Wednesday, 5/31

I've probably devoted waaaaaaaay too much thought to this.

Because the lilacs haven't yet fully bloomed here in Marquette (although a few are out enough for you to try & sniff them), I have all this mental processing power available, brainpower I had planned to devote to smelling the greatest blooms on the face of the planet. So while walking to work yesterday (and trying to sublimate the disappointment I felt when my favorite lilac tree STILL hasn't fully budded yet) I thought back to something I babbled about on the air a few weeks ago, something to which I could devote that unused brain power.

After playing Elton John's “Philadelphia Freedom”, I off-handedly mentioned that it was (at least in my opinion) one of the five best Elton John songs ever. I don't know why, but the off-handed comment stuck with me, and since my brain can't yet go gaga over the sniffing of lilacs, it has gone gaga over that comment, forcing me to sit down and figure out what I think are the best five Elton John songs ever.

And now you get subjected to them, in chronological order--

YOUR SONG--

This song was released when I was in grade school and too young to really understand music, but even then I knew there was something special about it. All these decades later, and my opinion has not changed one bit.

LEVON--

I'm a sucker for really good string arrangements. There's nothing else to say about that.

DON'T LET THE SUN GO DOWN ON ME--

See the comment I made about “Levon”. And then add in the fact that 60 percent of The Beach Boys and 50 percent of The Captain and Tennille sing background vocals on the tune, and it turns into this big melange of 70's pop culture. Besides, I think it was the only Elton John song that was remade into a number one tune for someone else, all while still featuring Elton John singing on it--

PHILADELPHIA FREEDOM--

Like I said, the song that started this whole stupid mental exercise. I grew up listening to Philly Soul, and this homage to that particular musical style has been one of my favorites for 40 years now.

Finally...

MAMA CAN'T BUY YOU LOVE--

You know how I said I grew up listening to Philly Soul? Elton John was obviously a fan as well, as he recruited Philly Soul writer and arranger Thom Bell to produce the song, who then brought Philly Soul legends The Spinners to sing background vocals on it. I'm sure everyone else would disagree with me on it, and I'm the first to admit that I'm certainly biased, but this tune vies with “Your Song” as the one song that I would say is Elton John's best.

There you go. Now let's just hope that the lilacs start blooming soon. Otherwise, tomorrow you may have to put up with another totally random and bizarre top five list (the top five all time best colors for Frisbees?), and NO ONE deserves that!

8-)

(jim@wmqt.com)

Tuesday, 5/30

Sure, it was a highly unscientific survey. But the results back up a theory I have, and that's okay with me.

I'm often surprised when I come across people smoking on the streets of Marquette. As a county, we have the lowest percentage of people who smoke in the state (17%, I believe), but that probably goes along with the fact that we have huge groups of people living here who love exercising and spending time outdoors. Smoking usually doesn't go along with activities such as those. Therefore, it always comes as a shock to me when I'm outdoors exercising that I come across one or more people puffing away on cancer sticks, usually exhaling right before I pass them. On occasion, the number of people I see smoking doesn't jibe with the small percentage of county residents who say they light up tobacco.

Hence, my theory, and the highly unscientific survey I used to prove it..

I've noticed that when I'm out and about and come across smokers that they tend to be younger, and they often tend to be in groups. So for three weeks before NMU ended for the year I counted the numbers of smokers I came across. And then for the three weeks after NMU ended (a period that included being out & about with my in-laws this weekend) I once again counted the number of smokers whose paths I cross. And you know what?

Once NMU students left, the number of smokers I came across dropped by half.

Now like I said, it was a HIGHLY unscientific survey. I didn't have a control group, I wasn't in the same places for both legs of the survey, the weather wasn't the same, and I didn't have any kind of proper sample size. And the whole premise—that NMU students smoke—could have been totally, 100% wrong and could have been based on some kind of “bias” that exists only in my brain. So my little survey doesn't prove anything scientifically. But I, at least, chose to infer this fact from the “survey”. It's NMU students who make up, well, half of the smokers in Marquette.

I guess I find that kind of funny, especially because it seems smoking rates have been going down for younger generations for several generations now. But who knows—maybe these are kids, on their own for the first time, who want to experience all the forbidden fruits they can. Lord knows I see enough piles of vomit on the sidewalks while out running to prove that. Maybe it's just a rite of passage for them. Or maybe these students come from a place where smoking is a more accepted part of the culture than it is here. I don't have the answer for that. All I know is that there seem to be more smokers on the streets when NMU is in session. And maybe that's just because college students tend to use their feet and their bikes more than adults, and I share that space with them. Maybe the full-time Marquette County residents who smoke do so in their cars, and I just don't notice them that much.

I don't know.

Like I said, it was a highly unscientific survey that probably left more questions unanswered than answered. I just found the information that it did provide interesting. Very, very interesting.

(jim@wmqt.com), who, for whatever reason, notices weird stuff when he's out & about.

Friday, 5/26

If for no other reason than the way the weather's been recently it’s hard to believe that Memorial Day weekend in here, but it is, and that means three things--

The first is that it’s the beginning of “summer”. This year, I’ll believe that when (and if) I see it, but I’m hoping that summer does join us SOME month soon; if not, that may be my sanity that you’re scraping off the wall.

Secondly, it means Loraine's parents will be visiting for a few days, and that's always a fun thing, especially because we get to show them all the Marquette restaurants that have opened since they were here last year. So if I look two or three pounds heavier next week, you'll know why!

