IN
JIM’S OPINION:
FRIDAY,
2/3:
First things first--
It was innocent on her part, but Loraine’s responsible for
driving me insane.
As we all know, I don’t have much control over my brain any
more. It can get hijacked by anyone who knows how to do it,
leaving me the hapless victim. And it often occurs the way
it happened a few nights ago with Loraine; the person who’s
doing it doesn’t even realize they’re doing it. THAT’S how
susceptible my brain seems to be these days.
How did Loraine drive me insane? She asked me a simple
question. Because her brother wanted to know, she asked me
if the David Naughton song “Makin’ It” was from a TV show.
It was--it was actually the theme to Naughton’s short-lived
“Saturday Night Fever” rip-off “Makin’ It”--but in answering
the question, a horrid thing happened to me and to my very
easily corrupted brain.
The song “Makin’ It” lodged itself into my brain, and
wouldn’t leave.
I’ve had a lot of very strange things happen to me mentally
recently; however, I don’t think I’ve had a cheesy fourth
rate late 70s disco song take up residence and refuse to
leave. It was actually kinda bad...for over 48 hours, all I
could hear in my head was the chorus--the words “Makin’ It”
followed by two handclaps--over and over and over and over.
I tried to cleanse my musical palate by listening to Green
Day, and it didn’t work. I tried to cleanse my musical
palate by listening to Coldplay, and it didn’t work. I even
tried to cleanse my musical palate by listening to another
earworm, Beyonce’s “Single Ladies”, and it didn’t work.
“Makin’ It” cemented itself into my brain, and it wouldn’t
leave.
The reason I’m writing this is that it is, believe it or
not, the song is still there. It’s still stuck in my
brain. Shooting “Media Meet” yesterday, the song was
running through my head. While I was on the air yesterday,
the song was running through my head. And while I was
interviewing the Governor last night, the song was still
running through my head. Just for a second--a brief
second--I thought about asking him if he wanted to join me
in singing the chorus, but I figured that 1) he probably
didn’t know the song, and B) he’d call the security guys
waiting in the lobby.
Then think of the fun I could have trying to get the other
inmates in whichever jail I’d end up trying to sing the song
with me!!!
So that’s how Loraine drove me insane. Like I said, she did
it innocently; it’s not, in any way, her fault. It’s just
my brain, and the way it’s working (or not working) these
days.
Sigh.
*****
Speaking of the Governor,
here’s the interview. If
you’re REALLY bored this weekend, give it a listen. Who
knows...I haven’t checked, but maybe you can hear portions
of “Makin’ It” leaking out of my brain.
(If you can’t get it to play live, just right click on the
word “interview”, pick “save file as”, save it to your
computer, and play it on your favorite media player).
*****
Finally, I need to make note of the fact that this weekend
my favorite 12-year old in the world becomes my favorite
13-year old in the world! My niece Sydney and I share quite
a few common traits, from a bizarrely skewed view of the
world to a love of all things cherry. I, however, have no
doubt that HER brain is strong enough to resist a cheesy 70s
disco song. In fact, I’m SURE her brain’s strong enough to
resist it.
So happy birthday Syd. I hope 13’s your best year yet!!!
(jim@wmqt.com)
THURSDAY, 2/1:
I don’t have much time to write today, and when you hear the
reasons why, you’ll think I’m one of the biggest
self-promoting narcissists of all time. Ready? Here goes--
I don’t have much time to write today because I have to be
on a TV show in a bit and then get ready for a visit by the
Governor.
See? Sounds bad, doesn’t it? Sounds like I’m some kind of
monstrously important “person” with an over-inflated sense
of my own self worth. We all know (or at least I hope we
all know) it’s not true; today, unfortunately, it just
sounds like it.
First of all, I have to go shoot an episode of TV-13’s
“Media Meet”; they’re devoting a half an hour to the
Marquette Regional History Center, and since I’m the person
who usually appears on the station talking about the History
Center, I’ve been told I need to be one of the panelists.
Then the Governor, who’s in the U.P. this weekend, is
stopping by to tape an edition of “15 Minutes” later
tonight, and I kinda need to figure out what we’ll be
discussing.
As you guys all know, I haven’t had a “typical” day for
quite a while now, and today is no exception. Think of it
this way, though--at least I’ll never get bored!!!
Back tomorrow with more stuff, including both the Governor’s
interview and how my lovely wife tried to drive me insane.
Well, more insane than I usually am, and more insane than
days like today cause me to be.
(jim@wmqt.com)
WEDNESDAY, 2/1:
I don’t have that much hair left to begin with. Stop making
me pull it out in frustration!!!!!!
I’ve spent the last several days trying to set up something
in our computers at work, and the thing I’m trying to set up
just isn’t cooperating. There’s no reason it shouldn’t;
I’ve done everything I was supposed to, other radio stations
across the country do it without a problem, and it would
make my life a bunch easier once it’s up and running. Yet
for whatever reason, it’s not working. And it’s making me
pull what’s left of my hair out of frustration.
Sigh...
One of the many faults in my character (and trust me, I have
a few) is this...stupid habit I have whenever I try to make
a computer bend to my will, and it refuses to do so. I’ll
sit and stare at it, as if the power of my (feeble) mind
will make it work. Then I’ll spend hours playing around with
it, hours better spend doing something else, in a vain
attempt to make it work. Then I’ll spend that night tossing
& turning in bed, wondering WHY it didn’t work
I’ve said this before and I’ll say it again--sometimes, it’s
not easy being me. Really, it isn’t.
In this case, I’ve had feelers out to several people across
the country, people who are much smarter than I when it
comes to stuff like this, and they’ve come to the same
conclusion. What I’m trying to make work should work, and
they don’t know why it isn’t. While it is a little
comforting to know I’m not the one doing something stupid
with the machine, it still doesn’t address the main
problem--
It’s not working, I don’t know why, and it’s frustrating the
heck out of me.
I suppose in a case like this, I’m starting to resemble a
little puppy trying to chew the heck out of a sock, hoping
to find a treat in there, only to discover, after much
chewing, that the sock was treat-free. It’s fun for humans
(with a grasp on sanity) to watch, but the puppy ends up
kind of bummed. Of course, the good thing for the puppy is
that it doesn’t have much in the way of cognitive memory,
and moves on to the next bright shiny thing it sees.
The bad thing for me is that I don’t. Or can’t. Or both.
So if you happy to see me the next few days, and notice I’ve
gone bald a bit quicker than you’d expect, know that it’s
not nature at work. It’s my own doing. Well, me and the
stupid computer that won’t do what I want it to do.
(jim@wmqt.com)
TUESDAY, 1/31:
I know the note from daily blog reader Kim in Gwinn was in
jest...
“Jim--what’s the matter? You losing your touch? You
haven’t sounded like a Cranky Old Man recently!”
