Tuesday, December 31, 2019

Tuesday, 12/31


Wow. Here it is, the final blog of 2019, the final blog of the teens, and and I don’t have anything profound to say.

Bummer.

I don’t know what it is about the impulse to wrap up an entire year or decade on a day like today; it just seems like I should have something important/pithy/poetic to say about the 364 days we’ve just experienced. But you know what? I don’t have anything, aside perhaps from saying goodbye to 2019 and, while it’s on the way out, hoping that it doesn’t let the door hit it in the you-know-what.

I mean, it’s not that 2019 was bad, or anything. We all made it through the year with a pulse, and there are a lot of good things that happened over the months. But there were a lot of disappointments to go along with the successes. I know that happens every year, and that why instead of looking back on the year that just happened I’d rather look ahead to the year that’s ahead.

I’m looking forward to an actual summer this upcoming year. I’m looking forward to going back to Europe twice this upcoming year. I’m looking forward to what could be some big changes at work this upcoming year. I'm looking forward to wrapping up the latest season of the TV show I host, and seeing what the next one holds. I’m looking forward to leading hundreds of people along the streets of Marquette for the History Center tours this summer, and I'm really looking forward to seeing if we can pack Kaufman again in a month. I’m looking forward to playing soccer outside in the warm sun with Loraine. I'm looking forward to voting a few times. And I'm also looking forward to a something I haven't even considered yet. I don't know what that something is, but every year there's something new.

And I'm looking forward to that, too.

See all that 2020 holds in store? That’s why I’d rather look ahead. I’m confident that it’ll be a very good year for me, and I hope it’s even better for you.

On that note, have a great New Year's Day. Don't overdo it tonight, and if you do, just remember that hydration is the key to a quick recovery. See you Thursday!



Monday, December 30, 2019

Monday, 12/30


As our shared calendar starts to draw to an end for yet another year (really...where did 2019 go?), here's a story about a gift I receive every year for Christmas.

A calendar. Specifically, a calendar that makes me laugh my head off.

As I have every Christmas for a decade and a half now, I received my annual edition of the “365 Stupidest Things Ever Said” calendar and as I’ve done for the past decade and a half I read each and every page of it in one sitting. This accomplishes a couple of things--there’s a point where the cumulative effect of all that stupidity catches up with me, and whatever control I have dissolves in a big puddle. I start laughing uncontrollably, with tears running down my eyes, and for the next couple of minutes, I’m unable to do nothing else. Loraine then just stares at me for a second, and shakes her head the way she’d shake her head at a puppy trying to chase its tail and accidentally running itself head-first into a wall.

Except I do it on purpose.

The page that set me off this year? Read by itself, it’s not necessarily that funny, but when you consider I’d just read 200 or so other pages of stupid stuff; well, like I said, the cumulative effect was just something else. It was an item in a police blotter, much like we have here in Marquette with the Mining Journal--

“A man reported that a squirrel was running in circles on Davis Drive and wasn't sure if it was sick or had been hit by a car. An officer responded and as he drove on the street he ran over the squirrel ”.

You know, as I'm typing that I realize I probably shouldn't laughed as hard as I did.  But I have a weird sense of humor to begin with, and when I saw the page, placed near the end of a long line of stupid quotes, sayings, and newspaper headlines, it was the trigger that set off my annual bout of self-induced hysteria.  I like squirrels--I really do--but I just couldn't help myself.  

I know. . .I need help. What’s your point??

8-)


Friday, December 27, 2019

Friday, 12/27


I think I scared myself by speaking.

I mean, there are times when the possibility exists that I could terrify myself by speaking, if only because I don't know what might be coming out of my mouth. But yesterday was different—because of work schedules, I was the only one at the station. I got to spend the entire day by myself, getting lots of stuff done without having to face one interruption.

I was bliss.

Anyway, because I was at work alone and, in fact, didn't see one single person, I had no reason to speak. So from the time Loraine left home for work—745 or so—I didn't say a thing. I guess I didn't even realize that until 2, when I went on the air and found myself startled by the noise that was coming out of my mouth.

Yup. I almost scared myself by speaking.

It actually was a very weird moment. When nothing comes out of your mouth for over six hours you really don't realize it, at least not until a sound actually does emanate from you and you're left wondering 1). what that sound was, and b). why you made it, until you realize you haven't spoken for over six hours.

I mean, try it some time, especially if you ever get a blissful six-plus hours by yourself. Who knows—maybe you'll be as startled as me. Probably not, because you're, you know, normal, but you won't know until you try it.

*****

Before I go, I present to you this year's winner in the “strangest Christmas gift I received” competition--



Yup. That's a chocolate bar from Russia. Loraine's parents were in the neighborhood earlier this year and picked it up. I'll be curious to see if it actually tastes like chocolate, or has a slight borscht and/or vodka aftertaste.

I'll let you know.

On that note, have yourself a great weekend, and just think—it's the last weekend of the teens. Where did the decade go????


Thursday, December 26, 2019

Thursday, 12/26


It was the return of a Q107-WMQT holiday tradition!

First of all, I hope you had a great Christmas. I did. From the noise of Christmas Eve at my brother's place to the calm & quiet of my parents yesterday, it was everything that the holiday should be. I hope yours was just as good.

Let's now flash back, oh, 11 or 12 years. One December afternoon when our office manager was decorating for Christmas we had a ladder sitting in our hallway. No, I have no idea why the ladder was there; I just know that it was. And me, having the, you know, uncommon mind that I have, decided that we needed to decorate it. So we threw on tinsel, a few ornaments, and a cloth Santa on it and christened it “The Holiday Ladder”. We did it for a year or two afterwards, and then promptly forgot about it.

Now, flash forward to this past Monday. I'm coming into work for the week, sleepy as always, and I stumble toward my office door. I open it up, turn on the light, and perhaps for the first time ever laughed when coming into work on a Monday.

Because this was in there, taking up almost every single inch of free space--



That's right; Carol had decided to do a little decorating over the weekend, and in her infinite wisdom resurrected “The Holiday Ladder”. Since I couldn't move with it in my office, we brought it out to our lobby (where I took the above picture) for all the world to see. So if you're in downtown Marquette the next few days, stroll by the station and look in the window. There, you will see the most sacred of Q107 traditions--

The Holiday Ladder.

