Apollo 11 on the moon.
(jim@wmqt.com)
MONDAY,
7/19:
The trip to Munising went well, thanks for asking.
If you remember Friday, I mentioned Loraine and I were
running out to Munising to meet the brother of one of the
guys she researching, and that’s what we indeed did
Saturday. But we also took time to play tourist just a
little, including a stop at the Alger County Historical
Society (where they’ve done WONDERS with a small facility; I
highly recommend it should you be in the area) and a lunch
at the lakeside Veteran’s Park, where you see something you
don’t get to see every day—
I mean, admit it? How many times have you seen a gazebo and
a piece of artillery together? Outside, perhaps, of a “My
Little Pony Joins The Army” toy set?
I’m sure the people of Munising think nothing of it; heck,
they probably don’t even notice it any more. And that got
me to thinking (which, as we all know, can be a very
dangerous thing)--when was the last time you played tourist
in your own town, or even in the U.P.? I mean, do you
realize what we have here? We have natural wonders. We
have history. And you don’t have to spend several thousand
dollars in gas money to see them.
That’s your assignment for this upcoming weekend. Become a
tourist in your own town, be it Marquette, or Ishpeming, or
Munising, or wherever. Look at your town through the eyes
of someone who’s never been here. Don’t act like the
typical local, someone who drives past Lake Superior or
strolls past the Savings Bank Building and just ignores it.
We see it every day, so it’s not that big of a deal for us.
But you know what? It IS a big deal. We live by the
largest lake on the planet, surrounded by history and by
natural beauty. And it’s not just here in Marquette; there
are MANY places in the U.P. where water, history, and beauty
come together unlike anywhere else in this country.
So therein lies your assignment for this weekend. Take an
hour or two, head to the most beautiful spot in your city,
and look at it like you’re experiencing it for the first
time. Marvel at the natural beauty of your hometown,
explore the history of your local buildings or complexes,
and rediscover why you enjoy living in the community you
choose to call home.
Trust me. You won’t be disappointed. And who knows...you
may even see a gazebo and a piece of artillery, peacefully
sharing the same ground. And that’s something you don’t see
every day!
****
This is the start of another insanely busy week in Jim-land,
starting with the fact that I’m giving a big Marquette tour
tomorrow morning to a bunch of the people from the
International Society of Biomechanics In Sports conference
being held at NMU this week. So if for some reason I don’t
happen to post a blog one day this week, or post a “best
of”, just know that it’s all Santa Claus’s fault.
After all, I didn’t get that mythical 25th hour in the day
that I asked for for Christmas last year, and this week I
have a feeling that I could REALLY use it!
(jim@wmqt.com)
FRIDAY,
7/16:
Have I run out of things of which to take pictures?
The reason I ask that is that, like I’ve mentioned before, I
take a camera with me wherever I go. Usually, it’s to make
sure that I don’t miss some kind of once in a lifetime
and/or freaky event, but I also carry one just to capture
the beauty of the area.
However, when I looked in my camera bag last weekend to make
sure my camera was still functioning, I noticed
something—since the beginning of June (and not counting the
Fourth of July parades), I’ve only taken a dozen or so
pictures.
That number stunned me.
Usually, when Loraine and I are out walking on a nice summer
weekend, I can take a dozen pictures in an hour. I’ll be
shooting buildings, people, flowers, or whatever catches my
eye. But I’ve noticed this year—an observation backed up by
my empty camera card—that I haven’t been taking as many
pictures as usual. I’ll start to take a picture, and then
realize that I’ve already shot that particular building, or
person, or flower, so I put my camera back.
So does that means that I’ve taken all the pictures that can
be taken in Marquette? I’d hate to think that’s the case,
even with the thousands of pictures I’ve shot over the last
seven years. I mean, Marquette is a wonder of nature; no
matter where you turn, there’s another impressive building
or beautiful vista or colorful character. There’s no way
you could run out of photographic opportunities, right?
RIGHT?