And it’s true; I haven’t. But I figured a couple of
things--first of all, I’m really NOT a Cranky Old Man (in
training). It just seems like that on occasion when I write
in here. And secondly, I figured you guys were kinda sick
of it by now. But since I do not want to disappoint any
blog reader in any way, shape, or form, here we go--
Mini-rantings from a Cranky Old Man (in training):
1. Advertising inserts in Sunday newspapers. How many
trees die each week so they can all be printed? And how
many of you are like me--you don’t even look at them, and
just toss them in the recycling bin (you DO recycle, don’t
you? Or should that be another rant?). When I think of the
time, the resources, and the money put into those inserts,
only to see them lie there unused. . .it’s sad. Or, in this
instance, is that just me? Do people actually look at
them? Am I (as usual) in the minority on this?
2. People who wear shorts with their shirts tucked in.
Shorts are, by definition, designed to be casual and
designed to keep you cool. If you tuck a shirt into shorts,
you’re defeating both of those purposes. It’s not casual,
and it certainly doesn’t keep you as cool as you would be
wearing your shirt untucked. Yes, this is something I take
quite seriously. And yes, I do need help. Your point?
3. People who, when I ask for Instant Requests, call and
then hang up before I’m done talking on the air and can even
start answering the phone. I’m not a ventriloquist; I can’t
use my voice in two different ways at once. I can either
talk on the air, or talk on the phone. I can’t be doing one
while I’m doing the other. So if you’re calling for an
Instant Request while I’m still asking for one in the air,
be aware that you’ll have to let it ring once or twice. If
you hang up while I‘m still talking on the air, you’re
defeating the whole purpose of calling for an Instant
Request!
There, Kim...I think I’ve gotten everything off my chest.
You happy?
8-)
(jim@wmqt.com)
MONDAY, 1/30:
Yay. I can talk today!!
After finishing my gig at the
Noquemanon Saturday, I
tried to keep my voice from doing too much for the rest of
the day (as I mentioned in here a few days ago). It seemed
to have worked; by the time I finished skiing myself
yesterday, I was back to being my normal, hyper-verbal self,
probably much to the dismay of Loraine who, I’m sure,
would’ve preferred a little more silence.
But what are you gonna do, right?
As always, I was amazed by the competitiveness, the ability,
and in some cases, the sheer determination of the athletes
at the race Saturday. I was stunned by the closeness of the
men’s 24K classic race, where the first five finishers came
across the line within a few seconds of each other. I was
dumbfounded by Joe Jamison of Marquette, who skied the 51-K
marathon and then turned around and followed it up by
running the 15-mile snowshoe race, making the rest of us
feel like pikers. And then I was, uhm, stunned by the two
Michigan Tech students who stopped right before the finish
line, stripped down to their skivvies, and finished the race
clad only in ski boots and boxer briefs.
In 14 years of announcing the race, that was the first time
I’ve seen that. Honest.
The end of the Noque for the year also means another
thing—it means that January is done for the year, another
reason I’m glad my voice is back, if only because I can now
shout from the rooftops that we’ve made it through what is
usually the harshest part of winter. I don’t know if you
listen in any detail to the forecasts that Karl does for the
station, but at least once a day he mentions the average
highs & lows for that particular day, and you know what?
The average high for the day has begun to crawl up ever so
slightly. Sure, as of today it’s only 22, but you know
what? A few days ago, it was 21. And a few days before
that, it was at its absolute bottom, 20. It may not feel
like it, but on average, it’s starting to get a little
warmer.
We’ve made it over the hump!
Oh sure, we’ll probably have more cold snaps to deal with
and more snow storms which to shovel (or snow blow) out of,
but I think an important psychological barrier has been
crossed. We’ve made it through what’s traditionally the
worst part of winter with (for some of us, at least) our
sanity fairly intact. We can look forward to the day,
perhaps not far away, when the sun comes out and finally
stays out. We can look forward to the day when we notice
little streams of melting snow starting to form on city
streets. And we can look forward to the day when we step
outside in the morning, and hear the songs of birds that’ve
started to make the return trip on their yearly journey from
north to south and back again.
And if that’s not reason to be happy that I have a working
voice again, I don’t know what is.
(jim@wmqt.com)
FRIDAY,
1/27:
This is 12th year? Really?
Tomorrow I’m spending my day at the finish line of the
(believe it or not)
12th Noquemanon Cross Country Ski
Marathon, and like I’ve done for every single
race since it all started in 2001, I’ll be announcing the
names of each and every skier who comes across the finish
line. Most years, by the time I get home, my voice is gone,
meaning I don’t speak much at all on Sunday which, if
nothing else, makes Loraine quite happy. However, I think
of it as a small price to pay for the grand time I have at
the finish line every year.
One of my favorite parts of the day it comes in the final
hour. That’s when the crowds have left and only a handful
of skiers are still to come across the line. These are the
skiers that aren’t taking the race seriously. They’re just
happy to be finishing, and we get to have a little fun with
them as they’re wrapping up their day of 25 or 51 K on the
trails. I’ve heard from so many of them over the years,
saying how my cheering them on at the end of their race
makes the whole day worth it. Whenever I hear that, it kind
of makes me chuckle. I mean, all I’m doing is talking;
they’re the people who’ve been out in the snow for 3 or 4 or
5 or even 6 hours. My mention of their name or cracking of
a joke is nothing compared to what they’ve done.
If I wore one, my hat would off to each and every one of
them!
If you wanna see for yourself what I’m talking about, the
first major racers of the day come across the line around
11:30 or so, cheered on by a large crowd and their
cowbells. However, if you wanna help make the day of a
skier who’s not a major racer, stop by the dome around 3 or
so, and bring your cowbell. The stragglers coming across
the line will have their minds blown. Trust me on that one!
****
By the way, the Detroit News is celebrating Michigan’s 175th
birthday with a series of articles on the state’s history,
including a series on what was called “The Great Toledo
Border War”, the “dispute” with Ohio that gave Michigan the
U.P. Most of the stories are, as you’d expect from a paper
in Detroit, quite condescending to us (although, Detroit,
who grew and who shrunk in the 2010 Census, huh???),
one of them isn’t too bad.
The picture accompanying the story is quite nice; in fact,
it threw me for a loop when I first saw it, if only because
I’ve taken many shots like it, almost from the exact same
spot. In fact, scroll down to last Friday’s blog, look at
the picture, and you’ll see what I’m talking about!
Have a great weekend; keep your fingers crossed my voice
hold out!
(jim@wmqt.com)
THURSDAY, 1/26:
I guess I have two weeks to learn about the construction
business.
A couple of months ago, I was asked if I’d present a program
at the annual meeting of the Marquette Builders’ Exchange.
Since I’m working on a History Center program about 15 of
the lost and/or forgotten buildings of the city, it seemed
like a perfect fit. Only yesterday, when I received my
packet of information about the meeting, I found out that
along with putting on the after-dinner program it appears
I’m also the host of the whole event, as well. When I
asked, the organizers replied, and I quote, “Oh...didn’t
they tell you you’d be doing that, as well?” Nope, they
didn’t. But that’s okay.
