Monday, 6/15

Does anybody remember when I wrote what follows?

First, let me explain how I came across it. I decided to do something I haven't had the time to do on Friday—cleaning up a few things in my office. Over the 23 years the station's been in Marquette things have, uhm, started to pile up on my office floor, on my desk, and in every nook & cranny you can see (and some you can't). So the past few weeks, for 30 seconds a day, I grab something and see if I need it. If I do, I file it away. If I don't, I toss it. I figure it's a painless way to clean; after all, it doesn't take much time, and at the rate I'm going, my office should be spotless when I'm ready to retire in 20 or 25 years. And it must be working—when a former coworker came over to visit she noticed something was quite strange, and then realized that my office actually has carpeting on the floor, that my floor is not just a collection of cardboard boxes and stacks of paper.

I guess, if nothing else, I'm on the right track.

Anyway, when I was doing my 30 seconds of cleaning Friday I came across a list I once wrote. I have no idea when I wrote the list, nor do I have any idea about the context in which I wrote it, although I'm thinking it might've been during one of those bouts of “Is Jim a Yooper or Isn't He?” that seems to occur every few years. I don't know if I ever used it on the air or in here, although I recognize several pieces of if that have popped up on my TV bits here and there. Like I said, though, I don't know when (or why) I wrote it. All I know is that I did indeed write it, printed it out, and must've promptly stuck it in a wire basket, where it's sat buried under a bunch of other papers (and a thin layer of dust) for an unknown number of years.

So without further ado, here's the list:

SEVEN SIGNS YOU MAY NOT BE A TRUE YOOPER:

7. If you've never—even in a dream—thought about buying a pick-up truck.

6. If, when someone says “hilltop”, you think of a mountain, and not a sweet roll.

5. If you don't salute when you hear the name Vince Lombardi.

4. If you don't own a single piece of clothing in hunter's orange.

3. If you've never gone ice fishing, because you're afraid of cold feet.

2. If you realize the Appleton is NOT the shopping capital of the universe.

And the number one sign you may not be a true Yooper?

1. If you've ever—even once and even by accident—pronounced it PAY-stee

Well, that's the list. Like I said, I'm not quite sure of its date or its origin, so if any of the lame jokes seem familiar; well, maybe you can help me figure it out. I know I'd appreciate it.

See what I get for trying to clean my office?

8-)

(jim@wmqt.com)

Friday, 6/12

The lilacs have started to die.

It's funny, but it only takes a week or two after the most wonderful time of the year starts for the saddest time of the year to begin, the time when the lilac buds start to wilt and fall off their branches.. I know that's the natural life cycle of the plant, but it seems that every year it catches me by surprise. Every year I notice it beginning and silently shout “No, not yet!”.

Still it happens.

This year, it seems a little strange, as well, as right next to plants that are wilting are plants that still haven't yet fully budded. That may add a day or two to the sniffing season, but I'm sure that they will soon go the way of their lilac brethren and start slowly falling off the tree.

Of course, that's what makes lilac season so special. It isn't very long; so you have to enjoy it while you can. It's kind of like the Christmas season; or, at least, the was the Christmas season used to be before radio stations started playing Christmas music in September and that lazy neighbor down the street started leaving their decorations up until July. It's just here for a very short period of time, and you have to cram as much enjoyment into that period as you can.

Because, then, it's gone.

I've heard from a couple of people who've driven past and have noticed me with my nose stuck in a lilac bush. They almost seemed surprised that I like lilacs as much as I say do when I write about them. I don't know why they thought that; I really DO like them as much as I write about them. And since the season for them is so short, odds are you will see me with my nose in them.

After all, you only have a few days in which you can sniff. You have to make the most of them.

And with that, you won't have to put up with me writing about them any more this year. When they start budding next May, I make no promises, but until then?

I think you're safe.

Have a great weekend!

(jim@wmqt.com)

Thursday, 6/11

I wonder how many people had guessed Lower Harbor Park?