Continued Peace on Earth, and, uhm, climbing safety for all!

8-)





Tuesday, December 24, 2019

Tuesday, 12/24

For the story of a cherished Jim & Loraine Christmas Eve tradition, especially true on the 75th anniversary of the event, CLICK HERE.  And have yourself a great Christmas Eve & Christmas Day!

Monday, December 23, 2019

Monday, 12/23


I think I've figured out my favorite Christmas album of all time. I never devoted that much time to thinking about it, but it came to me this weekend.

Just don't laugh when I tell you what it is.

As you know (and I apologize if I've been complaining about it too much) things have been so busy this year I haven't had the chance (as I wrote last week) to listen to much holiday music, aside from a few new tracks to decide if we should play them on the air. During my orgy of cookie baking this weekend I finally had the time to listen to a couple of albums, the ones that traditionally get played during my annual orgy of cookie baking, and it's then that I realized I actually have a favorite Christmas album of all time.

And it's not what you think. It's not the soundtrack to “A Charlie Brown Christmas”, which I thought would've topped my list. It's not any of the “Very Special Christmas” compilations. It's not even a classic holiday album from Frank, or Bing, or Nat.

Nope. My favorite Christmas album of all times appears to be the soundtrack to the movie “Jingle All The Way”.

Have I lost (what's left of) my mind? Did I drink too much eggnog? Did I get a piece of tinsel stuck up my nose as a young child and short-circuit part of my brain as a result? (although, come to think of it, that WOULD explain a lot, wouldn't it?) Why, oh why would the soundtrack to a really bad Arnold Schwarzenegger movie be my favorite Christmas album of all time?

Because it, apparently, gives me everything I want in a Christmas album.

Let me explain. As bad as the movie is (and even though I haven't seen it in 20 years I remember that it's really, really bad), the soundtrack stands on its own. It has the first three or four attempts at Christmas music by the Brian Setzer Orchestra, a genre in which they totally kicked butt over the next few years. It also has an amazing selection of Christmas classics, including Nat King Cole's “The Christmas Song” and Bobby Helm's “Jingle Bell Rock”. And it also has a cut from the movie's soundtrack that, while not technically Christmas music, still makes me think of the holidays. It's kind of a one-stop shop for my favorite Christmas tunes, all in one very strange place.

And that's why the soundtrack to “Jingle All The Way” appears to be my favorite Christmas album of all time. You may now proceed to start laughing your head off in disbelief.

(jim@wmqt.com)

(ps--make sure you have yourself a great Christmas and holiday week).  I'll be back Thursday with something new!)



Friday, December 20, 2019

Friday, 12/20


Well, I saw the movie last night. And while it sometimes takes a few days and/or a few viewings to fully digest, comprehend, and deal with a film of this magnitude, just let me say this--

I'm pretty happy with the way it wrapped everything up. It was a very good movie and, at the end, deeply satisfying.  And as I promised yesterday, that's all I'm gonna say about that, at least for now.

Aside from the movie and shooting a TV show (which I need to do in a few minutes) and writing two newspaper articles I'm also trying to get ready for the holidaze, which for me always means making cookies. I started them Wednesday night, and I'll wrap them up tonight, and it reminds me that a few weeks ago someone asked if I still make the Grandma cookies I came up with a couple of decades ago.

Well, of course I do.

I know I haven't told the story recently, so here goes—20 or so years ago I didn’t know what to get my grandmother for Christmas. She was just starting to descend into hell that is Alzheimer’s Disease, and I wanted to give her something that she, in that state, might appreciate.

So I invented her a cookie.

She always liked sweets, and was such a sweet person herself, so I figured the cookie would the perfect gifts. I came up with one that had a quite interesting frosting to it, and seemed to capture her personality. I gave a batch of them to her that Christmas, and I’ve made ‘em every holiday season since.

Wanna try them yourself?

THE GRANDMA COOKIE--

3 cups flour
1 ½ tsp baking soda
½ tsp salt
1 cup packed brown sugar
½ cup butter
1 tsp vanilla
1 egg
½ cup sour cream
1 cup white chocolate (or vanilla) chips
½ pound almond bark
1 tablespoon raspberry extract

Cream the butter & sugars in a large bowl. Mix in vanilla, egg, & sour cream. Stir in flour, baking soda, and salt. Then add chips.

Bake for 10 minutes at 350, let completely cool.

To frost the cookies, melt the bark and raspberry flavoring over VERY low heat, constantly stirring. When melted, slather on cookies.

Makes about 4 dozen.

*****

On that note, I do need to get going for the day. I hope your weekend is as productive as mine (hopefully) will be!




Thursday, December 19, 2019

Thursday, 12/19


Know what I'm doing tonight? If you said anything OTHER than “Well, Jim, you're probably going to see the new 'Star Wars' movie” then you probably don't know me very well, do you?

8-)

At 7pm tonight, I will be sitting inside theater 1 at the Thomas Theater Group's Tri City Cinema 8 in Marquette, eagerly awaiting the finish of 9,000 commercials and trailers. At the conclusion of the 9,000th, the theater goes dark, the anticipation builds to an unbearable crescendo, and the world rocks slightly on its axis as “Star Wars: The Rise of Skywalker” begins, wrapping up a series that has spanned a large majority of my life.

I don't know whether to cry in joy or cry in sadness. But I'm guessing there will be tears shed.

In what has become a tradition, my friend Deanna bought our tickets a long time ago, the first day they were on sale. It's a good thing, too, as I've spoken with many people I know, everyone from friends to “High School Bowl” team coaches, who'll be there.

It should be a blast.

One of the things I'm enjoying about the build-up to the film is how many people are trying to make it a spoiler-free event. People who've already seen the movie are going out of their way not to spill any secrets, just like the people who made it and the writers of the reviews I've read of it so far. And I'm going to honor that. For the next week, I'm not going to mention anything about the film—expect for incessantly gloating about how I saw it opening night—so that people who haven't had the chance to see it get to go in and experience it for themselves. I know that's how I'd want to do if if I didn't have a friend that bought tickets a month or two ago.

Have I mentioned I how much I appreciate Deanna's foresight?

