Friday, 8/31

I have got to stop using the word “literally”.

Literally.

It’s funny; every so often, I’ll notice that I use a word WAAAAAAY too often, and this time around that word is “literally”. I noticed it when I was giving the downtown tour to the DDA's Parking Advisory Committee yesterday morning; while explaining some of Marquette’s wonders, I realized that in each description of a building or a person I used the “L” word, and had to mentally make myself stop doing it.

(I WAS going to say I had to “literally make myself stop”, but see? I’m getting better at it!)

I don’t know how I get into a word rut like that. I just know that it happens every so often, and I usually don’t notice it. I’ll have Loraine or someone come up to me or drop me a note and say something like “have you notice you say (fill in the blank) an awful lot?” To which my reply would probably something like “really? I literally say it that much?” And the vicious cycle starts all over again, as I stop saying the offending word and start saying “literally” (or whatever) again.

This time, though, I caught it myself, which means that maybe, just maybe, I’m becoming aware of my verbal faults. Maybe, just maybe, I’m starting to realize my dependence on certain words or certain phrases. Maybe, just maybe, I’ll end up as an erudite young man who no longer uses certain words as crutches and who no longer drives certain phrases into the ground.

And, while we’re at it, maybe I can get my own spaceship, too? That’s probably more likely than me ever dropping all of my verbal faults!

Literally!

8-)

Have yourself a great holiday weekend. I'm going to experience a Marquette Labor Day for the first time in 14 years. This could actually (not literally) be fun!

(jim@wmqt.com)

Thursday, 8/30

I had to laugh at what the lady in Super One said.

I was at the store last weekend when a lady pushing a shopping cart spotted me & walked over. I thought she was gonna say something about the South Marquette tour, a thing about which people are STILL talking. I was wrong, though. She said, and I quote, “I just wanted to let you know that I could never do your job. I don’t have enough self-control”.

The comment made me laugh, if only because there’s actually someone out there who thinks I have ANY self-control. But she went on to explain that her comment stems from one specific incident from a couple of months ago, when someone called for an Instant Request for their parent’s 50^th wedding anniversary. Being naturally curious, I asked the caller if they were gonna do anything special for their parents that night, and their response was this—

“Yeah. I’m gonna take ‘em out to Burger King”.

Now, I had entirely forgotten about the call, but it made enough of an impression on the lady in Super One that she wanted to mention it to me. She said that if she was in my place, she would not have had my response, which was my usual way of dealing with something quite out of the ordinary, my use of the word “okayyyyyyyy...”, stretched out just like it’s written and delivered with a rather quizzical tone. She said that she would’ve made sure the caller knew that, just perhaps, Burger King isn’t quite the place you wanna take your parents on their 50^th anniversary.

And that’s why she doesn’t think she could do my job.

If there’s one thing I’ve learned in the three decades I’ve been doing what I do is that there are all kinds of people out there. There are happy ones and sad ones, funny ones and serious ones, loud ones and quiet ones, and ones who, for their parents’ 50^th wedding anniversary, throw a big party for them or just take them out to Burger King.

Every person is different, and deals with things differently. Maybe this person's parents LIKE Burger King, or maybe Burger King is all they can afford.  That’s why, when I get a phone call like that Instant Request, I just let it play out, and see where it goes. Sometimes, you get a good phone call. Sometimes, you get a chuckle. And sometimes, you even get a moment that sticks in the heads of people who are listening. That’s when I know I’ve done my job.

As for that whole comment about me having any kind of control, self or otherwise...well, that’s a topic best left for another day! But thanks to the lady in Super One for letting me know that I made an impression. That’s the kind of feedback that I really appreciate. I just hope I can keep making more of them as the decades wear on.

(jim@wmqt.com)

Wednesday, 8/28

I saw a message on the beach yesterday, and it’s stayed with me ever since.

I took a half day yesterday, and as I was strolling in the sand before the rain hit I saw that someone had written, in rather large letters, the phrase “I miss my family”. If I had to place a bet on who wrote it, I’d guess an NMU student, someone who’s just left home for the first time, and has discovered that living on your own isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. I mean, think about the first time you moved away from your home town and your family, and how you felt for the first couple of weeks. I know how I felt; of course, I actually moved all the way across the country, which, I’m sure, compounded things even more.

The message actually got to me a little, and made me wonder about who wrote it. I just hope that whoever did write the phrase in the same realizes that it WILL get better. Pretty soon, you’ll settle into a routine, you’ll get to learn more about Marquette and how great of a place it is, and, hopefully and most importantly, you’ll find yourself with what amounts to a surrogate family--friends, co-workers, other people who are in the same situation as you. That’ll make the loneliness you’re feeling right now a LOT better. Just give it a chance.

I know change is hard, especially when you're doing it on your own for the first time. It's scary. You're doing stuff you've never done before, and whatever support system you used to have isn't there anymore. But humans are great in one regard—we adapt. We change. We grow. We handle whatever gets thrown at us. I just hope that in a few days or a few weeks or a few months you're able to think about what you wrote in the sand, and realize that you've been able to adapt yourself.

And if nothing else...that's what phones and Facetime are for, right?

*****

You know I wrote a few weeks ago about how every single person we know keeps asking us it if seems weird that we're not getting ready to go to Europe? Well, today's the day you can stop. Today's the day that we'd normally be hopping on a jet plane and heading over there.

And yes, it DOES feel a little weird. So maybe you were right to ask.