“Mystery Spot: Marquette” was a smashing success last night, at least if the crowd size was any indication--

I'm still stunned that a group that size literally put their trust in me, so much so that they would show up for a walk, not knowing where they were going and with the (real) threat of rain, but having faith that I would show them a good time. And I think—I hope—that I did, as I talked about railroads, docks, businesses, wandering cows, a stairway that inspired a novel, an attempt to actually make cars in Marquette, and, of course, the very rich history of the patch of land that we now know as Lower Harbor Park.

I'm also surprised that fewer people than I imagined guessed our actual destination. I was chatting with a lot of people before the walk, and while a few were correct, so many people had so many different ideas of where we might be going, ranging from South Marquette to Park Cemetery. But in a way, that's kind of cool. That means there are so many places in the city that people consider “historic” that you can't guess just one. That, I think, is a testament to the place in which we live.

And, I guess, it also means that if I ever decide to do another version of “Mystery Spot” I have plenty of places from which to choose.

We'll just have to see.

******

Because part of today actually promises to be sunny (hopefully), I'm going to take a few hours off, which means I have to go to work to get a few things taken care of, which means I need to cut this short. It is, however, a big day in Marquette history.

Why? Check it out for yourself--

(jim@wmqt.com)

Wednesday, 6/10

To quote a great Scottish philosopher (although in a WILDLY different context)--

Tonight's the night.

With any luck, my new “Mystery Spot: Marquette” tour will get underway at 630 from the Marquette Regional History center (hint hint). Everyone who shows up knows they're going on a walking tour, although no one (not even the people who work at the History Center) knows where they're going. All they know is that we're walking somewhere you can see a lot of history, and that I'll be telling a bunch of wacky, interesting, and/or unknown stories.

As long as the weather holds out (and, as I type this, it's supposed to be cloudy and 80, but with a chance of rain) I hope that the faith people are placing in me, the fact that they're willing to walk without even knowing where they're going, is rewarded.

And I think it will be.

The Mystery Spot to which we're walking not only has a lot of historical things that can be seen from there, but it has a lot of history in and of itself. When I started work on the tour, I was mostly just thinking of all the historic places you could see from there. But as I started getting into it, I realized that the location itself has such a rich history that it deserves to be the focus of a program in and of itself. So hopefully I've been able to combine the two into and evening that will not only entertain people, but will let them learn a bunch of stuff they didn't know they didn't know.

Keep your fingers crossed.

Now, it's all up to the weather. And if it holds, I'll be joined by hundreds of my closest history friends as we head out on a walk whose destination is known by one person and one person only.

A destination that is, at least for the next few hours, a “Mystery Spot”.

(jim@wmqt.com)

Tuesday, 6/9

Have I ever mentioned I really love lilacs?

I mean, both you & I know of the obsessive feelings I have for the blooms, if only because I take waaaaay too many pictures and talk about them waaaaay too often during this time of the year. Well, last night on TV I decided to come out to all of Upper Michigan about my, uhm, “problem”.

I hope people don't think any less of me because of that.

It's funny; when I was putting together the graphics for last night's piece I wondered if I would have enough good lilac pictures to use. Well, as it turns out, I didn't need to worry at all. I put all of the ones that I thought were good into a folder, used about 20 of them in various video montages, and found myself with only, oh, 100 or so that I didn't get to use.

So I'm guessing that, in the end,. I DID indeed have enough good shots of lilacs.

8-)

Unfortunately, even though they just came out last week, the first signs of their short life have appeared. I've seen many bunches turning brown, even while a few lilac trees in Marquette, mostly by the lake, have yet to sprout. But like I said in the piece last night, that's one of the things about the blooms. They're here and then they're gone, meaning that if you're like me (and hopefully, you're not) you have to make good use of them while they're here.

Even if it means coming out as a “lilac-holic” on TV--

(jim@wmqt.com)

Monday, 6/8

Who knew so many people liked the song?

Loraine and I were at lunch at a local establishment recently, enjoying our food and taking in the selection of late 60s/early 70s music being played. Most of it was forgettable and/or cheesy, and it was just treated as background noise by the people in the restaurant. However, when one song came on, people stopped talking and started listening. A few even started singing or humming along.