As a result, you'll be able to come back here tomorrow and know that this will be a spoiler-free zone. Of course, I have the feeling that the vast majority of you—people much more grounded in reality than I—don't really care about what happens in the new “Star Wars” movie. But just in case, I'll write about something else. I mean, I don't know what I'll be able to write about, seeing as how I'll (hopefully) still be locked in a “Star Wars” high, but we'll see. I'm sure I can some up with something.

It's the least I can do.

8-)

(jim@wmqt.com), uber-nerd.


Wednesday, December 18, 2019

Wednesday, 12/18


What with it being only 6 days until Christmas Eve (6 days????!!!????) I, like you, have been listening to a lot of holiday music recently, if only because I need to decide what we’re gonna be playing on Christmas Eve and Christmas Day, when we’ll be playing nothing BUT 36 straight hours of holiday music. And after listening to oh, I dunno, a hundred or so new Christmas songs (or new versions of old classics), I’ve come to a decision--

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

Now, I’m not trying to sound like an old fuddy duddy here, but does the world really need the 114th version of “Winter Wonderland”, this time sung by a 9-year old Disney Channel star, or a remake of “Christmas (Baby Please Come Home)”, as interpreted by a spoken word poet (both of which are available this year,by the way)?

I dunno.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

All songs that, I might add, are still among our most requested holiday songs by YOU guys (well, except for maybe the Vince version of “White”), and all songs that you’ll be hearing from now through our 36 hours of non-stop holiday music Christmas Eve and Christmas Day.

By the way...what are YOUR favorites?



Tuesday, December 17, 2019

Tuesday, 12/17


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

All the snow we received the past three have allowed people to get into the swing of the many winter sports available around here. I myself have gone cross-country skiing, I’ve talked to people who’ve gone snow shoeing, and I saw people sledding.

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

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

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

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

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

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


Monday, December 16, 2019

Monday, 12/16


I’m a guy, and I like it. Is it THAT big of a surprise?

My second favorite movie of the decade is “Love, Actually”, a movie that kind of flopped when it came out in theaters but has now taken on a second life as a modern-day holiday classic (in this regard, it resembles “It’s a Wonderful Life”, something I’ll discuss in a bit). Anyway, because of the film's evergreen status this time of the year there are a slew of articles released about it, many of which deal with the same topic--

Did you know guys like “Love, Actually”?

Speaking as a guy, just let me say this--yes, some of us DO like “Love, Actually”. In fact, some of us LOVE “Love, Actually”, and I’m not quite sure why all these writers are surprised. I mean, sure, it doesn’t have any explosions, farts, or fights, and it’s filled with heart and humor, but that doesn’t mean guys don’t like it. In fact, I’ve always been a fan of Richard Curtis, the guy who wrote and directed the film, if only because his movies DO have heart & humor, and conspicuously lack explosions and farts, and when he does include fights, they’re usually between Colin Firth and Hugh Grant, and usually they’re hilarious.

So there.

Another of my favorite articles on the movie is one that asked people which of the nine subplots they liked best (for those of you who haven’t seen the movie, [and shame on you, by the way, if you haven’t], the movie juggles nine inter-related subplots in the 5 weeks leading up to Christmas), and that’s almost like asking someone which of their nine kids or puppies or classic cars or whatever they like best. I don’t know that I could pick my absolute favorite, although I will admit that I have a fondness for both the Hugh Grant and the Colin Firth story lines. The one that always gets to me, though, is the plot with Keira Knightly and the guy in love with her. Once again, I don’t wanna spoil it for anyone who’s never seen it, but if you aren’t in some way affected after watching that plot line, you’d better check to see if you have a pulse.

So there you go. I’m a guy, and I love “Love, Actually”. Think they’ll write an article about me, now??

8-)

*****

Okay, I mentioned how “Love, Actually” has pretty much followed the arc of “It’s a Wonderful Life” by being a box office failure at first, only to then become a beloved holiday classic. Well, that reminds me I need to check on something. A couple of years ago, there were plans afoot to make a sequel to “Wonderful Life”, in which the ghost of George Bailey’s youngest kid, Zazu, comes back to haunt George’s bratty grandson by showing him how much better the world would’ve been if he was never born.

Why, oh why, oh why? That sounds like it’s full of holiday cheer, doesn’t it? Why would anyone even think of something like that? And if it ever comes to fruition and they ever have the gall to make the film, what’s next--a sequel to “The Wizard of Oz” in which Dorothy’s granddaughter skips out of rehab to join a doomsday cult, or something?

I’ve been joking on the air all year about how the movie business has run out of ideas. Guess I wasn’t that far off, was I?

*****

Finally, at the risk of making this a little too long, I wanna make sure I wish my favorite father-in-law in the whole world a happy birthday today!  That's right; it's daily blog reader Floyd in Reese's birthday today, and it's one of those big, milestone birthdays to boot.  So happy birthday to my "other" dad.  Hope you have a great day! 


Friday, December 13, 2019

Friday, 12/13 (!)


I don't wear a hat because my head is too small.

There. You happy?

8-)

The past few days, with their bitterly cold temperatures, have led to several people ask me why I wasn't wearing a hat while walking to work or walking someplace else. One of them even went so far as to mention that they don't ever recall seeing me in a hat, which could very well be true, at least when I'm not running. I don't wear hats, and I don't wear them for one reason—because I have a very small head.

No, seriously, I do have a small head. In proportion to the rest of my body, my head is smaller than an average person. When discussing it one time with my dad (he being one of those people who notices when I don't wear a hat) he noted that I get the small head from him. And it's true. I do get my small head from him. Yet that doesn't stop my dad from wearing a hat wherever he goes.

Probably because he's a normal person.

Maybe it's just me. Okay, it's definitely just me. But I think I look weird in a hat, especially a winter hat. It crushes the only thing that seems to make my head a normal size—what's left of my hair—and it makes my head look like a tan grapefruit sitting on top of a scarecrow's body. And I think I look strange enough as it is. So because I think it makes me look weird, I would much rather freeze my ears off than wear a hat.

Obviously, my dad's much more mature than I, right?

Like I said, I do wear hats when I'm running or skiing, because I really don't care what I look like, and during winter, if I'm gonna be outside for an hour sweating in bitterly cold temperatures, I do actually wanna stay warm. To quote a fake country song title I once made up, “I May Look Stupid, But I'm Not That Dumb”. But if it's just a five minute walk to work, or a quick dash from one building to another; well, maybe I am that dumb. All because then I DO care what I look like wearing a hat.