So I guess I’m just gonna have to look harder, travel off my
usual routes, and open my mind to different possibilities
than the ones toward which my eyes usually gravitate. If I
do that, who knows what’ll I see? All I can be sure about
is that if it’s Marquette, I’m sure to see something
wonderful.
***
Actually, I’ll only have one day this weekend to try and
grab new pictures of Marquette. Loraine and I are heading
to Munising Saturday so she can visit some people who knew
one of the guys she’s researching. We’re also gonna sneak
in a side trip (if you can consider it a side trip) to
Trenary to see if we can dig something up on another one of
her guys, a guy with an insanely interesting story that she
just unearthed. If she can confirm some of the facts, I
have a feeling your mind might be just as blown as mine was
when she told me about it.
That’s my weekend; hope yours is just as fun (and warm)!!
(jim@wmqt.com)
THURSDAY,
7/15:
I think perhaps, more than anything, this might be yet
another sign of just how old I’m getting.
Loraine and I were walking along the lakeshore bike path in
Marquette recently, and we saw that a group of young men and
women were playing volleyball at one of the nets on the
beach. I thought it was quite odd that the young men formed
one team, while the young women formed another. In fact, I
said something along the lines of “that’s not very sporting,
is it?”, which caused Loraine to stop, look at me, and say—
“The guys are probably just watching the girls bounce
around, you idiot”. And THAT’S when I knew I was getting
old.
I mean, when I was in my 20s, that’s probably the exact
reason why I would’ve wanted to be playing an all-girl team
in beach volleyball. I mean, who would’ve cared who won?
You’d be watching attractive young women in bikinis jumping
around. What more could you want out of life, right?
But no, in my state of advancing years, I didn’t even think
of that. All I thought about was whether or not it was fair
play.
You know, sometimes, I embarrass even myself.
Actually, I’m sure most people would say that my first
thought was the correct one, and leave it at that. But it
did take me aback a bit, I guess, that I didn’t even think
of the theory of the bounce as to why they were playing on
gendered teams. And the more I thought about it, the more I
realized that what I originally said (about it not being
very sporting) was also another sign that I’m getting old.
I mean, what if the young women playing were all collegiate
players, and the guys they were opposing were just some
dudes they found on the beach? I didn’t even think of that;
I just assumed that the guys were probably better than the
girls. That is an assumption I don’t think I’ve ever made
in my life, and to me, it’s even more shocking than the fact
that I didn’t even think of the “bounce factor”. I’ve been
beaten in sports plenty of times in my life by women, and
I’m entirely comfortable with that. I just have no idea why
that didn’t pop into my head when I made the comment.
Sometimes, I just don’t know.
I’ve made cracks in here many times about how I’ll turn out
to be either a cranky or an eccentric old man. In reality,
I hope I turn out to be neither. I hope I stay the same as
I age. With any luck, that’s how I’ll turn out. I’m just
hoping that the incident on the bike path isn’t a sign of
the future.
(jim@wmqt.com)
MERCREDI,
7/14:
And Happy Bastille Day!
My friends in France, I’m sure, are celebrating today.
Bastille Day is the French version of our Independence Day,
commemorating the day that the masses stormed the Bastille
in an attempt to win their freedom from the monarchy.
In other words, it’s time to party like it’s 17 or
18-something!
I also believe it’s the perfect day on which to use my last
bag of French tea. If you remember a blog from a couple of
months ago, I wrote about how I had one bag of tea left from
our trip over there last year, and was trying to figure out
when exactly I should drink it. Well, if you can’t drink
your last cup of French tea on Bastille Day, when CAN you
drink it?
It’s probably a good time to drink it anyway. After all,
we’ll be going back in just under three months, so this’ll
be a perfect time to sip the mint flavor of the green tea,
and remember everything we did while we were drinking it
over there last September. But it’s also close enough to
our October trip to give us a sneak peak of what we’ll be
doing over there during our 10-day visit in the early part
of the month.
So when I get done with this, the tea bag goes in the cup,
the tea goes in my mouth, and I celebrate Bastille Day in my
own, weird way!
*****
Now speaking of Jim & Loraine trips to Europe, don’t look
now, but there’s yet another one now scheduled, this one for
2011! That’s right...who wants to save for retirement when
you can travel?
