Wednesday, 6/17

Don't worry. I'm not turning into a “bro”, or anything.

Heaven forbid.

I did, however, do two things on TV Monday night that I hardly ever do. Or, at least, hardly ever do in public. I wore a jersey and I talked about sports. For those two minutes, I almost felt like a “guy”. But thankfully, when it was over, I went back to normal.

8-)

I joke, of course. Despite the public image I seem to have I DO have an interest in some sports, especially soccer. And now that the World Cup is going strong, I felt it would be a prime opportunity to bust out one of my jerseys and let Upper Michigan in on my little secret. So my TV piece Monday was, basically, “A Yooper's Guide to the World Cup”, describing soccer to people who might not be familiar, and suggested a few countries other than the US for whom they might like to cheer.

The reason I wore a jersey to do it? Well, the jersey itself was one of the gags, if only because the one I wore was pink & purple, and those colors on a jersey are a good reason to cheer for a team, right?

(See? I'm really NOT a guy, am I?)

if you're a fan, I hope you're catching a match here and there. And if you're not, check one out, especially when a country like Norway or Japan is playing. As I said in the bit, you might be surprised by what you see and, maybe, find yourself getting hooked in the process.

You don't even need a pink & purple jersey for that.

(jim@wmqt.com)

Tuesday, 6/16

In some ways it seems like it was forever ago. In other ways, it seems like it was yesterday.

If you haven't completely erased the shock of it from your brain yet, you may remember where you were three months ago. It was three months ago today—March 16th—that our epic three day dumping of snow occurred, an historic storm event that had few equals in history.

You remember, right?

Like you, part of me has tried to block the trauma of the event out of my brain, making it seem like it was something that happened years ago, if indeed it even happened at all. But I've come across a couple of notes on stuff I'm currently working on, stuff I actually started during that epic event because, well, there wasn't anything else you could do for the better part of a week. And that makes me realize that the storm really wasn't that long ago.

Especially when you think that three months really isn't that long of a time span.

We felt the after effects of the storm for weeks; in fact, I have a dude I work with at one of my other jobs who didn't have the last pile of snow in his yard melt until mid May. The cold & the lingering snow caused flowers to bloom later than usual, and some places still have dirt on the streets from the epic amount of it dumped after the storm. Not only that, but I still have the snowshoes sitting in my apartment that I used for two days just to get from my apartment to the station, three blocks away, because that was the only way to get around.

So, yeah. That was fun.

Thankfully, what's passing for summer this year (and, just as a side note, “summer” better get better soon) has erased most immediate memories of that week, consigning it, for most people, to “do you remember?” status. But for people who pay attention to these kind of things?

It all began three months ago today.

(jim@wmqt.com)

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)