It was cool.

It was kind of amazing, too, because I didn't think many people remembered the song. I sure do; in fact, it's one of “Jim's Top Five Songs Ever Recorded (TM)”, a song that I have loved since I was a kid. In fact, it's one of those songs like, “September” or “Superstition”, that I can listen to over & over & over again. It's also perhaps the best example of one of my favorite kinds of music, Philly Soul. It was written and produced by a master, and even 50-plus years after it was recorded it can still cause an entire restaurant of people tapping their toes and humming along.

That song? “I'll Be Around” by The Spinners.

Like I said, I was flabbergasted when people sitting around us started humming the song, and one of the workers at the place even started singing along. I mean, it's not a song you hear a lot these days. It's not a song that's filled with power or deep meaning. But maybe that's the key to it. It's a simple song; three chords, strings and horns, and amazing vocals. When you have someone like the immortal Thom Bell sticking all of those those together, you end up with three minutes and thirty seconds of musical magic.

Musical magic that, apparently, still shines through over five decades after it was originally released.

I'm sure that everyone who was humming or singing along with the song didn't give it a second thought. Heck, they might not even have realized that they were even doing it. But that just goes to show the power of the song. I'm sure those people aren't like some dorks and consider it one of the five greatest tunes ever recorded. The people humming and singing along just know that they like it.

And that's all that matters.

(jim@wmqt.com)

Friday, 6/5

It'll be 82 years ago tomorrow when thousands of American, British, and Canadian troops hit four beaches on the northern coast of France to begin the liberation of Europe and the defeat of Nazi Germany. On one of those beaches--Omaha Beach, the setting for the opening 25 minutes of “Saving Private Ryan”--over 2,000 men died in just a few hours.

One of them was from Marquette County.

William Richards was born in Virginia, Minnesota, graduated from the Michigan College of Technology and Mining, and, in 1940, was working for Cleveland Cliffs at the same time he was a lieutenant in the 107^th National Guard Combat Engineering Battalion in Ishpeming. He had been married to a Negaunee girl--Mary Archibald--for two months, when the battalion was called up for a year of active duty. World War II then started, and that one year became “for the duration”.

The 107^th was shuttled around various camps in the U.S., and headed overseas in 1942, where Richards eventually attained the rank of Major. The invasion of Europe was on the horizon, and Richards’ battalion would be given one of the most dangerous of assignments--to clear the invasion beaches of mines, obstacles, and booby traps laid by the Nazis.

The 107^th was going in with the first wave of troops.

Now, if you’ve seen “Saving Private Ryan”, you get a pretty good idea of what the first wave had to face. That did not seem to daunt Richards and his engineers, especially when you read what was written about his actions in a Distinguished Service Cross citation he posthumously received--

“Major Richards landed with the initial assault waves under heavy enemy artillery, machine gun and rifle fire. He immediately effected the removal of barbed wire by directing the operations of a tank dozer, preceding it on foot under heavy small arms fire. After removing this obstacle, he personally reconnoitered inland to find the exact position of an enemy gun which was harassing troops and equipment at the entrance of one of the beach exits. After locating this gun, he made his way back to the beach and reported its location. He then proceeded to organize the units of his battalion for aggressive action against the enemy on the cliffs. Though wounded, Major Richards again proceeded to a beach exit to direct the efforts of the mine clearing and obstacle removing parties. While organizing these parties, he was killed by enemy fire. The courage and devotion to duty exhibited by Major Richards reflects great credit upon himself and is in keeping with the highest traditions of the armed forces.”

This is Major Richards’ final resting place, at the Normandy American Cemetery, on a bluff overlooking Omaha Beach, in St. Laurent sur Mer, France--

Aside from his wife in Ishpeming, Richards left a 2-year old daughter.

(As always, many thanks to Loraine for uncovering this amazing story and supplying the biographical data).

(jim@wmqt.com)