Right?
After we get back from France in October, it’ll be a mere 10
months before we go back, not to France this time, but more
along the lines of what we did back on ’08—we’ll fly to
Brussels, spend a few days in Belgium and Luxembourg, and
then head into Germany and Austria to wrap up the expedition
before flying home from Munich via London. We have a few
friends we met two years ago that we’d like to go visit,
Loraine has a bunch more stuff she needs to explore, and I
get to return to the Promised Land—the Super GB stores in
Bastogne and Trois Points—and buy as much
Galler and
Cote D’or chocolate as I
can fit into whatever luggage I bring. In fact, I’m
thinking of bringing disposable clothes and getting rid of
everything that’s non-chocolate so I can fill up my suitcase
before I come home.
Well, at least that’s a plan under consideration.
Another similarity to our trip in ’08 is that we’ll once
again be traveling with Tony the
Tour guide. Those of you
who followed along on the web and on the air in ’08 may
remember how we raved about him, despite the fact that we
almost killed him a time or two with our rather active
lifestyle. But now that he has 13 months forewarning, we’re
counting on him working himself into shape.
Wish him luck.
That, however, is over a year away. We still have to get
through this year’s trip to France, and I’ll start by
drinking my tea for Bastille Day!
(jim@wmqt.com)
TUESDAY,
7/13:
I think I’m turning into my grandfather.
Over the last year or so I’ve had several people comment on
how I look like my mom’s dad. I think I’ve even mentioned
it in here several times, especially about how I picked up
his freakishly long, skinny limbs, his small head, and his
sunken eyes, which when combined with the big shoulders I
picked up from my dad’s side of the family makes me
resemble, well, a circus freak in the making. But, I guess,
that’s what makes me me!
Anyway, I guess that the older I get, the more I also see a
physical similarity, especially these days and especially as
I get older. And, to put a nice little cap on it,
especially after I figured something out a few days ago—I’m
now the same age my grandfather was when I, his oldest
grandchild, was born.
When I discovered that fact I did, I will admit, have a
momentary freak-out. I always thought of my grandfather—as
most grandchildren do—as a wise old figure, with the
emphasis, of course, on the “old” part of it. And that’s
why it freaked me out that I’m the same age he was when he
became a grandparent. I mean, I know what I’m like at this
age, and there’s absolutely no way that I would’ve been able
to handle the staggering implications that come with having
your children have their own children.
I mean, you guys know me. You know that I do not act,
think, or have evolved enough to take on the tasks of being
responsible for two generations of human life. That would
imply that I’ve had to become a grown-up, that I’m mature,
and as we all know, that’s not gonna happen any time soon.
And yet my grandfather, as the same age as at which I now
sit, had not only bought a house and raised three children,
but he had also welcomed the first of seven grandchildren
into the world. I often consider myself to be lucky to have
been the first; I was able to enjoy the greatest amount of
time with him, and soak up everything he had to say.
Because I was the oldest, I got to do things my sister and
brother and cousins didn’t get to do. And because I was the
oldest, I have the sneaking suspicion that I was often the
apple of his eye.
Yet it’s funny, because I know that there are many
non-physical ways in which we are different. Sure, we may
look alike, but he could fix anything in the world that
needed fixing, from lawn mowers to picket fences, whereas I
just stand there with a befuddled look on my face and shout
out “Daaaaad!” at the top of my lungs. He could sing very
well—after all, he was in a church choir and was a
professional square dance caller—whereas I can’t sing OR
dance. And I’m guessing that, just based on the eras in
which we grew up, our outlooks on politics and social mores
were quite different.
But still people who knew him come up to me and mention how
much I resemble my grandfather. And for that, I’ll always
be grateful. Because despite the fact that he died almost
23 years ago, there’s a small part of him that’s still
walking around on this planet, kicking up dirt and making a
fuss. Even if that small part of him could never handle the
very same responsibilities that he did all those decades
ago.