Finally, the fact that it’s the Memorial Day weekend means that we’re s’posed to devote a little thought to those people for whom this weekend was designed, the people who paid the ultimate price so we can live the way we live.

Here’s the story of one of them. It's a story I've probably told before, but I think it's perfect for this weekend.

Buried under a birch tree in Marquette’s Park Cemetery, not far from the Kaufman Mausoleum, lies a young man named Ralph Ellis. Ralph was a native of L’Anse who came to Marquette in the late 1930’s to attend classes at Northern Michigan College of Education (now, of course, NMU). While at Northern, Ralph played on the football team and joined a fraternity, and fell in love with a local girl named Margaret Kepler.

Just before Japan attacked Pearl Harbor in 1941, Ralph was drafted into the U.S. Navy, and became an aircraft test pilot stationed in California. Every chance he could, he came back to Marquette to visit Margaret and her family. They became engaged in late 1942, and in June of 1943, Margaret and her mother took the train out to the West Coast, where Ralph was still test-flying new Navy planes. On July 1^st, 1943, Ralph and Margaret were married, and took off on a week-long honeymoon to Yosemite. After their return, Ralph returned to duty as a test pilot. His first day back, July 9^th, 1943, he was killed when the plane in which he was flying crashed.

He and Margaret had been married 8 days.

Margaret and her mother, who were still in California, had Ralph’s body brought back to Marquette with them, and buried in Park Cemetery. In fact, if you ever find Ralph Ellis’ headstone, you’ll find he’s buried right next to his in-laws, Mr. & Mrs. F.J. Kepler. For her part, Margaret was married—and widowed—twice more before passing away in 2001.

There are many stories like that in cemeteries across Upper Michigan; if you have a few moments this weekend, and it’s actually nice outside, maybe go for a stroll in one of them, and say “thanks” to all those we’re supposed to honor this weekend. I have feeling I'll be doing just that.

So on that note, have yourself a great 3-day weekend. I'm sure Ralph would want you to.

(jim@wmqt.com)

Thursday, 5/25

I'm either getting old or I must really, really like cows. I'm certainly hoping it's the latter. If not, I'm in a LOT of trouble.

After I posted yesterday's newspaper picture of cows on a French beach, I received notes from a bunch of people, most of whom agreed that would be an ideal place for me to live. However, several people also pointed out the young woman in the picture, and (jokingly) wondered if she might also be the reason I want to move there.

And, of course, my reaction was “what young woman”?

Then I looked at the picture again. If you don't remember it, just scroll down to yesterday's entry and take a look at it. It's the picture with cows on a beach. And, now that someone pointed it down, also with a young woman standing in front of the cows, a fact to which I, apparently, didn't even pay any attention the first time I saw it.

Oops.

I'm sure that the first time I saw the picture I noticed the young woman standing there. I mean, if I didn't, there would have to be something seriously wrong with me. What I'm hoping is that I got so excited by the concept of cows on a warm beach that I just didn't even give her a second thought. I'm hoping that's it. I'm hoping that I've not gotten to the point in my life where I don't even pay attention to a young woman like that, because if that were the case...

Well, I don't even wanna think about THAT.

So yes, the cows on the beach would be a perfect reason to move to Corsica. Everything else would just be frosting on the cake. And that's all I'm gonna say about that!

8-)

****

Finally, a picture with neither cows, a beach, or a young woman--

Close. Oh, so close. Just think what a few days of warm weather would do...if we'd just get a few days of warm weather!

Sigh...

(jim@wmqt.com)

Wednesday, 5/25

I'm moving to Corsica and I'm never coming back.

Those of you who know me even just a little probably know two weird facts about me—I like the beach, and I like cows. I can explain the former because of the zen-like effect a beach has on me; unfortunately, I have absolutely no explanation for the latter, other than the fact that they're really fun to photograph. So even just knowing those two weird facts, after looking at this picture it makes perfect sense why I'd want to move to a French island--

Yup. On the island of Corsica (birthplace of Napoleon, among other things) there is a group of cows that have escaped a nearby farm and have taken up residence on a Mediterranean beach. First of all, let me congratulate the cows on both their escape and their excellent choice of a hiding place. Secondly, anyone know when the ferry leaves the mainland for Corsica? I kinda need to be there as soon as possible.

8-)

Actually, I'm sure the cows have been rounded up by now. The news story was several days old when I discovered it yesterday. But can you imagine the joyous rapture that would've caused my head to explode had I been on that (or any beach) at the moment the cows arrived? What would I have been happier about? The beach? The cows? Would my brain have locked up trying to process all the bits of incoming joy?

Someone might have had to hit CTRL-ALT-DEL on my brain, and THAT would've been a lot of fun.

Oh well. I guess I just wasn't lucky enough to be at the right place at the right time. That's life, or, as they'd say on Corsica, c'est la vie. I'm sure I'll be able to survive without experiencing the rapture of cows on a beach. However, should the weather ever get nice, I can guarantee I'll be spending a lot of time at McCarty's Cove or South Beach over the next few months, and should someone be transporting cows through the area, and should that someone want to give those cows a little break to stretch their legs on a local beach...

Well, I'll give you my phone number. You know...just in case.

(jim@wmqt.com)

Tuesday, 5/23

I keep forgetting there's a whole group of people out there who don't realize that I'm a slob.

As I've written in here before, in a perfect world my default wardrobe would be shorts and a T-shirt. It's a wardrobe choice that calms me, a wardrobe choice I think looks best on me, and a wardrobe choice I'm hoping to wear at least once this summer, although these days I'm having my doubts. If I could, I'd wear shorts and a T-shirt every day and be perfectly content.

