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.

(jim@wmqt.com)

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!

(jim@wmqt.com)

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!

(jim@wmqt.com)

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!

(jim@wmqt.com)

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!

(jim@wmqt.com)

Thursday, 11/21

Today's a big day for both Loraine and for the co-writer of her first book, “Elwood's War”. Unfortunately, it's not quite “big” in the same exact way.

First of all, the co-author. Elwood Norr, the subject of “Elwood's War”, died 75 years ago today when the B-17 in which he was a ball turret gunner was shot down over Weissenfels, Germany, while on a mission to bomb a chemical factory in nearby Merseberg. He left behind a grieving family, a bunch of friends, and a treasure trove of letters, which became the basis of a big chunk of the book (and is the reason he's credited with “co-author” status). So while it's not the kind of big day that one would usually celebrate, it does need to be noted.

Every wonder how Loraine discovered Elwood and, by extension, the book that came out of it? Well, a couple of decades after Elwood died on a November 21^st, a young lady was introduced to the world on that same date in a Saginaw hospital. That's right; it's Loraine's birthday today, and one of the (many) reasons she gravitated toward Elwood, among all the men & women she's researching, is because November 21^st is a big day for both of them.

Not, as I said, a big day in the same way, but a big day for both of them nonetheless.

I often wonder what Elwood Norr would make of the impact he had on the life of someone who would have been the same age as a granddaughter.  I'm guessing he would be just as amazed as we are about the book that came out of his letters, and how that book led to us visiting the city over which he was shot down, where we were greeted with open arms, several press conferences (in German and English), and how it's all led to Loraine being perhaps the most famous American ever to visit the city.

In fact, there have been several times during our several trips over there that Loraine has said, only slightly under her breath, “Elwood, what have you gotten me into now”?

So even though they never met and even though they were born decades apart, today's a big day for two people of whom I myself have grown quite fond, this dude--

And the amazing woman who's made sure that people know who that dude was--

So thanks for your service and your sacrifice on this day, Elwood. And happy birthday to his co-author, the most amazing woman in the world and, as we've discovered, apparently the most famous American ever to visit Weissenfels, Germany.  Hope you enjoy your brownies!!

Love,

(jim@wmqt.com)

Wednesday, 11/20

And here, I thought the internet was supposed to make us smarter.

A couple of days ago Loraine and I were listening to a couple of songs by The Carpenters (don't ask). As is our wont, we became curious as to who was playing on the tracks, and because the internet DOES have a lot of useless information on it, we were able to look up and see whether or not legendary drummer Hal Blaine was playing on both “Ticket To Ride” and “It's Gonna Take Some Time”. (Spoiler alert—he does on both. Not that anyone other than us cares). Anyway, when I went to Google to type in “Carpenters 'Ticket To Ride'”, you know what the first suggestion was that Google offered, meaning Google had been asked this question more than any other about the song?

“Who wrote The Carpenters 'Ticket To Ride'”?

We were both kind of flabbergasted for a second. Who wrote “Ticket To Ride”? Isn't that kind of having to ask “Who wrote 'Romeo & Juliet'?” I mean, I know that many (or most) people aren't as conversant about pop songs as the two of us are, and I know that some people may have questions about things, but who wrote “Ticket To Ride”?

Really?

I mean, I can understand asking who wrote “Rainy Days & Mondays”. I can understand asking who wrote “Close to You”. I can really understand asking who wrote “It's Gonna Take Some Time” (Carole King, if you're curious). But to ask who wrote “Ticket To Ride”? And have it be the first thing that pops up on Google when seeking information on the song?

Some days, I really worry about the future of humanity.

I mean, I shouldn't be a snob about this; really, I shouldn't. But the original “Ticket To Ride” was a Beatles' classic—a number one song, in fact—and I would've thought that a great chunk of humanity would at least know who originally did it. And that's backed up by observation—this year on “High School Bowl” I've had chats with three different students who are fans of the Beatles. And if even teenagers these days know about the group and their music, then why, oh why, was that question the first thing Google popped up about the Carpenters' version of the song?

Oh, the humanity.

I know; I'm getting worked up over nothing. Like I said, not everyone knows all the useless crap that resides in my brain. Not everyone, apparently, knows everything there is to know about The Beatles. And, to look at it another way, at least people ARE interested in who wrote the song, which if nothing else may show the enduring power of it and the the writers behind it. But to have it be the first suggestion that pops up when you Google it?

We live in a weird world, I guess. I'm just on one end, the rest of humanity is (apparently) on the other.

8-)

(jim@wmqt.com)

(Here. To cleanse my brain and yours....

Tuesday, 11/19

I may have found the second greatest opening paragraph in news writing history.