8-)

(jim@wmqt.com)

Tuesday, 8/27

I'm not much of a guy. But two things that happened Sunday did make me think that there is still a little “dude” inside of me.

As you may know, I'm really not big into sports, just one of the ways in which I can honestly claim that “I'm not much of a guy”. That's just the way it is. We have an ESPN station under our roof at work, and every time we get a new sports director in they look at me like I'm either insane or a human computer when they find out I don't know (or care) about whose RBI is what or whether or not some basketball player finished their TPS reports before getting drafted.

I just don't know, and I just don't care.

That being said, there are two sports franchises to which I do pay attention. The first would be the Indianapolis Colts. The one sport I have always liked is football (just the NFL, though. College football seems like a whole different universe to me) and after growing up as a Lions fan Loraine made me choose another team for whom to cheer and perhaps, one day before I die, see them win a Super Bowl. I chose the Colts because of the brainpower of Peyton Manning, and continued to cheer them when he was replaced by Andrew Luck.

I know...who else would choose a favorite team because they had a smart quarterback? I told you I'm not much of a guy.

Anyway, Andrew Luck retired Sunday at the age of 29. He was just tired of getting beat up and trying to recover from injuries, and decided to walk away while he could still literally walk away. I don't blame him for that; heck, I actually admire him for doing that. But still, when I saw the headline Sunday morning, I actually let out my second involuntary scream of the weekend (following the snowblower I saw Saturday).

So that was the first shock of Sunday.

The other sports team to which I pay attention would be RB Leipzig, the Bundesliga team Loraine and I went to see play in April. Their superstar is named Timo Werner, who's a goal scoring machine and one of the best players on the planet. Well, Timo's contract was running out, and everyone who covers European soccer was convinced he'd be sent off to another team before that happened. But just four hours after I found out Andrew Luck was retiring Loraine let me know that Timo Werner had signed a three-year extension to his contract, which means that he'll be in Leipzig until 2023, and which means that we'll be able to see him again when we go back for another game next May

To quote some other dude who probably didn't care too much about sports, Sunday was the best of times, and it was the worst of times. I just had no idea it would be because of the only two sports teams I even pay attention to anywhere on the planet.

(jim@wmqt.com)

Monday, 8/26

I don’t like what I saw in the back of the truck.

Don’t worry; I’m not about to go on another Cranky Old Man (in training) rant. It’s just that when I was out over the weekend I saw something in the back of a pickup truck, something so repellent and anti-ethical to my way of life that I actually (albeit involuntarily) cringed when I came up on it. Yes, it was that bad.

What did I see in the back of the pickup truck? A snow blower, looking ready for action. See? I told you it was bad.

I realize that after a sadly short summer the more moderate temperatures of the past few days have people already preparing for fall. I realize that the un-naturally early changing of many green leaves to red in the last week has many people thinking of fall. And I’m sure the fact the NMU students start classes in today also has many people thinking of fall.

But getting your snow blower out? When it’s August and still ( at least this past weekend) over 70 degrees? No wonder I let out an involuntary shudder!

Now I realize that whoever owned the truck probably just had the snow blower in the back of their vehicle to take it to get tuned up for winter. I understand that. But why so early in the year? Why August? I mean, it’s not like it’s gonna snow soon. After all, it’s not like Marquette’s earliest recorded snowfall was on September 18^th and it’s not like September 18^th’s less than a month away, and it’s not like. . .

Okay. I should probably stop while I’m ahead, right?

Those of you who’ve read this for a long time know that I have trouble handling the change from summer to fall. We’re leaving my favorite time of the year and beginning the transition to my least favorite time of the year. Summer’s too short, and winter’s too long, and to be reminded of that by the sight of a snow blower while it’s still August is just, well, a little too much.

At least for a dork like me. And that, I’m guessing is what led to the involuntary shudder. Summer, we hardly knew ye!

(jim@wmqt.com)

Friday, 8/23

Okay. You can stop it now!

When we last met, I was mentioning how successful my Jim Koski ™ walk through South Marquette for the Marquette Regional History Center seemed to be. I put a picture up, made sure I hit “save”, and then promptly started to think about other things.

That was, apparently, a mistake.

By the time I got to work there were all kinds of Facebook posts and pictures about the tour. I had to do a newspaper interview about it. I had to do an online interview about it. And I had to do a TV interview about it. I've had some surreal mornings in my life, but yesterday came pretty darn close to being the most surreal of them all.

Wow.

I'm kinda overwhelmed by the response to it all. I do a lot of these history things, and you never know which ones will connect with people and which ones won't. And when there's this...rush of nice comments about the tour and how much people enjoyed it or about how they missed it yet heard such good things about it; well, it just kind of blows my mind.

In a good way, mind you, but it still blows my mind.

And as for the three interviews about the walk I've given since it wrapped up? Well, I'm just guessing that media in Marquette has run out of interesting and/or important people to deal with. That's pretty much the only explanation I can come up with. I mean, sure...there may have been a news angle to the story, in that we did indeed clog a few South Marquette streets for a few minutes, and that's all on me, but other that that...

It must have been a slow news day. That's the only explanation I can think of.

Nonetheless, it's nice to know that everyone had a good time. I do put a fair amount of work into all of these tours and programs, and to hear nice comments about them (like the lady who said I was “smart, funny, & knowledgeable”, three things we all know I'm not) is edifying.

Even if it still blows my mind.

