Jim's Daily Opinion

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In Jim's Daily Opinion 03/09/2010

IN JIM’S OPINION:

TUESDAY, 3/9:

It’s going well. Thanks for asking!

Several of you have wondered how I’m coming along with the “Back To School” program I’m putting on for the Marquette County History Museum a week from Thursday. I don’t know if I’ve written about it here, or if you’ve seen me on TV talking about it, or if you saw the little blurb in Marquette Monthly, but you seem to know about it , and I appreciate the curiosity. It’s going well!

It’s actually been a fun project. When we decided to do the program, it was one of those things where no one knew enough about the subject to put a program on with ease, so I was, uhm, volunteered to become the local expert on it. And while I don’t know that I’ll ever have a need for the knowledge again, I’m hopeful that I’ve learned enough to put the program on with ease. I mean, I now know details about every single one of the 20-some public schools that have called Marquette home, starting with a little one room schoolhouse that stood where the Vierling now stands. Some of those details were fascinating to learn, as well. I’m not gonna share them here (after all, I do have to save something for the program) but trust me--if you show up next Thursday at the Museum, I guarantee you’ll learn at least three things you never knew, and find yourself with at least one out-loud belly laugh.

Assuming, of course, I don’t screw up royally and do something stupid like trip over the projector screen. Then you may find yourself with more out-loud belly laughs than just one.

After finishing writing a Mining Journal article this morning to spotlight the talk, I just find myself in need of a few more pictures to make the presentation complete. Thanks to the vast resources of the museum, I have pictures of almost every old school in the city (including the aforementioned one room school house, and several architecturally beautiful, long-lost sandstone buildings). I now just need to take a few more pictures of current buildings, to make the collection complete.

How will it all turn out? We’ll find out next Thursday at 7 at the Museum. And once again, thanks for asking about the whole thing!

MONDAY, 3/8:

Here we are, another whole new week, and another chance for my friends at the Lake Superior Community Partnership to have giggle whenever I say a certain phrase.

As we do every year, we hosted the Partnership’s Leadership Academy Class last Thursday. Every year, they do a media day where they visiting the Mining Journal and a TV station and us. And while they were here, I had the chance to learn that the gang working at the partnership has developed their own little private joke.

They like the way I say “TV-6 meteorologist Karl Bohnak”.

Now, I’d never given it much thought, but after listening to a recording, I know what they’re talking about. Apparently, I DO give a certain emphasis to the way I say Karl’s name. I don’t know how long I’ve been doing it, but I say it in kind of a lilting cadence, while raising the register in my voice the farther I get along in his name. Apparently, it’s caught the fancy of the people listening at the Partnership, who say they actually look forward to hearing me say it, and then have been known to burst out in laughter when they hear it.

Cool!

I realize that I have SO MANY idiosyncrasies in the way I speak that I’d never make it as a “real” radio personality. Someone would take a listen to me and walk away laughing. Unfortunately, they wouldn’t be laughing in the good way that the people at the Partnership do; no, they’d probably be laughing in the “how did someone ever hire you?” way? But I don’t care. I’ve said this many times before, but I don’t sound like a “real” radio personality. I don’t WANT to sound like a real radio personality. I sound like “me”, idiosyncrasies and all.

And that’s all I ever wanna do. So between the way I say “Karl Bohnak” and the way you could make a drinking game out of how I say “okay’ too much and who knows what else, you get what you get. I’m cool with that; I hope you are, too.

At least I know the gang at the Partnership is. Glad I could give you guys a private joke!!

8-)

****

I’m not sure if this qualifies as a late-winter miracle, but here goes...

I heard songbirds on the way to work today.

You know what I’m talking about...those birds that wake you up at 530am on an April morning to let you know that a). spring is finally here, and 2). they’re looking for some love. I don’t think I ever remember hearing them on the first of March, but after the winter we’ve been slogging through ANY sign of spring is a welcome one.

I’m keeping my fingers crossed it’s a sign that we’ll have a warm an early spring. And stop chuckling--a boy can dream can’t he??

FRIDAY, 3/5:

I’m a freak.

Now, before you reflexively say “Tell me something I don’t know” (which is what I would do), allow to explain--

I got my hair cut Tuesday. It was long overdue, and now I have a nice, neat, orderly head, a head on which you can actually see my ears. And that’s how I found out I’m a freak.

When I was working out yesterday, I caught a glimpse of a reflection of myself in a picture frame. It wasn’t a true reflection; instead, it was a backlit silhouette of my head and shoulders, and when I saw it, something immediately stood out. It was something I’d never noticed before, so I have no idea if I’ve not been paying attention, or if it’s because my hair’s shorter than it has been recently, or if I’m just plain starting to mutate, but I saw something in that silhouette that make me stop what I was doing and say out loud to myself--

“My left ear’s lower than my right ear”.

That’s what I noticed. I looked at the silhouette of my head for several seconds, realizing that a). I could actually notice my ears for once, and 2). that my left ear seemed like it was lower than my right ear. At first, I just chalked it up to the fact that I might not be standing up straight, but when I noticed that I actually was standing up straight, I began to realize that, much to my horror, I might actually be a freak.

(That’s okay; go ahead and say “Tell me something I don’t know” again. I’ll wait.)

Still not sure what was going on, I went into the bathroom and did something, well, freaky. I pulled out a little plastic level, one of the few tools I actually have, and standing in front of a mirror, I made sure my head was straight up & down. I then made marks in the mirror where the tops of my ears hit, and that’s when I realized the sad and strange truth.

My left ear is about a centimeter or so lower than my right ear.

This blew my mind in so many ways. First of all, my ears aren’t level. Second of all, it’s taken me 40-some years to realize that my ears aren’t level. And thirdly, that I must be really, REALLY strange to pull out a construction tool to measure the fact that my ears aren’t level. And to measure that difference in centimeters instead of inches.

Yup. I really AM a freak.

Now, I haven’t done any research to see if unlevel (if that’s an actual word; I know Microsoft Word just underlined it in red) ears are common in human beings. I actually don’t know where I’d start to look. Google? Web MD? Ripley’s Believe It Or Not? All I know is that I’m now going to be paying more attention to my ears than I ever have before.

I’m a freak. It’s the only was to describe it.

You have yourself a fun weekend. And whatever you do, do NOT look at your ears in a mirror. You never know what you’ll see!!

THURSDAY, 3/4:

It’s a good thing I don’t drink, because if I did, I’d be really hung over tomorrow morning. In fact, I’d be really hung over EVERY Friday morning.

And it wouldn’t be my fault.

Let me explain--one of the TV shows Loraine and I watch on a weekly basis is “The Mentalist”. We got into it during reruns last summer, and have enjoyed watching it ever since. Simon Baker’s really nailed it on how to be charmingly annoying, and the stories are often cute, if easy to figure out on occasion.

And then there’s the drinking game.

In the grand tradition of the “Hi, Bob” game from the old “Bob Newhart Show” (where you take a drink every time a character says “Hi, Bob”), Loraine and I have come up with “The Mentalist Tight Shirt” game. You see, the two lead actresses in the show, Robin Tunney and Amanda Righetti, are often costumed in tight shirts...really, really tight shirts. So whenever we see them in said wardrobe, we’ll inevitably shout out the phrase “take a drink”. And seeing as how the two actresses will often each wear two or three different tight shirts in an episode; well, you can see why it’s a good thing I don’t drink, especially on Thursday nights.

If you don’t believe me, watch an episode for yourself. Just make sure you don’t have a bottle handy!

8-)

****

Speaking (kind of) of Thursday nights, I’ll be giving my History Museum presentation on the history of Marquette schools in two Thursday nights, the 18th. And I mention that because I’m looking for any memories, thoughts, or tidbits you might want to share about two particular schools--J.D. Pierce, and the old Howard-Frobel building. If you have anything out of the ordinary you remember about those two schools, or remember hearing your parents or grandparents talk about them, I’d love to hear about it!

WEDNESDAY, 3/3:

I don’t know why, but for the last several weeks I’ve been compiling lists of things. It’s not something I do on a regular basis, but I guess who gets to read them?

That’s right--you!!

It actually started off when Loraine and I went to Gordon Food Service and I realized that I’ve never been to the new Lowe’s store in Marquette. So that prompted the first list--

STORES IN MARQUETTE TOWNSHIP TO WHICH JIM HAS NEVER BEEN--

1. Lowes.

2. Pier One

3. Starbucks, or Quiznos, or any of the stores in that new strip mall.

4. Culvers

5. Applebees

6. Perkins

7. The John Deere store

8. Any of the hotels along that strip

9. That car wash next to Citgo

Then last week, my friend Jamie sent me a note, mentioning that Sting is touring with a symphonic orchestra this summer, and that got me to putting together another list--

ACTS I’D LOVE TO SEE PERFORM LIVE WITH A FULL ORCHESTRA:

1. Elton John (just think of how that’d sound!)

2. Paul McCartney

3. Rob Thomas

4. U2

5. The Eagles (or just Don Henley alone)

6. Hall & Oates

Now, speaking of Hall & Oates, one of my favorite Christmas gifts from this past year was a new box set from the duo entitled “Do What You Want, Be Who You Are”. Given my fondness for Philly soul from the 70s, I’m surprised I hadn’t previously gotten into the group’s early work, but after listening to the set over and over, I’ve come up with this list--

THE BEST HALL & OATES SONGS YOU’VE (PROBABLY) NEVER HEARD:

1. “Las Vegas Turnaround”, from 1973.

2. “August Day”, from 1976. It’s kind of a neo-psychedelic soul trip. Quite cool.

3. “I Don’t Wanna Lose You”, also from 1976. Daryl Hall says he wrote this song for The Spinners, and by the horns and strings, you can really tell. It’s a GREAT song!

4. “Ennui On The Mountain”, from 1974. Actually, the song’s just okay. I do, however, LOVE that title!

5. “Head Above Water”, from 1981. This was actually going to be the title track and lead single from an album they were recording at the time, but then they went and wrote a couple of extra songs named “Private Eyes” and “I Can’t Go For That”, and this little pop gem slipped through the cracks.

And finally, also speaking of music, Loraine gave me a second iPod to go along with my original one, and I’ve noticed something while filling it up. While I seem to like a lot of songs, there are very few whole albums on which I like every single track. So here’s that list--

THE (non-greatest hits) ALBUMS ON WHICH JIM CAN LISTEN TO EVERY SONG--

1. Fleetwood Mac’s “Rumours”

2. Steely Dan’s “Aja”

3. The Police’s “Synchronicity”

4. Don Henley’s “Building The Perfect Beast”

5. The Style Council’s “Confessions Of A Pop Group”

6. The Gin Blossoms’ “New Miserable Experience”

7. The Mavericks’ “Trampoline”

8. Green Day’s “American Idiot”

That’s right; out of 2,000 CDs (or whatever it is in our collection) there are only 8 (that I can think of) that I’d listen to all the way through. I don’t if that’s sad or if that’s scary, but it’s true.

Okay...I’m done with the lists for now!

TUESDAY, 3/2:

I don’t have a lot of time to write today, because I have to go shoot something at Marquette’s Public TV station, but I DID want to tell you about an amazing coincidence between, well, Public TV and Marquette!

One of the gifts I gave Loraine for Christmas was the dvd of a show we missed on Public Television called “Hallowed Ground: America’s Overseas Military Cemeteries”. Daily blog reader Lana of Marquette had told me about the show, and I picked it up for Loraine because we’ve been to 8 of the cemeteries talked about in the show, and one of her friends from France is actually interviewed in the program!

Anyway, here’s the coincidence--the show goes, one-by-one, through each of the overseas cemeteries from both world wars, and it opens at the Brookwood World War I cemetery in England. The segment opens with someone walking around the grounds, placing flowers next to grave markers. It then cuts to a swooping crane shot that starts in some trees, covers a section of the cemetery, and ends up shooting a headstone that says this--

Richard M. Jopling
Pvt 1CL US Amb Svc 625
Michigan 3-16-19

When we saw this, both Loraine and I let out a gasp, and went back to make sure we saw what we saw. Because, you see, the first headstone on which the camera stops belongs to Richard Mather Jopling of Marquette.

Richard Mather Jopling was an ambulance driver killed in WWI. Richard Mather Jopling was a nephew by marriage to Peter White, and has a memorial in the White family section of Park Cemetery. Richard Mather Jopling was the person after whom Marquette’s American Legion post was named.

And here, the headstone for Richard Mather Jopling was the first one they showed on this PBS special about overseas military cemeteries.

How freaky is that? There are over 200,000 service men & women buried in overseas cemeteries, and the first one they show during this documentary was of someone from Marquette. It just blew both of our minds. Here, we had gone into viewing the program sure we’d like it (seeing as how we’ve been in many of the places featured), but after seeing that four-second shot, it’ll now stick in our brains forever.

And THAT’S the coincidence involving Marquette and Public Television!

Okay, now I really DO have to go shoot those “What’s Up”s on TV13. So I’ll leave you with this link to a Marquette Monthly story on Loraine and her little history award from last month!

MONDAY, 3/1:

4 a.m. and I are old friends.

I’ve always been a night owl. My first job in radio involved working overnights, and while I was in college I never (if I could help it) scheduled classes to begin before noon. My body just doesn’t seem to function at anywhere near 100% early in the day, one reason why I’ve never done mornings on the air.

As I’ve grown older, 4 a.m. and I have been seeing less of each other. It’s partly a function of having to be an adult and having to get up to go to work before 6 at night, and it’s partly a function of me discovering that the sun, especially on a warm summer day, can be my friend. Yet recently, the relationship between 4 a.m. and I has been revisited on occasion.

Even if I don’t want it to.

Over the last couple of months, I’ve been finding myself waking up at 4 a.m. a few nights a week. I don’t know how and I don’t know why; it just started one night and began picking up from there. I’m not sure if my body is trying to tell me something, or if my mind is playing a cruel practical joke on me, but I will wake up within a few minutes of 4 a.m.--no matter what time I went to sleep--and just lay there, unable to get back to sleep, even if I feel dead tired.

Especially if I feel dead tired.

When this happens I try to do a couple of things. I try not to move, so that I don’t wake Loraine up, and I try not to let me mind rev up. I succeed quite well in the former; it’s the latter that often gives me problems. Instead of going back to sleep, my mind springs into action, and I suddenly find myself pondering everything. For no reason, I’ll start to think about the state of political world, or I’ll start to think about what I should write in this blog the next day, or if it’s really bad, I’ll start singing something like “Funkytown” or “Mambo #5” in my head.

Trust me--that’s the worst.

I have a feeling the whole thing’s mental; if I do wake up at 4 a.m., I’ve psyched myself out to believe that I won’t get back to sleep, no matter what I try (especially if “Mambo #5” starts up). I understand that aspect of it, and I’m sure I can try some mental exercises to make it stop. But what I don’t understand is why it started in the first place; I mean, did I do something to piss off Serta, or Sominex, or whoever the god of sleeping is? Have I not been conversing enough with the stuffed animals Loraine leaves on the bed during the day, making them so angry that they rouse me out of a peaceful slumber a few nights a week?

I just wish I knew how it started.

Hopefully, maybe just by writing this out, I’ll have worked through some deep-seated issue that’s been lingering hidden in my brain, trying to escape every few days at 4 in the morning. Maybe, just maybe, I’ll make it through a bunch of 4 a.m’s, and then the problem won’t affect me anymore.

Until, of course, I start waking up at 2 a.m. every few mornings...

8-)

FRIDAY, 2/26:

When is a routine a routine, and when is a routine a rut?

I’ve been wondering about that recently. Ever since the holidays wrapped up, I’ve found myself doing certain things on certain days, and looking forward to doing those certain things on certain days. I know I have 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 have yet another normal routine--I go skiing 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 look forward to doing the things I have to do on certain days, and if I don’t do them on certain days, I feel, 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, I need 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.

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!

Have a great weekend, while you’re at it. I know I’ll be skiing and grocery shopping and spending a morning trying to convince myself that it’s time for a workout. And I’ll try not to worry about whether that’s a routine or rut.

THURSDAY, 2/25:

Lots of little things today, starting off with one of those “Only in Marquette” moments, this one courtesy of my walk to work in the snow yesterday--

While walking to work in the 4 or 5 inches that we received here in the city, I noticed two things side by side in the sidewalk ahead of me--snowshoe tracks, and bicycle tire tracks. Someone had snowshoed into downtown Marquette, while just a few seconds later, someone had ridden their bike down the same sidewalk into downtown Marquette. Knowing that’s not something you see every day, I was gonna take a picture of it, but by the time I got to work and could grab a camera, the falling snow had covered up both sets of tracks.

I love when that happens.

The snow also reminded me that while I used to love the exercise you get when you shovel a ton of snow, I’ve not had to shovel for a couple of years, and, well, when you actually DO shovel a little after not shoveling for a couple of years, your muscles do let you know.