Those of you who know me know that I know nothing about the
manly art of building things. That’s what fathers are for.
But as I discovered a couple of months ago when at the last
minute was told I needed to host a program about hunting,
another subject about which I know nothing, I can
(thankfully) fake it enough to look like I know what I’m
talking about, even if both you & I know that I don’t.
The good thing this time around? I have two weeks to learn
something about construction, as opposed to about two
minutes to learn about hunting.
I agreed to the addition of the being the host of the event
for two reasons. One is that I always enjoy doing something
I’ve never done before; in this case, trying to come up with
bad jokes about building things. The other?? I figured I’d
get a blog or two out of this whole “fish out of water”
concept.
The things I do for you guys, I tell ya!
8-)
So if on February 9th you hear a loud “thud” coming from the
vicinity of the Marquette Golf and Country Club, the site of
the event, don’t worry. It’ll just be a sign that things
may not be going as well as I’d hope. That sound may
actually be me laying a rather large egg in front of the
entire building community of Marquette County.
And think of the blog I could get out of THAT!
(jim@wmqt.com)
WEDNESDAY, 1/25:
Okay. I don’t know if I wanna make THAT drive again.
As you may recall, I had to go to Houghton yesterday for the
MTU portion of the “Gift of Life” blood drive. Once I got
there it wasn’t too bad; the sun was shining, and Tech
students really wanted to turn out en masse to donate blood
and (hopefully) regain the crown they lost last year.
It was just getting there that was a bear.
There were a couple of patches of roadway—between Ishpeming
and M-95, and between Baraga and Chassell—where I swear I
was driving on a non-stop sheet of ice. In fact, right
outside of Ishpeming, not realizing I was driving on a
non-stop sheet of ice, I once put my foot on the accelerator
and saw my speedometer shoot all the way up to 85 miles an
hour, despite the fact that I wasn’t moving any faster than
45. Of course, I also heard my tires spin at 85 miles per
hour on the ice, so I knew I had to slow down.
Waaaaaaay down.
Of course, not everyone was driving as carefully as I. I’m
thinking, in fact, of the driver of the blue Dodge Ram
pickup truck carrying a snowmobile. That driver apparently
didn’t like following me at what I thought was a safe speed,
and tried to pass me, accomplishing two things—almost
swerving out of control as he tried to pass me, and then
causing approximately 13 tons of sandy snow to shoot up on
my windshield as he finally regained control of his vehicle
and sped off away from me.
Actually, he may have accomplished three things, but in all
honesty, I have no idea if (or how) his underwear managed to
remain clean as he almost caused the both of us to crash,
nor do I care to venture a guess. But that’s all I’m gonna
say about that.
The drive back was a little better, as road crews had been
out scraping US-41, but it still wasn’t the most pleasant
two hours I’ve ever spent in my life. But I’m thankful that
at least I didn’t run into the driver of the blue Dodge Ram
pickup truck carrying a snowmobile; just for that reason, it
made my journey home a whole lot safer, allowing me to sit
down and write this blog.
As opposed to, say, verbally transcribing this blog because
I was stuck in the hospital with broken bones and various
crushed body parts.
Don’t be an idiot. Be careful when you’re out there
driving!!!!!!!
(jim@wmqt.com),
who offers his personal thanks to everyone who actually DOES
driving responsibly.
TUESDAY, 1/24:
I have to start my drive to Houghton in this lovely weather
in just a few minutes, but before I left I did want to make
note of the passing of John Dorais on Friday. Like many of
you, I’ve known John pretty much my whole life, starting
when I was a kid and he used to square and round dance with
my grandparents in my parent’s basement. Over the years, if
Loraine and I were walking past his house and saw him
outside, he’d always stop what he was doing and chat for a
few minutes. And in the last couple of years, he was an
invaluable resource to me as I was putting together my south
Marquette walking tour for the History Center. He will be
missed; that’s for sure.
I’m now off to da Copper Country for the first part of the
“Gift Of Life” blood drive. Then I get to drive back to
Marquette and take part in the Peter White Public Library’s
panel on housing issues tonight. Wish me luck. . .I have
the feeling I may need it!
(jim@wmqt.com)
MONDAY,
1/23:
It’s nice to know I got something for the inconvenience.
Those of you who read this on a regular basis know that last
month I had to deal with the schedule-wrecking civic duty
known as jury duty. I was on call for 6 days, actually had
to go in one morning (just to be told to go home), and
because of the uncertainly regarding my schedule couldn’t
plan many activities during December, a month with an
overflow of activities needing to be planned.
It was fun, wasn’t it?
Anyway, I received a check from Marquette County for my
“services” over the weekend, and once and for all, found out
how much of a price we can put on month’s worth of schedule
juggling. In this particular case, that price is $13.41.
That was worth it, right?
I find it funny how they arrived at the $13.41. I was paid
for half a day of jury duty--$12.50--for the one morning
where I actually went in and was told to go home because the
case had been settled overnight. The other 91 cents came
from, believe it or not, mileage. Apparently, you get paid
45 and a half cents for every mile you live away from the
Marquette County Courthouse. I know that’s for people who
have to drive to the Courthouse, but I didn’t drive at all.
I do what I always do--I walked. That means I got paid 91
cents for walking from my apartment to the Courthouse, and
then from the Courthouse to work after the trial was
cancelled. That’s basically 10 cents a block, just for
doing something I do multiple times every day.
Now I just need to find someone to pay me 10 cents for every
block I walk in Marquette. Think of how many trips to
Europe I could pay for THAT way!!!
So if you ever wondered how much of a price can be put on
inconvenience, you now know. Hopefully, you won’t have to
find out any time soon, but just in case, you’re set!
****
Speaking of schedules and inconvenience, this may be one of
those weeks where there’s a day when you don’t see a blog or
see one that’s been posted before. Tomorrow, I have to go
to Houghton for a blood drive in the afternoon and then
speed back to Marquette for a program at the library during
the evening. I have a History Center program to host
Wednesday night, a live broadcast to take care of Friday,
and a whole day of announcing at the Noque Saturday. In and
amongst all that I have to get some new stuff set up here in
radio-land, stuff that will in the end save me time but will
take a large chunk of said time to get up and running.
Wish me luck. I think I may need it!
(jim@wmqt.com)
FRIDAY,
1/20:
Wow. THAT was butt-numbingly cold!!
I’m referring, of course, to yesterday, when here in
Marquette the temperature started out at a balmy four degree
above and proceeded to plummet from there. I have no idea
what the wind chill was; I know absolute zero’s somewhere
around minus 460 Fahrenheit, so I’m guessing the wind chill
hovered around there, at least for most of the day. It was
a joy to be here. Really, it was. And I feel for people
who live away from Lake Superior, where it was apparently
even colder than here in the city.