So on that note, have yourself a great weekend. Enjoy the sun we've been promised, and if you see me wandering around not actually paying attention to anything, realize that I'm still just trying to comprehend it all. After all, it's not every day your world gets tossed around like that.

(jim@wmqt.com)

Thursday, 8/22

Yay. No one got into a fight last night.

The Jim Koski ™ tour of South Marquette was a smashing success. Don't believe me?

Photo courtesy of Amy Rickard

That's just part of the crowd of around 200 people strolling the streets of SoMa. It seems like everyone had a good time, there were a lot of laughs, and even though some of the people did disagree on where South Marquette actually begins (see yesterday's entry for more), everyone was civil about it.

Apparently, people don't get quite as passionate and/or mean about stuff when they're face to face with others and not hiding behind the anonymity of the Internet. So thanks to everyone who showed up, and thanks to everyone who kept it civil. Hope you had a good time.

Oh, and we apologize to anyone who had trouble driving through the area.  We didn't mean to block that much of the street with what someone called a "zombie horde"...really, we didn't!

8-)

Now, that leaves just one event left in my “Summer of History”, and that's my portion of the “Beer History” program at the History center on September 4^th. My task is to tell stories of stuff people do while drunk; my problem is trying to cut enough of them out so that I don't go over my 20-minute limit.

I'm going on last in the program, after everyone's been drinking beer for awhile. That should be a blast.

However, there is one thing I'm lacking, and maybe you can help. One of the places about which I'll be telling stories is the Alibi, and there's something rather strange about the Alibi. What's that, you ask? Well, I answer, I have never been able to find a picture of the Alibi when it was the Alibi, inside or out. You can get a picture of as it is now; you can find high school yearbook (!) ads for it, but in all the shows I've done about Marquette bars I've never, ever come across an actual picture of it.

I know. Everyone who went there was too bust doing other things to take a picture, right?

So, I'm putting the word out. If you have a picture of the Alibi, inside or out, or know someone who does, please let me know. I'd like to use it on the 4^th. Based on past experience I'm not expecting anyone to have it, but it doesn't hurt to ask, right? And if I could find one, it would go perfectly with the stories about dancing the Alligator and the tales of Jell-O wrestling that I'm getting ready.

It should be fun night. That's for sure.

(jim@wmqt.com)

Wednesday, 8/21

Even with three choices it seems no one can agree.

I promised today to tell the story about how tonight's Jim Koski ™ walking tour of South Marquette has raised a little controversy. And since I'm a person of my word, I will. But first, you have to read yesterday's entry, the Mining Journal article I wrote about the Champion Street bridge. If you haven't yet, scroll down and do so. Don't worry; the rest of us will be here waiting for you. And we'll only saying a few snide things behind your back.

Go ahead...

(semi-awkward pause while the rest of us are waiting)

Okay, welcome back. Now you're all caught up. Here's the controversy the article caused. You may recall in it that I mentioned the Champion Street bridge was the gateway to South Marquette. That's the definition of South Marquette we're using for the tour; everything south of the bypass or, in the old days, the Whetstone Creek. I'm doing that for two reasons—one, because the neighborhood is the only one separated from the rest of the city by a physical barrier (the bypass/creek), making it an island unto itself, and two, because my dad grew up on Jackson Street and told me that's where the border was.

And if he grew up there, that's good enough for me.

However, several people contacted me to tell me I was wrong. Apparently, everyone in Marquette has a different definition of what constitutes South Marquette. Some people believe like my dad, some think it starts south of the old railroad tracks that used to bisect Marquette (basically, anything south of Baraga), while others insist anything south of Washington is South Marquette, which means that, technically, places like Donckers and Babycakes would be in South Marquette.

I was curious to see what a large group of people thought, so I posed the question to the “You Know You're From Marquette” group on Facebook. About 150 responses later, I came to a couple of conclusions, the first being that people are REALLY passionate as to where South Marquette begins.

The other? That some people are really WAY too passionate about where South Marquette begins.

My post actually started a couple of online arguments between groups of people, something that I certainly did not intend. Words may have been exchanged between some, and names were called (“Butthole” being about the only one I can share here) by a few. All I did was ask a question, because I was genuinely curious. I had no idea this would turn into an all-out battle of philosophical differences, and I really hope no one's feelings were hurt by the rather strong feelings of other people.

In other words, I'm sorry the post devolved into something you'd normally see in the comments section of a TV-6 news story.

Of course, the funny thing is that no one could agree on where South Marquette “starts”. About a third agreed with my dad; another third said Baraga, because that's where they always heard their parents talk about “the other side of the tracks”; and the final third went with Washington, just because that's where the “south” part of north-south streets in Marquette begin. People are really divided on the subject and, it seems, no one can change their mind.

So on the tour tonight I'm just gonna stick with my usual definition of South Marquette—anything south of the bypass/Whetstone Creek. I may hear about it from a few people, but you know what? I have history—and my dad—on my side. And that's all I need.

(jim@wmqt.com)

(ps—if you're curious about the whole thing, you're more than welcome to join us tonight. It starts at 630 at Mare-Z-Doats. I have lots of great stories and a surprise or two in the offing, so if you're in Marquette you may want to join us!)

Tuesday, 8/20

Okay, I promised you a strange story today about the South Marquette tour I'm giving for the Marquette Regional History Center tomorrow night. But as I was getting the story ready to go I realized I needed to provide a little context to it. And since that context came from the Mining Journal article I wrote last week, I'm going to have you read the article today.