I know. A shrink would have a field day, wouldn't they?

Anyway, that's the really bizarre reason why I don't wear a hat. So if you ever see me out in the cold, with ears red and steam rising from my neck, realize that I do know better.

It's just that my small head can't process it.

On that note, have a great weekend. And if it's cold, feel free to NOT follow my example and make sure you wear a warm hat!



Thursday, December 12, 2019

Thursday, 12/12


We need some color around here!

The past few days we've had snow. We've had cold. We've had gloom. Some days, we've had all of them together. But if you can remember back, way far back, to this mythical month called “August”, we actually DID have color around here. So with that in mind (and because it’s been a long week that's not even finished yet), I now present a little color to brighten up your Thursday--

Flower pictures (obviously not taken in the past few days)

You want colors? How yellow??





Or purple & red?





Or purple & white?





Or purple and, uhm, butterfly?





How about every single color ever?





And, just to be gratuitous, a sunflower--





See? Colors can be MUCH better than gray and gloom, can’t they? On that note, hope the gray and the gloom and the cold aren't getting you down too much. Just remember—only eight months until we can take pictures like that again!

8-)



Wednesday, December 11, 2019

Wednesday, 12/11


I can't believe I forgot his birthday.

My birthday was a week ago. I really don't care about that; as you know, I actually worked through it. But I have a birthday buddy, someone who shares the date with me, and I can't believe I forgot to mention his big day.

Especially because, had he lived, he would've been 100.

Alvar Liimatainen was born and died decades before I was even a possibility. I wouldn't know that he had even been around were it not for Loraine's massive research project into World War II casualties. Once I saw he was born on December 4th—just like me—I became intrigued. And once I saw just how amazing he was, even during his short life, I was hooked.

A couple of years ago, on the 70th anniversary of his death, Loraine put together a little memorial for him in Marquette's Park Cemetery. Because we share a birthday, she asked me to say a few things about him. So to make up for the fact that I (gulp) forgot that his big birthday last week, here's the speech.

Happy birthday, Oliver. Sorry I forgot your 100th.




*****

“As far as I can tell, there haven’t been a lot of noteworthy people who’ve been born on December 4th. There’s Jay-Z; there’s Dennis Wilson, the late drummer of the Beach Boys; and there’s some British guy who did something with economics back in the 1700s. They may be famous; whether or not they’re noteworthy is another matter altogether.

So let me introduce you to someone born on December 4th who, while he’s in no way famous, certainly is most noteworthy. Alvar Liimatainen was born in December 4th, 1919, to Albin and Lempi Liimatainen. He was one of four children growing up in what was then referred to as Marquette’s “Piqua Location”; in fact, you can still see the family house if you’re riding or walking down the bike path near Sherman and Cleveland streets. Oliver, as absolutely everyone knew him, was a typical kid in the 1920s and 30s; he had a paper route, he tried his hand at ski jumping, he sang, and he ran track. He was most atypical when he received an award at his graduation in 1937 honoring him as never having missed a day of school his entire academic career. Not one.

This wouldn’t be the only time in his life Oliver was out of the ordinary.

After graduation he worked as a bellhop at the Hotel Northland before joining the Army Air Corp for what was supposed to be a three-year hitch in 1940. He had hoped to become a pilot; however, he was given training as a radio operator and assigned to a bomber crew that found themselves being sent to places like Brazil and Egypt before ending up on the island of Java the day the Japanese attacked Pearl Harbor. The Japanese also attacked other U.S. installations that day, including the base where Oliver was stationed. He found himself in the middle of the airfield when the raid began, and took cover in a foxhole made out of sandbags. He received a mild concussion and was put in the base hospital for a few weeks. He didn’t mind, though; in a letter to his brother, he said in the hospital he was finally getting food that was edible and, quote, “that helps a lot”.

The next couple of months were busy for Oliver and his crew. They flew 22 bombing missions in the South Pacific. They were attacked by enemy fighters 15 times; Oliver himself was credited with shooting down three of those fighters and damaging three others. On August 6th, 1942, Oliver’s crew—commanded by captain Harl Pease, and co-piloted by an Australian, Fredrick Earp—left their base in Australia for a bombing mission over Lae, New Guinea. On the way there, they had one of the engines on their B-17 fail, and had to return to base. This wasn’t an uncommon occurrence; what happened next was.

When Oliver’s crew returned to base, they knew that they had another mission the next day. They didn’t know what it was; they just had been told it was important. So the entire crew found another B-17 that was barely flight worthy and worked all day and all night to make sure it could get off the ground. On just three hours sleep, Oliver and his crew took off the next morning on a mission they knew was important but didn’t know why. As it turns out, their mission that day was bombing a Japanese fighter base at Rabaul Island. They were to bomb the base so that the fighters could not attack U.S. Marines that would be, at the same time, landing on Guadalcanal. They had no idea why they were flying the mission; they just knew they had to fly it.

Oliver’s crew as one of thirteen bombers that made it successfully to Rabaul and dropped their bombs on the Japanese base. On the way back home to Australia, their jerry-rigged plane started having mechanical problems, and fell behind the rest of the squadron. Thirty enemy fighters had by then appeared in the sky, and since Oliver’s plane had fallen behind the rest of the group, they bore the brunt of the attack. The B-17 was last seen losing altitude over the jungle, with no parachutes observed leaving the aircraft.

With that, Alvar “Oliver” Liimatainen became the city of Marquette’s first service casualty of World War II.

Several months after the incident, each member of the crew was awarded the Distinguished Service Cross for their work the day before and their actions that fateful day. Captain Pease was also awarded the Medal of Honor, and to this day, there is a Pease Air Force Base near his hometown in New Hampshire. But it wasn’t until 1946 that searchers discovered the wreckage of the plane, as well as two bodies. They moved those remains to the National Memorial Cemetery of the Pacific in Honolulu, where they spent several years trying to identify the remains. It took until 1950 for them to be able to distinguish that one of the bodies belonged to the Australian co-pilot I had mentioned earlier. In fact, that was thanks to the discovery of a shoulder patch of a member of the Australian Air force. After studying dental and physical records, the other body was identified as Oliver’s. His parents asked that his body be returned to his hometown, and it was on this spot on August 7th, 1951—nine years to the day after his death—that Oliver was laid to final rest.