(jim@wmqt.com)
MONDAY, 7/12:
First of all, apologies about the lateness of the posting of
last Friday’s blog. Our web hosts were tied up dealing with
some very pressing technical issues that needed to get
resolved and didn’t get a chance to stick it up until late.
So if you didn’t get to read it Friday or over the weekend,
you get two of them today.
Aren’t YOU the lucky people???
Anyway, I had mentioned in Friday’s blog that there were a
few leftover stories that I didn’t get to tell on the South
Marquette tour, so I’ll share them here. But first I’d like
to share a picture that I, uhm, “borrowed” from my friend
Rusty Bowers’ Facebook page—
That is the throng of people I’m leading up Division Street
near the end of the extravaganza. No wonder certain
individuals have started referring to me as “The Pied Piper
of Marquette!
(And although he doesn’t know I “borrowed” it, thanks to
Rusty for taking the picture. All rights and permissions
for the picture belong to him!)
Now, onto the stories. The first regards the territoriality
of South Marquette guys in regards to their girls. You see,
back in the old days, South Marquette girls were not allowed
to date anyone but South Marquette guys. It wasn’t a
two-way street—South Marquette guys could date girls from
elsewhere in the city—but guys from outside South Marquette
who tried to date South Marquette girls often found
themselves on the bruised knuckle end of a South Marquette
reception committee.
Well, most of the time. In talking to people while doing
research for the tour, one native South Marquette woman told
me the story of how she started dating (and, in fact,
eventually married) a guy from Ishpeming. Now, in South
Marquette, dating a guy from outside of the city was even
worse than dating someone from, say, the swamp. And yet no
South Marquette guy laid a hand on this woman’s Ishpeming
boyfriend. So how did they get away with it? Well, this
woman’s boyfriend was Italian, and all the guys in South
Marquette though that, because he was Italian and from
Ishpeming, that he was connected with the Mob.
That‘s how they got away with it. And no, she hastened to
tell me, he wasn’t part of “The Mob”. But in this case,
perceptions went a long way, and she was able to marry the
man of her dreams...despite what the boys of South Marquette
would’ve wanted.
Another thing we discussed on the tour was the fact that
there has been, in the history of South Marquette, a little
drinking here and there. Now, I know that comes as a bit of
a shock to anyone who knows anything about South Marquette,
but apparently alcohol does indeed play a very small part in
the history of the neighborhood. Shocking, I know. That’s
why I wanted to (but didn’t get a chance to) pass along what
some people from outside of South Marquette called the area—
“Souse Marquette”.
And that’s all I’m gonna say about that.
I do, however, want to end by mentioning that I picked up
the “Souse Marquette” comment by reading a book that’s
coming out in a couple of weeks called “Elwood’s War: A U.P.
Son in the U.S Army Air Force 1943-1944”, a book that
contains the letters written home by Marquette’s Elwood Norr,
a ball turret gunner in a B-17 who died while on a mission
over Germany. The only reason I’ve read the book before
it’s released is that it’s co-written (along with the late
Mr. Norr) by one Loraine Koski.
Yup, MY Loraine Koski!
I’m thinking you’ll probably hear more about it as it gets
closer to the release date. . .
8-)
(jim@wmqt.com)
FRIDAY,
7/9:
Well, South Marquette is now history.
Wait. That didn’t come out quite right. The walking tour
of South Marquette is now history, and it seems like it was
a success, at least based on the 125 or so people who showed
up! I had a camera with me, and if I had had the presence
of mind to do so, I would’ve taken a picture of the crowd
when we were standing on Blemhuber and you could see this
mass of people just spread out below us on Adams Street.
But as it was, I was spending every second I wasn’t on the
bullhorn listening to people on the tour tell me stuff they
remembered about growing up in the area, stuff that I could
then relay onto everyone else.
It was that kind of night. It was, in fact, glorious.
Everyone seemed to have an awful lot of fun strolling up &
down the hills and listening to tales of the people who used
to live there and helped build Marquette, ending up with a
surprise visit to the old Quarry, a place where most people
can’t visit these days (thanks to Bruce & Cindy Nyquist for
that!). I also have to thank several family members,
especially my dad, who held the bullhorn horn above his head
for over an hour so people could hear, and Loraine, who made
sure all the pictures we brought were passed around.