At least, my unused shoveling muscles let ME know after helping out my landlord a little yesterday. Oww!!!

8-)

Next? Just an observation that with the wave of violent crime around the U.P. recently (murders in Ishpeming and Marquette Township, and a Kingsford bank robbery that’ll be tried in Marquette) I have a feeling that, in the next few months, a LOT of people are gonna be called for jury duty. So if your name hasn’t come up recently...good luck! The last time I had to go in was 2004, when I had to spend a day at the Marquette County Courthouse watching a jury get picked before they got to me. Hopefully, that’s “recently” enough!

Finally, the last thing we needed to arrange for our October trip to France is now taken care of--our rental car! Instead of a VW Passat, it looks like we’ll be driving a Renault this time around. And it’s caused us to notice one thing--by going in October instead of our usual September, we’re saving a nice percentage of money on airline tickets and the aforementioned rental car. Now, all we have to do it hope the weather holds up!

WEDNESDAY, 2/24:

I’m feeling guilty about something. I’m not sure if I should feel guilty about it, but I do.

As many of you know, I have accounts with both Facebook and Twitter. I use both accounts to keep people informed about what’s going on in the unique world that is mine, but I seem to favor one service over the other. You see, I’m on Facebook a lot more than Twitter, and I feel bad about that.

I check Facebook at least once a day, usually on my phone when I’m eating dinner. It’s a good chance for me to keep up on what friends, both real world and Facebook, are doing. But Twitter? Uhm...not so much.

My bad.

And I suppose I should be on Twitter more; after all, I have 50 people following me, 50 people who probably signed up to receive pithy bon mots on a regular basis but who are probably disappointed to only read one or two thoughts (ones that are anything put pithy) a month. But there’s just something about Twitter that not, well, Facebook. First of all, you’re only limited to 140 characters, and anyone who reads this on a regular basis knows that I sometimes haven’t even gotten to my first punctuation mark after 140 characters.

Oops.

And there’s something about Facebook that seems, I dunno, a little more adult, and a little more personal. When you look at who’s following you on Twitter, you get a list of names, and, if you’re lucky, a little picture to go along with it. But when you see who’s your friend on Facebook, even on a phone, you’re provided with a wealth of pictures, contact data, and more personal information than you can swing a computer mouse at. That can lead to what some of my Facebook friends describe as “The Great Facebook Time Suck”, but I just seem to appreciate it all a little more.

Of course, that still doesn’t mean I’m being fair to the people who signed up to follow me on Twitter. I feel like I owe them more than just a sentence or two a month, but I never seem to feel it’s important enough to get around to it. After all, if they’re interested enough to ask, shouldn’t I be interesting enough to have something to say?

So I’m hoping to Tweet a little more. At the very least, I know one way I could make more use of it. One of the two original reasons I signed up for the service was to follow a suggestion by one of you that I use Twitter to post something about what each day’s blog was about. I think I did that for the first week, and then let it slide. And I HAVE used it occasionally for the second reason for signing up. When something big is going on—like last spring’s Hinder concert or my trips to France—I can provide a running, real-time commentary, if I feel like it.

Maybe I just need to feel like it a little more.

So we’ll see how I follow through on this. Maybe you guys should check up on me every so often. After all, if I know someone’s holding my feet to the fire, maybe they’ll get burned more often.

Or, uhm, something like that!

TUESDAY, 2/23:

You know, until I went to Glacier Glide Saturday, I’d forgotten how much I enjoy taking pictures.

Those of you who read this on a regular basis know that during the summer I travel everywhere with a camera. I never know what strange sight or wonder of nature I might see, so I’m never without something to document that strange sight or wonder of nature. But during the winter? That’s usually a different story. I mean, I’m usually hauling enough crap around as it is without a camera bag; plus, cold can affect the guts of a camera, and I don’t really wanna do that.

That’s why, before Glacier Glide, I hadn’t really taken any pictures, at least of stuff outside, since October. And that’s why, after going to Glacier Glide on Saturday, I realized how much I missed it.

Now, I’m by no means a great photographer. I don’t spend hours setting up a shot, and I certainly am not a master of lighting or of camera tricks. If I see something interesting, I take a picture of it. And if I have any kind of appreciable skill as far as photography goes, it’s the same skill that makes these blogs interesting on occasion—

I notice things.

When taking pictures, I sometimes notice a weird angle, or notice the way the sunlight’s hitting a building just so. When taking pictures, I sometimes see people in interesting positions, or a view framed differently than I’ve seen before. And when taking pictures, sometimes it all comes together, like with this shot from Glacier Glide—

I was just walking around Presque Isle Saturday, enjoying the art and the (long forgotten) sun, when I just happened to look around, and, off in the distance, see a young couple enjoying a moment. What caught my attention wasn’t so much the couple as it was fact that here I was, surrounded by trees, and in the only open space I could see stood these two people.

So I pulled out my camera, fiddled with the lens, and took the picture.

I have no idea who the people in the picture are. And I certainly didn’t mean to intrude on what was probably a private moment. It’s just that, for an instant, I saw something, a something I knew would never exist in that exact form again, and so I decided to document it.

That’s how I end up with a lot of what I consider to be my “best” pictures, whether they’re taken on a sidewalk in Marquette or in a field in Belgium. I just see something, an event or laugh or a ray of light, that exists for only a few moments, and I try to document it. Sometimes it works, sometimes it turns out as a fuzzy blob, but at least I noticed it, and at least I tried.

That’s why I like taking pictures, and that’s why it took a moment at Glacier Glide to remind me just how much I do.

MONDAY, 2/22:

So...didja survive the busy weekend?

I don’t know if those of you who weren’t in Marquette this past weekend can truly appreciate everything that went on, but I have the feeling that if there was an activity that could’ve been scheduled between Friday and today, it was. I mean, aside from the UP 200, there was Kaliedescope, Glacier Glide, the Kiddie Mutt races, the State high school cross country skiing championships, a figure skating competition, and, at last count, at least 4 different charity fundraisers.

And who says there’s nothing to do here?

I tried to at least check out as many of the activities as I could. I was also able, as I mentioned in Friday’s blog, to go skiing in and around said activities. And at one of the events I checked out (Glacier Glide) I did something I do every year--

I took pictures!

Now, I know I whine a little in this blog about winter (well, okay, maybe I whine a lot) but Glacier Glide weekend is the one weekend when I haul out my camera and try to actually find a little beauty in the snow and the ice. And since we did receive a LOT of snow earlier this week, I guess I did find a little.

Even if I don’t want to admit it.

Still, I look forward to retaking these pictures when it’s green everywhere, and the only white you see are the puffy clouds in the sky and the glare of the sun as it bounces off the rippling waters of the lake.

FRIDAY, 2/19:

Do you realize I’ve now been skiing for 20 years?

It’s something that popped into my head as I was tooling around Blueberry Ridge the other day. I started cross country skiing during the winter of 1990, and two decades later, I’m still using it as the one reason I have to not go totally stark raving bonkers during an Upper Michigan winter.

Go skinny skis!!

I don’t actually remember how I got started doing it. I know Loraine had a pair, and she probably wanted someone to go with her. She probably told my parents that I needed a pair, they magically appeared for Christmas, and, well, the rest is history. And while Loraine doesn’t ski much any 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 given to me 20 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 ski 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 split times and personal records to the exclusion of all else.

I personally think it’s kind of funny that I’m 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 been 20 years that I’ve been skiing; 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 20 years. And hopefully, over those 20 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 yourself a great weekend; hopefully, I’ll be able to get a ski or two in between things like Kaliedescope and Glacier Glide!

THURSDAY, 2/18:

Today, a bunch of little things that on their own don’t merit an entire blog, but when put together add up to, well, an entire blog!

First of all, I don’t know if you read Time magazine, but their issue last week dealt with, among other things, how the life span of a human being may soon be increasing quite rapidly. And as someone who plans on living to be at least 100, it contained a wealth of information about how science could soon be on the verge of making major breakthroughs in this area. In fact, it tells the story of a couple of scientists who are putting $500 into a money market account, to be given to the first person who lives to be 150 years old. They’re pretty sure this person has already been born, and when said person collects the prize, they’ll walk away with $500,000,000.

Yes, you read that right—half as billion dollars. A long life and compound interest...two things you really hafta love!

Next, if you get BBC America on your cable system, you really need to check out a show called “The In-Betweeners”. It airs Wednesday night at 930, and is a hoot! It deals with four British teenagers, all of whom are somewhat socially awkward and all of whom who are prone to making those mistakes that teenagers make. It’s profane (REALLY profane, in fact), it’s funny, and it’s definitely worth checking out if you haven’t yet. It receives at least four big thumbs-up from both me and Loraine!

Finally, I mentioned a few ago that I’m working on a school project. No, I haven’t gone back to school, and no, they haven’t discovered that I really DIDN’T pass fourth grade and still owe someone a social studies paper. Nope; the school project I’m working on is a program for the Marquette County History Museum next month titled “Back To School”. In it, I’ll go over the history of schools in Marquette, starting with the first 4-student class in 1850 to the high-tech learning centers of today. I’ll be going over the many different schools that have housed students in Marquette over the past 160 years, including some fondly remembered that are, sadly, no longer around.

Oh, and there will also be a test. Seriously, there WILL be a test. After all, how can you have a program about schools and not have a test? So you have until Thursday, March 18th at the museum to study up.

And just so you know, I WON’T be grading on a curve!

8-)

WEDNESDAY, 2/17:

You know, you never know what a new day is going to hold.

For instance, I had no idea when I woke up one morning last week that I would be asked to do something I’ve never done before. And while it’s only going to take a little bit of my time, it should be a lot of fun, and it’s one of those where I can’t wait to see the end result!

Here’s what’s going on—PAAC (the Peninsula Arts Appreciation Council) is going a production of that classic, touching love story known as “Night Of The Living Dead” in April. The people behind this staging of the zombie classic are looking to localize it a little, and that’s where I come in.

If you remember the original movie, the group of humans trying to survive an onslaught of the living dead tune in to local radio and TV to try and find out what’s going on, what they need to do, and where they need to go. And that’s where I come in. In a neat attempt to localize the zombie invasion, I’ll be recording several faux newscasts (as will Steve Asplund at TV-6) to be inserted during the play. That way, it’ll seem like the undead are sweeping their way across in the U.P., instead of somewhere in the middle of Pennsylvania, like in the flick.

Like I said, this’ll be something I’ve never done before. Believe it or not, I’ve never been part of a theatrical production. I think I’ve done just about everything else in the entertainment world (except, perhaps, for being a video game avatar, I guess), so when I get the chance to do something I haven’t done before, it’s quite the treat.

As, I’m sure, this will be!

***

By the way, NMU did NOT break Michigan Tech’s record yesterday at the “Gift Of Life’ blood drive. But seeing as how it was a snow day for every place OTHER than NMU, we understand fully. That being said, the 100 or so pints donated goes to help save up to 300 lives across Upper Michigan, so snow day or no snow day, it was a great effort with a worthwhile result!

TUESDAY, 2/16:

I wonder if today’s gonna be another record-setting day?

Today’s the day for the NMU portion of the annual “Gift Of Life” blood drive; in fact, I’m heading over to the Learning Resource Center in just a little bit to set all my equipment up. This is the chance that NMU students and Marquette residents have to upend a record set just last month at Michigan Tech and claim the blood drive crown for only the second time in ten years.

You remember the Tech drive, right? The drive that set a blood center record with 226 pints of blood donated? Well, that’s what NMU has to top today from noon to 6, right next to Starbucks in the LRC. In order to bribe as many people as possible to come in and donate, we’ll have burritos, chips, and salsa from Border Grill, drinks from Pepsi, and more.

I’ll be there...hope to see you, as well!

****

And now for something completely different.

I thought I would be the only one bummed by this, but after reading a bunch of posts on my Facebook wall, it seems like there are a TON of people disappointed that CBC (the Canadian Broadcasting Company) is not showing Winter Olympic coverage this year.

It’s like the world as we know it has come to an end!

I don’t watch a lot of Olympic coverage, but when I do, I actually always preferred watching the CBC coverage of it, as opposed to NBC’s. Whereas NBC seems to like to focus a lot of its time on profiles of the athletes, CBC always showed the actual competition, always live, and often focused on sports you normally wouldn’t see on “regular” TV, like, I dunno, fencing in the summer games and curling in the winter games.

But not this year.

Nope; this year, CBC, for the first time in about a thousand years, lost the rights to the Games to its rival network, CTV. There are two major on-air networks above the border; CTV is the privately-owned one, and for the first games on Canadian soil in 22 years, they went all out for the rights. And while I’m sure they’re doing a fine job, at least here in Marquette, we can see them.

Because we don’t have a CTV station on our cable lineup.

Watching part of the coverage on CBC has apparently, based on all the postings I’ve seen, become quite the tradition for people around here, and it’s a tradition that is already sorely missed.

Bummer.

MONDAY, 2/15:

Happy President’s Day!

How many U.S Presidents can you name, aside from the ones in office since you’ve been alive? I’m kinda lucky in that regard, in that I think I can name them all, and it’s thanks to a box of Cheerios. Actually, it’s thanks to many boxes of Cheerios, and the undying curiosity of an 8-year old.

I thin I may have told this story before; if so, forgive me, but it’s kind of appropriate for today. You see, when I was 8, I was fascinated by cereal boxes, what was inside of them, and what was on the outside of them. I would dig through them for the toys, I would save box-tops and send away for items, and I would cut out the games they put on the back of the boxes. When I was (I think) 8, the makers of Cheerios decided, I guess, to try to improve the civics knowledge of little nerds like me, and started to put Presidential trading cards, 4 at a time, on the back of each box. The idea was that kids would try to collect them all, thereby improving their knowledge of American history while at the save time improving General Mills’ bottom line by having the parents of said kids rush out and buy box upon box of Cheerios so the trading card collection could become complete.

At least, that’s how I remember it happening in the Koski household. You could collect the cards 4 at a time, but it always wasn’t a different 4 every time; in other words, you might have to collect a double or two to get a card you didn’t have. And since this was back when Tricky Dicky Nixon was President, that means you had 37 cards you had to collect. So at the very minimum, you would’ve had to buy 10 boxes of Cheerios to complete the set, and that’s not even accounting for the fact that you would eventually have to buy more to actually get all 37.

I don’t know why I was so fascinated by the Presidential trading cards, but I was. Before obsessing over the cards, I knew that George Washington was the first President, that Abraham Lincoln was on the penny, and that John Kennedy had been shot, but that was about it. I soon learned that William Henry Harrison caught pneumonia while giving a 4-hour inaugural speech on the cold, and died a few weeks later. I learned that James Buchanan was the only bachelor President. And I learned that Grover Cleveland was the only President who had been elected, lost his re-election bid, but then came back to retake the Presidency in the election after THAT.

Needless to say, despite what I was learning I don’t believe I ever DID get all 37 Presidential trading cards. I’m not sure if it’s because my parents didn’t want to get a second mortgage to buy all those boxes, or because everyone just got sick of eating Cheerios, but I must’ve petered out somewhere in the mid to upper 20s. Still, the knowledge I gained from reading the back of cereal boxes has stuck with me ever since, as I STILL find politics fascinating, and I still know, somewhere in the back of my head, that most of our first half dozen Presidents were Whigs. Not wore wigs, but WERE Whigs.

As in the Whig political party.

So thank you Cheerios. And Happy Presidents’ Day to everyone.

FRIDAY, 2/12:

“Not a problem at all”.

That’s a response I’ve given several times the past few weeks when talking to some of you about our “Sealed With A Kiss” contest. Specifically, it’s the response I’ve given when you’ve said how much you’ve appreciated that we’ve put part of the contest aside for single people. After all, even though it’s a Valentine’s Day contest, that doesn’t mean that everyone happens to have a Valentine in their life at this moment, right?

In fact, it kinda started to make me wonder about Valentine’s Day as a whole. I saw a factoid a little while ago stating that slightly over 60% of the adults in this country are in a relationship at any one time. That means that almost 40% are unattached on any particular Valentine’s Day, and while I haven’t fit in that category for quite a long time, many of my friends are. Most of them don’t seem to care that they’re Valentine-free; however, for a few, it’s hard being around a constant stream of advertising, happy couples, and, yes, radio contests designed for people in relationships.

After speaking with these friends, I’ve come to appreciate just how difficult Valentine’s Day can be with all these reminders of relationships when you’re not in one. So that’s why we came up with the “Single” part of the contest. Everybody has to live through Valentine’s Day; why just allow people who are part of a twosome to win? Doesn’t seem fair to me. And based on the comments we’ve received, it seems many people appreciate the fact that we’re including EVERYONE in the contest.

So...”no problem at all”!