Then tomorrow, comes the story. And how I almost started an argument between a bunch of people on the Internet. Because, you know, that NEVER happens.

8-)

(jim@wmqt.com)

*****

“Marquette's No Man's Land”

The Berlin Wall, the DMZ between the two Koreas, and other no-man's-lands may stand out in world history, but it's possible they could pale in comparison to another that tore a city apart--

Marquette's Champion Street Bridge.

The bridge, the first in the city to span the Whetstone Creek, acted as a dividing line between what we now call South Marquette and the rest of the growing city. South Marquette, which was actually the city's first residential area, was inhabited primarily by working class immigrants from Ireland, Sweden, and Canada. These individuals worked on the railroads and in the quarries, and took pride in the differences between their lifestyle and those of the “rich folk” that lived “downtown”, as they referred to the area inhabited by the city leaders and their businesses on the other side of the creek.

For the first 25 years of the city's existence the only way to get into downtown Marquette was along Lake Street through what we now call Founder's Landing. However, in 1874 the first bridge was built over the Whetstone, which made Champion Street a corridor to connect South Marquette to the northern parts of the city. The bridge, 222 feet long, consisted of six trusses made of iron and wood sitting 40 feet over the stream bed. It had two sets of wagon tracks and two pedestrian walks contained within it.

1881 map showing Champion Street bridge in the middle.  Courtesy Marquette Regional History Center

In the early part of the 20^th century, as the railroads took over the area around Lake Street and Front Street had yet to be expanded into south Marquette, the bridge was for several decades one of the only ways to get from one part of the city to the other, serving as both a gateway and a barrier between south Marquette and the rest of the city.

For residents of certain parts of Marquette, it truly was a no-man's-land.

Teenage boys in particular took offense when an interloper, often another teenager from North Marquette, would attempt to cross the bridge into the south section of the city. Violence could actually occur if it was discovered that visitor had come to South Marquette to visit a member of the opposite sex. In fact, newspaper stories and police records from the era talk about the many fights that occurred both on the bridge and on the grounds of the nearby Fisher School. Many of the battles between “The Swamp Rats” and “The Dump Rats” involved fists, but others had everything from pea shooters to jack knives used as weapons.

As the city grew, other streets allowed access to the northern parts of town, and soon the Champion Street bridge became just one of many entrances into downtown. The old rivalries between south Marquette and other neighborhoods fell by the wayside (except, as legend goes, during after-school fights behind the Graveraet and Howard schools), and by the middle part of the 20^th century the Champion Street bridge became just another way to get to and from work or school.

The current version of the bridge was built in 1963, part of the construction of the US-41 bypass that took over the valley carved by the Whetstone Creek. Now, it sits overlooking a roundabout, passed under by tens of thousands of cars a day, the drivers of which probably having no idea that it was at one time Marquette's most infamous piece of no-man's-land.

A walking tour of South Marquette is being presented by the Marquette Regional History Center, led by historical storyteller Jim Koski. The tour will tell stories of the people & businesses that made South Marquette such a unique place. It begins Wednesday, August 21^st at 6:30 at the Mare-Z-Doats parking lot on south Division Street. There's a suggested $5 donation. For more information call the History Center at 226-3571, or visit their website at www.marquettehistory.org.

Monday, 8/19

Now. Now is when it's starting to feel weird.

As I may have motioned before Loraine and I are getting a lot of people asking us if it feels “weird” not to be getting ready to go to Europe. This is the first time since 2007 when we haven't gone over there at the end of summer, and for some reason our friends and family have been curious as to how we're handling it.

We've been handling it just fine. But thanks for your concern.

Leading up to now it really hasn't felt that weird, but I'm pretty sure it's starting to. If this was a “normal” summer we'd be leaving in the middle of next week, which means that I'd be spending countless hours at work getting ready for the 10 or 12 days that we're gone, Loraine would be spending her evenings making sure all her important stuff was up to date and ready to go, and we'd both be throwing things left and right into suitcases which, if this were a “normal” summer, would have taken over our living room floor.

But not this summer. Instead, I'm getting ready for another Jim Koski ™ walking tour for the Marquette Regional History Center in a few days, while Loraine is using her time to put together some of the research we've gathered for her on previous trips. And, perhaps most importantly, I won't be sitting in my office on a day like today, a day where it's supposed to be sunny & 80, silently cursing the weather gods for having such a nice day when I couldn't enjoy it.

Instead, I get to take a half day today and go play at the beach, if I want. That's definitely something I wouldn't be able to do if this were a “normal” summer.

I actually think the weirdest part of this whole thing will come Labor Day weekend and the weekend after. We've only been in Marquette one Labor Day weekend in the past twelve years, and we've never—ever--been in Marquette the weekend Beer Fest is held. I don't have any plans on going. It'll just be strange to be in Marquette when it's going on, and not simply see pictures posted on social media.

That may be when the weirdness hits its ultimate peak.

So thanks for asking. We're handling the strangeness of not going anywhere by, well, doing other stuff, and enjoying what's left of summer. Speaking of which, like I said I'm taking a half day, so that's it for today. And also, like I said, I'm putting together a tour for Wednesday. A strange ( a VERY strange) story that came out of it tomorrow!

(jim@wmqt.com)

Friday, 8/16

Did I ever tell you the story of how Loraine and I became “Loraine and I”? It's the perfect one sentence pitch (especially for a very strange romantic comedy), and it has the added virtue of being true. Wanna hear it?

I was friends with her fiancee and she asked me out on a date.