A total of 72 men and women from the city of Marquette died in World War II. Some are buried not far from here; some are buried in the countries in which they died, and some were never found. They all have stories like Oliver’s, and that’s one reason why we wanted to hold this ceremony tonight. Whether they were born on April 20th or July 7th or December 4th, they were all among the most extraordinary people ever born on that particular day. They were the men and women who did things that most of us could never imagine doing ourselves, and they were the men and women we honor tonight.

Alvar “Oliver” Liimatainen. Born December 4th, 1919. Died August 7th, 1942. Laid to rest here August 7th, 1951. Thank you for your service. And thank you for being extraordinary.”


Tuesday, December 10, 2019

Tuesday, 12/10


It feels quite strange the first time you do it. Hopefully, I'll get used to it quickly.

Because I'm working ahead on all kinds of stuff for all my jobs, this past weekend I had the opportunity to write down a date. This date, to be specific--

1/23/20

Writing the “20” part of it threw me for a loop for a second. It didn’t feel right as I was writing it, nor did it look “right” when I was finished. Yet there it was, a date just a month or so away, written down by the very person it was throwing off for a second.

Although I don’t remember, I’d have to guess that I was probably just as thrown off a decade ago, whenever I first had to write down something like “1/23/10”. But because I don’t remember, I’m guessing I became used to it quite quickly, just as I probably because used to writing “1/23/00” right away and just as I’ll probably become quite used to writing (and seeing) “1/23/20” soon.

Maybe the strange thing is this—it really doesn't SEEM like we're at the end of a decade, does it? To me, at least, it just seems like it's the end of another year. It doesn't seem like the end of 1999, when the world was gonna end, or the end of 2009, or the end of any decade. For whatever reason, there just seem to be the pomp or the circumstance or the “this is what happened the past 10 years” feature upon feature in media. I don't know if it's because the world's too weird these days or we just don't have a centralized, shared media any more, or I don't know if I just haven't been paying attention.

But it sure doesn't seem like it's the end of the decade. And maybe THAT'S why I was so thrown off by writing down a simple date.

(jim@wmqt.com), who will (hopefully) get used to it soon.

Monday, December 9, 2019

Monday, 12/09


And here, people seem to think I eat well. Shows what they know.

Actually, I normally DO eat as well as I can. My diet usually consists of whole grains, fresh fruits & vegetables, lean protein, and nuts & (healthy) dark chocolate. That's usually what I eat, and that's why probably are of the opinion that try to eat well.

Because I usually do.

The past ten days, though, have been something else, starting with Thanksgiving and going through my birthday a few days later. Then there was this 48 hour span this past weekend--

Friday lunch—I grabbed a protein bar and some chocolate because I was running late after TV taping.

Friday dinner—I went running after work, and then didn't feel like making anything, so I ate a pint of Talenti Double Chocolate Gelato for dinner.

(No, I don't feel good about that. But it is what it is.)

Saturday breakfast—I break my cardinal rule and don't eat one, because...

Saturday lunch was all the food we bought from the Greek Orthodox Church bake sale, which for me this year consisted of Patitsio and six—count them, six—different Greek baked goods, including baklava (which does, in my defense, have walnuts in it)

Saturday “dinner”--a dozen or so cookies at the Peter White Public Library open house.

Sunday breakfast—I realized that I have a dark chocolate bar with blueberry & lavender filling I bought in Germany that's past its expiration date, so I start eating that.

Then around 11 or so Sunday morning, my stomach starts making noises. These aren't the usual, mellow rumblings that you hear from a stomach. Nope; these are like the wailing of a banshee on its way to hell for, oh, the third or fourth time. My stomach was making such weird & loud sounds that I thought it might start cracking the windows of our living room, which is where I was sitting.

THAT'S how loud my stomach was.

I mean: I can't blame my stomach. I kinda sorta had been abusing it for the past 48 hours, and I guess it just decided it was time to fight back. In all honesty, I'm surprised it hadn't started it sooner; say, after the ice cream for dinner Friday night. But apparently it had had enough, and decided it was time I knew.

Thankfully, I took the hint.

I drank a cup of tea (Blood Orange Smoothie from Spice Merchants, which is a roobois tea I highly recommend) and ate something I hadn't for quite a while—real food, like a slice of whole grain bread and a piece of fruit. I think my body thought at first I was joking, as it continued to grumble, but after a while the loudness started to quiet down, and that strange feeling I'd been having, literally in the pit of my stomach, started to go away. Then for dinner, when I had gnocchi and steamed broccoli and a glass of milk, my body must've remembered that I actually DO know how to eat well, and stopped fighting back.

If nothing else, I'm sure the windows in our apartment appreciated that.

So, now, I'm (hopefully) back on a normal diet, and everything's right in the world. However, if you're ever tempted to think that I eat well all the time, just remember the abuse I put my body through during that 48 hour span this weekend.

You'll probably never look at my dietary habits the same way again. I know I sure won't.

8-)

(jim@wmqt.com)

Friday, December 6, 2019

Friday, 12/6


T minus 18 days until Christmas Eve, and I’m proud to say I haven’t even devoted one second of thought to buying gifts for the holidays.

Well, okay, maybe “proud” isn’t the right word. Maybe “embarrassed” or “mortified” or “not totally surprised” would fit in that sentence a little better. But here we are 18 days out, and I haven’t done a thing yet.

I really need to get my butt in gear, don’t I?

As usual, I have an excuse, and as usual, the excuse is the same excuse that I always use--I just haven’t had the time yet. I mean, between my real job and my TV job (where I have to be in a few minutes, in fact) and my History Center job and my feeble attempt to have a personal life, there just hasn’t been much leftover brainpower to think about things. Heck, my birthday was Wednesday, and it wasn’t until, I think, Monday that I even wrote down a few gift suggestions, even though people had been bugging me about it for weeks.

My fault, and my fault entirely.

However, I’ve promised myself that this is the weekend that I will get my butt in gear and start devoting thought to this year’s gift list. There are a couple of events this weekend that are designed to put people in the holiday spirit—the Greek Orthodox Church Bake Sale and the Peter White Public Library’s Winter Wonderland Open House & Cookie Fest, just to name a few. So while I’m eating waaaaaaay too much food for the third time in nine days I’ll also start to think about what to give friends and family for the holidays.