But, unfortunately, I can't wear shorts and a T-shirt every day. Aside from the practical, weather-related considerations there are also lifestyle & job requirements that force me to dress up on occasion. In fact, if people only know the “TV Jim” part of who I am, they might think that I am, in fact, a snazzy dresser. And something yesterday proved that point.

Despite the fact that I would wear nothing but shorts and a T-shirt given the choice, I do dress up on occasion, even when work doesn't require it. In fact, yesterday was one of those days, when I was wearing a black shirt, black suit coat, and a neon pink tie. (Hey--if I DO dress up, at least it's with a little color!) Anyway, I had to run down the street for something, and a lady walking past caught my eye. She said “hello”, and then wanted to compliment me on how I always “look so nice”. I thanked her, and realizing that she obviously is most familiar with “TV Jim”, decided not to share my secret about how, deep down, I'm really a slob.

You guys know it, but we'll let some people maintain the illusion. After all, it works for Santa Claus and the Easter Bunny, so who am I to argue?

I'm hoping the fact that deep down I'm really a slob wouldn't disappoint the people who think I dress well all the time. I mean, I would hate to shatter the illusion, but that's not just who I am. If I could, I'd wear shorts and a T-shirt when I was doing “High School Bowl” or “Ask the Lawyers”. But unfortunately, I can't. So what you see on TV is not always what you get. Maybe I'll have to start resurrecting that line from an old commercial and start saying something like “I'm not a sharp dresser, but I do play one on TV”.

I just hope people like the lady on the street would accept me for who I really am.

So if anyone's reading this who wasn't in on the secret, I hope you're okay with it. We all have our demons, we all have things we're trying to keep pushed deep down away from the light. Mine is this--

I'm Jim, and I'm a slob at heart.

8-)

(jim@wmqt.com)

Monday, 5/22

A few random things to start the week, the first being that this headache can go away any time soon.

I've had a really annoying sinus headache the past few days, and it doesn't seem to show any signs of letting up. It's kind of surprising; when I was younger, I used to get a bad case of hay fever every spring which would invariably be accompanied by an annoying sinus headache. Well, I've found that one of the few things that's good about getting older is that my hay fever seems to have diminished each year.

Except, of course, for this year.

I don't know why it's so bad this year. I don't know if it's the very warm winter followed by the very cold spring we've had, or if it's just all the plants & trees sprouting at once (and as an entirely unrelated side note to daily blog reader Betsy in Reese—the lilacs should be in full bloom when you're up here this weekend!). All I know is that my head is full of gunk, so much gunk that I can almost feel it slosh around when I turn said head.

So I just hope it goes away soon.

Secondly, I don't know if you've seen this yet, but Time magazine has a cute little feature on their website that allows you to see what your name would be if you were born today.

How does it do it? Well, it determines the popularity of your name the year you were born. For instance, the year I was born, “James” was the third most popular name for a baby boy. So it takes where your name ranked in popularity and then extrapolates to 2016, because the Social Security people just released their list of the most popular baby names of the year. So, if I was born last year and still had been given the third most popular name of the year, I would no longer be “Jim”.

Nope. My name would be Mason. You know—like the jar.

Of course, Loraine had a much bigger laugh than did I. The year she was born her name was the 607^th most popular girl's name, so if she had been born last year and was still given the girl's name that ranked 607, her name would've been Averi. Yes, with an “i” on the end.

Mason & Averi. Well, I guess we now know our names if we ever need to go undercover or something!

(jim@wmqt.com) (aka Mason)

Friday, 5/19

Four years ago today I had an awful lot of fun, at least if you define “fun” as losing a tooth, getting six stitches on my face, and scraping up half of my body.

That's “fun”, right?

Yup; it's hard to believe it's been that long, but four years ago today I had my little (well, “big”, actually) bike accident, when I wasn't looking where I was going, ran the front tire of my bike into the rear tire of Loraine's bike, and watched physics take over. Five seconds later, I was bruised, battered, bloodied, and bewildered, not unlike many people who do stupid things to themselves.

So “yay” for me!

I did, thankfully, heal quite quickly. My tooth was replaced (thanks to Dr. Belpedio, who still rightly admires his handiwork every time I go in for a check-up), the scar left by the stitches is only visible if you know where under my right eye to look, and my fingers, torn to shreds by the pavement and cut up by my wedding ring, are as good as new. In fact, the only (literal) scars that are left are on my left knee, and those were scars I thought I'd carry with me forever. However, they too are fading, so one day the only physical reminder I may have of the accident is my new wedding ring, which replaced the one that tore up my fingers and had to be cut off once said fingers started to swell.

I don't recommend anyone do what I did. I don't recommend that anyone get into a bike accident, and I don't recommend that anyone have to go through what I went though. But in a strange way, having gone through that experience made me realize that I'm surrounded by some pretty amazing people, everyone from Loraine (who helped me right after the accident) to the people at Superior Walk-In Center who patched me up, to my parents who drove us (and our bikes) home to, as I mentioned, Dr. Belpedio, who gave me my new tooth. They all have my thanks, for now and forever.

Until you go through an experience like that, you just don't know how many talented and caring people are around you, both personally and professionally. I mean, I hope that you never have to go through what I went through (and since most of you are much more careful than am I, you probably never will), but if you do, I hope you're able to be surrounded with the same quality of caring individuals as was I. It's not a very fun experience, but it WAS made much more tolerable when you know you're in good hands.