Every couple has a story behind how they became a couple, and that's ours. Of course, it's leaving out quite a few details—because I was friends with her fiancee we had known each other for several months, several months in which she and that fiancee realized things weren't gonna work out—but it's one of those little pithy one-line description of things that causes people hearing it for the first time to get this quizzical look on their face. It mean, it's not shocking, or anything, it's just out of the ordinary.

Just like us.

The reason I bring it up is today is our “date-i-versary”, the date on which we went out on our first date (her fifth class reunion, if you're curious, although we ended up blowing that off for dinner and an evening chatting alongside a river). Since then, we've been doing things our own way, and as we were discussing a few days ago, it's something that (as I've mentioned in here before) has led to us being the only couple in our local circle of friends who are still a couple. I don't why (or what it is we've been doing), but after all these years we're still together and still going strong.

Who knew?

I actually think that's been the key to our success over all these years—we do things our own way. We don't do things just because society says we should. Heck; that's why we end up going out in the first place. From getting married on the steps of the Marquette County Courthouse to flipping traditional gender roles (she played hockey; I cook & bake) we just do what works for us, and so far, it's been pretty successful. Oh sure; like every couple, we run into speed bumps every once in a while, but we get through them. And I think part of the reason we're able to deal with those speed bumps is that despite the fact that we have two wildly different personalities (Loraine's quiet, reserved, & thoughtful, and I'm, well, me) we respect each other. We know each other has the best interest of “us” in mind, and we know that no matter what happens, we're there for each other.

So Happy Date-i-versery, Loraine. Let's see if we can make it to, oh, your 65^th class reunion. Or your 75^th. Or, heck—your 85^th!

8-)

Love,

(jim@wmqt.com)

Thursday, 8/15

Look. I'm still a freak!!

After yesterday's entry, I'm sure you're exciting to hear that I haven't changed. It's because I came across yet another interesting fact/comparison/ whatever regarding clothing, and this one may shed a little further light on why, as I was mentioning last time, that I have trouble finding pants in the proper size.

This new fact? I weigh less than the average American woman.

I was leafing through a New York Times article about the marketing of plus sized fashions when I saw the statistic that the average American woman weighs 164 pounds, and that clothing designers are, in some cases, trying to come out with lines that reflect that fact. I don’t remember exactly what the rest of the article was about, because of the fact that I realized that I weigh four pounds less than the average woman in this country.

And it’s funny; at 160 pounds, I feel like I could drop a pound or two myself, probably because I have an idea of how I want to look yet (you know, like I have muscles) don't actually have the body type to look that way. Yet I still weigh less than the average American woman. Now, me being me, I had to look up the weight of an average American man, and what I found blew my mind--

I weigh 31 pounds less than the average American man, who clocks in at 191 pounds.

Now, admittedly, I’m somewhat small boned, and you all have an idea of my exercise and eating habits. But to be 31 pounds lighter than the average American man, or four pounds lighter than the average American woman? I don’t know if that says something about me or something about the country as a whole, but I sure know it says something.

That’s just the strange fact, one in an ongoing series, that blew my mind this week. And it's more proof as to why, like I said, yesterday, it's almost impossible for me to find pants that fit.

It's not easy being me. Really, it's not.

8-)

(jim@wmqt.com)

Wednesday, 8/14

I’m a freak. There’s just no way around it.

(And we’ll pause here for a second while you shout out at the top of your lungs “Tell us something we don’t already know”. Go ahead, do it. I know you’re dying to.

There. Feels better, doesn’t it?)

Anyway, I found out I’m a freak last night while I was reading the June edition of “Men’s Health” magazine. Yes, I’m a little behind on my reading, but I’m trying to get caught up, and that’s when I came across an interesting statistic. The story had to do with losing weight, and the statistic was one of those little factoids that “Men’s Health” sticks everywhere it can in the magazine. The statistic was this--only five percent of American men have a waistline that’s 31 inches or smaller.

Guess who has a 31 inch waistline, and therefore qualifies as a freak? Yup; you guessed right.

I now know why it’s hard for me to find pants that fit. If only five percent of us have waistlines that are 31 inches or smaller, there’s probably not much of an incentive for clothing makers to make pants of that size. Add to that the fact that I have freakishly longs legs (a 34-inch inseam, to be particular), and well. . .I’m screwed.

You can find a few pair of pants that have a 31-inch waist; it is hard, though, and not just because pants makers seem to find odd numbers weird and make most of their product with 30 or 32 or 34-inch waists. Most of the 31-inch pants that you can find have shorter inseams. You can find men’s pants that are 31-30 or 31-31 (the first number being the waist size, the second the inseam); it’s near impossible, though, to find pants that are 31-34. Apparently there aren’t a lot of skinnier, long-legged people out there.

Those of us who are, then, apparently qualify as freaks.

This is a problem I’ve had most of my life. While in college, my pants size was actually 29-34, which is now impossible to find, so in a way I guess starting to work out and thereby adding a little muscle to my body was a good thing. If I’m having problems finding pants that fit properly now, think what it would be like if I actually had a smaller waist than I do now.

I’d be keeping several clothing alteration places in business single-handedly.

I can get away with wearing pants that have a 32-inch waist, even if they do look a little baggy on me. It sure would be nice to actually have pants that are designed to fit my body; however, after reading that statistic last night, I know that’s not gonna happen anytime soon. After all, it appears I’m a freak. And with the way Americans are expanding these days, it looks like I’ll become more and more of a freak as time goes by.