Now, before I leave the topic, I hafta pass along part of an e-mail I received regarding the contest. It made me laugh out loud, and that doesn’t happen all the time. Says listener Christine--

“I have to say, as a single person, I appreciate your inclusion of singles in your ‘Sealed With A Kiss’ contest. However, what on earth is a single person going to do with dinner for two as a prize? After all, if I were good at finding dinner dates, I probably wouldn’t be single. I think a chunk of chocolate the size of a small car might be better...”

Actually, Christine, I’m kind of thinking that that chocolate might be a good prize for ANYONE in the contest, especially if it’s dark and it’s from Belgium! (Or maybe that’s just me). You do bring up a good point; maybe for next year, we’ll see if Donckers can make a piece of chocolate that big!

While we’re all pondering that possibility, I wanna wish everyone--no matter what their relationship status--a happy Valentine’s Day weekend. I hope that, whatever your plans are (or if you have no plans at all), they turn out better than you hope!

THURSDAY, 2/11:

I miss riding my bike.

I realized that yesterday morning when I went running, running though 5 inches of fresh, unplowed snow that had been whipped up extra high by a wind blowing around 25 miles per hour off of the lake.

Not only do I miss riding my bike, but with the way it looked outside yesterday, it seems like I’ll never be able to ride it again.

I know I’ve written in here before about my life-long love of riding a bike, using it for transportation, pleasure, and exercise, so I won’t bore you with a recap of that. But it’s getting around that time of the year here when you seem to start REALLY missing all of the things you’re able to do when there’s not snow being whipped extra high by a wind blowing around 25 miles per hour off of the lake. You really start to get a little tired of brushing off your car, shoveling off your sidewalk, and knocking the snow off your boots every time you walk inside.

It’s funny, because you don’t even give a second thought to any of this when it’s nice out and you don’t have to think about dealing with the snow and the cold. You just take for granted the fact that you can walk outside and do what you need to do, including hopping on your bike and going...wherever.

I’ve lived here long enough (or just plain LIVED long enough) to know that it’ll probably be another two months before I can even think about starting to consider the possibility of someday going out on my bike. And I’m sure that will be a joyous day when it happens; heck, when I was a kid, I couldn’t wait until the day when there was enough snow melted away from the storage shed in the backyard of my parents’ house on Norway that I could hack through it and get my bike out. And while I don’t have to hack through the snow to get to my bike any more, I still await that first day when the streets are clear enough and the air is warm enough to allow me to check the tires, oil the chain, and head out for ride.

Even if it is still several months away.

WEDNESDAY, 2/10:

Let’s go to the mail bag!

The last two days of blogs have produced several notes I think should be shared, so let’s go in chronological order, starting with Monday’s entry featuring me whining about the results of the Super Bowl (Me? Whine about this year’s Super Bowl? Nah...) While I wasn’t happy the final score, daily blog reader Tim in Indiana, home of the Colts, shared this, under the subject line “Day of Mourning”--

“We had a moment of silence this morning at our office staff meeting. :^). Really, I'm still pretty happy for the Colts season, and Sunday's game doesn't take anything away from what they did over the past season...oh, and the old Bret Favre commercial was pretty funny too!“

No, Tim, I guess Sunday’s game doesn’t take anything away from the accomplishments of the past season.

EXCEPT FOR THE FACT THAT THEY LOST!

But other than that, it doesn’t take anything away from what I will admit was a very good season. I mean, when you think the team had a new coach, new defensive coordinator, two new receivers, and a bunch of injuries, yet manage to win every game their starters fully played in (except, of course, the last one), it was an amazing effort. And I enjoyed almost every second of it.

Now, I’m sure the rest of you are getting sick of me talking about the Colts, so I won’t again until next playoff season!

Yesterday’s blog talked about the cookies I invented for my cherry-loving niece. Several of you thought they sounded yummy; daily blog reader Jen of Marquette (one of several daily blog readers named Jen from Marquette, actually) said she’s gonna try ‘em this weekend. Jen, let me know how they turn out!

Daily blog reader Mary of Ishpeming shared a recipe that’s been in her family for awhile now, a recipe for a salad that uses a whole jar of cherries! Mary, that sounds like something right up Syd’s alley. I’ll make sure I share it with her and, knowing the way Sydney works, she’ll probably try it soon, and we’ll then have it for dinner the next time we get together.

I think that’s it for the inbox for the past few days. As always, I love hearing from you , getting feedback, input, and those very strange thoughts that seem to be percolating in minds all across the country!

TUESDAY, 2/9:

Okay...where was I before I head my heart & soul destroyed by the New Orleans Saints? Oh, right--my niece’s birthday.

If you remember correctly, Sydney turned 11 on Friday. And since I’m never quite sure what an 11 year old likes or wants (especially an 11 year old like Syd), I’ve been playing up to an obsession of hers recently. Well, maybe obsession’s not the correct word. But much like her uncle Jim, Syd has this things for cherries.

I’ve loved cherries forever, be they cherries with a stem, cherries out of a bottle, or anything cherry-flavored. And I’m glad to see that Sydney’s picked up on that; it makes me think it’s genetic as opposed to me just being a freak.

(Oh, I know what you’re thinking now. Stop it!!!)

For Christmas, I really indulged Syd’s love of cherries, getting her 10 different kinds of them, everything from cherries in a jar to chocolate covered cherries from Donckers (YUM!) to dried cherries to cherry-flavored gum. Figuring that, if I went the cherry route again, I’d have to top Christmas, I did something I’ve only done once before--

I invented her a cookie. Specifically, I invented what I’m calling “Sydney’s Cherry-Covered Chocolate Cookies”.

SYD’S CHERRY-COVERED CHOCOLATE COOKIES

Pre-heat oven to 350.

Take 3 dozen cherries, either out of a jar or fresh and pitted. Into each cherry shove as many dark chocolate chips as you can fit. Set aside.

In a bowl, mix 1 cup softened butter with EITHER one cup of powdered sugar or one and a quarter cups of brown sugar. (Powdered sugar will give you more of a buttery flavor, while the brown sugar will make the cookies a little more tangy). Add 2 tablespoons of liquid from the cherry jar, 2 teaspoons vanilla extract, and a couple drops of red food coloring. Then mix in 3 cups flour and a teaspoon of salt.

Take a clump of the dough and flatten it so it’s smooth. Place one of the chocolate-filled cherries on top of it, and then wrap the dough into a ball around it. Put a cookie sheet full of them into the oven, and bake for 12 to 14 minutes, until they’re set and slightly brown on the bottom. Let cool before you eat, as the chocolate inside the cherry gets rather hot (trust me on that).

(If you get REALLY ambitious, you could combine some butter, powdered sugar, almond extract, and milk, and make a GREAT frosting for these, too!)

***
Now, I don’t know if these’ll become a birthday tradition, the way that the Grandma cookies I invented became a holiday tradition, but I hope she likes them. After all, they have cherries and chocolate. How can you go wrong with those????

MONDAY, 2/8:

I should’ve stopped watching after the first quarter.

Anyone who’s read this over the past few weeks has probably figured out that I was (major understatement coming) kind of disappointed in the results of the Super Bowl last night. I guess I was justifiably worried when I wrote about Dwight Freeney’s ankle Friday; it seems like after the first quarter, the Colts couldn’t generate any kind of pass rush, and you can’t do that against a team that is as good offensively as the Saints were this year.

Sigh. The first quarter was fun, though. And I really liked the Coke commercial that features the Simpsons. And I was totally amazed by the Letterman-Leno-Oprah spot But after that...

There was something kinda strange about watching the game itself. Usually, when I’m watching a Super Bowl, I have no vested interest in who wins, so I normally cheer for the underdog (especially when said underdog is playing either the evil Patriots or the almost as evil Packers). And I do have to admit that this year, New Orleans gave fans the perfect underdog story. I mean, who couldn’t find at least a little sympathy for a team that had both never been to a Super Bowl AND came from a city that almost didn’t exist anymore. Unfortunately for them, they were playing the Colts, so for only the second time I can remember, I couldn’t cheer for underdog.

I know...my bad, right?

If you’re a Colts fan, though, it’s been a wonderful year. And thanks to technology, I’ve been able to enjoy it almost as much as a fan living in the Hoosier State would’ve. I’ve gotten into the habit of waking up every morning, grabbing my phone, and seeing what kind of story the Indianapolis Star’s website has written about the team’s previous game or the team’s upcoming game. It’s almost become kind of a ritual, a ritual that now, with some sadness, has come to an end.

If only because the football season has come to an end, a season that had been a joy to watch for 18 and a quarter games.

If only it had stopped there.

I guess it is back to reality now, but that’s okay. My reality the next few weeks includes blood drives, Glacier Glides, a school project (honest...but not in the way you think), and tomorrow, the story of what I made my niece for her birthday.

I’m a weird uncle. What can I say?

FRIDAY, 2/5:

I’m worried about Dwight Freeney’s ankle.

Now, I do realize that in the grand scheme of things, worrying about one football player’s ankle does NOT rank anywhere near worrying about world peace, world hunger, or world injustice. It’s just that, you know, I’m a Colts fan. And the Colts are playing in the Super Bowl Sunday. And Dwight Freeney’s, like, the best defense end in the NFL, and could probably bash the snot out of Drew Brees once or twice during the game.

But not if he has a bum ankle!

Don’t worry; I’m not going off the deep end or anything. It’s just that it’s the Big Game, and you want everyone on “your” team healthy and ready to go. Freeney suffered a Grade III ankle sprain against the Jets two weeks ago, and even though he’s a self-described “fast healer”, it usually takes several months for normal people to fully recover from the injury. Can he do it in two weeks and be ready to go? Keep your fingers crossed. If not, it could be one those games where the Colts move up & down the field and score, the Saints do the same, and the last team with the ball wins. Personally, I’d prefer the Colts to move up & down the field and score, the Saints get stuffed by Dwight Freeney and the rest of the defense, and the Colts to win in a blowout.

Of course, in a perfect world, I’d also like world peace, an end to world hunger, and for world injustice to get tossed to the curb. But who said it’s always a perfect world, right?

GO COLTS!!

***

It’s a big birthday weekend in the extended Koski family this weekend, too. First of all, today my favorite 10-year old in the whole world becomes my favorite 11-year old in the whole world! Now, I was planning on using part of this blog to describe what I’m giving my niece Sydney for her birthday; however, because she’s like the typical 11-year old and has about a thousand things to do today, I won’t be able to give her the gift right away, so I don’t wanna spoil the surprise before she sees it.

But I hope she’ll like it.

Then Sunday (or, as it’s known in my brain, Colts Victory Day), my dad celebrates his birthday. We, of course, are all influenced by the people around us as we’re growing up, and if you ever wondered where I picked up some of the stranger influences on my sense of humor, consider this note my dad included with a newspaper article he sent up last week--

“I saw this article, and I said to myself , ‘Self, Jim would like this’”.

See? It’s not my fault I turned out the way I did!

Anyway, happy birthday Syd; happy birthday, Dad. Enjoy your big days. And everyone else, enjoy the weekend and Colts Victory day!

THURSDAY, 2/4:

As much as I hate to say this, I have 114 things I have to take care of this morning.

Well, okay, maybe not 114, but there are a few things that are pressing and need to be dealt with, so if you don’t mind, I’m gonna leave you with another “best of’ today, one that really provides an inside look into the way my mind works.

As scary as that can be.

Thanks; tomorrow, I’ll talk birthdays, cookies, and the Super Bowl!

****

(as originally posted last February)

Is it just me, or do you notice strange things when you take the garbage out, too?

(And here, we’ll slip in a short pause while everyone reading this utters “No, it’s just you” under their breath).

Last night was trash night in my part of Marquette, always eagerly awaited by those of us who enjoy a symphony of garbage trucks backing up and grinding their gears right as we’re trying to go to sleep. The start of the symphony is preceded not by a curtain rising, like in a normal symphony, but by everyone getting their trash ready to bring to the curb.

Now, I recycle most of my trash, which means that plastics go in one container, glass in another, paper in a third. I do this for a couple of reasons; one, as a child of the 70s, I’ve always been conscious of the environment, and two, the amount of garbage I actually don’t recycle is so little that I only have to use one of those city trash bags every 5 or 6 weeks. And since each bag costs a $1.10...well, that means that every couple of weeks I save enough to buy another chocolate bar when I go back to Europe.

THAT’S the important thing.

Now, here’s the strange thing I noticed. When I was packing up the recyclables last night, I was putting them in used Econo Foods bags. And for some bizarre reason, I decided to look at the bottom of the used Econo Foods bag, where I noticed that all the bags have an honor.

All the bags have been given the Paper Bag Council of America’s “Seal Of Approval”.

Being me, the first thing that pops into my head is “There’s a ‘Paper Bag Council of America’”? Being me, the second thing that pops into my head is “The Paper Bag Council of America has a ‘Seal of Approval’”? And, of course, being me, the third thing that pops into my head is “Does this mean there are grocery bags out there that DON’T have the Paper Bag Council of America’s Seal of Approval”?

(No, it’s not easy being me. Really, it isn’t).

Intrigued by this whole deal, and wondering if there really ARE grocery bags that don’t have the Paper Bag Council of America’s Seal of Approval , I head online, and visit Google. I type in “Paper Bag Council of America’, and you know what?

There IS no Paper Bag Council of America. Or, if there is, they don’t have a website, nor do they have a mention of the council ANYWHERE, at least in the first three pages of search results. And if you don’t pop up on the first three pages of Google results; well, then you don’t really exist, do you?

This is shocking. There IS no Paper Bag Council of America, yet our grocery bags have been given the Paper Bag Council of America’s Seal of Approval. What gives? Are our bags lying to us? And they REALLY not certified? And if they’re not really certified, does that mean that they’re not actual paper bags?

The mind just boggles at thoughts like that!

Yeah, I know. All I really needed to do was to bag up the recyclables, and take them out to the curb. But you really DO have to ask yourself--where’s the fun in doing just that?

8-)

While my Google search didn’t pull up anything on the Paper Bag Council of America, it DID find a site dealing with the history of the paper bag...in case you were ever curious.

Okay. I’ll stop now.

WEDNESDAY, 2/3:

So far, the answer seems to be...

“Why would I live anywhere else”?

At least, that’s a very common thread that’s been running through the responses I’ve been able to read so far following yesterday’s blog about why people live in the U.P. Now, I haven’t gotten through all of them yet (apparently, the blog hit a nerve!), but over a dozen of you made a statement like the one above, a reaffirmation that there’s no place else in the world you’d rather live.

Says daily blog reader Stacy in Marquette--“I actually like the fact that it gets cold and snowy for a time here. I love the fact that we have four distinct seasons!”.

Adds occasional blog reader Denise of Gwinn--“Where else can you go snow skiing one month and water skiing the next? NOWHERE!”

And first time blog e-mailer Mandy of Negaunee says--“I can’t think of a better place to raise a family. I moved back here after I had my daughter because I wanted to bring her up in a place where people look out for each other, and where you can walk down the street or to a park and not have to worry about something evil happening”.

Daily blog reader Mary of Ishpeming puts, as usual, her own unique spin on it. . .namely, the lack of natural disasters like hurricanes, tornados, and earthquakes. Says Mary--

“I love my UP for the reasons that your health isn't in as much of a jeopardy as it is anywhere else. I would much rather put up with the cold and the snow and the gloom than put up with wondering when the next big disaster is going to hit my area.”

Mary, I’d never thought of it that way!

Anyway, keep those cards & letters coming in!

*****

Now, speaking of reasons to live in the U.P., the city of Marquette can add another. Remember earlier this week when I said Marquette was getting an honor, but I couldn’t tell you about it? Well, now I can. In addition to being an “All-American County”, a “Cool City”, a “Most Liveable City”, and everything else it’s been named in the past decade, Marquette was this morning named one of 12 new “Distinctive Destinations” by the National Trust for Historic Preservation! That’s right; Marquette was named as one of a dozen places in the U.S. that tourists interested in history should visit this year! It joins 131 other communities in the country that have been given the honor over the past decade.

I, of course, could be considered a bit biased, seeing as how I like both Marquette AND history, but I think it’s a well-deserved honor. Walk through downtown, the lake front, or the East Side, and you know you’re wandering through a beautifully-preserved example of vibrant, living history. And one of the cool things about the honor is that the Trust is also opening up the 12 “Distinctive Destinations” to an online vote to determine the favorite! That’s right; you can vote (as many times as you want) HERE.

So what are you waiting for? Start clicking!!!!!!

8-)

TUESDAY, 2/2:

And happy Groundhog’s Day!

My friend Deanna and I have a saying we like to use when it’s been cold in Marquette, or when it’s been snowy in Marquette, or when it’s been gloomy in Marquette. And since it’s been all three recently, the saying has been flying back & forth between us with some rapidity.

That saying? “And we live here WHY?”