Yesterday was like the evil twin, weather-wise, of one of
those balmy 90 degree days in July. No, the cold hasn’t
driven me over the edge, at least not yet. Just think about
it...if July is the summer equivalent of January (both are
months following the change of seasons), then I guess
yesterday was the ying to a nice July day’s yang. But at
least when it’s 90 degree days out you can still venture
outside without worrying about losing a body part or two,
and at least when it’s 90 degrees out you don’t have to
spend close to an hour putting on enough clothing just to
venture outside to then worry about losing those
aforementioned body parts.
Given a choice between good twin and evil twin, and at least
when it comes to weather, I’ll take the good twin every
single time.
So with that in mind, here’s a picture taken on a 90 degree
July day last year.
Six more months...six more months...six more months!!
On that note, have yourself a great weekend. Stay warm.
And think July!!!
(jim@wmqt.com)
THURSDAY, 1/19:
Okay. I changed my mind.
If you recall, a week or so ago I couldn’t decide on which
picture to enter in the “Shots & Stories” exhibit at the
Marquette Arts & Culture Center. I was leaning toward a
shot of kids playing soccer on Omaha Beach, but I hadn’t
made up my mind. Well, guess what?
I’ve made up my mind now.
When Loraine first tried to convince me to enter the
exhibition, one certain picture popped into my head. This
past weekend, I went through EVERYTHING I have (and, as an
aside, I take waaaaaaaaaaaaaay too many pictures), came up
with six of seven possibilities, and had her choose one.
The one she chose?
The one that first popped into my head.
So here’s my shot & the story that goes along with it. Let
me know what you think. And be aware that the shot will be
a framed and matted 8x10, so you can see a lot more detail
than you can in a little web shot. The only thing I don’t
have is a title for the work; I’m sure that’ll pop into my
head shortly.
*****
I don’t think I’ve ever seen so much life in a military
cemetery.
When you go to a place like Park Cemetery in Marquette, you
expect to see people marveling in the beauty, playing with
the ducks, and just enjoying their natural surroundings.
You don’t expect to see that in a military cemetery,
especially a German World War II military cemetery in
Belgium—but at least on this particular day, that’s what we
saw.
This particular cemetery is in Recogne, which is near
Bastogne, the crossroads of the Battle of the Bulge. It
sits across the road from the former Foy American Temporary
Cemetery, which is now a farm field. American family
members had the choice to bring their fallen husbands,
fathers, and sons home if they wanted. German family
members didn’t have that choice. Their loved ones were
buried where they fell.
I’m guessing it’s because of that reason that on this
particular morning a busload of German tourists pulled up
and spilled out into the cemetery. You could tell that some
people were there to pay their respects to long-lost family
members, but you could also tell that others were,
literally, just along for the ride. There was laughing and
talking and joking. We Americans were even pulled into the
repartee, as our tour guide was driving a van with German
license plates, and several of the visitors came over and
attempted to converse in their native language. When they
finished their visit, they all stood outside their bus and
enjoyed their lunch, which consisted of a sausage and a
glass of beer.
Not exactly the kind of thing you expect to see at a place
like this.
I’ve always been drawn to this picture because of that
juxtaposition. In the background you can see two dozen of
the visitors, enjoying themselves to the fullest, while in
the foreground, you see a typical German military headstone,
forlorn and isolated. There are three people buried in that
grave, all unknown, all of whom will probably never get to
enjoy the laughter and the joking of visiting family
members. It just all seems slightly...incongruous to me.
Americans traveling through the former war zones of Europe
hardly ever stop at cemeteries of other countries who fought
in the “War to End All Wars”. But a stop at a cemetery such
as this reminds you that in war, all sides lose. All sides
mourn family members who will never return. And all sides
have men (& women) who will never hear laughing and talking
and joking again.
Peace.
(jim@wmqt.com)
WEDNESDAY, 1/18:
Today, lots of stuff about nothing in particular.
Firstly, I have been able to go cross-country skiing. A
couple of you wondered about that after my blog from a week
or so ago bemoaning the fact that I hadn’t, up to that
point, been able to ski. Well, I hit the (freshly groomed)
trails at Blueberry Ridge this past Saturday, and had a
blast. And despite what my lovely wife thought, I made it
through with flying colors!
Usually, the first time I go skiing in a season, I’ll often
be sore afterward, if only because I’ve used muscles I
haven’t used in several months. So Friday night Loraine
told me that if I did go skiing the next morning, I would be
allowed to complain just once about being sore; after that,
I had to keep my mouth shut. I couldn’t moan, I couldn’t
complain, I couldn’t go “ouch” every time I tried to get up
from the couch. If I was gonna go skiing and make myself
sore, I had to keep it to myself. But you know what?
Not one ache. Not one tender muscle. Not one stiff joint.
Not one...anything. I don’t know how and I don’t know why,
but I made it through a 12-K ski without a problem in the
world. What I’m now wondering is this--because I didn’t
complain to Loraine at all this time around, does that mean
I get an extra complaint next time I do something stupid to
myself?
I’m thinking not.
Secondly, I received a note from daily blog reader Jen in
Marquette about my comment in yesterday’s ramblings about
finding space on my bookshelf for Roger Ebert’s book. Jen
wondered why I needed to find space; well, Jen, perhaps
because my bookshelf looks like this--
This is the shelf where I keep all the books I want to,
well, keep. As you can see, it’s kind of packed. Aside
from being overstuff with books, it’s also home to a few
maps, a small calendar, a couple items of research material,
three rocks, and two rockets, one a rubber model of a Saturn
Five and the other made out of a cardboard tube. Yes, I
should probably get it organized one day.
Of course, we all know when THAT will happen!
Finally, if I may indulge in a little bragging here, we
found out yesterday that New
Music Weekly magazine has
nominated the little radio station at which I work as one of
the seven best pop radio stations in the country! It’s the
second time we’ve received the nomination, and while I have
no illusions that we’ll win, I do appreciate the honor in
being picked.
So thanks to them, and thanks to you guys, a HUGE part of
why we were nominated in the first place!!
(jim@wmqt.com)
TUESDAY, 1/17:
You really need to read the book!
The book to which I’m referring is
Roger Ebert’s autobiography,
called “Life Itself”. It was a Christmas gift of mine, and
over the past week I’ve been devouring it, finally wrapping
it up last night. I’ll either hate myself for saying this
or be proud of myself for being so cheesy, but I give the
book two thumbs up!
Remember? Siskel & Ebert used to do the “thumbs up” shtick
on their review show? Oh, never mind...
8-)
I wanted to read the book for a couple of different
reasons. One of them is that Roger Ebert, along with the
late Gene Siskel, was one of the big influences on my taste
in movies. The first time I saw them was waaaaaaaaay back
in 1976, on one of their first-ever shows together, where
they reviewed a movie I was really excited to see at the
time, the (and please don’t laugh, remembering I was just a
kid) Jessica Lange-starring remake of “King Kong”. After
that, I would watch them almost every week, and because of
what they said, was able to see a wide variety of great
movies over the decades. If you’ve ever “lost” on “Stump
Jim Day” on movie trivia, part of the blame lies at the feet
of Roger Ebert.