Thanks, guys!!
As usually happens on tours like this, I also learned an
awful lot myself. I think I spoke with a dozen or so people
gathering research for the tour; as it turns out, there were
several dozen others who also had info I didn’t know about.
I love it when that happens; after all, as we ALL know, I
don’t know everything, and any chance I get to gather more
historical knowledge is always welcome.
Thanks to everyone who showed up. Hope you enjoyed it. And
because the crowd was so big and because I was sharing
information that was shared with me, I didn’t get to tell
ALL the stories on which I was planning. Oh well--now I
know what Monday’s blog can be about!
(And, as an aside to daily blog reader Ann in Chicago, we
missed you on the tour last night. Sorry you couldn’t make
it up, especially because we did get into a discussion about
what exactly entails “South Marquette”. I think the overall
consensus was that you lost again!
8-))
Now that that’s over, I actually get to take a breath. It’s
been an incredibly hectic two weeks around here, starting
with the Superior Bike Fest, crashing into a blood drive and
Fourth of July parades, and then ending up with the tour
last night. I have a feeling that I’ll wake up tomorrow,
rush around to get everything done that’s on my schedule,
and then slow down when I realize that there’s NOTHING on my
schedule except a long meandering run and a day out in the
80 degree summer sunshine. And, as you all know, I live for
days like that.
So with that in mind, have yourself a great weekend. I hope
yours is packed with two days of absolutely nothing to do
except enjoying yourself!
(jim@wmqt.com)
THURSDAY, 7/8:
You know, I hate to do this again, because I feel like I’ve
been doing it a LOT recently, but because I’m getting
everything ready for my South Marquette tour tonight (starts
at 7 at Mare-Z-Doats, by the way!) I’m gonna have to leave
you with another “best of’ today. This was originally
written July 2nd, 2007, and seems appropriate for this time
of the year.
Tomorrow, the story of the tour!
(jim@wmqt.com)
*****
I know this may be (sarcasm alert) hard to believe, but I’m
still thinking about smells.
Yesterday, I tried to describe a smell that smelled
“purple”. And after posting that blog, I took one of my
half-days to go play out in the sun and the heat, and while
I was walking along the beach, I started to think about
smells that can only exist, at least the U.P., during the
summer.
Therefore, here we go—with Jim’s list of the Top Five Smells
Of Summer:
5. The smell of freshly cut grass. I don’t have to mow a
lawn myself any more, but I always enjoy walking down a
street when someone is in the middle of trimming the grass
in their front yard. It instantly makes your mind think of
summer, if only because it only smells that way DURING
summer.
4. The smell of charcoal heating up a grill. This actually
can be more than just a smell of summer; you can usually
appreciate it first in late March or early April, on one of
the first days above freezing, when NMU students seem
celebrate the return of the sun by breaking out their
grills. It’s one of the benefits of walking home from work
on a day like that...trust me!
3. The smell of sunscreen and sweat. Oh, be quiet...it’s
not as gross as you think. In fact, it’s the smell that
prompted this whole blog, the smell that you get when you
walk down a beach on a warm summer day. It just kind of
lingers in the air, so if you’re a bit squeamish to call it
the smell of sunscreen and sweat, call the smell of the
beach. It’s the same thing.
2. The smell of sunshine. Okay, I know that “sunshine” has
as much of a smell as “purple”, but you know that smell you
get when you open your windows on a sunny day, and the sun
somehow magically reacts with the air in your house to
produce a smell that wasn’t there before? THAT’S the smell
I’m talking about—the smell of sunshine I’m talking about.
Finally, here’s Jim’s number one smell of summer, a smell
that, I will admit, is highly subjective—
1. The smell of the poplar trees on the Lakeshore bike path
in Marquette. I’m thinking specifically of the trees on the
path between Wright and Hawley Streets, especially the way
they smell on a warm day. They don’t smell like summer for
any reason other than I remember that smell from riding my
bike down that bike path during summers when I was a kid.