I’ve actually thought about that recently, following last year’s way below average summer and this pas week’s bone-chilling cold. I have a couple of theories on the matter...perhaps you could weigh in and tell me which YOU think is best. Just why DO people live in Marquette (or the U.P., for that matter) when there are other places that are much more friendly (on a year-round basis) for human habitation?

The first? That, for those of us who were born here, it’s genetic. There’s nothing we can do about. Marquette is encoded into our DNA, and no matter how hard we try we, like Michael Corleone in “The Godfather”, keep getting drawn back. I don’t know if it’s because we’re “comfortable” here or because we just plain like it here, but living in Marquette is written into our genes.

Secondly, it’s some kind of misplaced pioneer spirit. Sure, ANYONE can live where it’s warm and dry 365 days a year. But it takes a special kind of person to get up at 7 in the morning, shovel, help push a neighbor out of a snow bank, shovel some more, finally get their car dug out, and then realize it’s now 10 in the morning.

Kinda like “Little House On The Prairie”, but with sidewalks and cable TV.

Thirdly, we’re just plain masochists. Pure and simple.

Actually, I do know we live here. We live here and survive 300 not so good days out of the year so we can experience 65 days of sheer bliss like this...

And this...

And this...

Well, which of those reasons (or which combination of reasons) do you is the cause of our living here? Is there a reason or reasons I’ve missed?

If so, let me know!!!

(jim@wmqt.com)

(p.s.--our young friend Adam Whittington is now getting some exposure downstate! Click here to check it out).

MONDAY, 2/1:

Whew.

THAT was a hectic day!

Over 1,300 skiers roared across the Noquemanon finish line Saturday, and by the time I finished announcing over 1,300 names (several of which were from different countries, and several of which were in their late 70s to 80 years of age), I could hardly talk. Still, it seems that everyone who took part in the event had a great time, and everyone who organized it, volunteered for it, or helped out deserves a big pat on the back. So, if you were one of those people, make sure you give yourself that pat; just don’t sprain anything trying. It’s hard for me to believe that this was the 12th annual one of these races; it seems just like yesterday that I stood outside in the snow for the first one and announced the names of the 200 or so skiers who took part.

How times flies when you’re having fun, I guess!

Now, I’d like to say that we get to sit back for a bit and take a breath, but I don’t think it’s gonna happen any time soon. Nope; the way February’s shaping up, we have more blood drives, dog sled races, outdoor art shows, the on-rushing approach of Valentine’s Day, and a LOT more interesting stuff coming your way. In fact, one of those interesting things involves an announcement coming up this week about yet another honor for the city of Marquette, an honor I can’t tell you about right now but an honor that I will say is richly deserved.

So hang on tight!

FRIDAY, 1/29:

A few entirely unrelated things for today.

First of all, thanks to occasional blog reader Drew of Marquette, who stumbled upon the “enthusiasm gap” entry I wrote following the Tech portion of the “Gift Of Life’ blood drive last week. Drew wrote--

“Reading your piece on the Tech blood drive had me chuckling and smiling a little. I'm a Lab Tech in Transfusion Services at MGH, I see first hand the results of every blood drive and unit collected. The ‘enthusiasm gap’ that you mention has actually been discussed by myself and fellow techs at length.”

He goes on mention one of the real reasons that NMU students don’t seem to donate as much blood as Tech students--there’s a place in Marquette that pays people for plasma, and there’s not one in Houghton (you can donate blood if you sell your plasma, but then you can’t sell plasma for 8 weeks, until your blood builds back up again). And Drew’s right about that aspect of it; I also, though, really do believe that there IS an “enthusiasm gap” at work, as well. I mean, I see just how seriously Tech students take this drive, while NMU students usually just sigh a sigh of collective ennui.

We’ll see if it turns out any different in two and a half weeks!

The next unrelated item? It’s Noquemanon weekend! That means I get to spend 6 hours announcing skiers’ name as they cross the finish line at the dome tomorrow. I think I might’ve told this story before, but it bears repeating--

One of my favorite parts of doing the announcing comes in final hour. That’s when only a handful of skiers are left to come across the line, and 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 25 or 51 K day. A couple of years ago, during the final hour of the race, I saw something that amazed me.

Two of the skiers I announced coming over the line that day were a married couple of Marquette, Bill & Veryl Albrecht, who had skied the half-marathon together, and were ending their race together after a morning and afternoon on the trails. The amazing thing about it? At the time, Veryl was 79, Bill was 81, and together, they had just skied over 14 miles in just over 3 hours. 79 and 81, and they had just skied a half-marathon.

TOGETHER.

If THAT doesn’t qualify as amazing—and, more importantly, heartwarming—I don’t know what does. So if you ever needed an incentive to come out and see some of the skiers come across the finish line, you have it now. The first 12 K recreational skiers should start coming across the line around 10:30 tomorrow, while the half and full marathon skiers--the really serious ones--start appearing around 11:30 or so.

Shall we see you at the dome?

THURSDAY, 1/28:

And today’s the day Loraine gets her big award!

For those of you who aren’t aware of what’s going on, just scroll down to the entry for Monday, the 18th. No, that’s all right. Go ahead...I’ll wait for you.

(picture Jim whistling carefree for a few seconds here)

Good, you’re back, and you’re now up to speed on everything that’s going on.

Tonight, I get to go to the Landmark Inn and stand in the shadow of my favorite World War II researcher as she picks up her Helen Longyear Paul award, and like I said in the blog entry you just read, I could not be prouder. Normally (and usually for no good reason) it’s me who’s being given something, and it’s Loraine who stands and watches. But not this time around; no, this time around, someone who REALLY deserves an honor is getting it, and I get to be there to see her pick it up.

When I think about everything that we’ve done in the 9 or 10 years since she started this project I often just stand there amazed and dumbfounded (well, more amazed and dumbfounded than usual, anyway). When you consider all the nice people we’ve met, all the families into which we’ve been “adopted”, and all the places we’ve gone, places we probably wouldn’t have gone without her little “mission”, it makes me wonder a little bit about the concept of fate.

I mean, two things started Loraine on this whole quest. The first, as she always tells it, is Tom Hanks. We went to see “Saving Private Ryan” when it first came out, and the film sparked a little something in Loraine. She didn’t know much about the war before seeing the film; after watching it a few times, she started to do a little research into it. Then because I liked to walk around cemeteries, we went out one warm summer afternoon and strolled through Park Cemetery. We’d been there many times before, but this time, she started looking at headstones, and came across one for Arthur Lemieux of Marquette. She recognized the date on it--June 9th, 1944, three days after D-Day--and started to do some research into him.

She hasn’t stopped yet.

I can’t imagine what our lives would’ve been like if we hadn’t watched the movie, and if we hadn’t walked through the cemetery. I’m just glad that we did; I’m glad that fate--or whatever--led Loraine into her little project., and I’m just glad that I get to bask in the honor that she’s getting tonight.

Not only that, but I can’t wait to see what the next ten years of her “mission” brings us!

WEDNESDAY, 1/27:

Okay, this is kind of crazy, but several of you refuse to believe that I’m an NFL fan.

No, really...it’s true. A couple of pieces of e-mail I received following yesterday’s blog cast, well, doubt on my confession of being a fan of the Indianapolis Colts. Daily blog reader Nancy from East Lansing kind of summed up the comments when she said, and I quote, “You just don’t seem like a typical sports fan. I can’t see you sitting in front of a TV for hours munching on chips. I just can’t”.

Well, Nancy, that’s because I don’t sit in front of the TV for hours munching on chips. I don’t like baseball, I don’t like basketball, I don’t like hockey (even though I married a hockey player), I don’t like soccer (even though my dad was a coach), I don’t like boxing, I don’t like track, and I really don’t like college football.

I like the NFL. And I like the Tour de France because it’s in, well, France. And I like curling just because, well, I haven’t quite figured it out yet.

But other than that, I don’t like sports.

I don’t know how to explain my thing for professional football. I know it started young, and it probably started because my dad’s a lifelong Detroit Lions fan (and yes, he deserves your sympathy for that). He would watch the Lions when they were on TV, and took me down to Green Bay a couple of times to see them play the hated Green Bay Packers (usually in the cold, and usually in a losing effort).

My mom fed into this, too, as I received a cherished gift one Christmas, a set of little plastic helmets for each NFL team. I still hear the story, in fact, about how I would quiz her on which helmet belonged to which team, and would apparently get a little aggravated when my tutoring of NFL teams to her did not stick.

I was 8 or 9 at the time. What can I say?

Unlike my dad, my allegiance to any one team has never been rock solid, except for the life-long loathing of the Packers. I was more into individual players; that’s why I’ve been, at various times, a Raiders fan, a Dolphins fan (thank you Dan Marino) a Lions fan (thank you Barry Sanders), and now, a Colts fan (thank you Peyton Manning and thank you Tony Dungy). And as you can tell by the list of players, I’m fascinated by offense, the more finely tuned, the better. In fact, there are times when watching the Colts on the field is like watching a ballet, except without the music. Or the toe shoes.

And that’s probably why I never got into baseball, or basketball, or hockey, or even college football. There’s just something about seeing the best pro athletes on the planet working together to create something bigger than their individual talents. Like I said yesterday, it can be akin to watching Michelangelo painting the Sistine Chapel.

In the right hands, pro football can be art.

And that, Nancy (and Liz and Karen), is why I like the NFL. Hope I haven’t shattered any illusions.

8-)

TUESDAY, 1/26:

I think I’ve forgotten how to be bored.

Now, you might laugh after reading that sentence, but I honestly think it’s true. Or, at the very least, I honestly thought it was true on Sunday. Here’s the story--

Most of you know that I’m not a big sports fan. The one sport I do actually follow is NFL football, and the one team of which I’m a fan is the Indianapolis Colts. I’ve been a fan for a decade now; I love watching the artistry of their offense, which I’m guessing is akin to what it could’ve been like watching Michelangelo paint the Sistine Chapel.

(See? Typical NFL fan, right?)

Anyway, the Colts were playing in the AFC championship game Sunday afternoon, a game I thought started at 2pm. So I rushed through everything I needed to do that day (quite a long list, amazingly) so I could devote my full attention to seeing the brushstrokes of that amazing offense. Only I had made a mistake. The game itself started at 3; the pre-game show is what began at 2. And since I’m not really THAT big of a sports fan (and didn’t want to listen to even more discussion about the last time the Colts & Jets played, when Indy pulled their starters and gave up the chance at a perfect season) I found myself with an hour to kill and with absolutely nothing to do.

And THAT’S when I realized I’d forgotten how to be bored.

Those of you who read this on a regular basis know that I lead a somewhat action-packed life. Between everything I have to do to be “me” and everything I want to do outside of being “me” I often wish for a 25th (and 26th, and 27th) hour in a day. Yet here I was, with that mythical and much wished-for extra hour, and I had no idea what to do with it.

It’s true; I actually spent the first few minutes of the hour just sitting there, stunned by the whole situation. And by the time I actually thought of a few things I could do, I realized that I didn’t have enough time to take care of those things before the game started. So I just continued to sit there, doing nothing except watching the clock tick by.

I was sitting there bored, and stunned by my inability to deal with it.

I mean, I did eventually get up and do a few things. I drank some juice, I thumbed through a magazine, and I bugged Loraine a little until she looked up from her computer screen with a sweet little glare that said “don’t you have something else to do?” And by then, it was close enough to the start of the game that I was able to flip through the channels and discover there was a curling match on CBC, thereby killing the rest of the time before the start of the game.

It was just a little shocking to know that I’d forgotten how to be bored. But hopefully, now that I’ve had to deal with it for the first time in years, I’ll be better prepared when it happens again.

You know, most likely in 2017 or 2018.

MONDAY, 1/25:

You know, here in the U.P., we expect people to be extraordinary. That’s just the kind of folk we are, I guess, as evidenced by the 226 pints of blood collected at MTU last week. But even for the U.P., here are two groups of people who seem to be going above and beyond.

The first is someone many people know, Aoy LaChappelle. She’s the owner of the Rice Paddy in Marquette, and just happens to be married to Greg Trick of TV-6, as well. Every year, she takes all the tips and donations everyone’s given her at her restaurant, and she and Greg head back to her hometown in Thailand to provide schools there with food, clothing, books, and whatever else is needed to give kids a little leg up in the world.

It’s an amazing thing that they’ve done, and for many years, they’ve been doing it under the radar. But not any more, as people around the community are banding together to help out with “Operation Aoy”. Click on the link, and learn how you can make a donation to help Aoy and Greg help out their kids. Not only that, but this year Kyle Miron of CK Photography is heading over with them, taking pictures to put together a book of the project, the proceeds of which will also benefit Operation Aoy.

Like, I said, extraordinary.

Another group of extraordinary people with whom I’m also acquainted would be the gang at the U.P. region of the Alzheimer’s Association, and they‘re also being honored with an award for their success in the Memory Walks around the U.P. last fall, several of which we helped promote. Being given the “Star Status Award” from the national office is kind of a big deal, but I can’t think of people who deserve it more than Ruth, Shawn, and everyone else involved.

At the risk of repeating myself (not like I don’t do THAT a lot, right?) there are extraordinary people all across Upper Michigan. I don’t know if it’s just that extraordinary people choose to live here, or if living here makes certain people extraordinary, but events, groups, and organizations like the two I described above happen routinely around here. I just hope we continue to appreciate that fact.

After all, it’s not every part of the country that can be called “extraordinary”!

FRIDAY, 1/22:

You know, it’s amazing how things we’re exposed to when we’re young can influence the way we do things the rest of our life. And I’m proof positive of that.

Here’s the deal--I went running yesterday. Now, that in itself isn’t out of the ordinary; after all, I’ve been doing it for 20 years now. But as I was getting ready to run, I noticed that I have a habit that’s so ingrained in my subconscious that I don’t even pay attention to it. I’ll first put a sock on, then the shoe that goes over that sock. Then I’ll put my other sock on, and put my other shoe over that.

And I do that because of “All In The Family”.

Don’t laugh; I actually think it’s true. When I was a real little kid, I used to watch the show during its original run in prime time (and yes, that does explain a lot about how I turned out, doesn’t it?) One of the few things I actually remember retaining from the show is a discussion between Archie and Mike, who could never agree about ANYTHING. This particular discussion revolved around putting your shoes and socks on. Archie was fuming because Mike put his on the way I do, and not the way that was “normal”, according to Archie (socks on both feet first, then shoes over them). Archie thought Mike was doing it that way just to irritate him, which was a possibility. But, as Mike explained, there was a reason.

What if, Mike said (and I’m paraphrasing here), there was a fire, and you only had time to put on two of your four pieces of foot apparel? You could put on both your socks, but then you’d go outside, step in water, and get both your feet wet. But if you only had time to put on two pieces of foot apparel, and chose a sock and a shoe, then you could hop on that one shoed foot, and both your feet would stay dry. That response turned Archie apoplectic (actually, most things Mike said turned Archie apoplectic), and the argument devolved into something else.

Now, for some strange reason, that scripted exchange of dialogue has stayed with me for almost 40 years now. I’m guessing that not even the person who wrote it remembers it, but I sure do. That’s why, when I go out running, I put a sock and a shoe on one foot, and then a sock and a shoe on the other foot.

And that’s my proof positive that what we see, hear, and do when we’re kids can affect us the rest of our life. In my case, that’s how I was affected by “All In The Family”.

Have a great weekend!

THURSDAY, 1/21:

Wow.

After seeing the response to the Tech portion of the “Gift of Life” blood drive yesterday in Houghton, all I can say is, once again, “wow”.

It’s almost scary, the seriousness with which Tech students take this blood drive. They’ve won 8 out of the first 9, and I have the feeling they’ll probably take this one, as well. When I left Houghton around 6 last night, the count was in the neighborhood of 150 pints already donated, with more people waiting in a rather long line to donate their pint.

THAT is what made me say “wow”.

The 150 donations (or whatever it ends up being) is a daunting number for a couple of reasons—one, it means that the lives of up to 450 people across the U.P. may be enriched or even lengthened because of the generosity of Tech students. And it’s also daunting because it presents a steep challenge to NMU students during their portion of the blood drive February 17th.

One of the best ways I can describe the way the two schools look at the challenge is by using the term “enthusiasm gap”. It’s a term used in politics to describe when one side is really pumped up, while the other side really isn’t (like Democrats were in Massachusetts Tuesday, or Republicans were nationwide in 2008). One side turns out every single supporter they can, while the other side goes out to eat or stays home to play with their Wii.

And that’s kinda what these blood drives are like. Tech students take them VERY seriously. They take great pride in donating as much blood as they can, and take even greater pride in beating Northern, a school that has 3,000 more students. A large majority of students at Northern, meanwhile, are just kind of, well, not as fired up.

Hence, the enthusiasm gap.

We’ll see if history repeats itself next month in Marquette. NMU, after all, now knows the number they must top. Whether or not they do it is up to them.