I was also interested in reading the book because of what
Roger Ebert is doing today. As you may know, following
surgery for cancer several years ago, Ebert lost his ability
to talk (as well as eat & drink). Following that, he
basically went back to the beginning. He started to write a
lot. He was a Pulitzer-prize winning columnist before he
became a TV star; now that he can’t be on TV any more, he’s
gone back to his roots, in a way.
And what a wonderful writer he is. Sure, he tells the story
of his life, and how he’s dealing with surreal turn it’s
taken, but he also discusses all kinds of matters, from the
political to the philosophical to the religious and even to
the quantum (as in physics). He’s quite the fascinating
individual. We happen to share a lot of beliefs, and to get
the perspective of someone who’s taken a much different road
than have I was very interesting.
It’s funny; yesterday, I wrote about making a difference in
your life. Not long after I wrote that I read this in his
book, a “philosophy” of his, one that’s been running through
his head after being so close to death. Says Ebert--“”I
believe that if, at the end, according to our abilities, we
have done something to make others happier, that is about
the best we can do. To make others less happy is a crime.
To make ourselves unhappy is where all crime starts. We
must try to contribute joy to the world. That is true no
matter what our problems, our health, our circumstances. We
must try”.
Good words....just one little nugget among many found in
this book. If you’ve ever been interested in movies, in
writing, or in dealing with life-changing situations, I
think you may like this book. I know I did.
Now, I just need to find a place for it on my bookshelf.
After all, it’s a keeper, one that I highly recommend.
(jim@wmqt.com)
MONDAY,
1/16:
Do you think you make a difference?
On a day like today, on this particular holiday, I always
wonder if I’ve made enough of a difference. The individual
who we honor today once said, and I quote, “We must work
unceasingly to uplift this nation that we love to a higher
destiny, to a higher plateau of compassion, to a more noble
expression of humanness". I’ve always tried to do my part;
I don’t know whether or not I’ve succeeded, but I’ve always
tried to do my part.
When I look back at everything I’ve done in the past year, I
know that I’ve done a lot of different things, but part of
me always wonders if they’re things that make a difference.
Sure, I give a lot of tours and do a lot of programs and
help with a lot of other things, but is that really making a
“difference”? I mean, when I think of people who make a
“difference”, I think of the people who’ve moved to Haiti to
help with earthquake victims. I think of people who
selflessly take in homeless children. I think of people who
put their lives on the line every day so their fellow human
beings can live in some semblance of peace.
Those are people who really make a difference, who work
unceasingly to uplift this nation—this planet—to a higher
destiny. Sometimes, I feel like I’m just falling a bit
short in that respect, you know?
When I was young, I wanted to make a name for myself. But
like most people, as I’ve aged I’ve come to understand that
it’s just not in my destiny to change the world
single-handedly. I’ll probably never be written up in
history books, I’ll probably never have a memorial built to
me, and my name won’t be mentioned by generations to come.
As I’ve grown, I’ve become okay with that.
But in my own way, I still want to make a difference. I
want to do whatever I can to make the place in which I live
a better place in which to live, to help my neighbors, and
to leave whatever little mark I can in the time I have on
this planet. I may not be able to change the planet, but I
DO want to make a difference, at least as much of a
difference as possible. And that’s why, on a day like
today, I wonder if I’m doing just that, living up to the
challenge of one particular man who DID make a difference.
And on that note, happy King Day.
Watch this!!
(jim@wmqt.com)
FRIDAY,
1/13:
I don’t have a lot of time to write today, because I’m
dealing with the police.
No, it’s not what it sounds like, and no, it’s not some kind
of strange Friday the 13th kind of thing. We’re actually
doing something for THEM; that’s what I have to deal with,
and that’s why I don’t have a lot of time to write stuff
this morning!
So instead I’ll leave you with another picture, one that I
found on the old camera I keep in my office for times when I
need it, like when I needed to take the picture of the
destroyed fence yesterday. Anyway, the picture actually
harks back to two things we’ve discussed this week. It’s a
shot that could have a story behind it; I just don’t know
what that story is. Or the picture’s story could be related
to what we discussed yesterday. All I know is that I saw it
early one Saturday morning a few summers ago, and felt
compelled to take a picture of it--
Think of it this way--at least there’s not a pixel of snow
in the shot!
And on that note, have a great weekend. Stay warm, and
don’t hurt yourself shoveling!
(jim@wmqt.com)
THURSDAY, 1/12:
What is it with some people?
I ask that question because of this--there is a three-foot
gap between the building in which I work and the building
next door, the Elks club. Over the years I’ve worked here,
I’ve noticed all kinds of garbage thrown in the gap between
the two buildings, necessitating the occasional cleaning out
of it by the people who own this building. In order to stop
the garbage from being thrown in there, the owners of the
building in which I work constructed a wooden fence between
the two buildings. It looked nice, it served its purpose,
and it lasted a whole month and a half before this
happened--
We can’t get you kids anything nice without you wrecking it,
can we?
Sigh...
Don’t worry; I know YOU didn’t have anything to do with it.
I’m sure you’re just as...saddened by it as I am. It just
makes me wonder what it is with some people these days. I
mean, I know why the fence is wrecked. Someone--or several
someones--had way too much to drink, were walking up Front
Street, saw a nice new fence just sitting there harmlessly
out of the way, and decided to teach the fence a lesson for,
I dunno, being a fence. Or for being brown. Or both.
Because I don’t drink and because I actually believe in
respecting other people’s property, perhaps I’m not the best
person to ask this question, but what IS it about certain
individuals that compels them, once inebriated, to destroy
things? Living and walking through downtown Marquette means
that this isn’t the first time I’ve seen something like
this. I’ve seen broken windows, dented doors, smashed
hanging planters, puddles of blood, and more piles of puke
than you can shake a two dollar pitcher of beer at. And the
question I always ask is this--
Why?
I know; excessive alcohol consumption does different things
to different people. Some people turn all mushy. Some
people turn all friendly. Some people turn all spacey. And
some people, apparently, turn all testosterone-y, feeling
the need to let out that testosterone by picking a fight
with the nearest bouncer, flower planter, or brown wooden
fence, no matter to whom it belongs or who put it up. I
mean, how would one of those people feel if they woke up one
morning and found their car window had smashed in the
previous night by someone just letting off a little
testosterone?
Like I said before, I just don’t understand. I’m sure if I
had a PhD in human psychology or in addiction science I’d
get it a little better, but I don’t understand why people do
things like that. Don’t’ they know what they’re doing?
Don’t they CARE about what they’re doing? I just don’t get
it. I always prefer to focus on the good side of human
beings, but when I see things like this, I certainly
understand that there’s a bad side to substantial subset of
human beings, as well.
If you don’t believe me, just ask the brown fence next door.