After all, there are 18 days left. That’s, like, an eternity, right?

8-)

On that note, YOU have yourself a great weekend. If you have any holiday chores to take care of, I hope you get them done quickly and without hassle!!



Thursday, December 5, 2019

Thursday, 12/5


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

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

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

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

Cars like yours.

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

I really do.
******
By the way, thanks for all the birthday wishes yesterday. As I mentioned you really didn't need to; my mom's the one who deserves all the credit. I had a nice day working, believe it or not, all three of my jobs. I did TV in the morning, radio in the afternoon, and wrote a History Center newspaper article at night. I don't know if a normal person would spend their birthday that way, but as we all know, I've never been accused of being normal.

Ever.

But thanks nonetheless!



Wednesday, December 4, 2019

Wednesday, 12/4


I don’t mind birthdays. It’s the part about getting older that I don’t like.

Some of you may know that it’s my birthday today, and I guess I’m okay with that. I don’t expect people to make a big deal out of it; it’s nothing more than the anniversary of me finally relieving my mother of the burden of carrying me around for ten months. If anything, she’s the one who deserves the honors today, since I wasn’t born until a month after my due date, and this was the day she was finally relieved of that misery.

So thanks for the extra 30 days, Mom!!

But whenever you have a birthday you’re forced to confront the fact that you’re getting older, and if there’s one thing you might have learned by reading this ramblings over the past decade, it’s that members of the Koski family don’t like to confront the fact that there’s nothing you can do about getting older. It just happens, whether you want it to or not.

Who do we see about changing that, by the way?

As I’ve gotten older I’ve noticed, despite my best efforts, more and more signs popping up reminding me of that fact that I am indeed getting on in years. Of course, the latest had to pop up on Sunday, right as I was about to celebrate another birthday. I finished working out and was about to read the newspaper (yes, another one of those signs that I’m “old”) and I noticed that I couldn’t quite make out the print on the page, which I found odd, because I usually have no trouble making out the print. It was then I realized that I wasn’t wearing my glasses, which, as for most “old” people, are bifocals. I slipped them on, and then had no trouble reading the print.

Aside from the heavy sigh the incident provoked, a bit of curiosity bubbled to the surface, as well. Even without glasses, I’ve always been able to read things with no problem. In fact, when I read newspapers after running or when I read in bed every night it’s sans eyewear. Yet for some reason this Sunday, I could not read the print in the newspaper until I put my glasses on I don’t know if it’s because the print was smaller than usual or because the room was rather dark because of the storm or if (gasp) my eyes are just getting a little worse as time (gasp) marches on, but for the first time, I couldn’t focus on the type well enough to read what was on the page. It didn’t matter how close I got to the page, or how far away I held it, something just didn’t work out until I used my glasses.

Oh, woe is me.

Since then, I’ve read many things—including newspapers—without wearing my glasses, and I’ve been able to see them just fine. But that fact that I had this particular problem for the first time just a few days before turning another year “older” affected me in the way that all incidents related to aging affect me—with me not handling it like an ”adult” would.

So at least I’ve got that going for me!

Don’t worry; I’m sure that as these incidents keep popping up, I’ll (hopefully) get a better grip on them. After all, as I’m always told, these incidents DO pop up more and more as you age more and more, and, as I’ve found, there’s nothing you can (yet) do to stop that. So like I said, while I don’t mind birthdays, this whole getting “older” thing is just not my cup of tea.

Sigh...and make it a heavy one, if you’d like!


Tuesday, December 3, 2019

Tuesday, 12/3


Okay, I’ll admit it. I’m not a true Yooper.

Now I say this despite the fact that I was born and raised in the U.P., and I chose to come back and live here. But we all know it’s true; I’ve written enough in here about how I don’t like to hunt, camp, 4-wheel, or do any other of the stereotypical things that “Yoopers” do. And all the snow we’ve received the past six days has proven, once again, about how I apparently am not a true Yooper.

After all, I like plowed roads.

This all started Sunday, when I heard from an acquaintance in in Republic. When I asked her about the weather, she said it was snowing so hard she couldn’t see her barn, and that the road she lived on “hadn’t been plowed yet. They’ll probably get to it tomorrow night or so”. And that blew my mind in two ways--one was that is apparently takes three days to plow a road where she lives.

The other was that my friend, obviously a true Yooper, was okay with that.

Can you imagine (and maybe some of you can) being stuck inside your house for three (or more) days, unable to leave? You can’t get your car out to go to work or school, or to the store, or to anything. You’re just. . .there, and nowhere else. If there’s a major emergency, like your power goes out (which did happen to her for awhile after the first snow the day before Thanksgiving), or if you get sick, or if your wi-fi goes out, you run out of DVDs & chocolate, help can’t get to you. It’s you and whatever you have around, hunkered down for the duration. You’re not getting out, and nothing’s getting in.

Yikes!

This may be a sign of some personal weakness on my part, but I don’t think I could handle that. I think I’d go stir crazy if I didn’t have at least the possibility of leaving. I mean, if the weather was as bad as it obviously was around the vast majority of the U.P. this past weekend, I probably wouldn’t WANT to leave my home, but I’d at least want the option to get out. I’d at least want to know that, if I needed to, I could get out of my home and walk (or drive) somewhere. I’d at least want to know that, if need be, I could get my power turned back on, or that I could get emergency help, or I could get take-out delivered.

But to know that none of that’s possible, and to be okay with that fact? That obviously takes a much hardier constitution than I seem to have, so my admiration goes out to anyone who could handle a situation like that, including my friend in Republic and, I’m guessing, many of you. You’re obviously true Yoopers, and you should be proud of that fact.

I’m, obviously, not. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m gonna go look out the window and see if the plows have finally cleared off the sidewalk. After all, I don’t want to melt as I walk to work today, right?

(jim@wmqt.com), much more wimp than Yooper.

Monday, December 2, 2019

Monday, 12/2


Okay, I’ll be the first to admit it. I really need to stop looking through those catalogs piling up in my apartment.