Nothing catches my eye like a good opening line or a great opening paragraph, especially in a news story. Fiction, essay, and feature writers get to do it all the time, but in the world of news writing, which tends to be dry and factual, you don't get to see it often. It's only when a bizarre set of circumstances come together that you get to string together words like what I'm about to share, something I saw 13 years ago, and something I still consider to be the greatest opening line in a news story ever--

“A jazz musician was injured Friday after jumping from a burning motor home driven by a one-time roller skating stripper’.

I mean, it has everything you need—it's factual, it tells a story, and it's so absurd that it can't have happened. Yet, it did. In the 13 years since I've seen it I've thought of it often, especially when trying to come up with opening lines for these things. I never thought I'd come across another quite as bizarre, until I saw this NPR headline over the weekend--

“Three Indiana judges have been suspended after a failed attempt to visit a strip club led to a drunken brawl outside an Indianapolis White Castle that ended with two of the judges being shot.”

I mean, I know Indiana can be a strange place, but THAT strange? Why did the judges—in this case, two male and one female—want to go to a strip club? Was there a reason they couldn't get it? Why did they end up drunk at a White Castle? And why did two of them get shot there?

I mean, that one line is filled with sooooo many questions that you HAVE to read the story, right?

Right?

I can just imagine the reaction of the reporter assigned to the story, thinking it was just another hum-drum piece that said reporter could probably do in their sleep. Luckily for them, it wasn’t. And luckily for us, that person had the wisdom, the foresight, and the, well, uncommon mind to put all the details of the story together in such a way that makes the rest of us riveted with just 33 words.

I hope—nay , I aspire—to write something that good some day. I know I'll probably never get the chance, but a boy can dream, can't he?

8-)

Tomorrow, more proof that the internet is NOT making people smarter. Not you, of course, but some people who ask Google strange questions. Details then.

(jim@wmqt.com)

Monday, 11/18

This was the weekend I started to try and answer a question posed to me by Loraine every year at this time--

“What are you gonna make for Christmas cookies this year?”

When she asked I had to shake my head in wonder. Wasn't it just, like, a month or so ago I actually baked all those cookies?

8-)

Christmas cookies are always a big deal, if only because I do them twice. For more years than I want to remember, I’ve always gone over to my parents to make the traditional Koski family cookies. Even when I didn’t live in Marquette, I always made sure I got home (if only for a day) to stick them in the oven. Over the years the tradition spread to the next generation, as was helped in the task by my nieces Mallory and Sydney. But now that they're all grown and moved away, I'm back on my own. And it's too bad, too, as one of their jobs was to make sure their grandfather didn't eat them all before Christmas.

Some years, that was a full-time job.

The second group of cookies I make is at my place. These are the cookies that the question that opened this blog addressed; the 6 or 7 different kinds I bake every year, some of which we eat, and many of which we share with family, friends, and neighbors. Like with my parents, there are some “traditional” cookies I always make--The Grandma Cookie, the Yooper Cookie, and those incredibly yummy cherry-chocolate blossoms I’ve come to know and love--but I always also like to try several different cookies. . .ones I’ve never tried before. One will invariably have chocolate, another nutmeg. Maybe one’ll have fruit or mint, and the other will have some kind of exotic flavoring that I have to spend several weeks trying to track down. And THAT’S why Loraine always reminds me about Christmas cookies in the middle of November--so I’ll have enough time to figure out what I’m making, and then track down everything I’ll need to actually make them.

Well, guess I should go dive deeply into some of those cookie books I have lying around, and see what I can come up with for this year. Wish me luck!

(jim@wmqt.com)

Friday, 11/15

Happy Opening Day.  Or, if you’re non-denominational in this regard, Happy Friday. Whichever works best for you.

Occasionally, I write in here about bizarre dreams I’ve had. I’m sure these things open a window into my (very unusual) psyche and give you an idea of what it’s like being me. Well, I’ve had pretty much the same dream a couple of times over the past few weeks, and I have no idea what it means.

Aside, perhaps, from the fact that I have a very unusual psyche.

Here’s the dream in a nutshell. I have, for some reason, gone back to college, usually in a city different than Marquette. I’m not really sure why I’ve gone back to college, but I have, and in doing so I’ve taken a full load of classes. The only problem is that I, in my dream, only end up going to one or two of the classes. The other classes I just blow off, even though I know (in my dream) that I’m paying good money for them and that I’ve moved away for the chance to take them. I also know (in my dream) that I’ve had a dream like this before and that my usual standard operating procedure is to blow off a class or two. So basically I’m dreaming about a dream that I know I’ve dreamt, a dream that didn’t make sense the first time I had it and still doesn’t make sense in any subsequent versions of it.