Most years, on the anniversary of my accident, I go out for a bike ride (just to thumb my nose at fate). But because of the cold & the rain in the forecast, and the fact that I still haven't (as I mentioned a few weeks ago) gotten my bike out for the year, I won't do it today, but that's okay. My bike and I are still on great terms. About the only time I even think of the accident is when I'm riding past the place on Marquette's west-side bike path where the accident occurred. There, and only there, I slow down just a little, and make sure that I'm not about to run into anyone else's bike.

After all, I don't want to do it again.

On that note, have yourself a great weekend, and remember—no bike accidents for anyone!

(jim@wmqt.com)

Thursday, 5/18

I'm gonna have to maim you if you ever repeat what I'm about to say, but I really like my bifocals.

I know; it makes no sense to me, either. I complained quite a bit when I was told I needed them a few years ago. After all, bifocals are something “old” people wear, and coming from a family that's quite averse to aging, the bifocals seem almost antithetical. But, as you may recall, I went to the eye doctor yesterday. Because the check-up revealed my eyes have changed a little in the two years since I got my last pair of glasses, I need new lenses. For a few minutes, it looked as if I may have had to give them my current bifocals and use an old pair of glasses to see; specifically, the last glasses I had before I needed bifocals.

And, although I'm REALLY loathe to admit this, I didn't want to give my bifocals up.  Thankfully, I didn't have to.

Until the past few years the only problem with my eyes was that things were blurry far away. I could see just fine looking at things that were close up. But apparently, as mere mortals age, our eyes become less elastic and it's harder to see close up without assistance. It's hard for me to admit, but apparently I'm living proof of that. So the old glasses I may have had to temporarily use correct my vision far away just fine; after all, that part of me has remained constant over the years. But when I try to read something wearing these old glasses, I just can't look down at the bottom of the lenses and clearly see what I'm reading, like I did with my bifocals. Nope. I temporarily have to act like an old person and hold the reading material at half an arm's length; otherwise, it's just a slightly fuzzy blur of text, pictures, and colors.

Using those old glasses, I temporarily become the person I used to (jokingly) mock. Karma, I hope my derriere doesn't hurt your teeth too much.

Actually, reading a book isn't that bad. Like I said, I just need to adjust my arms a little. It's looking at a computer screen that's the problem. Just out of curiosity, I threw the old pair on this morning to see how they would've worked, and it was, shall we say, interesting. I had to lean into every screen I used, just to see what I'm typing or what I'm touching. My laptop's not too bad, because I can move that wherever it works best. It's when I used a desktop computer with a fixed monitor—like at work, when editing something, or right now, when writing this—that I had to hunch over just to clearly see what was popping up on the screen. I did my best, but I would just like to say if there are any spelling errors in today's entry, it's not my fault.

It's the fault of my ding-dang eyes.

Thankfully, I did not have to deal with this problem Thankfully, when the new lenses come in, they can just pop them into the current frames, and I'll be set. Until then, I'll just try not to think about how much of a hypocrite I've become in my old age.

You know, the kind of hypocrite who doesn't want his bifocals taken away.

8-)

*****

Speaking of my trip to the eye doctor yesterday, do you remember a couple of months ago when the Ironwood “High School Bowl” team wanted me to run for President? Well, they now have some company!

I especially like the eye-related puns they put on the sign, like “Jim for President 20/20” and “He Has a Great Vision”. Thanks to Donna and the gang at Dr. Kyle's office for making my day yesterday!

(jim@wmqt.com)

Wednesday, 5/17

Because I have an appointment at the eye doctor in a few minutes, I'm gonna have to leave with with something old; in this case, something from 2014.

Something brand-new tomorrow because, as far as I can tell, I don't have an appointment in sight! (Get it...”sight”, because I'm going to the eye doctor today? Okay; never mind...)

8-)

(jim@wmqt.com)

******

(as originally posted May 20, 2014)

That's interesting. I never would've expected the number to be that high.

I came across a statistic a couple of days ago, and I have to admit it surprised me a little bit. The statistic said that 58% of men are okay with a woman who's more athletically inclined than are they. It surprised me for two reasons—one, the male ego, and two, it's nice to know I'm not alone.

I have no problem with a woman (or women) who is more athletic than I. In fact, I've been married to a woman more athletic than I for a quarter of a century now. Loraine's a natural athlete; in fact, any athletic inclination I've shown is because she either convinced me to go try something or showed me how much fun it could be. So like I said, I have no problem with anything like that. Some people have it, some people don't.

And I certainly know that I don't.

The fact that the number was 58% of men was a little shocking, too, because of, like I said, the egos of a certain class of males. I might be wrong about this—I'm certainly wrong about most things these days—but it seems to me like there's a whole class of men out there whose ego or whose competitive nature wouldn't allow them to be in the company of athletic women. I mean, I know that men's attitudes about these sorts of things are (thankfully) evolving; I guess I just didn't realize they were evolving quite that quickly.

Good for the Y chromosomes, I guess!

I have to wonder what the reaction will be when there's a woman athletically inclined enough to join a pro sports team. Will that event be treated the same way as when Jackie Robinson took the field for the first time, with barely concealed hatred? Or will it be more like when the Rams drafted Michael Sam last weekend, and greeted with a collective shrug from most of the population? I'd hope it would be more like the latter; after all, times and feelings are changing, but until it happens, you might never know.