Because of all the snow yesterday I was stuck inside and, for some bizarre reason, spent a little while leafing through a few more of those catalogs I was talking about last week.  And in one of them I cam across something that either delighted me to no end or blew my mind. I can’t quite figure out which yet, although I am working on figuring out which.

Now, those of you who know me really well know that one of my little, uhm, peculiarities is that I make up my own lyrics and own titles to existing songs, or just plain make up my own songs. I hear some tunes so often that I just start to sing my own versions for no particular reason, much to the eternal joy of Loraine, who says that’s the reason she married me.

Well, it’s either the reason she married me or the reason she constantly wants to slap some sense into me. One of the two. And I‘ll figure THAT out once I figure out my feeling about this catalog.

Anyway, the catalog belongs to Collector's Choice Music, a catalog and site where, in the past, I’ve purchased some hard-to-find music. This particular edition of the catalog has a holiday music section, and in that section I noticed a series of Christmas albums from American Beat music. And when I saw the titles of their versions of holiday classics, I knew that I had found out someone much more talented and warped than I.

Because, you see, from albums with titles like “Christmas at the Trailer Park, Y’all” and “If Toothpaste Tasted Like Christmas Dinner”, you get songs like this--

“Rudy the Redneck Reindeer”,

“Frosty The Beer Mug”,

“We’re Having Roadkill For Christmas Dinner”,

“We Wish You A Merry Mullet”

“All I Want For Christmas Is A New Tattoo”

And, perhaps, my personal favorite,

“My Christmas Turkey Was Beef Jerky”.

Wow. After reading some of those song titles, I just don’t know what to say. I feel like, all of a sudden, the bar on absurdity has been raised so high that I have to reconsider my place in the universe. I mean, I probably couldn’t come up with song titles like that. Or, if I could, I probably couldn’t put them in a blog that, on occasion, actually aspires to good taste.

Artists of American Beat music, I stand humbled before you. And I’m sure Loraine does, too. Either that, or she’s really happy she’s not married to YOU.

One of the two.


Friday, November 29, 2019

Friday, 11/29


So...looking forward to more turkey?

I know most of you may be thinking to yourself, “Turkey? TURKEY? I hope I never see one of those perpetual leftover machines AGAIN”. But not me. For some reason, cold, leftover turkey is one of my favorite foods of all time. It’s low in fat and high in protein, and for some reason, I think the taste of cold turkey on whole wheat bread (with just a touch of Dijon mustard) is one of the best things on the face of the Earth.

But like I said, I know that YOU may not feel the same way about leftover turkey, especially in the next few days, when you may have been dealing with said leftovers for most of the weekend. So, in light of that, and knowing that you may soon be running out of ideas on what to do with the eight pounds of it still sitting in your fridge, here’s a list I came up with a couple of years ago, a list of everything you may not have tried yet with your leftovers (or, at least, everything I could think of a span of about 15 seconds). Here we go--

Turkey chili

Turkey tacos

Turkey pot pies

Turkey pasties

Turkey casserole

Turkey croquets

Turkey canapés

Turkey jerky

Turkey latte

Turkey nog

Turkey & cranberry smoothies

Turkey bread

Turkey granola

German turkey cake

Turkey and dark chocolate cookies

Turkey & sweet potato jam

Home-made turkey Pop Tarts

And. . .

Frozen turkey doorstops.

There. Now don’t say I never do anything for you.



Wednesday, November 27, 2019

Wednesday, 11/27


Am I missing out on something by not eating stuffing?

We did our “Tuesday Topic” on the air yesterday and asked people about the food they most enjoy on Thanksgiving. And I have to admit I was a little surprised when the winner was stuffing. Not turkey, not pumpkin pie, my two favorites, but stuffing.

Really?

I think this proves a couple of things, one being that it's further evidence I'm not like other human beings. I've never liked stuffing, and I don't know that I ever will. I don't know why; I like many of the ingredients that go into stuffing. But I guess I've just never liked the overall end result, per se, of stuffing. I don't know if it's the flavor, the texture, or the fact that it's usually shoved up a turkey's butt to cook. For whatever reason, I personally don't like stuffing.

But I know I'm in the minority here. I know that every other single person with whom I traditionally share my Thanksgiving dinner adores the dish. And they're probably happy I don't like it. After all, it just means more for them. From the sounds of it, I'm guessing this would also get replayed in any other households where there are a bunch of stuffing lovers and one naysayer. The people who love the dish—the vast, vast majority of people—get a little more because there's one person who, for whatever rational or (ahem) irrational reason doesn't like it.

You know...like at any Thanksgiving dinner where I'm a guest. Unless, of course, someone figured out a way to make it with chocolate. Then maybe, just maybe, I might consider it.

Maybe.

8-)

On that note, I hope that you and everyone with whom you might celebrate has a great day tomorrow. I'll be back both on the air and here (with a great list from the past) Friday should you find yourself so insanely bored that you don't have anything else to do.

Happy Thanksgiving.  And I hope you survive the crap Mother Nature's throwing at us today.  As I type this, we (in Marquette) have three inches of slush that, I'm guessing, will soon freeze and be with us until March.  And that's nothing compared to what people away from Lake Superior are facing.

Yikes.  Stay safe!


Tuesday, November 26, 2019

Tuesday, 11/26


I wonder if I’ve stumbled onto something here?

I‘m doing kind of a jokey thing on “Pop Culture” this week, in which I’m talking about “TV Turkeys”--TV shows so bad they were canceled after a week or two on the air. I give the names of three shows (and their basic plot concepts), and the listener has to decide which one was an actual TV show. I started it off yesterday with these three--

-“Super Train”, which was “Love Boat” but set on a train with a swimming pool,

-“Monster Truck”, which was about a truck that turned into a werewolf, and

-“Meals on Wheels”, which was about crime-fighting chefs who drove around in a food truck.

Well, when I first asked the question, I had nine people call, and all nine of them said the actual TV show, the show that made it on the air, was “Monster Truck”, a show about a truck that turned into a werewolf. They were all wrong (the actual answer was “Super Train”), but it made me think that I was on to something.

Maybe I should copyright the concept of “Monster Truck”.

Actually, I probably couldn’t copyright the concept of “Monster Truck”; after all, it bears an amazing similarity to “The Transformers” (except for the whole werewolf part) and I’m sure there have been other series ideas with the same title. But if nine people thought it was a valid TV show, a TV show they might actually watch, then who am I to argue, right?