****

Several other things to mention today—first of all, yes, I DID yell out “Stump’s Dead” while driving through Three Lakes on my way up to the Copper Country. I hoped the place was still in business, and luckily, it was. Thank goodness the tradition could continue!

Secondly, wanna know what they read for fun up in Houghton? One of the students donating yesterday was reading a magazine article titled, if I read it correctly, “Variances in Theoretical Multi-Dimensional Phase Planes”.

And here, all I do is yell out “Stump’s dead”. Shows the difference between me and people who will some day rule the world, right?

8-)

WEDNESDAY, 1/20:

Okay...several of you mentioned that it’s not fair that I get to go to Houghton and that you get left without a blog. So to rectify that, here’s a rather appropriate “best of”, first posted after I came back from a Houghton blood drive a couple of years ago.

Remember--something new tomorrow!

*****

(Originally posted January 24th, 2007)

On the way back to Marquette I did something I do every time I drive through Three Lakes—I laughed. Now, before I go any further, I did not laugh in any way because of the fine people in or the fine community of Three Lakes. I laughed because I’m married.

Okay, now before I go any further with THAT comment, just let me explain—when you’re with someone for any amount of time, you develop a whole series of private jokes and phrases, jokes and phrases that the two of you laugh at and that the other 6 billion people on the planet will just stare at with slack-jawed befuddlement.

And it’s because of one of those private jokes that I laugh every time I drive through Three Lakes.

A movie Loraine and I watched quite a bit when it first came out was “A Time To Kill”, the flick based on a Grisham book and starring Matthew McCougnahey and Sandra Bullock. One of the peripheral characters in the film is a dude nicknamed “Stump”, and when they find out he’s gone, one of the characters utters the line “Stump’s dead” in a DEEP Southern accent.

Now, one of the fine businesses in the town of Three Lakes is named Stump’s Tavern. (You see where I’m going with this, right?) A few years after watching the movie, Loraine and I, while going up to the Copper Country, saw the sign and yelled out, in unison, “Stump’s dead”. And ever since then, whenever passing through Three Lakes, I’ve uttered that same phrase, whether I’m with someone or driving through alone, followed by a chuckle on my part.

And THAT’S why I laugh every time I go through Three Lakes.

TUESDAY, 1/19:

I get to go to Houghton tomorrow.

Now, I’m not saying that to make anyone jealous; after all, I know what a paradise the Copper Country can be in the middle of January. But I’m saying it for a couple of reasons--one, it’s time to collect blood up there again for the “Gift Of Life” blood drive challenge between Tech and NMU; and b, today’s blog might be tomorrow’s blog, as well!

Why, you ask? Well, I answer, I’m doing things a little differently this year than I have in the past 10 years of doing this drive. Usually, I’d go up to the Copper Country the day before, visit a bunch of listeners, do a remote or speak at a class, and then spend the night there, before getting up the next day for 6 or 7 hours at the blood drive. But this year, the blood drive’s in a different location and at a different time; a later time, to be specific. That means that, unlike in the past, I wouldn’t have to get up at some ungodly hour (like 7 or 730) to get to Houghton in time for the drive to start. This year, I get to sleep in to a slightly less ungodly hour (8 or 830) and still have enough time to get to Tech to begin pimping for Dracula.

I think I can handle that.

That’s both good and bad. It’s good in that I don’t have to scramble quite as far ahead to spend two work days on the road; I only have to scramble enough to spend one day in Houghton. It’s bad in that I don’t get to spend as much time visiting listeners in Houghton and Hancock, and in Calumet, and Lake Linden, and Hubbell , and all the other places I usually visit. And I do hafta admit I’m a little bummed about that.

It’s also bad in that I won’t have any time to write my usual morning blog on Wednesday. So unless I’m able to write one later today, or find myself awake at an ungodly hour Wednesday (you know, like 7 or 730), this may have to serve as a blog for both days.

We’ll see how that turns out.

Anyway, if you’re reading this in the Copper Country and want to donate your pint, you can stop by Van Pelt Library anytime between noon & 6 Wednesday and help Michigan Tech see if they can beat NMU in this annual challenge. Admittedly, Tech usually doesn’t need the help (they’ve won every drive except one, and they were quite upset about losing that drive), but think of it this way--every extra pint collected in Houghton Wednesday (and in Marquette February 16th) means that up to three extra U.P. residents may live a little longer thanks to YOU.

And you can’t go wrong with that, right?

So if there’s not a blog tomorrow, you’ll know why. If there is, you’ll know why, as well. But at the very least, details Thursday on how my quick one-day trip to the Copper Country goes!

MONDAY, 1/18:

I am perhaps the proudest husband in the world right now. And, as always, it’s very justified.

We’ve found out that Loraine’s being awarded the Marquette County History Museum’s annual Helen Longyear Paul Award, an award that’s given out each year to an individual who, and I quote, “has worked to preserve, interpret, and share Marquette County’s history”. Of course, Loraine’s being awarded the honor for her huge on-going project to catalog the life stories of the 240 men & women from Marquette and Alger County who died while in service during World War II. With the award, she joins a rare group of individuals that includes, among others, Fred Rydholm and John Voelker.

Neat, huh?

Now I, of course, have to mention that I’m a board member for the museum. Yet I had NO idea any of this was going on; when I heard about the honor, I was as surprised and shocked as anyone else. And while I may be a bit biased, I really can’t think of anyone else who may deserve the honor.

I often joke that I’m just the geeky sidekick in this “mission” of hers, and it is literally the truth (especially the “geeky” part). She’s the one who started this project almost a decade ago. She’s the one who spends countless hours at libraries and online researching. She’s the one who introduces herself to family members, friends, and neighbors of “her guys”. And she’s the one who seems to get us involved in all of those ceremonies every time we head over to Europe, where we spend most of our time gathering even more information for her project.

I think I’ve said this many times before, but it bears repeating--I’m married to an amazing woman. I’ve never doubted that. And now, it’s nice to know that other people realize that, and that other people agree with me.

Like I said--I couldn’t be prouder. Except, perhaps, when I stand behind her and bask in the glory of Loraine and her award when she honored with it January 28th.

FRIDAY, 1/15:

Okay, I have no idea about this one--

Who would play me in a movie?

The topic came up a couple of days ago; I don’t remember how & I don’t remember when, but someone asked who I thought would play me in a movie of my life. Seeing as how it’s a subject to which I’ve given NO thought whatsoever in my life, I had no idea. But since then, I have given it a little thought, and I’ve come to the conclusion that, well, I STILL have no idea who would play me in a movie of my life.

I mean, you have to start with a few basics, I guess. It would have to be an actor in his 40s and, I’m guessing, would probably have to be a “he”. So based on that, let’s go through the list of a couple of actors who are approximately the same age as me--Brad Pitt, George Clooney, Tom Cruise, and Johnny Depp.

If you’re like me, you’re laughing right now. And thinking that unless you’re in some kind of strange alternate dimension, they’re all too, well, attractive and glamorous to play me. Although George Clooney and I do share the curse of a little gray hair.

But that’s not enough.

So if there’s not an actor in his 40s out there who looks like me, how about a couple who act like me? If you delve into the world of TV, you could make a case for people like Matthew Perry or Jason Bateman. After all, I DO do sarcasm pretty well. And if that’s the case, you could throw John Cusack in there, too. Not only that, but he’s from Chicago, and I like Chicago, so that’s a plus.

But still...I dunno.

You could head across the ocean for a couple of possibilities, I guess. While Hugh Grant’s way out of my league looks wise, we both seem to have an ability to make a fool out of ourselves and laugh about it. And Colin Firth’s well, Colin Firth. You couldn’t go wrong there.

Yet, not quite.

So once again, here’s the criteria. Has to be an actor born in the 1960s, and one with whom I share a trait or two. Still can’t come up with someone? Well, let me throw one more suggestion out there--

That’s about as good as I can come up with; after all, he DOES fit the criteria of being in his 40s these days. Anyway, if you have a suggestion, let me know, and while you’re doing that, have a great weekend at the same time!

THURSDAY, 1/14:

It’s just a delight watching things fall apart.

I don’t know if you’ve been keeping track of the wreckage that is NBC’s late night TV fiasco, but here it is in a nutshell--Jay Leno bombed (and I do mean BOMBED) in prime time, so NBC wants to move him back to late night. However, Conan O’Brien understandably doesn’t want to give up what he has (“The Tonight Show”), and so the network has to decide if they let Leno walk, if they let O’Brien walk, and if O’Brien does walk, whether or not the network owes him a $45 million dollar penalty for yanking “The Tonight Show” away from him.

You know, this is gonna make a GREAT book and an even better HBO movie someday.

The reason it’s kind of a delight for me is that in the days of Leno vs. Letterman, I was always in the Letterman camp. I’ve been watching Letterman since I was in college, stuck with the show during the years it was getting beaten by Leno, and was quietly satisfied when Letterman roared ahead in the ratings after NBC decided to shake things up in the first place by booting Leno to 10pm, thereby totally destroying the network’s prime time lineup.

However, I’ve always liked Conan, as well. He seems to have a sense of humor that willingly veers off into the absurd, and you can’t go wrong with someone like that. I think, in fact, that his long-standing bit about looking like the female president of Finland was one of the best things on TV last decade; the fact that he actually DOES look a lot like her, and his trip over there to prove it, made the bit all the better. So I was glad to see that, back in 2004, he was promised “The Tonight Show” when Leno was to leave it in 2009.

Only, we all know how that all turned out. Leno didn’t want to leave, the network didn’t want to lose him, so they stripped him (aired him every night at the same time) in prime time, and it ended up being, and I quote “The Washington Post” here, as “the biggest fiasco in TV history”.

Even bigger than “After MASH” or “I Want To Marry A Millionaire”? I dunno about that. But it was a big failure. I mean, Leno never wanted to leave “The Tonight Show”, NBC didn’t want to lose O’Brien and had to promise him the show Leno didn’t want to leave, and, well, look how it ended up.

After the Olympics, Leno moves back to late-night, I’m guessing O’Brien (after a while) ends up on Fox, and lawyers everywhere become rich fighting over whether or not NBC violated O’Brien’s contract, the one that promised him $45 million if the network yanked “The Tonight Show” out from under him.

So it’ll still promises to provide us with another few weeks of entertainment, another few weeks during which we can stop and stare at the wreckage of the rich & famous. And after all, isn’t that what TV is all about these days?

8-)

WEDNESDAY, 1/13:

Did you know I have a “bounce”?

I personally didn’t know that; in fact, I don’t ever remember picking up a “bounce” at Target or being given one at Christmas. Yet, according to two different people at two different times, I do have a bounce.

And that’s how, despite the fact that I’m all bundled up, they can tell it’s me running.

The first to mention it was my mom a couple of weeks ago, and the second was daily blog reader Jen of Marquette. Jen dropped me a note yesterday asking how I enjoyed my run that morning. She says she often sees me running through downtown Marquette, and can always tell it’s me because of the way I “bounce” while going past her office. Now, I wouldn’t have given it a second thought except for the fact that my mom used that EXACT SAME WORD when telling me she saw me running past her condo on another cold winter morning.

“Bounce”, huh? I know each and every person who runs has their own individual style, from the way they use their legs to the way they move their head, but to have two people describe an individual’s running style with the exact same word?

Freaky.

And as I think about it, I really don’t think I “bounce’ while running, at least not during the winter. During the summer, I could see myself bouncing; after all, I’m out in the (hopefully) nice weather, working out and getting all sweaty while enjoying some of the most beautiful scenery on the planet. I could definitely see the word “bounce” being the perfect adjective to describe a running style. But during the winter?

Not so much.

I mean, between the 14 layers of clothes you hafta put on, the snow on the bike path or sidewalk, and the ridiculously cold temperatures, I don’t think ANYONE could bounce while running. Trudge? Sure. Plod along? Definitely. But bounce?

I dunno about that.

Yet both my mom & Jen, in the course of two weeks in the middle of winter, each described my “bounce”, despite the 14 layers of clothes, despite the snow, and despite the ridiculously cold temperatures. So maybe there is something to it, a something about which I’m not aware. I guess the next time I hit the streets & bike paths, I’ll have to actually pay attention to HOW I’m doing what I’m doing, and see how I’d describe it.

I’ll hafta see if I actually DO have a “bounce”.

(jim@wmqt.com)

TUESDAY, 1/12:

Okay, you know how I spent all of yesterday’s blog trying to prove I’m not a geek? Well, I’m gonna shoot all that work down with the next sentence--

I know how to do the Vulcan salute...you know, the one Spock does when he says “Live long & prosper”.

This all comes up because I read an article in the Mining Journal Sunday, a wire story about some guy who’s trying to get everyone to start doing the Vulcan salute instead of shaking hands. His reasoning? That germs are spread by shaking hands, whereas there’s no physical contact when you do the Vulcan thing.

Sound logic, as inhabitants of that planet would say, if a little, uhm, nerdy, as inhabitants of THIS planet would say.

Anyway, this came up twice on Sunday. The first was when I mentioned the idea to Loraine, who said it won’t work because she, like many people, can’t do the salute. And that both surprised me and didn’t surprise me, in that I can do the salute easily, so I thought everyone can, and in that, unlike me, I’m sure no one devoted hours of their childhood in an attempt to actually perfect the salute.

(Now, for those of you who DON’T know what the salute is, it’s holding your right hand up, with a gap between your middle and ring fingers. Your index and middle fingers are together, while ring and small fingers are together, as well. Click HERE to see what I’m talking about.)

The second time it came up reinforced Loraine’s point. I was listening to the director’s commentary while watching the new “Star Trek” movie on dvd, and JJ Abrams (the director) had a fine time going on about how Zachary Quinto, the actor who plays Spock, is one of the many people who can’t do the Vulcan salute. In fact, there Quinto was, playing the most famous Vulcan of all time, and they had to glue his fingers together in the one scene where he had to give the salute (to, ironically, Leonard Nimoy, also playing the most famous Vulcan of all time, and the guy who came up with the salute in the first place).

So if Loraine can’t do the Vulcan salute and Zachary Quinto can’t do the Vulcan salute and a large majority of the people in this country can’t do the Vulcan salute, I’m guessing that it’ll never replace the handshake as a form of greeting between people, no matter how germ-free it is.

And I guess that makes those of us who CAN do it a bit, well, geeky, no matter WHAT we tried to prove with yesterday’s blog.

Sigh...

(jim@wmqt.com)

MONDAY, 1/11:

And Happy Binary Day!

Uhm, huh? Binary Day, you ask? Well, I answer, it’s one of nine Binary Days this year. You know, Binary Day--when all 6 digits of the date are either 1 or 0, like today, which is 011110.

You know, Binary Day.

Yes, you don’t have to tell me. I know I’m a geek. Or a nerd, a dweeb, or a dork. I mean, only someone who is a geek (or a nerd, a dweeb, or a dork) would celebrate the fact that it’s Binary Day, especially when said geek (or nerd, or dweeb, or dork) isn’t even fluent in binary code (a series of “1”s and “0”s used to command computers).

But at least I know what binary code is!

Actually, if I am a geek (or a nerd, a dweeb, or a dork), I’m not the kind of geek who knows things like binary code. I mean, I know what binary code IS, and I get the in-jokes (well, some of the in-jokes) when I watch “The Big Bang Theory”, but I don’t know any of the following--

-Quantum physics

-String Theory

-The atomic weight of Seaborgium (although I DO know who Glenn Seaborg was)

-Packet routers

-Nanotechnology

-Bill Gates’ middle name

-Han Solo’s middle name

-or how to speak Klingon.

So, I guess, if I were to be considered any kind of geek, it would be geek-lite. Sure, the last book I read was “Homesteading Space” (about, of all things, Skylab), and when I was a kid, I used to build the Jupiter 2 from “Lost In Space” out of Tinker toys and Legos, but I’d also like to think that most of me has at least one foot in the real world. I mean, I’m pretty sure my social skills are stronger than my math skills (if not, I’m in a HEAP of trouble) and that my interests in this world are far broader than those of a real geek (or a nerd, or a dweeb, or a dork).

All in all, I guess I’m not REALLY a geek. I’m just someone who likes to celebrate Binary Day. And there is a difference between the two.

At least, I HOPE there’s a difference between the two.

(jim@wmqt.com)

Friday, 1/8

Hey...I hate to say this, but I’m insanely busy today. (Well, okay, more insanely busy than usual). So if you don’t mind, I’ll just leave you with a few more pictures from the Globetrotters Wednesday night. Enjoy, have a great weekend, and I promise I’ll have something new and longer than a paragraph on Monday!

Here’s Maxwell, our junior Globetrotter and natural ham--

Here, Globetrotter Bam Bam and the team’s trainer explain what Max will have to do during the game--

Part of the sell-out crowd--

Here, the Globetrotters do their famous “Magic Circle’ to start the show--

And, of course, media had to get into the whole event. Aside from our winner, the Washington Generals had a local player--

While my friend Kris from ABC 10 found herself hounded by “coach” of the Generals, who wondered why she wasn’t shooting HIS team!