But it’s because of those bike rides that the smell will
always, at least for me, be exactly what summer smells like.
At least, what summer smells like for the short time it’s
here in Marquette.
WEDNESDAY, 7/7:
I’m STILL chuckling every time I see it.
The newspaper article I wrote for the
Mining Journal about my
south Marquette walk tomorrow evening appeared in Monday’s
paper, and, of course, it contained the phrase “local
historian Jim Koski”. Like I wrote last week when I posted
the article here, that phrase just cracks me up every time I
see it.
I really don’t think I’m a local historian. Fred Rydholm
was a local historian. I’m just a (dare I say it) dork who
knows a little about history and, for some reason, gets
drafted into telling stories about it, oftentimes while
walking backwards and speaking into a bullhorn. Local
historian? I’m not so sure. It makes me sound much more
important than I really am. It makes it sound like I know
what I’m talking about.
And as we ALL know, that’s not always the case.
Loraine and I were talking about that this past weekend,
trying to come up with a phrase that could replace “local
historian” in all of these articles that seem to be popping
up with increasing regularity. My suggestion--“Backwards
Bullhorn Boy”--didn’t seem to fly, but the more I think
about it, the more a phrase Loraine came up with seems to
have stuck with me. Let’s try this one on for size, shall
we?
“Local storyteller Jim Koski”.
The more I think about it, the more I believe it’s a title
with which I could live. I mean, that’s actually what I do
during these tours and presentations. I don’t just spout
out facts; I tell stories about whatever the subject is. I
try to humanize history. I try to make it fun and
interesting, because despite what some people think, it
really can be. When you get right down to it, I guess I
actually do tell stories. They just happen to be about
history and the people that lived through it.
So instead of the ponderous (and chuckle-inducing) title
“local historian”, let’s agree that we’ll try “local
storyteller” on for size instead. And speaking of stories,
I’ll be telling ones tomorrow night about (among others)
bootleggers, bullies, and a lost cache of gold. Oh, and a
little history will probably be thrown in, as well. After
all, it IS a walk for the
Marquette County History Museum,
so I suppose I should include that, too.
If you’re in the neighborhood, see you tomorrow at 7!
(jim@wmqt.com)
TUESDAY, 7/6:
Recover from your holiday weekend yet?
I was, as always, insanely busy, but I did manage to have a
pretty good time, especially with the fact that it was in
the 90s two of the days! I know that’s not for everyone
(heck, I live with someone who doesn’t like it very much)
but for me, there was nothing like doing a couple of parades
in the 99 degree heat (at least here in Marquette) and then
getting up Sunday morning and going out on a 9-mile run when
it’s 85 degrees at 830 in the morning.
After all, you don’t get to do that every weekend!
I did notice three things to mention on that hour-plus run,
the first is that I could’ve made a chunk of change if I had
a backpack with me. After all, I saw 16 returnable bottles
during my meanderings, all of them left (I’m sure) by the
same people who were probably shooting off fireworks the
night before (in my neighborhood, in fact, at 1 in the
morning, which was really nice when you were trying to sleep
with the windows open. The second is that my iPod has
apparently developed a sense of irony, as the first song
that popped up on shuffle when I went running was Billy
Idol’s “Hot In The City”.
The third thing, sadly, once again involves dog owners.
I know I rag on dog owners a lot in here, and like I say
every time, it’s probably unjustified for the 95% of you who
follow the rules regarding your pet. But as I was running
around the Fit Strip, this huge beast came out of nowhere
bounding after me, causing me to veer off the path and into
the brush. A few seconds later, some dude came running up
and said (and I quote) “Sorry, man”.
Yeah, right.
If I hadn’t been enjoying a hot-day runner’s high, I might
have pointed out that he was breaking two laws. The first
he had to know about, as there are signs at the Fit Strip
entrances that say “No Dogs Allowed”. Trust me, they’re
there; I checked as I was leaving. And the city of
Marquette also has an ordinance that says your dog can’t run
free; it either has to be in a fenced in yard or on a leash.