(jim@wmqt.com)
WEDNESDAY, 1/11:
I understand the request perfectly.
I’ve been listening to two different American composers
quite a bit recently. The first is George Gershwin. I’ve
always known him as a composer of orchestral works;
“Rhapsody in Blue”, in fact, may be the greatest American
symphonic piece of the past century. But it wasn’t until a
decade or so ago that I realized that George Gershwin also
wrote some of the most enduring pop songs of his
time--“Someone To Watch Over Me”, “They Can’t Take That Away
From Me”, and the entire score for “Porgy & Bess”. To me,
that dichotomy is fascinating; it’d be as if Beethoven
finished up his Fifth Symphony on a Tuesday and then wrote
Lady Gaga’s “Born This Way” on Wednesday. Plus, there’s
that whole “did he or didn’t he?” story of helping his
friend Louis Kaufman pick out the Steinway piano that still
sits in Marquette’s Kaufman Auditorium.
But that’s a blog for another day.
Now, aside from listening to Gershwin recently, I’ve also
spent a lot of time listening to one of the other great
American composers of the past century, Brian Wilson. For
those of you who don’t know the story, Brian Wilson, after 5
or 6 years of writing classic pop songs for the Beach Boys,
decided he wanted to try something on a grander scale, and
write an album unlike any other album recorded up to that
time. He spent over a year working on the project, a
project that had one unintended consequence--
It caused him to have a nervous breakdown, a breakdown that
robbed him (and people who admire his music) of the next
three decades of his life.
The album was intended to be a follow-up to “Pet Sounds”, an
album that in itself is one of the greatest of the 1960s.
The project was to be called “SMiLE”, and had become one of
the legendary “lost works” of American music. Several songs
from the album had been released over the years, and Brian
Wilson “finished” the work with a contemporary band back in
2004 or 2005. But as he himself has said, he wrote the
album with the Beach Boys in mind. He wrote it for their
very specific voices and their very specific harmonies.
So it wasn’t until last month that the world got to hear
what he was talking about.
Over the past 12 months Wilson and engineers at Capitol
Records dug out master tapes from that year of original
recording sessions, and tried to put together as much of the
album as they could. Some parts of the album are
incomplete, but you get sense of what he was trying to
write. It’s basically, I guess, the Great American Story.
The album’s built around 5 or 6 great songs, including
“Heroes and Villains” and perhaps the most beautiful Beach
Boys songs you’ve never heard, “Surf’s Up”. In between the
songs are little snippets of musical Americana, and like a
good symphonic work, you hear recurring themes that sound
awfully familiar to you, until you get to the end of the
work and realize that those themes that sounded awfully
familiar to you are all snippets from the final track of the
album, “Good Vibrations”.
You know, quite possibly the best song of the 1960s.
It’s quite fascinating listening to the album as he
envisioned it, even if the original work was never
completed. I thought his contemporary version was cool, but
that’s nothing compared to what it sounds like sung by the
voices for which it was originally written. In writing it,
he was trying something different. He, like another great
American composer of the past century, was trying to bridge
the gap between pop and symphonic.
So I guess I see the reasoning behind a request that came
out a year or two ago. The
estate of George Gershwin found some unfinished
songs left behind after his untimely death at the age of
38. In order to put the final touches on those unfinished
works, to whom did they turn? Yup...Brian Wilson, another
writer who tried to cross the bridge between two different
kinds of music.
After listening to the original version of “SMiLE” over and
over, and after being a fan of Gershwin for quite a while,
I’ll be curious to see how it all turns out.
(jim@wmqt.com)
TUESDAY, 1/10:
I have the shots and I have the stories. I just don’t have
a shot that goes with a story.
Here’s what I’m babbling about--the
Marquette Arts & Culture Center
is putting together their third annual “Shots & Stories”
exhibit next month, where local photographers show pictures
and tell the stories behind what’s in the picture. Loraine
said I should enter something in it, and I figured it might
be kind of fun. After all, I have some interesting pictures
I’ve taken over the past few years. And I certainly have
some interesting stories to tell.
The only problem is that none of the stories go with any of
the pictures.
After spending hours looking through some shots I thought
might be worthy of an exhibition I’ve come to the conclusion
that while I take pictures of interesting things none of
them have a really compelling story behind them. Sure, some
of the pictures may be nice to look at and sure, some of the
pictures may be quirky in nature, but at least to me I can’t
find one that has a “story” behind it. I just shoot what I
see; I don’t seem to shoot things with Great Meaning. When
I think of a picture with a compelling story behind it I
think of that great shot from the Vietnam War of a young
girl running away after being napalmed, or I think of the
picture of Jesse Jackson, Ralph Abernathy, and others
holding a slain Martin Luther King on the balcony of the
Lorraine Motel in Memphis, pointing toward where James Earl
Ray had just pulled the trigger.
I know for sure I don’t have any pictures like that.
While I’ve gone through most of the pictures I’ve taken
around here Loraine’s found a couple taken in Europe that
might work. One’s a very atmospheric picture of the
headstone of Republic’s George Ritola, taken in the Brittany
American Cemetery in France. Then there’s one I’ve always
liked of a solitary German headstone, with people enjoying
themselves far off in the distance, that I took in Belgium.
And then there’s this one--
It’s not that amazing of a picture--I mean, it’s just kids
from a school soccer team practicing on a beach--but it does
have a story behind it. The beach on which they’re
practicing is in Vierville, France, a beach everyone’s heard
about, even if they’ve never seen it in person.
You see, they’re practicing their football on Omaha Beach,
the beach where 3,500 allied troops were killed in the
opening hours of D-Day. What was once the scene of one of
the bloodiest days in human history is now the scene of kids
playing and living a life of freedom. I guess that might
make a pretty good story.
At least it’s the best one I’ve found so far.
I’ll keep looking through the thousands of shots sitting on
my laptop; maybe I’ll find something that grabs me and also
has a story worth telling. If you remember any pictures
I’ve posted in here that may do the trick, feel free to
share it, as well. After all, I’m often my own worst
critic, and may lack the perspective to know if I’ve ever
actually done anything worthy of “Shots & Stories”.
Like I said before, I have both shots and stories...I just
don’t know that I have both of them in one picture.
(jim@wmqt.com)
MONDAY,
1/9:
I never thought I’d EVER say this, but the warm weather has
kept me from doing something.
Darn you warm weather!!
Because of the temps in the 40s the past few days and the
resultant thaw, I didn’t go cross-country skiing like I
planned Saturday. I didn’t think it prudent that my first
ski of the year, when I don’t have my cross-country legs
under me, be on a course with bare spots and icy tracks. If
it was March and I’d been on the trails for two or three
months, it would’ve been fine. But the first time out for
the year?
Not so fine. After all, I have a lot of stuff to do in the
next few weeks, and I probably wouldn’t be able to do those
things as well as I could with a broken leg or a torn
rotator cuff. So I took the safe way out and ran instead.