A freak, of course, with pants that don’t fit.

(jim@wmqt.com)

Tuesday, 8/13

I just realized I could never retake one of my favorite pictures, even if I wanted to.

Of course, you can never actually retake a picture; after all, when you take a picture you're capturing a specific moment in time, a moment that will never again exist. But aside from the metaphysical aspect of it, I could never retake this shot--

I don't remember why, but thirteen or fourteen years ago I had to run down to the station before I went out on one of my rambling Saturday morning runs. I do remember it was early, that it was warm, and that the sun was streaming down East Bluff Street between the First Presbyterian Church and the Longyear Building. In fact, it was because of the perfectly positioned sun that I saw something sitting on the sidewalk, something that caused me to run into the station, grab a small camera I had in my office, and take it

I like the picture for a lot of reasons. I like it because of the way it's lit, I like it because I got lucky when I framed it, and I like most of all because I think it perfectly captures what it's like being in downtown Marquette early on a weekend morning following a late weekend evening of revelry.

Besides, it's a lot prettier that the piles of vomit that you occasionally see.

I could never take the picture again because of the fact that downtown Marquette is constantly changing and constantly evolving. The sidewalk on which the glass sat has been replaced. The bricks with the names are gone. And even the weeds surrounding the glass have gone on to weed heaven, replaced by (and I just checked) a few blades of grass now growing out of nowhere.

Change. It's the one constant in the universe.

I'm guessing the glass in the picture came from the Elks Club, because I took it right outside of the bar. But this is downtown Marquette (or, at least, the downtown Marquette of 2006); the glass could've come from anywhere. There are plenty of drinking establishments within a three block area of where I took the picture. It wouldn't surprise me if someone just happened to (ahem) accidentally walk off with a drink they hadn't finished when last call rolled around.

You just never know.

As many of you know, I'm not an early riser. I'm not the kind of person who's up and ready to go the same time as the sun. But there are a few times in my life I've been glad to be awake early, and recently most of those times have come when I've captured a picture of something lit by the early sun. The shot was a perfect example of that. The fact that it also captures the essence of downtown Marquette after a rowdy Friday night is just a bonus.

And now, it's also a piece of history. I can never have that exact moment again.

(jim@wmqt.com)

Monday, 8/12

You made it through another weekend. Congrats!

I myself had the usual blast at Ore To Shore on Saturday. If nothing else, kudos have to go out to the organizers and all the volunteers running the event. I think that there were more racers this year than ever before, and from what I’ve heard, things went quite smoothly. So if you helped out in any way during the event, pat yourself on the back. You deserve it!

Just make sure you don’t sprain anything while doing it.

Also, I have to mention a comment I saw on Facebook over the weekend. A person who I thought was normal, a person who I've known for a long time outside of social media, a person who does a lot of good work for the community, shocked me by what she posted. What did she say?

“I just wish Fall would hurry up and get here”.

Uhm...you really didn’t mean that, did you? That was just something you wrote in the (pardon the pun) heat of the moment, right? You really don’t want cold temperatures, dying leaves, and the distinct possibility of snow, do you? Summer is so short and so fleeting around here; you really can’t want what little nice weather we have to leave, to be replaced by the 8 or 9 months of horrid weather we can experience at the drop of the hat?

At least I’d hope you wouldn’t.

Autumn’s gonna be here soon enough; in fact, it wouldn’t surprise me if we experienced a really fall-like day this week or the next. I know that this summer has been a bit weird for people, especially with the fact that it didn't really start until the end of June, and we kinda had an over-the-top July, but that doesn’t mean you should wish it all away. After all, we haven't had a lot of what we would consider a “normal” summer day this year; most have been too cold for some people and too hot for others. Why wouldn't you want a shot at at least a few “normal” summer days?

Now, I do realize that some people like to complain about the weather. Heck, even I’ve been known to do it once or twice a year. So now that we're on the lee side of the season (there's only half of August left, after all) enjoy what’s left of the season. After all, fall will be here soon enough, and pretty soon you’ll have the chance to be saying something like “I just wish Spring would hurry up and get here”.

I know that’s what I’ll be saying!

(jim@wmqt.com)

Friday, 8/9

I wonder how many names I'll butcher tomorrow?

That's a thought that always pops into my head anytime Finish-Line Announcer Jim makes an appearance, as he will tomorrow at the Ore-To-Shore. I mean, there are people coming across the line all the time, usually in groups of three or four. Their names pop up on a computer screen and then are replaced by names from new people coming across the line. So that only gives me a second or two look at the name, decide how I'm gonna pronounce it, and then spit it out.

So to whomever gets their name mispronounced tomorrow, I apologize in advance. I really do!

Actually, after 20 years of finish line announcing at both the Noque and the O2S, I feel fairly confident that I'll get many more names correct than I'll screw up. Practice, after all, does help, and I've had plenty of practice over the years. But I think I've also had good training in the matter in another way. After all, I used to host a telethon on TV, a telethon where I'd have to read pledges from people throughout the U.P. And if you can correctly read names from throughout the U.P., I'm guessing you can read names from anywhere in the world.

So wish me luck!

If you have the chance, you should make sure you get to one of the mass starts for the race tomorrow in Negaunee. They're like nothing you've ever seen; each has over 1,000 riders getting their race underway at the sound of a gun and a trumpet. It takes over five minutes for all of them to go by, and it's just an amazing sight. The Soft Race race (with, ahem, a dork announcing the start) begins at 9 at Lakeview School, while the Hard Rock gets underway at 945 in downtown Negaunee.