Ah, what a night.

(jim@wmqt.com)

THURSDAY, 1/7:

Wow. THAT was impressive.

I’m referring, of course, to last night’s exhibition of athletic skills by The Harlem Globetrotters at the Berry Events Center. Oh sure, everyone had a boatload of laughs during the “game” (“game” used in quotes because, of course, we all know who’s gonna win), but if you just sat back and watched the artistry of the Globetrotters as they hustled up & down the court...

Amazing. And I’m not even a basketball fan!

Of course, I wasn’t there just to watch the Globetrotters. We played a small part in the evening for some people, and I was there to take pictures!! I got to meet our “Junior Globetrotter” winner, 6-year old Maxwell Churack of Palmer, and find out what a very nice & interesting young man he is. And while I can’t say with 100% certainty, I’m guess he may have the time of his life last night.

Look at a few of the pictures for yourself to find out!

(And before I get to the pix, a HUGE shout-out has to go out to the Globetrotter organization. Every single person we met went out of their way to make us feel welcome and special. You don’t get that very often in this biz!)

Here’s Maxwell, his mom, and grandparents--

We all got to meet a couple of the Globetrotters. Here’s Max and Bam Bam--

And here’s the winner with his signed jersey!

Finally, remember how I said everyone we met went out of their way to make sure Maxwell had a great time? I think this picture says it all--

I’ll post more later.
All in all, quite the fun night, and quite the amazing display by some very talented individuals.

WEDNESDAY, 1/6:

Here’s a phrase I thought I would never utter--

I no longer know if I want to look at half-naked women.

Upon further reflection, maybe that’s not the best way to put that particular phrase. So maybe I should just start at the beginning...

A year ago, my favorite music magazine ever went out of business. Blender was a fun read; while they really knew their music, they never took it too seriously. Their interviews and reviews always were just slightly off center (they actually read like something I would’ve written,) and the magazine was just filled with little one-off jokes and strange ramblings buried in picture captions or at the bottom of the page. Not only that, but the spine of the magazine carried the picture of some music figure who had died the previous month; it was usually quite the game to figure out who it was.

Anyway, like I said, the magazine, along with many others, became a victim of the Great Recession. And once they went out of business, I figured that was it. I still had a year and a half left on my subscription, but I figured it was gone.

Shows what I know.

Apparently, the same company that owned Blender also owns Maxim, one of those “lad” magazines that became popular at the end of the 90s. “Lad” mags feature lots of articles about drinking, video games, and extreme sports; they also feature a copious amount of scantily-clad young women. Since I still had a year and a half left on my Blender subscription, you know what they did with it?

Yup. They made me a Maxim subscriber.

Now, while I have nothing against scantily-clad young women, I’m also not someone who’s into drinking, video games, or extreme sports. And while I found the magazine borderline interesting the first few times I read it, that fascination has now leveled off. Not only that, but because the magazine gets delivered here at work, I get a weird look from our office manager everytime she drops the latest issue on my desk, an issue that invariably features a scantily-clad young woman on the cover, next to a headline that’ll say something like “Babes like men who drink lots of beer while spending 20 hours a day playing ‘World of Warcraft’”.

Uhm...no thanks.

So that’s why I’m not quite sure the phrase “I no longer know if I want to look at half-naked women” is apropos in this situation. Maybe it’s just the context in which they’re being presented. All I know is that I’m apparently not Maxim material.

Not that that’s a bad thing.

(jim@wmqt.com), who really does miss Blender.

TUESDAY, 1/5:

The first sign of life is the algae.

Now, I mention this because Loraine and I just bought the tickets for our next trip to France, the one scheduled for this October. And, of course, if you’re flying to or from France, you spend a LOT of time staring out of airplane windows...nine hours, in fact, on the trip back.

And that’s how I know about the algae.

When you leave France, you have about 45 minutes to look out the window and see land; England and Ireland, to be specific. Then for four, four and a half hours--nothing. You can look down and see the north Atlantic. Sometimes you might see icebergs, sometime you might see waves so big that, at 35,000 feet, they appear as little white dots, but mostly you see nothing but water.

Until, that is, you hit Canada.

When you enter Canadian airspace, you first fly over the Labrador Peninsula, which is nothing but desolate, barren rock. For half an hour, you stare down at a vast landscape of nothing-ness; if you were an alien being exploring the planet for the first time, you’d probably assume that the planet was devoid of life.

And then you see the green.

The first few times I flew back from Europe, I was intrigued when I noticed that, about half an hour after crossing over land, the ponds and lakes sitting on top of the Labrador rocks looked a little green around the edges. Then I figured out what it was...it was algae building up around the shores, much like algae builds up on the shores of lakes around here.

After over 5 hours of seeing nothing, it’s the first sign that there’s still life on the planet.

A few minutes later, some of the rocks appear green, as well, indicating either moss or algae has started to cling to the rocks. The green increases over time, until you see something you thought you might never see again--

A road.

As with the algae, I had no idea where the roads led during my first few flights. Then on the last few flights, I began to notice the roads leading to complexes, complexes that I’m guessing are mines, or research facilities, or military facilities. Soon, the roads begin to branch off into other roads, and along those roads you soon notice more green.

The roads are cutting through grass. And soon, the roads begin to cut through trees. And then a small town or two. And before you know it, you see more roads, more trees, more towns, and then the pilot says you’re crossing over Sault Ste Marie, Michigan, and entering the U.S.

All a mere 8 or so hours after leaving France, and just an hour and a half after you thought you’d never see a sign of life again.

If you’ve ever wondered how you kill those 9 hours on a plane, that’s how I do it. And that’s how I’ll be doing it again in a mere 9 months.

MONDAY, 1/4:

So...NOW what do we do?

Here we are, staring the first full week in January right in the face. The holidaze are finally done, we're in a new decade, and it’s time to slip into what seems to be a rather “blah” period for the next couple of weeks. All the plans, parties, and excitement of Christmas and New Years are over, and in the immediate future, we’re facing nothing but snow, and cold, and snow, and cold, and snow, and, well, you get the idea.

It’s the time when those who can head off to warmer climates for a month or four, and the time for those of us who stay and keep the U.P. working to hunker down and settle in for the bulk of winter. Our shovels and ice scrapers are broken in, our mittens and hats are beginning to feel comfortable, and our bodies are FINALLY starting to get use to months without sun.

If we can make it through the next few weeks, though, I think we can make it through the winter. Pretty soon, our thoughts will turn to things like the Noquemanon the “Gift of Life” blood drives, and the UP 200, and once those are over, we begin to notice a couple of things...

Like the sun. And, when it finally returns, how it starts to feel warm on our skin again. And how the birds are slowly starting to come back home and chirp their songs of spring. And how the snow is, just a little, starting to melt, and this time melt for real, not like this weekend, where it melted only to make room for the snow that’s still yet to come.

So hang in there the next few weeks. Make it through that, and the results will be worth it.

THURSDAY, 12/31:

Wow. This is the final blog of a decade. The final one.

Wow.

This always seems like one of those times when you should say something either momentous or deep. But since I can’t say anything momentous or deep without throwing in a wisecrack or three, just let me say this--

Farewell, Ohs (or whatever the experts decide to call you). Don’t let the door hit you on the way out.

Now, I say that with kind of a smirk on my face. As I’ve written in here before, the decade really kind of split into a weird dichotomy, in that on a micro level, I had a GREAT decade, while on a macro level, the world as a whole did not. All I can do is hope that the upcoming Teens (a name, by the way, on which I think we can all agree) will continue to allow me to have a great time, while expanding that great time to the rest of the planet.

Well, a boy can dream, can’t he?

So I’m keeping my fingers crossed that the suffering, the hatred, and the divisiveness of the past ten years will slowly slip away, to be replaced by a coming together of people, the easing of suffering and fear, and a realization that, whether we want to admit it or not, we’re all on this planet together, and need to start living that way.

I know...good luck on THAT, right?

8-)

****

By the way, the TV-6 story on the ball drop didn’t make it on air last night. It’ll now be on TONIGHT, which I guess is kind of appropriate, consider the subject matter. Hopefully, I’ll see some of you downtown tonight; if you are here, wander over and say “hey” (assuming, of course, you can make your way through the throng). If you’re not, just make sure you have yourself a very happy new year.

And here’s to a great new decade!!!

WEDNESDAY, 12/30:

It feels quite strange the first time you do it. But you get used to it quite quickly.

A couple of days ago I had the opportunity to write down a date. This date, to be specific--

1/4/10

Writing the “10” part of it threw me for a loop for a second. It didn’t feel right as I was writing it, nor did it look “right” when I was finished. Yet there it was, next Monday’s date, written down by the very person it was throwing off for a second.

Although I don’t remember, I’d have to guess that I was probably thrown off even more a decade ago, whenever I first had to write down something like “1/4/00”. But because I don’t remember, I’m guessing I became used to it quite quickly, just as I probably because used to writing “1/4/90” right away and just as I’ll probably become quite used to writing (and seeing) “1/4/10” soon.

Probably, in fact, by Monday, when it actually IS 1/4/10. And if that’s the only thing that throws me for a loop as we switch decades...well, I can handle that.

I really can.

***

Speaking of switching decades, make sure you watch TV-6 news tonight, as they’re doing a story about the annual downtown Marquette ball drop and they, for some reason, have decided to talk to me about it. No, I don’t know why; it’s not like I founded the ball drop, or organize it, or pay for it. I simply stand outside the station every year, microphone in hand, and describe the action as 4,000 of my closest drunk friends cheer in the new year.

Maybe, because this’ll be my 8th year doing it, they figure I remember enough details to accurately describe it. Or, more to the point, maybe all the REAL people connected to it are out of town, and I’m the only person with ANY kind of connection that they could find.

Yeah. I’m thinking that’s more the reason. But anyway, if you’re REALLY bored, check out the news story on one of the newscasts tonight.

***

Finally, because it seems everyone’s doing it, here’s “Jim’s (very short) List Of The Best Of The Decade”--

Best TV Show--“Gilmore Girls”

Best Movie--“Love Actually”

Best Album--Green Day’s “American Idiot”

And yours are????

TUESDAY, 12/29:

Okay, where were we? That’s right...my new special power.

When I discovered my new special power, my first thought was that, unfortunately, I’m probably not gonna make any money off of it. My second thought was that while something happening twice might be a coincidence, something happening three times is probably NOT. And my third thought?

That I spend WAAAAAY too much time in cemeteries.

Here’s the deal--three times since the snow covered the ground around here at the beginning of December, Loraine and have paid a visit to cemeteries to honor a few of the guys she’s been studying on the 65th anniversary of their deaths in WWII. Each of the graves--in Republic, in Ishpeming, and at Park Cemetery in Marquette--has been covered by at least a foot of snow. Yet in each of the three cemeteries, I was able to trudge through the snow, stop at a certain point, kick away the foot of snow with my boot, and find that I was standing right over the grave we were looking for.

Weird, huh?

It actually happened twice at Park Cemetery Christmas Eve. It wasn’t too hard finding Leo Robinson’s grave, as he’s buried right near one of the roads. But we also decided to see if we could find the graves of the parents of one of “Loraine’s Guys”, graves that are located in a flat stretch of the cemetery, about 50 by 50 feet, with no headstones or landmarks sticking up anywhere in that stretch. Yet I walked to the general location of the graves, looked around, moved a few feet, and started to dig.

When we found we were standing right over the graves, I think Loraine and I both started to wonder what was going on.

Now, I have no idea how any of that happened. I am in no way chalking it to mystical forces, nor do I think I have some sort of strange grave-locator GPS chip stuck in my head. I’m not quite sure if it’s tied into an ability I have, an ability to, once I’ve been to a place, return to it without a map or any other kind of navigational aids (a handy ability to have in the middle of France, I might add).

I just have an ability to find a grave under a foot of snow, I guess.

Like I said before, I don’t think it’s an ability that’ll ever pay off in any way, although considering what Loraine and I do for a hobby, it’s probably a pretty good ability to have, especially if we ever need to visit a cemetery in the (pardon the pun) dead of winter again.

And knowing us, we probably will!

***

I know I post a lot of pictures of cemeteries taken when the weather's nice out, so maybe I should post one taken in a cemetery when the view’s a little different.

Looks kinda peaceful in a snowy way, doesn’t it?

MONDAY, 12/28:

Yes, all the cookies are gone.

Among the notes I received from you guys over the last few days was one from daily blog reader Holly in Marquette, who wanted to know if the 31 dozen cookies I baked during the last few weeks are still floating around. No, they’re not, Holly.

And about that, I couldn’t be happier!

I don’t bake the cookies for me to eat; in fact, Loraine often expresses amazement and/or disappointment over the fact that I make the cookies but don’t eat them. But while I do munch on one or two (mostly to make sure they turn out okay), I make them mostly to give away. After all, the holidays are all about giving, right? Especially if you’re giving (what did we figure out) 11 extra pounds of weight through all the cookies you bake?

Right??

One of the reasons I don’t eat all the cookies, and one of the reasons that I’m glad they’re all gone, is that I’ve regained those two pounds I gained in France, and then took two months to lose after we got back. (Those of you who read this on a daily basis may remember it took me three days to lose the first pound, then 6 weeks to lose the second). Now, I’m sure some of you are asking how I can gain two pounds when I don’t eating my own baking, and I can safely answer this way—while I don’t eat my own baking, I sure do eat a lot of other people’s baking.

Once again, those of you who read this on a daily basis know what I’m talking about—ever since Thanksgiving, it seems like I’ve been writing about nothing other than going to bazaars and holiday festivals and open houses and bake sales and cookie swaps and Greek food. And while I don’t eat a lot at any one of those events, the sheer number of them that Loraine & I attend makes it inevitable that, like almost every American, I’ll gain a pound or two during the holidays.

This year, it just happened to have been two pounds.

Now, one of the reasons Americans have gotten so large over the past two decades is that, studies show, they never lose the pound or two they gain each holiday season. And while a pound or two might not make much difference in a year, you add them up over a decade, and you’re eventually 15 or 20 pounds heavier than you once were.

That’s why I don’t eat the cookies I bake. I make up for it in eating the stuff that OTHER people make and give to me. And that’s why I hit the ski trails and the running routes and the weights with added vigor during and after the holidays. I want to get rid of those two pounds I just picked up.

I just hope it doesn’t take six weeks to do it again.

***

For those of you who were wondering, Loraine and I DID pay our annual visit to the grave of Leo Robinson Thursday.

In fact, it was there that I found out I seem to have developed a very strange (and I do mean VERY strange) talent. Details on that tomorrow.

WEDNESDAY, 12/24:

I won’t be on the air today, so I wanted to do two things.

First of all, I want to wish you a VERY Merry Christmas. I hope your holiday’s everything you hope it will be and more, and I hope that you’re able to carry out each and every tradition that your family’s adopted over the years.

Second of all, I wanted to share the blog I wrote LAST Christmas Eve. Because what’s described in the blog has become a tradition in itself.

See you Monday!

****

(as originally posted 12/24/08)--

Before we go over to my sister’s for the annual Koski family Christmas Eve Celebration of Noise, Loraine and I have a stop to make. And even though there’s two feet of snow on the ground, it’s a stop we have to make, because for us, we feel it’s important.

Let me explain--every Christmas Eve, we make a stop at Park Cemetery. Buried there is a young man named Leo Robinson.

Leo was born in Marquette in 1925, and grew up in Rumley, eventually graduating from (what was then) Eben High School. Like many men of that era, he was asked to join the U.S. Army, and in 1944, was assigned to the 705th Tank Destroyer battalion. His unit in Belgium in December of that year, and when the Germans launched what became to be known as “The Battle of The Bulge”, Leo was in the thick of it.

You see, he was in Bastogne, Belgium, ground zero for that famous battle.

Although Army records are sketchy from those few weeks, we’ve been able to determine that Leo received a leg wound a couple of days before Christmas. It wasn’t serious, but he was evacuated to a makeshift hospital in Bastogne for treatment. Now, if you’ve ever watched “Band of Brothers”, you know what hospital I’m talking about. It was set up in a church basement, where a Belgian nurse named Renee LeMaire did her best to help treat hundreds of wounded Allied soldiers brought in, soldiers like Leo Robinson. If you’ve watched “Band Of Brothers”, you also know what happened to that makeshift hospital. It was hit by a German bomb, killing the young nurse, other local residents, and 30 Allied soldiers.

Leo Robinson was one of those 30. He survived his leg wound, only to die when the hospital in which he was recovering was destroyed.

When he died 65 years ago today, Christmas Eve 1944, Leo Robinson was 19 years old. He was never able to start any holiday traditions of his own. That’s why, every December 24th, Loraine and I stop by and bring him a flower or two, before we head over to our traditional family gathering.