See? Unusual psyche.

I think there are two things at play in this dream, the first being the premise that I would move away to go to college and yet attend only half of my classes. That doesn’t make sense to me; after all, it’s certainly nothing I would ever do in real life. If I ever was gonna go back to college (and especially move away to do it) I’m sure I’d wanna get it done as quickly as possible and as well as possible. I mean, if you’re gonna go back to college, go back to college. Yet there must be something in my brain that made me dream this dream the first time. I have no idea if it’s standard performance anxiety material or if there’s some kind of deeper meaning to it, but I must’ve had the dream (the first time) for some particular reason.

I just don’t know what that reason was.

The second thing in play is the fact that I’ve had the dreams multiple times, and that in those repeat airings I know I’m dreaming, I know I’ve had this dream before, and I know my actions won’t have any real world consequences because, well, it’s just a dream. And I don’t get it. I know that as you get older your dreams become more literal, they become more grounded in reality and your everyday life, but I had no idea that you also become more self-aware about whether you’re dreaming or not. I don’t know if this is something everyone experiences or if I’m starting to mutate into something just a little different than the norm, but it seems weird to dream about having dreams, and to know that you’re dreaming.

I’m sure if I had a shrink she could tell me what all this means, and I am curious, but I don’t know if I’m curious enough to pay $200 an hour to find out the answer. All I know is that if I dream about going back to college and then not going to any of my classes again, there’s a part of my brain that will tell me my dream is just a dream. And that, in the end, it really doesn’t matter if I go to that class my dream wants me to skip.

On that note, have yourself a great weekend. I hope your dreams are all good ones!

(jim@wmqt.com)

Thursday, 11/14

I know I post this every year. In fact, I think I've posted this every year since I started writing these, which was almost 18 years ago, and I read it on the air every November 14^th for a few years before that. But if you post something every year on a certain day for 18 years, it kind of becomes a tradition, doesn't it? And since this is the time of the year for traditions, it wouldn't be very nice if we broke it, would it?

Would it?

8-)

Good luck to everyone heading out. Those of us who aren't heading out will try and keep the lights on for you!

(jim@wmqt.com)

“’Twas the Night Before Deer Camp”,

by Jimmy Koski, grade 3.

TWAS THE NIGHT BEFORE DEER SEASON

AND ALL THROUGH THE CAMP

HUNTERS WERE UNLOADED BEER CRATES

AND LIGHTING UP LAMPS

THE RIFLES THEY HUNG

IN THE PICKUP WITH CARE

IN HOPES THAT A 10-POINTER

SOON WOULD BE THERE

I IN MY ORANGE

MY BUDDY IN GREEN

SAT DOWN TO A CRIBBAGE GAME

THE BIGGEST EVER SEEN

WE PLAYED THROUGH THE NIGHT

AND EMPTIED THOSE CRATES

BUT MORNING SOON CAME

WE DIDN’T WANT TO BE LATE

WE SET OUT AT SUNRISE

AT DAWN’S EARLY LIGHT

PUT DOWN A BIG BAIT PILE

IN HOPES THAT BAMBI WOULD BITE

WE SAT AND WE WAITED

AND WAITED SOME MORE

I KEPT MY EYES OPEN

MY BUDDY STARTED TO SNORE

WHEN TO MY SURPRISE

STANDING RIGHT BY A TREE

WAS A BIG 12-POINT BUCK

MY PANTS I DID...WELL, NEVER MIND ABOUT THAT

I BROUGHT UP MY RIFLE

I LINED UP THE DEER

THEN MY BUDDY WOKE UP AND YELLED

“HEY--WHERE’S THE BEER?”

THE BUCK RAN AWAY

I LOWERED MY GUN

MY BUDDY JUST LAUGHED

SAID “LET’S HAVE SOME FUN”

WE WENT BACK TO DEER CAMP

AND HAD US A BALL

SO LET ME SAY THIS--

GOOD LUCK DEER HUNTING TO ALL...

(copyright 1999)

Wednesday, 11/13

I think the walking tours will be quite fun.

History Jim now knows what he'll be doing in 2020. Along with the big Kaufman show Jack and I are throwing together for January, my friends at the Marquette Regional History Center have given me the usual batch of tours & programs for the upcoming year.

Now, I'll just have to see if I can snarl traffic again like I did this summer.