Hopefully, though, some year soon, a much larger percentage of men than 58% won't care if there are women who are more athletic than they are, or who earn more money than they do, or have more power than they do. We're all human beings, after all. We're all in the same boat together. If one person has more of an ability in a certain area than another, should it matter one iota the gender of the person with more ability?

No, it should not. And that's all I'm gonna say about that.

(jim@wmqt.com), who likes athletic women, one in particular.

Tuesday, 5/16

Until someone pointed it out I had never noticed the resemblance. But now that someone HAS pointed it out, I can't stop seeing it.

I went out and took a few pictures when the sun was out Sunday and posted one of them on Facebook. It was this one of the Father Marquette Statue in Lakeside Park--

Then one of the people who left a comment on it blew my mind when she said, and I quote, “Is it just me, or does that look like Darth Vader?”. And you know what? It does!

Scroll back up a few clicks, take a look, and tell me that, at least in that shot, that our city's namesake does NOT look like Darth Vader. See? You can't, can you? It DOES look like Darth Vader. And if you're like me, now every time you see the statue you'll hear a phrase like, “Marquette, I am your fah-tha” in your head.

Weird, huh?

Wanna see a few more pics? Of course you do, especially if they're of daffodils...

Lilacs that are creeping ever closer to blooming...

Or a few examples of the campaign signs turned tributes to John Kivela that are still up--

And, finally, you can decide amongst yourselves—are dandelions really weeds if they look this pretty?

I don't think so, but that's just me.  And most probably Darth Vader...er, Father Marquette.

(jim@wmqt.com)

Monday, 5/15

After the rather heavy week we all survived last week, we deserve something light and frivolous. So with that in mind, I'm gonna start rambling on and on about cheese. Feel free to leave and come back tomorrow.

You still here? Well, that's good, because I know I've written in here probably too often about great cheeses I find at the Marquette Food Co-op. Over the years, there have been some amazing cheeses to be sampled; cheeses with everything from lavender to toasted sunflower seeds to (gulp) espresso in them. In all those years, though, I keep coming back to one that, hands-down, is the best cheese I've ever eaten.

And since, as you all know, I've eaten a lot of cheese in a lot of different countries, that's saying something.

What's the best cheese I've ever eaten?. Well, it's a white cheese from Spain called Romao. It's a mild white sheep's milk cheese, which in and of itself doesn't make it the best cheese I've ever eaten. Nope; what makes Romao the best cheese I've ever eaten is the fact that it doesn't have a regular rind. Instead, Romao is covered with dried rosemary leaves, and the combination of the sheep's milk cheese and the rosemary is just something that, the first time I ate it, blew my mind. And my taste buds. It REALLY blew my taste buds.

And that hasn't stopped in the dozens of times I've eaten it since.

Now I know I've gone on in here at great length about things like a sublime goat's milk cheese or a cow's milk cheese that's been soaked in raspberry vinaigrette (which used to be my all time favorite). And I realize that weird cheese flavors aren't for everyone. First, you actually have to like cheese and second, you actually have to like weird cheese flavors. But in the case of the Romao, stepping outside of the usual cheese box is really worth it. The cheese itself is mild, and the addition of the rosemary, while quite simple and unassuming, just does something that I've never tasted in another cheese. Admittedly, rosemary is one of my favorite herbs (I make a mean rosemary-thyme pork chop), but even I had never considered sticking it on a cheese.

Trust me—I'm glad someone actually did!

So if you're curious, head over to the Co-op and try it out. Assuming, that is, that someone else (ahem) hasn't bought it all before you get there!

(jim@wmqt.com)

Friday, 5/12

Well, let's see. No one died, and Public TV 13 still has its license. Based on that, I'm guessing the show was a success.

A mere six days after being asked to host it for the first time ever I had my debut on “Ask The Lawyers” last night. And while I've spent those six days jokingly wondering if the world would survive, I knew things would go okay. After all, it's only (live) TV, and the fact that I had never been the host of the show (or even watched it before) was a mere bump in the road. I mean, I have no appreciable skills in the world other than, perhaps, the ability to talk, and apparently that was all I needed to successfully host the show.

Now, onto the next challenge!

At least this hasn't been a boring week, has it? I mean, between the circus Monday, the shock of John Kivela's death Tuesday, a History Center thing I attended Wednesday, and the live TV show last night, I haven't been home much recently. That's one of the things to which I'm looking forward this weekend—just being home. But, in a strange way, I also appreciate weeks like this one (minus, perhaps, the shock of John's death). I don't know if I could just wake up, go to work, and then go home, day in and day out. I mean, sure—after a week like this, that seems like a really attractive prospect. A REALLY attractive prospect. But I also realize that I'm an incredibly lucky person in that I have all of these amazing opportunities presented to me. I mean, how many people get to go behind the scenes of a circus AND host a TV show all in the same week?

Not many. And that's why I know I'm an incredibly lucky person, even if weeks like these can be a bit...overwhelming at times.

But now that it's over, I get to sit back and relax a little. Not too much, because I'll be going to pay my respects to John's family tomorrow, and then celebrating Mother's Day with two of my favorite moms (my own mother & sister) on Sunday. But at least I'll get an hour or two to breathe, and sometimes, that's the most important thing.

On that note, YOU have yourself a great weekend. And if you can, make sure you celebrate Mom's day with all of YOUR favorite mothers!

(jim@wmqt.com)

Thursday, 5/11

With everything swirling around us the past few days, both locally and nationally, it makes one wonder, literally, what is coming next. Who unexpectedly dies? What bombshell gets released overnight and then assaults us when we first check our news feeds or TV in the morning?

It's been one of those weeks.