Trust me—you won't be disappointed!

And with that, I have to head to work to put together a couple of CDs of music to play during the festivities. Have yourself a great weekend, and like I said, if you have the chance, check out part of the race!

(jim@wmqt.com)

Thursday, 8/8

It's weird. I will admit that.

This week's I've had several people ask if it's strange not getting ready to head to Europe in a few weeks. And it is—every August for the past 12 Augusts has been a prep period for getting ready to go on vacation, which meant everything from hauling the luggage out of the basement to having to pay attention to Loraine when she tells me not to break my arm, if only because she doesn't wanna be the one to drive around France or Germany.

It's strange going into August and not having to worry about little things like that.

But in a way it's liberating, too. Instead of hunkering down and spending most of August actually having to work to get ready to go, I can now take as many half-days as I want. Heck, if I was daring I could probably (gasp) even take a full day off. That's how liberating it is. I don't know if I'm going to, but I have the option should I so choose.

And that's kind of unique.

With the way my “Summer of History ™” is going, that's a good thing. Instead of trying to put together both a walking tour and a bunch of stories about drunks before we go, now I can just do it at my leisure and not worry about the time crunch. Of course, knowing my habits, I'll keep procrastinating about it and eventually end up having to deal with a time crunch, but at least it won't have anything to do with getting ready to go to Europe.

8-)

I'm enjoying it while I can, because as I explain to everyone who asks if it's weird not getting ready to go to Europe, this is a unique year. And it's leading into what could be another unique year next year, if only because (and I don't know if I've even mentioned this yet) we're thinking of making TWO trips over—one in April for another Bundesliga match, and then the usual late summer jaunt, this time back to Normandy, where we actually haven't set foot in four years. So, if things go as planned next year, not only will I be back in my usual summer routine, I'll get to see if this year's spring routine works out again.

That's next year, though. For now, I'm just enjoying a summer without having to get ready to go anywhere. It feels...weird, but I'm enjoying it.

(jim@wmqt.com)

Wednesday, 8/7

WEDNESDAY, 8/7:

Feel like more pictures? Good. Because I have more pictures!

As you may recall, yesterday's blog had to do with a reader who wondered where my annual posting of summer flowers were. As you may also recall, I hadn't actually gone out and taken any pictures of flowers this summer, so I did that over the weekend. And as I was wandering around downtown, south Marquette, and Founder's Landing taking pictures of the flowers, I was taking pictures of other things, as well.

Things such as a snowboard that obviously belongs to a Pink Floyd Fan...

Staying in that same basic musical genre, a picture I'm thinking of calling “Stairway to Heaven”...

Even though it hasn't moved in over a century, I wonder how many people who used to live in Marquette would recognize the sign by the Father Marquette statue?

Speaking of the statue, I think it's grown a second cape, this one made out of wildflowers.

I don't know that I've ever taken a picture with BOTH Coast Guard stations in it, so I did

Can anything beat a bike path on a hot summer day?

And finally, I present to you the humor of Tom Vear at the Delft, without comment.

I now apologize for sticking that song in your head the rest of the day.

(jim@wmqt.com)

Tuesday, 8/6

I didn't know it was a tradition, but you know what?

We'll make it one.

I received a note from daily blog reader Holly in Marquette, who wondered where my flower pictures were. I wasn't quite sure of what she was speaking, so I sent her back a note asking for a little clarification. As it turns out, every summer Holly looks forward to seeing pictures I take of flowers as I wander around. I hadn't done it so far this year, if only because I haven't been out just wandering around much this year, but Holly's note provided the impetus for me to get out and take pictures.

Trust me. It wasn't much of a sacrifice on my part.

What did I see on my stroll? How about reds...

Yellows...

Magentas...

Purples...

Whatever this thing is (and, of course, you guys know much better than do I, so if you wanna share, I'd appreciate it...

And just about every color you could find crammed into one shot--

Heck. Even the wildflowers got into the spirit of the thing...

So there you go, Holly. Your annual summer flower presentation. Next year, I'll do it without your prompting (he says optimistically). Thanks for the note!

(jim@wmqt.com)

Monday, 8/5

It seems like there's only been one change in ten years, but it's a change that I, at least, really notice.

Loraine's been writing a series of Facebook posts about people from Marquette County killed 75 years ago in Normandy. One of them did not deal with one of her “guys”; instead, it was a homage to our friend Jean-Paul, who's helped us find out information on all kinds of things. One of the pictures she posted was from a French newspaper, taken 10 years ago--

You know who I am, you know who Loraine is. Jean-Paul is the guy on the right, while one of those French mayors we seem to have befriended is the other dude. That picture is from September of 2009, and I have to admit that both my dear wife and I seem to have aged well in that past decade. Well, she has; I, however, have may not have been as lucky. Take a look at the picture again--

Now take a look at a fairly recent (from April) picture that I'm in--

Or, if you're in a weird mood (like some of us), this one, taken three days ago--

Notice how dark my hair was in the 2009 picture? Notice how gray it seems to be now?

ARGH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

It's especially noticeable when my hair is longer, like is is at this moment. In fact, I'm getting it cut tonight, which means that I'll probably soon be shedding tears seeing all the white as it falls to the floor. I just guess that while I try to take care of myself and try to slow the aging process as much as possible, there's one part of my body that's not cooperating.