Like I’ve mentioned here before, I don’t necessarily enjoy
running on snowy and icy roads and sidewalks as much as I do
on dry pavement, but in a world of increasingly freaky
weather, you do what you need to do, I guess.
While out running, a situation reminded me of a Koski family
tradition, and how it carried on again this past Christmas.
Every year since I can remember, one of my traditional
holiday gifts has been a running diary, a book where you can
write down your mileage on a daily basis, a book that also
has essays and helpful hints regarding the sport. My dad
also received the book every Christmas, at least until he
started to wean himself off running and on to tennis and
biking. But I know he enjoys the hints and essays in the
book, so after I open the gift, I give it to him to read,
and for the rest of Christmas day, we’ll all of a sudden
hear him shouting out “Jim, listen to this”, or “Loraine,
did you know this?”, followed by his sharing of that
information.
Like I said, it’s a Koski family holiday tradition, and it’s
one I wouldn’t change for anything.
Anyway, one of the helpful hints my dad shared this past
Christmas was something along the lines of this—never assume
a driver knows you’re approaching his or her vehicle,
especially at an intersection. It’s actually a rule that I
would recommend for ANYONE out near a road, running or
walking or biking or rollerblading or whatever. As I’ve
complained about in here many times before, some people just
do not pay attention to things while out driving. Those
drivers don’t seem to realize (or care) that there are more
things out on roads and sidewalks than just cars and
trucks. There are several times I’ve almost been hit by a
car while crossing a street in downtown Marquette, when a
walk sign tells me it’s okay to do so, because some bozo in
a vehicle is trying to make a right turn on red and only
looks one way—left--before turning. They don’t seem to
realize that 1). there may be pedestrians coming,
especially in the downtown area of a city where pedestrians
do
things like cross streets, and B). you’re supposed to look
both ways before turning a corner, even if it is on a red
light.
Seeing what I see on the streets, it amazes me how some
people were able to pass their driving test. It really
does.
I was reminded of the helpful hint my dad shared when I was
coming up to an intersection Saturday morning, caught the
eye of the driver also approaching it, and ran through said
intersection safely. Following those several near misses of
the past year, I’ve set this rule for myself—never go into
an intersection when there’s a vehicle approaching unless I
actually make eye contact with the driver of that vehicle.
That way, I’m assured that I won’t end up in the emergency
room. It’s kind of sad that I have to do that, but with all
the inattentive drivers out there, drivers who don’t seem to
care y\if they follow basic traffic laws, I just don’t want
to risk it. Plus, when you add in what happened to my mom
14 months ago...
Let’s just say safety takes priority these days. Besides,
it seems like it’s now part of a holiday tradition. And how
can you go wrong with something like that?
8-)
****
Now that I’ve mentioned my dad quite a bit and my mom only
once, I should rectify that with a web link. As you may
know, my mom’s become quite the watercolorist, and for
Christmas one of her thoughtful and technically adept kids
(okay, me, since while my sister and brother are also
thoughtful, I think neither of them would consider
themselves technically adept) gave
her her own website to show
off her work. If you want to check it out, feel free!
(jim@wmqt.com)
FRIDAY,
1/6:
If plans (and the trails) hold up, tomorrow I’ll kick off my
22nd year of cross country skiing.
Yikes!!
Because of the lack of snow this year, and because of the
insanity of my schedule the last month, I haven’t been able
to even think about hitting the trails out at Blueberry
Ridge. Assuming everything doesn’t melt today, that will
change tomorrow morning, when I bundle everything up and
instead of taking my weekly meandering run drive 7 miles and
instead take a weekly meandering ski. It’s a good thing
I’ll be able to do it, too, seeing as how cross-country
skiing may be the one and only reason I don’t go totally
stark raving bonkers during an Upper Michigan winter.
Go skinny skis!!
I don’t actually remember how I got started skiing back in
the winter of 1990-91. I know Loraine had a pair of
cross-country skis, and she probably wanted someone to go
with her. She probably told my parents that I needed as
pair, that pair magically appeared for Christmas, and, well,
the rest is history. And while Loraine doesn’t ski more, I
go as often as I can.
Well, it’s either that, or be driven insane by the snow,
right?
Believe it or not, I’m still using that same equipment, with
one exception, given to me 22 years ago. I know it drives
Dennis Whitley insane; almost every year at the beginning of
the ski season, I’d get a lecture about how much faster I
could ski if I got new, higher-tech skis, boots, & poles.
And every year, I’d tell Dennis the same thing—that I don’t
ski to race. I ski for exercise. I don’t care if I go
fast; I just care that I’m a mass of sweat when I finish my
10 or 15 K. If I have to work harder than the average skier
to finish the course, that’s fine with me.
After all, that’s why I do it!
That’s probably the reason I’ve never done the
Noquemanon, either. Well,
that and the fact that I’m the finish line announcer. When
I ski, I don’t really care about split times or personal
records; I just care about the calories I burn and the
muscle tone I gain. And that, I’m thinking, makes me
totally unsuitable to be a cross-country ski racer, where
you’re s’posed to care about those two things to the
exclusion of all else.
I personally think it’s kind of funny that I’ve such an avid
skier, seeing as how during the rest of the year I much
prefer civilization and concrete to the quiet and nature of
a forest. Yet during winter, covered with all kinds of evil
snow, the woods seem to beckon to me, calling out like a
Siren of Skiing (or some other mythical god of exercise). I
know...just another reason I seem to be a walking oxymoron,
right?
No, OXY moron. Not the other kind. Although that’s open
for debate on occasion, I guess.
But it’s now I’m about to begin my 22nd year of skiing. And
I’m guessing it’s been almost as long as I’ve been using
skiing to get through winters with a modicum of sanity
remaining. Hopefully, I’ll be skiing at least another 22
years, and hopefully, over those next 22 years, cross
country skiing will help me maintain that modicum of sanity.
After all, in that regard, I need as much help as possible.
Have a great weekend; if you’re so inclined, enjoy the snow
yourself!
(jim@wmqt.com)
THURSDAY, 1/5:
Since I asked a question yesterday, how about if I ask
another one today? And no, that’s not the question I’m
gonna ask. This is--
When is chocolate really not chocolate? Is it when there
isn’t any chocolate in the chocolate?
No, I’m not (deliberately) trying to be confusing, and no,
this isn’t some kind of Zen exercise. This is a real
question that deserves real pondering, and here’s why--odds
are, you received some kind of chocolate product for
Christmas, right? I mean, they’re everywhere during the
season, and odds are one or two of them ended up in your
hands. If you have still have a chocolate gift or two lying
around, look at the container in which they came.
Because your chocolate may really not be chocolate.
I’m not kidding. If you received anything from
Palmer, or a little box of
Andes mints, or perhaps
even a giant
Nestlé’s Crunch Bar, you’ll
see one of two things on the box. You’ll either see that
they’re described as “chocolate-flavored products” or if you
look at the ingredients you’ll see that they don’t have
cocoa butter and/or chocolate liquor, the two things that
make up actual, real chocolate.