It’s the law. And I like I said, 95% of you follow that.
And I thank you for that.
It’s everyone else that makes it an adventure to run in the
city on occasion. Whenever some mutt chases after me, the
owner always says “he’s friendly”, but now do I know that?
All I know is that there’s an animal running after me with
its teeth showing. And whatever happened to the principle
of actually following the law? Most of the times, those
laws are actually put in place for a reason, especially when
it comes to animals running around loose in densely packed
city, even a smaller one like Marquette.
I know by now you guys must be sick of me going off on dog
owners, so I’ll stop now and make a conscious effort not to
do so in the future. Instead, I’ll just started ragging on
my other favorite group of people who don’t follow the law,
vehicle drivers who don’t give pedestrians the right of way.
Because I’m sure you guys won’t mind me complaining about
THAT, right?
8-)
****
Now, going back to the parade, I did manage to snap quite a
few shots of the signs people made up for us. I didn’t get
as many in Ishpeming as I usually do, if only because I was
a little stupid and forgot to bring a bigger memory card for
the camera I was using. But if you wanna see the pictures,
head over to our
Facebook fan page and check
‘em out. You don’t have to be a Facebook member to see
them, but if you are and haven’t clicked “like” on the page
yet, do that while you’re there, as well!
(jim@wmqt.com)
FRIDAY,
7/2:
Do you have your signs ready yet?
I’m talking, of course, about the signs you need to have
ready for our “July Parades of Ca$h” tomorrow in Ishpeming
in Marquette. It’s always one of my favorite days of the
year, not only because I get to give away my bosses money,
but because of the signs.
Every year, I’m constantly amazed by the work some people
put into their signs. I mean, sure...there are some people
who just scribble “Q107” on a paper plate, and that’s fine.
That’s all you need to do. But then there are people who
obviously put a lot of time and talent into what they do.
I’ve seen works of art out on the street. I’ve seen
families who’ve obviously spent an evening putting signs
together, and I’ve seen some very unique interpretations of
our call letters.
And I enjoy each and every one of them.
Every year during the parades, I’ll take pictures of a bunch
of the signs and post them on our website. After all, if
you guys put that much work into them, they deserve to be
seen by the public, right? So get those signs made up, and
bring them with you to the parades Saturday in Marquette and
Ishpeming. Who knows—they could not only win you cash, but
they could be stuck up on the Interweb for everyone on the
planet to see!
*****
There won’t be a blog entry Monday; that way, I actually get
a two-day weekend for the holiday. And trust me, if it’s as
warm as it supposed to be outside, I’ll be making very good
use of the time. Monday morning, I’ll also be geeked out in
front of the TV, as that’s the day the
Tour de France heads
through those towns in Belgium in which I buy my chocolate.
If you want the whole story on just how geeked I am about
that (or, admittedly, just how much of a geek I really am),
scroll down to the entry of June 23rd. The whole story’s
explained there.
However, I’ll have you know that my geekiness is NOTHING
compared to that of the people past whom the race will go.
Loraine wrote to a friend in Belgium and asked if he was
excited about Le Tour, and this is what he said--
“Oh yes, I am following the tour de France since I was a
boy, first at the radio and then at the TV. I never lost a
day to watch it. This year the tour is passing in front of
my Daughter Sylvie's home 5 km from my home the 5th of July
and the next Day it starts from Wanze, only 14 km from home
and pass trough Andenne and Namur, two towns at 15 and 16 km
from home so I will be at one of those places. 5 years ago,
it passed by my village at 100 yards from my home. It's
always a great event all along the route of the tour with
plenty of celebration every villages and town where it go
through.”
So, as you see, I’m in good company! Actually, Loraine had
the perfect way to put it in perspective, comparing it to as
if the Super Bowl was in a traveling stadium that zipped
through Marquette right after kickoff. THAT’S how excited
Belgians are about this weekend!
On that note, have yourself a great 3-day (or 4-day, or
however long it is) holiday weekend. Yell loudly when we
pass in the parades tomorrow and say “hey”!
(jim@wmqt.com)