Dang hair.

Kind of as a joke (kind of) I asked you guys a question when I started hosting “High School Bowl” five years ago. That question was “should I color my hair?”, seeing as how even back then I started noticing a little gray on my temples. With one exception, you all said no (that one exception being daily blog reader Darlene from Marquette, who said, and I quote, “I'm too young to have a son on TV with gray hair”). You all said it would look dignified, and add a little character.

Well, apparently now I have a LOT of character.

I don't know why I have this thing about gray hair; I mean, at least I still have most of my hair (unlike say, my little brother (hi, Marc!!)), so I probably shouldn't complain too much. It's just that, well, it's a sign that despite everything I've done and everything I've tried, I am getting older. It's not fair, and I'd really like to lodge a complaint with someone's supervisor about the whole thing, but it (the gray hair) just kind of points out the futility of it all. Sure, I could color it and sure, I'd probably look almost exactly like I did in the picture from a decade ago. But I'd still know what would be lurking underneath.

Gray hair sucks.

(jim@wmqt.com)

Friday, 8/2

I saw Santa Claus at the beach yesterday.

Okay, maybe it wasn’t the REAL Santa Claus, but there was this big round guy with long white hair and a flowing white beard just laying in the sun, and I thought to myself, “Well, THAT’S not something you see every day”. Then as I was walking home from said beach, I came across a family of tourists, standing on the Lower Harbor bike path, looking in at the city of Marquette. What did I hear the mom of the family say?

“THAT’S not something you see every day”.

Right then and there, I knew I had today’s blog topic. So here’s your assignment for this weekend--

Go out and be a tourist in your own town.

I mean, sure, you can probably see Santa Claus on any number of beaches around the country (although he probably WAS in Marquette so he could swing by Christmas for a few supplies on his way back to the North Pole). But like I written in here about many times in the past, do you realize what we have here? We have beauty. We have natural wonders. We have history. And you don’t have to spend several thousand dollars in gas money to see them.

That’s your assignment for this weekend. Become a tourist in your own town, be it Marquette, or Ishpeming, or Houghton, or wherever. Look at your town through the eyes of someone who’s never been here. Don’t act like the typical local, someone who drives past Lake Superior or strolls past the Savings Bank Building and just ignores it? We see it every day, so it’s not that big of a deal for us.

But you know what? It IS a big deal. We live by the largest lake on the planet, surrounded by history and by natural beauty. And it’s not just here in Marquette; there are MANY places in the U.P. where water, history, and beauty come together unlike anywhere else in this country.

So therein lies your assignment for this weekend. Take an hour or two, head to the most beautiful spot in your city, and look at it like you’re experiencing it for the first time. Marvel at the natural beauty of your hometown, explore the history of your local buildings or complexes, and rediscover why you enjoy living in the community you choose to call home.

Trust me. You won’t be disappointed. And who knows. . .you may even see Santa Claus in the process!

Have a great weekend,

(jim@wmqt.com)

Thursday, 8/1

After writing about historical and semi-historical things the past few days (actually, the past few months, seeing as how this is turning in my “Summer of History" ™ ) I starting thinking (which, as we all know, can be a dangerous thing)—in 30 or 40 years, am I gonna be one of those old people who young people visit to listen to all their old stories about how Marquette “used to be” way back in the 1990s or the 2000s? And, if so, will my stories be of any interest to them, the way the stories I hear from old people these days are to me?

I don’t know why, but I’ve started thinking about that recently. One of the greatest resources that I, as a history buff (and occasional researcher) have found, are the memories and recollections of the people who actually lived through or made the history about which I’m interested. Sure, you can read about, say, the storm of 1938, but it really doesn’t come to life until you hear the story of a young man, then a student at Northern, who was stuck in his fraternity house because he couldn’t drive his car anywhere, yet found the inner strength to slap on snowshoes, trek four blocks through the cold, and buy a case of beer. Oh--and he did this three days in a row.

Now, to me, THAT’S the side of history you never get to read about in “official’ sources, and that, to me, is actually the most interesting side of history. That’s why, when Loraine goes to talk with people who knew the men & women she’s researching, I tag along, and see what I can find out about other important moments in local history. You never know when asking a person one question might trigger something that’s been buried deep down in their memory, just waiting for the right moment to pop back up to the surface.

What’s funny is that the people who share these anecdotes really don’t think they’re sharing anything worthwhile. They’re just telling stories of a few of the thousands of everyday incidents that make up their lives. To them, it’s just one of many things they’ve gone through in 60 or 70 or 80 years of living; to me, though, it’s a vital part of local history.

And that’s what I’ve been thinking about recently. When I’m sitting in my hovercraft rocking chair in 2045, talking to a young person interested in what happened 40 or 50 years ago, which one of my little experiences—an experience which I’ve probably forgotten about even now, in 2019—will they find fascinating? Is there a small part of my life, which I groan about now, that will make them laugh? Have I taken part in some activity, or have I met some person that, years from now, will have as much of an impact on future generations as, say, the storm of 1938 has on me? Will I be able to tell the story of someone I know now, who then goes on to cure cancer, become the first person to walk on Mars, or who dies tragically in some future conflict?

I just hope that, in 30 or 40 years, I’m able to share as much information with anyone who’s young and interested as I’ve been able to gather from speaking with all these wonderful people over all these years. That, I guess, would be one way of “thanks” to them for everything they shared with me, back when I was young and interested.

(jim@wmqt.com)