WEDNESDAY, 12/23:

I know I’ve written about this before, but when I was a VERY young kid (back in the 1800s), one of the first magical holiday moments I can remember is driving around in my parents’ car and listening to the radio. WDMJ was broadcasting a report from NORAD (the North American Aerospace Defense Command), where they said they were tracking--by radar--Santa’s sleigh as it was leaving the North Pole. I’d listen to the reports as he flew closer, and it made me SO excited to know that Santa was on his way--TO MY HOUSE--that I probably couldn’t contain myself the rest of the day.

Like I said, it’s a memory that’s stuck in my head for 40 years now. And you know what? You can share that exact same experience with your child, if you’d like, this year. That’s right--we’re teaming up with Snyder Drug stores to present those very same reports beginning tomorrow morning around 6 as Santa (if he’s on schedule) leaves the North Pole, and makes his way around the planet, ending up at his ultimate destination, Upper Michigan.

The reports are a little updated from when I was a kid. NORAD still uses radar to track Santa, but they’ve also added satellites and what they’re calling “SantaCams” to help in their task And that very technology also gives you a chance to follow the whole trip. Aside from listening to our reports, you can also track the Jolly ‘Ol Elf on the web as he makes his way worldwide. Just visit this website--

And you can follow him on his journey to visit all the good little girls and boys of planet Earth, especially those here in the U.P. Now, if THAT doesn’t put you in the holiday spirit, I don’t know what will!

TUESDAY, 12/22:

Two entirely unrelated things about the holidaze today--

The first is an observation I’ve made while walking home from work every night, and that observation is that there doesn’t seem to be as many homes as usual with Christmas lights out this year. Or, at the very least, there doesn’t seem to be as many homes as usual with Christmas lights out on the streets where I’m walking.

I don’t know if it’s like that all around Marquette (or the rest of the U.P.); all I know is that I seem to remember there being more light displays than I currently see. I, of course, could be wrong about that--I seem to make a habit of that these days--but my perception is that there are fewer lights out this year. Now, I couldn’t say that I’m surprised in any way, because there could be a number of factors behind it. People could still be a little worried about the economy, people could be trying to use less energy, or, just maybe, the people who live along my route home all fell down a few weeks ago, broke their arms, and weren’t able to put lights up.

You never know.

Of course, I could probably walk one block over and see light displays that require sunglasses to view them. I wouldn’t be surprised if that was the case, nor would I be surprised if the street I walk along never DID have many lights up, and I’ve just finally realized it after three years.

All I know is that it SEEMS that there are fewer Christmas lights out this year. And that’s all I’m gonna say about that.

*****

Now, the other matter dealing with the holidaze? I now know just how “Married With Children” warped my perception of Christmas.

Here’s the deal--right after graduating from college I got a job at a TV station in Flint, one that became an affiliate of the (then) brand new Fox TV network. Of course, one of the first shows on that network was “Married With Children”, and for their first Christmas show, they did an episode in which Santa was supposed to parachute to a mall. Unfortunately, Santa’s parachute didn’t open, his body landed in the Bundy’s backyard and, well, hilarity ensues.

Anyway, here’s how the show warped me. As everyone was getting ready for Santa visit, they walked around singing “Santa Claus Is Coming To The Lakeside Mall” instead of the usual “Santa Claus Is Coming To Town”. I guess I didn’t realize just how much that stuck with me until I was baking cookies this weekend, listening to Christmas music, and when “Santa Claus Is Coming To Town” came on, I automatically started singing along with it, only singing “Santa Claus Is Coming To The Lakeside Mall” instead of the usual lyrics.

Ah, the magic of very special Christmas episodes of TV shows. The wonder of it all just sticks with you for life...

MONDAY, 12/21:

Well, I THINK I survived cookie weekend without too much damage. About the only blowback was my waking up in the middle of the night last night, dreaming that the oven timer was going off at the same time I was trying to mix cookie dough and finding out that I’d run out of everything from chocolate stars to sprinkles.

Hopefully, THOSE nightmares are now done with!

Now, because I have to be somewhere in a few minutes, here’s a list I came up with a few years ago. And no, I have NO idea how these things pop into my head.

Really, I don’t.

THE TOP TEN YOOPER CHRISTMAS CAROLS:

10. The Christmas, Michigan Song

9. I Saw Mommy Hunting with Santa Claus

8. Oh Little Town of Traunik

7. Blue Spruce Christmas

6. Toivo the Snowman

5. Xmas...Baby Please Come Home (Over The Mackinaw Bridge)

4. Winter Wonderland--9 Months Out Of The Year

3. Oh Come All Ye Deer Feeders

2. Steve Asplund The Red-Nosed Reindeer.

And this year, at least...

1. Stop The Snow, Stop The Snow, Stop the Snow!

FRIDAY, 12/18:

Well, here we are, the final weekend before Christmas. Or, as it’s known among people who make a lot of Christmas cookies, “crunch time”.

That’s right; I’ve not yet finished all of my baking for the holidaze. In fact, I haven’t really gotten much done yet, a oversight I intend to correct this upcoming weekend. I’ll be spending every spare second of free time I have at home tomorrow baking the cookies that I’ve been babbling about in here for a month or so; then Sunday I go over to my parents and continue the 30-some year long tradition of making cookies THERE, now ably assisted by my nieces Mallory & Sydney.

By the time the weekend is done, I’m guesstimating that I’ll have baked, oh, 32 dozen cookies. And if every cookie I bake has, once again guesstimating, 100 calories to it, that means I’ll be flooding the market with (and let me grab my calculator here) 38,400 calories. And if it takes an extra 3,500 calories to gain a pound, that means I’ll be personally responsible for family, friends, and strangers gaining almost 11 pounds.

And for that, in advance, I apologize. I don’t mean to do bad; really, I don’t!!

I’ve been babbling a LOT in here about traditions the past couple of days, and while I’ll be carrying on the tradition of massive cookie baking this weekend, I’ll also be carrying on a tradition within the tradition. Now, you may find this weird, but when I’m in the middle of these yearly cookie marathons, I listen to the exact same holiday CDs in the exact same order.

Otherwise, the cookies just aren’t the same.

Actually, the cookies turn out the same whether or not I listen to the music, but if I don’t listen to those particular discs in that particular order, something’s just not “right” (As opposed to, say, ME not being right for having to listen to them in that particular order). When I’m baking at home, it has to be the soundtrack to “A Charlie Brown Christmas”, the Boston Pops Christmas album (with the immortal “Sleigh Ride”) in it, and (don’t laugh) Vince Gill’s first Christmas disc. Then when I’m over at my parents, I go through Chicago 25 (their Christmas album), A GRP Christmas, and the soundtrack to “Jingle All The Way” (which, aside from some rocking Brian Setzer Orchestra cuts, also includes every classic from Nat King Cole’s “Christmas Song” to Johnny Mathis’ “The Most Wonderful Time of the Year”). After those albums run out I’m allowed to listen to whatever I want, but I need to start to the day off with those albums.

After all, it’s a holiday tradition, right?

While I’m making cookies this weekend, make sure you have yourself a great couple of days, too, whether you’re shopping, baking, wrapping, or whatever. If you’re out and about Saturday morning, join me for a live broadcast from AT&T in Marquette from 10 until noon. You could win yourself a big LCD TV for the holidays!

THURSDAY, 12/17:

I have what seems like a thousand little things lying around I’ve been meaning to mention, but haven’t yet, because in some cases, the thoughts are no more than a sentence, and don’t really constitute a blog. So with that in mind, how ‘bout if we call today’s edition...

“Jim’s Christmas Stocking Full of Useless Stuff”!

***
Stocking item number one--did you know that, according to an online poll, Rudolph is the favorite reindeer of Americans? Vixen is in second place, while Dancer brings up the rear.

My question is this--why? Not the fact that Rudolph is the favorite reindeer, but the fact that Dancer is the least favorite. What did Dancer ever do to the people answering the poll--leave too many droppings on their roof one Christmas Eve? And why is Vixen so special that he (it?) gets three times as many votes as Dancer? Did Vixen buy more campaign ads, or something?

You have to wonder about these things, you know!

***

Stocking item number two--21 percent of my friends on Facebook have first names that start with the letter “J”.

That’s right--21 percent. Now, the letter “J’ itself makes up but 4 percent of the alphabet. Yet 21 percent--almost 7 times that number--of my Facebook friends have first name starting with “J”, ranging from Jamie to Justine. Now, having a first name that starts with “J” myself, I do feel a certain pride in that statistic, but still...21 percent?

I’m not a mathematician, nor do I play one on TV, but that seems strange even to me.

21 percent...

***

Stocking item number three--did you know that, in Minnesota, it’s illegal for a woman to dress up as Santa Claus? In fact, the penalty for that is 90 days in jail.

Apparently the cold has permanently frozen over a few of their 10,000 lakes, if you know what I mean.

***

Stocking item number four--finally, a joke courtesy of daily blog reader Julie in Ishpeming. It was actually a visual joke sent via e-mail, so I’m paraphrasing it for the written word.

“Did you know that 99.98 percent of Americans are terrified of driving in a whiteout? The other .02 percent, all living in Upper Michigan, will say ‘Here, hold on to the steering wheel while I open my beer’”.

And with that, I think I’ve pulled enough out of my stocking. Have a great Thursday!!

WEDNESDAY, 12/16:

It’s nice to know that some traditions never die.

All the snow we received last week allowed people to get into the swing of the many winter sports available around here. I know people who’s gone skiing, I’ve talked to people who’ve gone snow shoeing, and I saw people sledding.

In fact, I saw people who were sledding down the very hill I used to sled down when I was a kid.

Back when I was just a kid (you know, back in the 1860s) I used to live on Norway Avenue in Marquette, three blocks away from Whitman School. I went that school the first six years of my academic life, and like many kids, I also used to haul my sled there and swoosh down the hill behind the school. At the time, it seemed like one of the biggest hills in Marquette; you could tell because you had a thrilling ride down it and a looooong walk up it.

Anyway, Whitman’s no longer a school but a part of NMU. And the baseball field at the bottom of the hill where your sled would end up is now a parking lot. So imagine my surprise when, while running up Fair Street past the area Saturday, I saw several families enjoying themselves on the hill, the kids sledding down it and the parents standing on top of it, beaming in approval.

Wow. After 140 years, they still use the hill for sledding. I have to admit, while I was a little surprised, I was also glad to see it. I know I had a lot of fun going up & down that hill (well, mostly going down) and it’s nice to see that the tradition continues. And I actually think that kids may have a slightly better sledding experience these days. After all, there’s not a fence stopping you at the bottom of the hill, a fence that used to be around the old baseball field. Now you can just slide into the parking lot, at least as far as the snow will allow you.

Just for kicks, I stood at the top of the hill, and as with many things we remember from our childhood, the hill itself was no longer daunting. It’s not quite as high or as steep as I remember, but that’s okay. I’m sure that, to the kids sledding down it, it’s just as high and as steep as they can handle.

Hopefully, the tradition carries on. Hopefully, one of the kids sledding down the hill this past weekend will be running past it in, oh, 2045, notice a whole new generation of kids going down the hill on their hover-sleds, and realize that while the times and the technologies change, the fun, the hill--and the tradition--never will.

TUESDAY, 12/15:

Yes, I really DID make a chocolate bar on Sunday.

I wasn’t kidding about that when I mentioned it yesterday, and there are actually two reason why I did so. The first is that when I was in France a few months ago, I bought a package of pate de amande; you know, almond paste, made out of ground almonds and sugar. A lot of those bakery things I rave about eating over there have almond paste in them; like me, apparently the French can’t get enough of it.

So that’s why I brought a 250 gram package of it home. I had no idea what I’d do with it. I just knew I wanted to do SOMETHING with it.

Then on my birthday, my sister and nieces gave me a very cool cookie sheet, one that has four very big Christmas patterns in it. Whenever I bake Christmas cookies with my nieces I always insist on making a super-sized one for myself; my niece Mallory picked up on that, and so now I have this pan with 2-inch deep dents to bake trees, presents, snowflakes, and Santas.

When I was looking at the pan the day after my birthday, I remembered I had the almond paste up in my cupboard, and I also remembered one of the best chocolate bars I’ve ever eaten--a Cote D’Or Noir et Amande; basically, a lot of almond paste coated by a thin layer of dark chocolate. The tastes go together superbly, and the texture of the almond paste just does amazing things in your mouth.

And that’s when I decided to use my new pan to make a chocolate bar.

I cut off a chunk of the almond paste, and rolled it out into a circle that would fit inside the snowflake pattern. I then melted some very fine and very dark (60-some %) chocolate, and poured a thin layer into the snowflake pattern. I then placed the almond paste disc into the pattern, and covered the rest of it with chocolate. Six hours later when the chocolate finally re-hardened, and after a little prodding on my part, I was able to take the whole thing out of the pan, and you know what I had?

A dark chocolate and almond bar in the shape of a snowflake, over five inches in diameter.

Now, I have no idea what I’m gonna do with the chocolate bar. I think I’ll use the rest of the almond paste to make little bite-sized dark chocolate and almond nuggets, instead of more big bars; after all, they’re easier to handle and easier to eat when not five inches across. But I still have the original bar sitting on my table, ready for whatever fate awaits it.

And I’m sure that whatever the fate it, it’ll be a yummy one!

MONDAY, 12/14:

It was a gift that, for the season, had perfect timing.

Following the cancellation of some plans for yesterday, I found myself with the rarest of happenings for December, a day with absolutely nothing to do. I checked; in fact, it turns out that I have something (or a bunch of somethings) to do every single day this month. Therefore, when you find yourself with a day like yesterday, a rare gift of a day with nothing on your schedule, what do you with a day like that?

You better believe it...you do nothing!

Well, I shouldn’t say I did “nothing” yesterday. In fact, I did quite a few things. But the things I did weren’t dictated by work, or by social obligations, or by all those little things that seem to pop up during the holidays. Nope, I just did what I wanted—I read, I loafed, I kept checking my phone for updates on the Colts game (no one was showing it), I whipped up my own chocolate bars (perhaps a story for another day), I made Loraine Gnocchi for dinner, and I just enjoyed the fact that I wasn’t ruled by a schedule or by the clock.

I just did what I wanted to do.

A couple of years ago, I started putting something on my yearly gift list that, like world peace and my own spaceship, I really don’t expect to receive. That something is “a 25th hour to the day”. I think it’s a gift that a lot of us would appreciate, not only around the holidays but throughout the entire year. I know that there are days when I have things scheduled down to the half-hour, with absolutely no margin for error or no time for myself. And that’s what a day like yesterday was actually a real nice gift.

Perhaps, even, the closest I’ll ever get to that mythical 25th hour in a day.

So if I have one wish for you guys this holiday season, it’s that YOU get a gift like that. Maybe it’s the gift of some unexpected free time, maybe it’s the surprise Christmas visit of a loved one, or maybe it’s just a flash of unexpected good news. But I think everyone deserves to have the feeling like I had yesterday.

You know—the gift with perfect timing.

(jim@wmqt.com)

(p.s.—two quick things I wanna mention before going. The first is that the cookie sale in Republic went well. I limited myself to only buying and eating a dozen cookies for breakfast that day, and while it probably wasn’t one of the more nutritious breakfasts I’ve had recently, it was probably one of the yummier! And on a more slightly nutritious note, I do have to give a shout out to daily blog reader Glenn of South Dakota, another lover of pea soup. In fact, as Glenn says, he likes every kind of pea soup, from green to brown and everything in between.

See? There ARE a lot of us!)

FRIDAY, 12/11:

So--would this be considered the calm AFTER the storm??

8-)

You know, I’m thinking this would be a good time for me to make a plea I make every year, and that plea is this--

If you have the chance, can you please shovel the sidewalk by your house?
Here’s why. As many of you know, I walk to work every day, and I find myself dodging cars a lot more than I used to. It seems that after the big snows of the past few days, people aren't keeping their sidewalks clean (or the city's not plowing as much as usual). I realize most people don't walk a lot, and therefore don't give this a second thought, but take a look out of your living room window every so often. Know what you'll see?

People walking down the street, and walking ON the street because sidewalks aren't cleaned off.

Think of it another way--when you're driving down the street, how often do you have to dodge pedestrians walking on the street? Know WHY you're dodging those pedestrians? Because the sidewalks aren't cleaned off, and those pedestrians are forced to share the street with cars.

Cars like yours.

Because I know what it's like having to share the streets with cars, I’ve always made sure that the sidewalks around my house are cleaned off. If you have an extra few minutes one day, think you could follow that example? On behalf of everyone who walks somewhere during the day (a number that's a lot larger than you think), I offer my sincerest thanks.

I really do.