But you know what? No matter what tragedy hits a local community or no matter what kind of chaos tries to suck us into the vortex, we're strong people. We can handle whatever comes our way. Sure, things may get bumpy and sure, things may occur that make our heads spin around in a complete circle once or twice, but we can handle it.

I truly believe that.

As I've written in here before, I've always considered myself very lucky in that I'm an optimist. I always look for the upside in things, and I have the ability to brush off the bad. I don't know if it's the way my DNA is arranged or if it's the way I was taught to look at things, but even in the darkest of times I know things will even out. I know we can get through whatever kind of problems we're facing. I know the chaos won't suck us into the vortex.

It sometimes may take a little while, but I have an innate faith that things will work out.

I also know that not everyone is like me. I know that there are people who, when times get tough, withdraw from the world or do anything they can to hide until the vortex has disappeared. I respect that; after all, every person has a different way of reacting to the world around them, and I realize that my way may not work for everyone. Heck, sometimes my way may not even be the best way. But I would hope that even the most pessimistic among us realizes a few things—that no matter what happens, the sun will rise once again in the morning, and that the modern human capacity for resilience, for getting through whatever is affecting us today, is one of the greatest marvels of nature. We've survived 200,000 years of everything Mother Nature, our fellow humans, and history have thrown at us.

We'll make it through whatever it is we're dealing with here and now. That's what we do.

*****

Okay. I'll get off my soapbox now. And speaking dealing with the here and now, or at least the “what's gonna happen tonight” version of the here & now, don't forget that my attempt at trying to act like a responsible adult on TV airs live starting at 8 on Public TV 13. The optimistic way at which I'm looking at it—I'll be sharing the set with a judge and a lawyer, so no matter how bad I screw things up, at least I'll have legal advice close at hand.

Wish me luck!

(jim@wmqt.com)

Wednesday, 5/10

That was quite the day yesterday.

I'm still trying to process the news that John Kivela is dead. Like many people around here, I've known John for a long time. Both born into families who owned Marquette auto repair facilities, he once jokingly called me a "traitor" for not going into the family business, then quickly pointed out that my skills lie in an entirely different area.  He always took an interest in what I did for the History Center, showing up for programs when he was in town and sharing a whole bunch of stories, everything from growing up in the Piqua neighborhood of Marquette to why I should be mad at the state of Michigan and not NMU every time every time the school tears down an historic building.  More importantly, he was a champion of Loraine's World War II work, even going so far as to put together proclamations and letters thanking people in Belgium who helped her with her research.

And now he's gone.

I know everyone has their own personal demons to battle. I know that everyone battles those demons the best they can. But when those demons win the ultimate battle, it can shake us to the core, sometimes wondering if there's anything we can do about it and oftentimes making us ask, “What if”?

I can't even imagine what John's family and the people in the immediate circle of his life are going through today, to have your life ripped out by the roots and upended in the most savage of ways. I know that, sadly, it happens more often than it should in this country, but my fervent hope is that as we become more and more aware of mental health issues that it happens less and less.

I also hope that whoever reads this never has to go through the pain and the trauma that the Kivela family is going through today.

I'm sure everyone has a favorite John Kivela story, and I'll share mine, if you don't mind. John, then the city's mayor, was riding with President Obama when he visited Marquette back in 2011, and when the motorcade stopped at Donckers the President bought the two of them lunch. However, because the President was on a tight schedule, they had the lunches boxed up, with the intent to eat them on the way to NMU. They never did get to eat those lunches, which led John to mention several weeks later, with a great deal of laughter, that the President still owed him lunch, and that if need be he'd show up at the White House unannounced to get it

That was John, sadly gone too soon. Best wishes and peaceful thoughts to Sandy, the rest of the Kivela family, and all those who knew him much better than I.

(jim@wmqt.com)

Tuesday, 5/9

That was fun. Even if I didn't get to find out how they get all those clowns in a car.

Like I mentioned, I got to run away and join the circus yesterday with the winners of our “Run Away For a Day” contest. For a half an hour the people at the Carden Circus treated our winners like royalty by showing them how to work with poodles, how to juggle, how to do aerial work, and, as a special bonus, even allowed then to ride an elephant.

I think that's why everyone's smiling--

Being who I am, I've spent way too many hours backstage and behind the scenes of events like this, and you can always tell when people are just going through the motions or if they're really having fun doing what they're doing. Rest assured that these very talented performers really enjoy what they're doing, and they were able to share some of that enthusiasm with our contest winners and their kids.

So all kinds of thanks to them for everything they did!

*****

By the way, you may be happy to know that the possibility of TV-13 losing their license following my upcoming hosting gig on “Ask the Lawyers” has been downgraded from “Oops, sorry about that” to “Well, it could've been worse”. This follows a little meeting I had yesterday with the show's producer about what exactly I'll need to do. Sadly, it looks like I won't have to pull out any quotes from “The Verdict” or “A Few Good Men”. Instead, I'll just be asking questions of a judge and a lawyer and letting them handle the heavy lifting.

So I guess that's a good thing, at least for Public TV-13. Don't forget—the sheer insanity of me having to act like an adult who knows what he's doing happens Thursday night at 8!

(jim@wmqt.com)

Monday, 5/8

I don't have a lot of time to write today, as I have to head to work early and get a bunch of stuff done so I can run away and join the circus later this afternoon (well, it's only for an hour, but still, it's running away and joining the circus), but I wanted to let you know there's a good possibility I may be making a fool of myself on live TV Thursday night.