That’s right--your chocolate may not have any chocolate in
it. THAT’S why I posed the Zen-like question!
This has been going on for a couple of years now. Some
manufactures, in order to squeeze every cent they can out of
their products, have replaced the actual chocolate they buy
and use with a mix of partially hydrogenated soybean oil and
chocolate “flavoring”, and then pass it off as ‘chocolate”.
Now I know I may come across occasionally as a chocolate
snob, but in an instance like this, my snobbery may be
justified. I mean, if you eat this stuff, you’re not eating
chocolate. You’re eating artery-clogging saturated fat that
tastes like chocolate. And at least to me, it doesn’t even
taste like real chocolate; it tastes like, I dunno,
brown-flavored wax. If you don’t believe me, try a taste
test. Take a piece of real chocolate, and eat it. Then
take a chocolate-flavored candy product, and do the same.
You may find yourself becoming a chocolate snob, too.
The sad thing is most people probably don’t even realize
what’s going on. I mean, how many people read the labels or
the ingredient lists on the food they eat? That’s probably
why the candy companies figured they could get away with it;
after all, if no one paid attention, they could probably
also replace any nuts in their bars with “nut-like pieces”
of tree bark and no one would be the wiser. It’s sad, but
it’s true, and it seems to be a fact of modern life.
I’ll quit complaining about it now; after all, there are SO
many things in life that are more important than and deserve
more discussion than “chocolate” that it’s not even funny.
I just figured I’d point it out, and maybe open a few eyes
in the process. Besides, you guys know how I love
chocolate...at least when it actually IS chocolate.
Caveat emptor, I guess.
(jim@wmqt.com)
WEDNESDAY, 1/4:
And to start off the new year, here’s a question--when is a
routine a routine, and when is a routine a rut?
I’ve been wondering about that quite a bit recently. Since
my little experience last month with the potential of jury
duty, along with having the holidays thrown in there,
whatever routine I used to have was thrown out the door.
Before all that, I had found myself doing certain things on
certain days, and looking forward to doing those certain
things on certain days. I knew I had to get specific things
done on Mondays, other things on Tuesdays, and even more
different things done on all days of the week leading up to
the weekend, where I had yet another normal routine--I’d go
running on Saturday morning, go grocery shopping later in
the day on Saturday, and lounge around Sunday morning while
trying to convince myself it’s time to work out. I’d look
forward to doing the things I had to do on certain days, and
if I didn’t do them on certain days, I felt, well, strange.
So is it a routine, or is it a rut?
I used to think that because of the insane schedule that
runs my life that I could never get into a rut. And that
might very well be the case; after all, while I do do
certain things on certain days, it may be because those are
the only days on which I can do those certain things. If I
don’t do them then, I wouldn’t be able to do them at all.
And maybe I feel strange when I don’t do them because, with
all the insanity in my life last month, I felt I needed a
little routine to balance out the insanity.
I’m not saying routines are a bad thing; I’m not even sure
that a rut could be considered a bad thing. Like I said, a
little routine (or rut) is a good thing when trying to
balance out an insane schedule. It gives you something you
know and you’re comfortable with to look forward to, as
opposed to all the unknown (or infrequent) activities that
pop up here and there. I don’t mind that at all.
And yet, there’s a small part of me that always thinks that
you should be pushing yourself forward, attempting things
you’ve never done before, trying to find a different way to
carry off old activities, or rearranging a schedule to stop
it from becoming stale. I don’t know where that part of me
comes from; it’s just there, and it seems to pop up whenever
I’m trying to convince myself that a routine is a nice thing
to have. So maybe, in a way, what happened to me last month
was a good thing, if for no other reason than it made me
realize that I do, for better or worse, have a “routine”.
See? It really isn’t easy being me, is it? Sometimes these
discussions with myself can just be draining...they really
can!
If you have a routine, and it’s a routine with which you
feel comfortable, go for it. Enjoy it. Revel in it. After
all, everybody needs a certain level of comfort in their
life. But if you feel the need to shake things up a little,
go ahead and shake it up. You might find that your new way
of doing things work fine. But if it doesn’t, go back to
your old routine. Just try not to obsess over whether it’s
a routine or a rut.
After all, some of us do that enough for everyone!
(jim@wmqt.com)
TUESDAY, 1/3:
So THIS is what winter looks like, huh?
Staring out my living room window at all the white stuff on
the ground makes me laugh just a little. It’s not a “funny”
laugh; no, it’s just the laugh of someone who remembers that
it was less than two weeks ago that everyone was worried
that we’d have a brown Christmas instead of a white
Christmas. Looks like your wish for a major storm was just
a week or so too late!
For as much as I really dislike winter, there’s one regard
in which I’m happy for the snow. I’m happy for all the
skiers and snowmobilers and other winter sports enthusiasts
who finally have enough snow upon which to, uhm, enthuse.
And I’m happy for all the people around here who make their
living catering to the people who, uh, enthuse upon the
snow. Looks like the season won’t be a total washout after
all.
And, I guess, part of me is happy for me that the snow’s
here, as well. After all, it was just a couple of weeks ago
that I wrote how there was too much snow to run comfortably
yet not enough snow upon which to ski. Well, guess what?
Looks like I don’t have to worry about that any more, do I?
Now, if we can just make it through the next two or three or
four months with our sanity intact. If we do that—okay, if
_I_ do that—we’ll be set. Cold and snowy, but set.
8-)
*****
New Year’s Eve with 4,000 of my closest drunk friends went
fine, thanks for asking. It seems like there was a larger
crowd than usual Saturday night; I’m sure the warm pre-snowy
weather had something to do with that. And I do need to
mention that I felt sorry for the people at Fox UP and “The
Doug Garrison Show”?
Here’s why—
They had a camera set up across Front Street from me,
shooting the crowd and the ball drop. But I don’t think
they were ready for the level of, uhm, “celebratory
preparedness” of said crowd, and I don’t think they realized
that drunken people—excuse me, people who’ve been practicing
“celebratory preparedness”—are drawn to TV lights like a
moth to a flame, or like a Kardashian to an expensive
wedding. Normally, I get a lot of my drunken friends seeing
me with a mic, coming over and wanting to “talk on the
radio”. But not this year; no, this year, they saw the TV
lights, ran over to them, and stared waving behind the
frazzled young reporter trying to do a stand-up. I saw a
few of them flip their middle fingers at the camera; I
wouldn’t be surprised if one or two people flashed and/or
mooned the camera as well. After all, when you’re
“celebratorally prepared” and you see a TV camera, what else
do you want to do, right?
Anyway, watching my 4,000 of my closest drunken friends try
to get on TV was almost as much fun as doing the radio
broadcast of the ball drop itself. Can’t want to see if
they try it again next year!
(jim@wmqt.com)
Jim’s
2011 trip
to Belgium, France, and Germany,
click here