One of the callers, when informed that he had picked out the wrong show, wondered where I got an idea like “Monster Truck”, about a truck that turned into a werewolf. I joked it was a disease, but in all honesty, I have no idea where the concept came from. I had a minute to go before I asked the question on the air, and I just picked a couple of fake titles and concepts out of the air. I wanted to make them as absurd as possible, to give everyone a fighting chance, but apparently the concept of a truck that turns into a werewolf wasn’t absurd enough.

And if that doesn’t say something about the state of entertainment these days, I don’t know what does.

What will I come up with today? I have no idea, but I’m sure I’ll know by 4:35 pm. Listen if you wanna find out what it’ll be!



Monday, November 25, 2019

Monday, 11/25


It’s (almost) like being a kid again.

I finally got around to looking at a pre-Black Friday catalog Target had sent me, and was quite intrigued when I saw it contained a special insert devoted solely to toys. Now I don’t know about you, but back when I was a kid (you know, back in the late 1800s), the one way I knew Christmas was coming was with the annual arrival of the holiday J.C. Penney and Sears catalogs. You may remember them--paper behemoths full of everything under the sun, from those boring items like clothes, appliances, and tools to the 50 or 60 pages of the stuff that really counted--

The toys.

As a kid, I would pour through those pages, trying to decide what I should put on my Christmas list. I’d make a list of everything I wanted, and then tried to figure out which items I had the most realistic chance of getting. Those would make the final cut of the list, along with one or two flights of fancy I’d hope to get but knew I wouldn’t (those days, probably a battery-operated toy space station). These days, I ask for something easier to attain, like world peace). After submitting my list to Santa, I’d keep going through the books, wondering which of the toys I’d get and wondering if, perhaps, I should’ve asked for the walking moonwalker (complete with batteries) instead of the 3-foot high model of the Saturn Five.

(And in case you’ve haven't noticed...yes, I WAS just a little space-obsessed as a kid).

Anyway, I thought about all that as I looked through the Target toy flier. I sure that if I was a kid today, I’d do the same thing as I did way back when, only instead of obsessing over space junk, I’d probably be obsessing over the video games, Transformer figures, or digital cameras (specially made for 7-year old hands) that I saw in the modern-day catalog. I also have to admit to a small bit of surprise when I saw a few things in Target catalog that I saw in the long-ago Penneys or Sears book. I’m glad to see that kids still play with Hot Wheels and Easy-Bake ovens; I wasn’t even surprised that the Easy-Bake now looks like a microwave instead of a regular oven.

After all, kids can be picky consumers, right?

I have no idea, but do they even have those big honking’ store catalogs any more? I would be highly surprised if they did; after all, why pay for paper, printing, and shipping when you have the Internet, right? I am, however, guessing that kids engage in the same kind of activity that I engaged in way back when, only now, they’re drooling over their computer screens instead of a 42-pound catalog.

Time, I guess, marches on!



Friday, November 22, 2019

Friday, 11/22


Don’t ask me why and don’t ask me how, but I’ve had another one of those dreams. It's not a dream like I was describing last week where I go back to college and then blow off my classes. This was a different kind of dream. And because of it, I had an epiphany. It’s not--by any means--an important epiphany, but it’s something someone with a strange mind would find interesting.

Which, basically, means that I (and, perhaps, I alone) find it interesting.

Here’s what I’m talking about. I had this dream where I was trying to re-master Fleetwood Mac’s “Tusk” album. No, I don’t know why; I just was. And two things were causing me difficulty in the dream--I was trying to re-master it on a vinyl album (not digitally, or even on tape) and kept screwing it up. And the song on which I kept screwing up was “Go Your Own Way”, which wasn’t even ON “Tusk” but was on “Rumours”, instead.

Then I woke up.

Now, I know it was probably just a standard performance-anxiety dream, a dream like my ongoing college class saga and the kind of dream that we all have (except, perhaps, for the whole re-mastering Fleetwood Mac part). It was probably even the kind of dream that I would’ve forgotten, except for the fact that I wanted to listen to music the next morning while working out and decided, because “Go Your Own Way’ was stuck in my head, to listen to “Rumours”.

And THAT’S when I had my epiphany.

If you want to be really technical, that dream led me to two epiphanies. The first was that, even after 42 years, “Rumours” is a GREAT album. It still holds up, both in its sound and in its lyrical content. It sounds like it could’ve been recorded just a few days ago and you would not have been able to tell. I guess there was a reason why, for a year back in the 70s (before “Saturday Night Fever”), it was the best selling album of all time.

Here’s the second epiphany, the one that really made my brain pop. Like I said, “Rumours” is 42 years old. People still listen to it, it still gets played on the radio, and the group (minus Lindsey Buckingham) still tours around the world, playing songs from it. That’s 42 years after it came out.

Now let’s go back to 1977, the year “Rumours” it was released. People in 1977 weren’t listening to music that was then 42 years old. Radio stations weren’t playing songs that had been recorded 42 years before that, and artists that had been around for 42 years weren’t touring in front of huge crowds. That’s because 42 years before 1977 would’ve made it 1935, when people like Rudy Vallee and Al Jolson were still wowing 'em with show tunes they had honed over years of touring in vaudeville.

I can’t imagine anyone who was in their teens, or 20s, or their 30s in the 1970s listening to music that was then 42 years old. Yet even today, from people who are in their teens or 20s or 30s, I get requests to play songs from Fleetwood Mac, specifically songs from “Rumours”. I don’t know if it’s a testament to the album in particular, or just the fact that rock music has been around and popular for so long in general, but 42 years after it came out, “Rumours” still seems relevant.

Whereas in 1977, 42 years after its peak, vaudeville & show tune was NOT.

Like I said, this is probably a subject that no one finds interesting (with, like I said, the possible exception of me), but it’s something that popped into my head while working out yesterday morning. And it’s all because of a strange dream I had.

Our subconscious is a wonderful thing, isn’t it?

****

Keep your fingers crossed that a couple of fields stay snow-free at least through Sunday. Now that everything's (temporarily) clear Loraine & I are hoping to get another soccer session in before the snow returns. Wish us luck. And while you're at it, have a great (& fun-filled) weekend yourself!