Now, I'm not a lawyer. I don't play one on TV. While I'd like to think that I know what's legal and what's not, I couldn't tell you all the arcane nuances of Michigan law. I've never been arrested. I've never been sued. I've never been part of any legal action. And though I've had to re-arrange my life many times to be on call for jury duty, I've never actually been on a jury. Yet despite all of this inexperience in the field, I will be guest hosting TV-13's “Ask the Lawyers” live Thursday night.

I know; I had the same thoughts myself. But the people who put the program together feel confident in my ability to handle a live TV show when viewers call in questions and lawyers answer them. And it's probably a good thing viewers have the questions and not me; otherwise, one of the lawyers would probably have to answer a question like “So...have you ever actually yelled 'I'm out of order? The whole system is out of order' in a courtroom”?

Although, now that I think of it, that might make for some interesting TV.

While I doubt the show will devolve to that level, it'll be different than other TV shows I've done before. I'll be the “moderator”, a serious word that makes me think of a serious adult doing serious things, and if there's something we all know it's that I'm neither serious nor an adult. But I think it should go okay. If nothing else, I'll just look at it the way I looked at the last serious, adult thing I did, which was be the board president of the Marquette Regional History Center—as long as the place stayed in business and didn't burn down while I was in charge, I'd be happy.

And seeing as how it's still standing and still open, I guess that experience went well.

If you feel like checking it out, the show will air live Thursday night at 8 on Public TV 13. Keep your fingers crossed the station's still on the air Thursday night at 9.

That's it for today. I'm off to join the circus in a bit!

(jim@wmqt.com)

Friday, 5/5

I love it when a tour comes together.

As those of you who read this on a regular basis may recall, I'm gonna have a busy summer doing stuff for the Marquette Regional History Center. Between June 21^st and August 18^th I'm giving a bike tour, a walking tour, putting on a late night outdoor program, and writing an article for their publication “Harlow's Wooden Man” with the working title “Orgy of Alcohol”.

I'm guessing that someone else MAY change the title before publication, though.

So I don't spend my entire summer doing research and writing I've been trying to work ahead on everything. The bike tour's not a problem; I gave it last year. The article shouldn't be much of a problem, either, as it's just a written version of the “Nightlife” programs I've given over the years. So that leaves the other two, including the walking tour of Marquette's Lower Harbor, a program called “The Docks of Iron Bay”, a program someone else came up with and suggested that I do. I said “yes” because I give a lot of tours of the area as it is, and I figured it wouldn't be too much of a problem.

Thankfully, it's turning out that way.

Over the past few weeks I've been gathering info on what I need, and, as always, have that info written on 3x5 cards spread out (when I'm working on it) all over our living room floor. Until last weekend I hadn't made much progress on putting the info together in any semblance of order. But then Loraine and I strolled down to the boardwalk in front of the Hampton Inn in Marquette, and as I looked around the harbor and visually placed all the info I'd gathered on the 3x5 cards, the entire format of the program—what info to present where—suddenly merged fully-formed into my head.

It was weird. But it was cool, too.

Just to make sure, I went back down the next day with my note cards and kind of walked through where I needed to go, and it worked out perfectly. Now I just need to write the notes into something coherent (and funny, because it is, after all, a Jim Koski ™ History Center program), do another run-through sometime in the next few months, and then hope the weather is good on July 19^th.

So now I have the bike tour, the walking tour, and (most) of the article done. If I'm lucky, maybe this weekend the late-night outdoor program will pop fully formed into my head. I'm mean, I'm not counting on it, but then I wasn't thinking the dock tour would do so last weekend, either, so you never know.

Wish me luck. And while you're at it, have a great weekend at the same time!

(jim@wmqt.com)

Thursday, 5/4

Target owes me half a multi-vitamin.

I think I've written in here before about how both Loraine and I are insanely lucky that we're in good health. Neither of us has any major problems, and neither of us is on any kind of doctor-ordered medication, with the exception of a daily multi-vitamin. I can see why; after all, even though we try to eat as well as humanly possible, a little extra help never hurts, right?

So we buy the multi-vitamins in these big, 300-count bottles from Target. I knew my bottle was almost empty, and this morning when I went to take the final one I received a very odd surprise—only half of a vitamin tablet came out. Nothing else was in the bottle—just half a vitamin pill. It made me think for a second about a variety of things, foremost among them—would half a vitamin pill provide what I needed for the day, should I take a whole one from the new bottle, or should I combine the two and be super-powered throughout the day? (Don't laugh at the thoughts that pop into my head; it's been well-established in here how my brain doesn't function very well that early in the morning) I ended up taking a whole one from the new bottle and tossing the half pill. I figured since I need all the help I can get, it was probably the best course of action.

I have no idea how the half-vitamin got into the bottle. Was it a manufacturing error? Did Target decided to squeeze a little extra profit by giving me 299 ½ vitamins instead of the 300 promised? Or did they lose a little extra profit by giving me 300 ½ vitamins instead of the 300 promised? I don't know, and those are the kind of questions that run through my brain early in the morning when nothing else in my brain seems to function properly.

Whether that's a blessing or a curse I'll leave up to you.

That's how my morning's been so far. I'm almost afraid to wonder what else is on the way!

*****

Oh--you know how I was writing about my new phone yesterday? Well, someone told me it had a great camera on it, so I took it out in the sun yesterday to see for myself.

What do you think?

Sorry about the subject. I know I need help.

8-)

(jim@wmqt.com)

Wednesday, 5/3

So...just what IS the protocol for removing dead people from your contacts?