****
Make sure you have yourself a great weekend, filled with all that pre-holiday stuff that pops up this time of the year. Believe it or not, I’m getting up very early tomorrow (at least early for me) and heading up to Republic for the Republic Historical Society’s breakfast/cookie sale (although, to me, they’re one and the same) which gets underway at 9 in South Republic. While the breakfast is new, the cookie sale is something I’ve attended for several years now, if only because the people in Republic who make the cookies REALLY know how to make cookies.

Yes, they’re that good.

Now, we’ll hafta see if I’m up to the challenge because, for some reason, I volunteered to make a batch for the sale myself. Can I stack up to people who’ve been making Christmas cookies longer (in some cases) than I’ve been alive?

We’ll see tomorrow!

THURSDAY, 12/10:

Okay...it can stop now.

That I’m not a fan of winter goes without saying; anyone who’s ever read even just a few days worth of this blog knows that. But what we’ve been subjected to the past few days is just, well, beyond reason. It’s soooooo nice stepping outside your door and having stinging ice pellets batter your face; it’s even better when you have to walk three blocks to work or (heaven forbid) try to run a couple of miles in it.

Sure, your face gets nicely exfoliated. Unfortunately, it also hurts like heck for the next 48 hours.

All in all, if I need a facial, I think I’d prefer a nice warm spa. Really, I would.

I tell you what, though. I’ll try not to spend the next few months whining too much about the weather. I’m sure you’re sick of it, and even though it’s one of the coping mechanisms I use, I’ll try and develop a new one. Maybe I’ll just keep asking a question every day.

You know, a question like, “Is it July yet?”

I’m sure THAT won’t get on anyone’s nerves, right?

8-)

****

And now, for something completely different.

After writing Tuesday’s column about my favorite Christmas tunes, I received notes from several of you about a song for which we get the occasional request, but a song that, I have to admit, I’ve never heard before--

“I Want A Hippopotamus For Christmas”.

Apparently, when it comes to never having heard the song before, I’m in the minority. As I’ve discovered with a few minutes of online research, there is evidently quite the cult that’s developed around the tune. And after hearing it for the first time, I guess I can see why. For those of you who haven’t heard it before, it’s kind of like the song “All I Want For Christmas Is My Two Front Teeth”, except the kid singing it wants a hippo instead of teeth.

Two front teeth, or a hippo. There’s not much difference between the two, right?

Anyway, I’ll see if I can snag an air quality copy of the song, and then stick it on so everyone in Upper Michigan can become a member of the cult. And I f you’ve never heard it before, check it out HERE. Thanks to daily blog reader Tim of Indiana for passing along the link!

(jim@wmqt.com)

(p.s.--Happy Birthday to daily blog reader Mary of Ishpeming today!!)

WEDNESDAY, 12/9:

Well, sad to say, welcome to winter.

Although I’m writing this Tuesday night, and I have no idea what the final snow total will be, I’m guessing (based on the predictions of Karl Bohnak, Harbinger of Doom) that many of you throughout the U.P. are staring at over a foot of the white stuff. Cheer up, though; after all, it’ll only be around for, oh, the next 5 or six months.

8-)

Five or six months. And before you think I’m kidding, you know I’m not. After all, we had snow in the middle of May this year. And if you add five months to today, you know what you get?

Yup. The middle of May.

So how am I gonna survive five or six months of stir-crazy cabin fever? I have no idea; hopefully, I won’t end up standing out in the street naked yelling at the snow gods for making my life miserable (although that WOULD be a neat way for me to get into the Mining Journal's Police Log, wouldn’t it?). I guess that over the next five months, I just hafta adjust my lifestyle. I won’t be able to spend much time outdoors, I won’t be wandering around the area taking as many pictures, and I won’t be wearing shorts very much. Instead, I’ll sit inside and read a little more. I’ll get through some of the unwatched DVDs that seem to pile up. And I’ll check off events like Christmas, New Year’s, the Noque, and Valentine’s Day, knowing that each event we go through means we’re one little step closer to the return of green (or at least brown) grass, sunshine, and sweat rolling down your back as you go running without 14 pieces of clothing covering up your body.

Yes, I KNOW I’m a walking oxymoron. Yes, I KNOW that, for someone who was born in the U.P., that I shouldn’t complain about winter, I should instead celebrate it. It’s just that, you know, it’s winter.

And it’s here for the foreseeable future.

TUESDAY, 12/8:

What with it being only 16 days until Christmas Eve (16 days????!!!????) I, like you, have been listening to a lot of holiday music recently, if only because I need to decide what we’re gonna be playing on Christmas Eve and Christmas Day, when we’ll be playing nothing BUT 36 straight hours of holiday music. And after listening to oh, I dunno, a hundred or so new Christmas songs (or new versions of old classics), I’ve come to a decision--

Usually, with Christmas songs, the older, the better.

Now, I’m not trying to sound like an old fuddy duddy here, but does the world really need the 114th version of “Winter Wonderland”, this time sung by “High School Musical” star Vanessa Hudgens, or a remake of “Christmas (Baby Please Come Home)”, as interpreted by “Gossip Girls” star Leighton Meester?

I dunno.

Normally, I enjoy listening to younger artists trying their hand at classic works, and I do realize that there are a finite number of Christmas songs out there, so if you wanna record an album of “classics”, you only have a few from which to choose. But there’s just something about the “classic” version of those classics that make the holidays, well, the holidays.

You know, classic versions like these...the list of Jim’s top 5 Christmas songs of all time (assuming, of course, I actually sat down and made a list of my top 5 Christmas songs of all time)--

5. “All I Want For Christmas Is You”, Mariah Carey.

4. “The Most Wonderful Time Of The Year”, Johnny Mathis.

3. “Same Old Lang Syne”, Dan Fogelberg.

2. “White Christmas”, by (don’t laugh) Vince Gill.

1. “The Christmas Song”, by Nat King Cole.

All those are songs that, I might add, are still among our most requested holiday songs by YOU guys, and all songs that you’ll be hearing from now through our 36 hours of non-stop holiday music Christmas Eve and Christmas Day.

By the way...what are YOUR favorites?

MONDAY, 12/7:

Okay. I don’t think I need to eat ever again.

After birthday pizza, a birthday dinner, pumpkin bars, mint chocolate chip ice cream, leftover birthday pizza, 6 different kinds of Greek food, leftover pumpkin bars, way too many yummy cookies at the library, and a big piece of delicious dark chocolate peppermint bark from Donckers, I do believe I exceeded my usual weekly intake of 20,000 (or whatever it is) calories in just 36 hours this weekend.

Go team!!

Even now I don’t feel like I can eat another thing. And, of course, the food (and the intake of the food) was all well-meaning. My family wanted me to have the birthday dinner and the bars and the ice cream. Aubree’s wanted me to have the birthday pizza. Peter White Public Library wanted me to have their open house cookies. And the amazing chefs at the Greek Orthodox Church in Marquette SURELY wanted me to sample almost everything they had at their annual bake sale, right?

Right?

I guess that’s one bad thing about having a December birthday; the month is filled with way too much consumption as it is, and when you throw in a birthday (plus a late Thanksgiving that fell just a few days before all this), you just go way over the top. In fact, I shudder to think what next year’s gonna be like, when my birthday falls on the same day as things like the Greek Orthodox Church bake sale, a day just 9 days after Thanksgiving and a mere three weeks before Christmas Day.

I think I have a stomach ache already.

And unfortunately (well, at least unfortunately for me) it’s not gonna stop any time soon. I’m hoping to get started on the manufacturing of my Christmas cookies this week, and then face a daunting challenge Saturday when I go out to Republic for their Historical Society’s annual feast. This year, they’re combining a cookie sale with a (very) early morning breakfast, and if their breakfasts are even half as rich and calorie-laden as their cookies have been in past years, I’m guessing I won’t be eating for another week after that.

Now that I think about it, I wonder if a “weekend-only diet” work actually work? Nah...probably not.

Excuse me now, if you would. I think I need to go buy some more Tums.

FRIDAY, 12/4:

Okay, you guys can stop it now.

Following yesterday’s blog about the phrase “especially for someone your age”, I’ve been deluged by notes from many of you about, well, the fact that I’m getting old(er) and there’s nothing I can do about it.

Says daily blog reader Denise in Marquette, “Join the club”. Says daily blog reader Michelle in Negaunee, “How much gray hair do you have NOW?” And says daily blog reader Kelly in Marquette, “Did you ask for a walker for your birthday”?

You guys had better watch it...or I’ll start writing about pea soup again!

8-)

I tell ya...not only is it the “getting old” part that’s bothersome, but it’s also the fact that it’s one of those things that’s out of your control. I mean, you can control a lot of things in your life, from your job to your cholesterol to even, Michelle, your gray hair. But there is absolutely no way you can control the aging process. How am I sure? Well, while I’m not a scientist, nor do I play one on TV, I do know enough about temporal physics that you can’t turn back time.

At least, not yet.

So I guess I’ll just have to learn how to handle the concept as I advance yet another year in age today. Maybe, just maybe, I’ll one day get “old” enough and develop the maturity to accept what’s happening to me, and to accept it with grace.

Although, if I were you, I wouldn’t hold my breath waiting.

****

Aside from eating my customary birthday meal of pumpkin bars and mint chocolate chip ice cream tonight, I’m also looking forward to sampling all kinds of other goodies this weekend. On the east side of Marquette tomorrow, it’s what many people refer to as "Church Bazaar Saturday". St. Paul's has their Third World Craft (and bake) sale, there’s a craft & bake sale at the Federated Women’s Clubhouse, and the Greek Orthodox Church has an event to which I look forward every year-their annual Greek bake sale. If you've never been there, you HAVE to try it, for the spanakopeta, the patisito, and about a half dozen other things I can't even pronounce, much less spell. They also bake perhaps the best walnut spice cake I've ever eaten, which is drenched overnight in an orange-honey sauce.

YOU REALLY HAFTA TRY IT!!!

Sunday's busy, too, as Peter White Library has their annual "Winter Wonderland" open house, with their trees decorated to the nines again. Not only that, they have a GREAT spread of cookies and punch to sample as you’re checking out the trees.

I guess it really is, my rapidly advancing age notwithstanding, the most wonderful time of the year. Check some of those activities out if you have the chance, and no matter how old you think you are, make sure you have a FUN weekend!

THURSDAY, 12/3:

I THINK it’s a compliment. At least, that’s how I’m gonna take it.

I went to the doctor yesterday for my annual check-up, and I heard the words that everyone longs to hear--“you’re in great shape”. Only in my case, they were also followed 5 extra words--

“Especially for someone your age”.

Now, like I said, I’m gonna take that as a compliment. I know many people in their 40s who’ve developed some kind of chronic condition, or who have a little trouble getting around, or who’ve let tobacco or alcohol rules their lives. I’m very fortunate that none of that has happened to me, so I AM taking that phrase as meaning something good.

But still...”especially for someone your age”? I am not old; I don’t feel like I’m old, I don’t act like I’m old, and just because some stupid calendar keeps turning its pages does not mean that I am getting up there in years. I mean, sure, technically, I AM getting up there in years--we all are--but doesn’t my doctor know about the Koski family phobia about aging? I mean, he has my medical history...that phobia has to be in there SOMEWHERE, doesn’t it?

Sigh...

Now, I’m glad I’m in good health, especially (smirk) for someone my age. I try and take care of myself, and try to live a good life; so far, it seems to be working. And hopefully, it’ll keep going for many decades to come. Yet even before I heard those words from my doctor, I’ve had “getting old” on my mind for two reasons.

The first? Well, ever since writing Tuesday’s blog about the end of the decade, my mind has been kind of blown by the speed with which this decade has shot by. I mean, doesn’t it seem like we just dealing with Y2K a couple of months ago? Yet it wasn’t; in fact, it’s been 10 years since many of us watched 24 hours of fireworks from around the globe as our calendars switched over to 2000. Now, just a couple of months later (or so it seems) our calendars are switching over to 2010.

I sat down and did a little math (which we all know is a dangerous thing) and figured out this scary statistic--22 percent of my life has just shot by in what seems like a couple of months.

Twenty two percent. Geez...maybe the phrase “especially for someone your age” IS becoming relevant in my life.

Dang.

The second reason I’ve had “getting old” on my mind recently? I’ll talk about that tomorrow.

WEDNESDAY, 12/2:

Darn. I came THIS close to it.

Now, the “it’ to which I’m referring deals with garbage bags, and for those of you who don’t live in the city of Marquette, I need to explain one thing really quickly before I move on. In Marquette (like many other places) you can’t just stick your trash out on the curb and have it picked up. No, you have to buy special “city bags’ (at $11 bucks for a package of 10) and then stick your trash in THOSE bags. You can recycle any paper, plastic, metal and glass you want for free, but your trash has to go into those special city bags.

Now, to quote some old famous dead dude, here’s the rest of the story.

I last bought a package of city trash bags in January, and when I did so, I had a really bizarre thought. I realized that quite some time had gone by since I had previously purchased a package, and started to wonder just how long I could make this particular 10-pack last. As the winter turned into spring, and as I found that I had only used two bags in two months, I started to wonder to myself if I could make it through a whole year only tossing out 10 bags worth of actual garbage.

As it turns out...no, I couldn’t. But I made it over 11 months with only using 10 trash bags.

I know that there are some of you out there right now saying to yourself, “10 trash bags in 11 months? I use that much in 2 weeks”. And, well, some people do use that many bags. When I walk home from work every Tuesday night and observe what people leave out on their curbs for Waste Management to pick up, I sometimes see bags piled up, one on top of the other, until they’re almost ready to fall over.

I’m just not like that.

Of course, I start off with a couple of things in my favor. I’m child-free, so it’s just Loraine and me contributing to the garbage. But it’s not like we don’t throw a lot of stuff out; every week, I haul out containers of paper to be recycled, and plastic to be recycled, and metal to be recycled. Some weeks, there are three full containers of stuff sitting out there to be taken away. But on only ten weeks this year have I had to put out a green bag.

I didn’t try to stretch out my package of 10 trash bags for a year because I was trying to save money, or because I was trying to prove some outlandish point. Being a kid growing up in the 70s made me aware of so many environmental issues and hazards, especially when you see pictures of landfills overflowing with trash. I know how much garbage is generated by 6.5 billion people on a planet; I just want to do my small part cut down the amount. That’s why I recycle the paper, glass, metal, and plastic I use, and try to buy as many products made from recycled paper, glass, metal, and plastic that I can. It’s probably not much, but at least I feel like I’m doing my small part.

So that’s why I was able to stretch out a package of 10 city trash bags for an 11-month span. Maybe with the next package I buy, I can get the whole year out of it.

I just have to figure out what more I can recycle.

TUESDAY, 12/1:

Wow. Was it really THAT bad?

The cover story on the latest issue of Time Magazine has the provocative title “The Decade from Hell”, in which the writer suggests that the decade we’re about to wrap up—the Ohs—is one that should be forgotten, and forgotten soon. And on one level, I can in no way disagree. After all, any decade that pretty much started with a contested presidential election and 9/11 and ended with The Great Recession is one that I don’t think anyone wants to repeat. Yet on another level, I have proof that this was a GREAT decade.

I’m referring, of course, to the decade that you and I had together.

It’s funny; because while I agree with the writer of the Time article on a macro level, on a micro level I look back on some of the things that we’ve done the past 10 years and get both a smile on my face and a feel of astonishment in my heart for some of the things we’ve accomplished. And I’m not talking about the stuff I’ve done outside of work; I’m as amazed and proud of the stuff we’ve done on the air as I am of things like my trips to Europe.

What follows is a VERY incomplete list of a few of the things you and I have done together over the past 10 years (or, at least a much as I could remember in 2 minutes)—

-The giant “Thank You” card we sent out to rescue workers in New York right after 9/11
-Going to Washington and getting Marquette County named an “All American County”.
-Raising money so Forsyth Township could get a drug dog.
-Providing support for Rob & Todd of “Peddlers for a Cure” as they biked across the country.
-Spending an amazing Sunday talking to hundreds of people in 2004 as the entire city of Marquette was without power and we were the only station still on the air.

-Quirky on air activities like holding a bake sale for NMU, cooking food on a hot sidewalk, kayaking out to Ripley’s Rock, and driving to five different U.P. cities in one day to raise awareness for the TV-6 Canathon.

Like I said, those are just a few of the things that popped into my head. And that doesn’t count the countless parades, blood drives, Seafood Fests, Noquemanons, Ore-to-Shores, and concerts of which we’ve been part. That’s not counting all the Michigan Association of Broadcasters awards, or the New Music Weekly nominations for national station of the year. And that’s not counting all the talented local musicians we’ve had the chance to meet, and have had the chance to share with the rest of Upper Michigan.

Nope. It’s been quite a decade. And while historians may argue that on a national and worldwide level it was, indeed, a “Decade from Hell”, I’d like to put forth the argument that on a purely personal level—the level between us and you—that it’s been an incredible, amazing, and fun decade.

So much so, in fact, that I can’t wait to see what the next decade has in store!

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