I'm curious because I finally have a new phone to replace the one I dropped on the floor and cracked the screen of  last month. Of course, when you get a new phone you have to move everything from the old one, and that includes the contact info—the phone numbers, basically—of everyone who was in your old phone. Heaven forbid I—we, actually—have to remember phone numbers these days, right?

(And as an aside, I figured it out—the only phone numbers I know without having to look them up are Loraine, both my parents, and the Q107 transmitter, which I have to call every time something goes wrong. Can you guess which one I wish I didn't know by heart?)

Anyway, my previous phone was six years old, which means that there was a lot of outdated contact info in there. That phone also contained the numbers of three people who, sad to say, have passed away in those six years. They were individuals Loraine and I had met in the course of her research, and people who had become cherished friends in the process. Sadly, they were also all in the 80s or 90s when we met, and sadly, like many people in their 80s and 90s, they're now gone.

So when transferring the contacts from my old phone, I found myself in a bit of a quandary. After all, I don't need their phone numbers any more. They're dead. But, for whatever reason, it didn't feel right deleting their info. I don't know why. The rational, logical part of me knows I don't need the numbers any more. But to the rest of me it just didn't seem right to get rid of the info. It's a dichotomy I can't explain. It's not like by deleting the numbers I'm removing them from my life. That happened when they passed away. And it's not like I'm ever gonna use the numbers again. Knowing my luck, I'd accidentally touch of the entries and call the number, only to have whoever picked it up when it was reassigned by the phone company answer the call and wonder what's going on.

Just what is one to do? Is there a proper etiquette for dealing with a situation like this?

In the end, the logical, rational, and practical side of me won out, and the numbers aren't in my new phone. I know I don't need them, and I know there's absolutely no reason for me to digitally carry them around with me. So there—I guess we can now consider that the proper etiquette for dealing with a situation such as this.

Still, it just seems strange not having them in my phone. Now, if I could only do that with the number for our transmitter...

8-)

(jim@wmqt.com)

Tuesday, 5/2

94,250, give or take a thousand. That's how far I haven't driven in the past 14 and a half years.

I don't know why this popped into my head; it was probably because I was running in the rain and strange things pop into my head while I'm running in the rain. Or maybe it was the fact that I wrote a blog yesterday about what's left of the street outside my house. But either way, while I was running this morning I started thinking about how little I've driven (and used the torn up street outside my house) in the 14 and a half years since my place of employment moved from Ishpeming to a location within walking distance of where I live in Marquette. If I was still working out there and making the 25-mile round trip once a day (and I usually did it more than that) I would've driven those 94,000+ miles I mentioned at the beginning of this.

I would've driven the equivalent of going around the planet three times, and then driving the long way from Marquette to Japan just for extra kicks.

That would've been a lot of driving.

There are two other ways I could look at those 94,250 miles. If all of those miles were driven at 50 miles per hour (because they were a mix of city & highway), I've been spared 1,885 hours of sitting in a car. That's almost 79 days. That's over 2 and a half months of my life that would've otherwise been spent driving back & forth.

Yikes!

And, of course, you could also look at it from a financial point of view. Assuming I had to drive those 94,250 (give or take a thousand) miles in a car that got 35 miles to the gallon, I would've had to buy 2,693 gallons of gas. Now, let's assume that the average gas price over the past 14 years was $2.50 a gallon, about where it is now (and that's just a rough assumption on my part). That means that by not driving over the past 14 and a half years I've saved over $6,700 in gas. And that's not counting car repairs, new batteries when it got so cold out my old one would've died, or the fact that I haven't had to buy a new car since, uhm, 1997, and well...

Let's just I've come out on the good end of this whole deal.

I don't actually have a point in writing this (like most of these ramblings), other than the fact that weird thoughts pop into my head while I'm running. But it's amazing what those weird thoughts can lead to, especially when you sit down and do the math behind them.

Now, if you don't mind, I have to go walk to work (and pass my favorite lilac tree in the process), so until tomorrow...

(jim@wmqt.com)

Monday, 5/1

Welcome to the Third World country otherwise known as the street on which I live--

Over the course of this winter the thaw/freeze cycles have taken their toll on the street in front of my apartment, and when the city had to dig up part of the street to work on a sewer a week ago today, that really finished it off. The street's been in bad shape for the past couple of years; now, though, it's almost impassable. But, then, it's not like it's a major north-south artery in Marquette, one on which fire trucks and ambulances travel on an almost hourly basis.

Oh, wait...it is. Never mind.

I know budgets for road repairs are pretty much non-existent these days, and, depending upon what happens in the world may get even worse, but when even people in pickup trucks with great shocks and high clearances have to swerve to avoid getting sucked into what used to be Front Street in Marquette; well, you know it's getting pretty bad.

I realize why the city of Marquette hasn't fixed it yet; after all, the weather's been so weird recently that it doesn't make sense to try & pave things. I just hope, though, that when the road repair season DOES start in earnest that my block of Front Street is among the first to be fixed. Like I said, it's an ambulance route, and can you imagine being transported to U.P. Health System/Marquette with some kind of injury, only to be tossed up in the air, perhaps even hitting the ceiling, when the rig in which you're riding runs over over all the dirt ruts and potholes in the street?

If you thought you hurt before, think what it would be like afterward!

So if you at all can, take my advice and avoid driving on north Front Street in Marquette. I thank you, your car's suspension thanks you, and any loose fillings you may have in your teeth thank you, as well.

8-)

(jim@wmqt.com)