8-)

I'm doing two all-new walking tours next year, one I've been thinking about for a couple of years and then one that came to me while in the middle of the “...And Put Up A Parking Lot” last year. The first will be a stroll up & down Third Street in Marquette, talking about the way the street's changed in the past 100 years. I'm actually subtitling it “Day and Night”, because on the way up (down?) the street I'll talk about the people who lived there and the businesses they ran. Then on the way back down (or up?) I'll mention the bars that used to populate the street. Hopefully, the walk won't be too long and hopefully, the sidewalk will hold everyone who shows up for these things.

Hopefully.

As I said, the other was an idea I had while doing research for “Parking Lot” and then decided to do it for sure while actually giving the tour and talking about a place called The Coffee Cup. It's called “The Greasier the Spoon”, and it'll be a downtown walking tour talking about some of Marquette's legendary greasy spoons, diners, restaurants, and the like. Believe it or not, people have some amazingly fond memories of places that were around in the 50s, 60s, and 70s, and with any luck I'll be able to capitalize on that.

We'll see.

Aside from the shows and the tours I'll be hosting the Center's annual trivia contest in April, and—for some masochistically bizarre reason—I also volunteered to write half a dozen newspaper articles, as well. So seeing as how I'm apparently a glutton for punishment, I now know what 2020 has in store for History Jim!

****

Speaking of newspaper articles, you may recall how last week I mentioned I was having trouble  choosing between three topics for one coming up in December. Well, I've finally decided, which means you could be spending a little time during the holiday season reading all about how a church burned down, and how it became the biggest spectator event of the year in Marquette.

That's in a few weeks, one of just many things that'll get pumped out in the next 13 months!

(jim@wmqt.com)

Tuesday, 11/12

Sometimes I hafta chuckle and wonder if it's gone just a little too far.

You know how many foods now advertise themselves as “Gluten Free”? In some ways, it's a good thing. It allows people with Celiac disease—people who can't digest gluten, the protein found in wheat—to avoid the foods that cause them problems. That's a good thing. But only one percent of America's population has Celiac disease. For the other 99 percent of us, it doesn't matter if our food has gluten or not. But don't tell that to people who've been convinced that they shouldn't eat it.

And that's why you see so many things advertised as “Gluten Free”.

This all came to the fore when I discovered I was almost out of ibuprofen this past weekend. Since we were going to Meijer anyway, I picked up a bottle. When I opened it, I saw this--

That's right. My pain reliever is gluten free. Good to know.

Now, the only reason I'm ranting about this is that because there's no logic to it. I can understand why food is labeled as “gluten free”, at least for the one percent of people who can't physically handle gluten. I'm all for that. But I kinda hafta wonder if the mania over things being labeled “gluten free” has maybe, just maybe, gone a little overboard. Gluten comes from wheat. When you see something like medicine, which doesn't come from wheat, or a bottle of water, which last time I checked also doesn't come from wheat, being labeled gluten free, you kinda hafta wonder when the medical people stopped labeling things and the marketing people took over.

Really, you do.

It's funny; you can actually walk through a grocery store these days and laugh at everything labeled “gluten free”. I saw a box of tea labeled “gluten free”. I saw a bag of rice labeled “gluten free”. And aside from the bottle of water, I even saw a bag of salmon labeled “gluten free”. It makes no logical sense; if you know what gluten is, it's obvious none of those contain any sort of gluten. But because people have been told gluten is “bad”, without even knowing what it is, they'll make sure they buy products that don't contain it.

Even if those products, like bottled water, salmon, or my ibuprofen, wouldn't have a shred of gluten in it anyway. And more often than not? Those products cost just a little more than the exact same items NOT labeled “gluten free”.

Like I said, I'm not anti-gluten free. If you wanna buy gluten-free products, go ahead. Have at it. But just be aware that gluten comes from wheat. If a product didn't have wheat it in to begin with, it was naturally gluten free to start with. Just because it's labeled “gluten-free” doesn't mean it's anything special. It just means it doesn't have wheat in it. And if you're paying more for it just because it's “Gluten Free”, well...

That's all I'm gonna say about that.

(jim@wmqt.com), once again tilting at illogical windmills.

Monday, 11/11

This was a strange weekend. Loraine and I couldn't play soccer.

I think I've written in here before about how she & I head out each weekend with a couple of balls and kick 'em around. We're not really that good, but we're noticing that practice has made us a little better. We started last summer, and then picked up again in May after all the snow had melted. We've then done it every weekend since, including in the sun this past Sunday, until this weekend.

Darn you, snow!!

It's funny; over the years, people will always say to us “I saw you guys out walking”. But this past year, we've actually had people start to say to us “I saw you guys out playing soccer”. And since we do it at either Lower Harbor Park (at least when there's no goose poop there) or NMU's Wright Street Fields (where there's a net set up) I guess I can understand why. In fact, one of the nicest things someone said about us recently came out of someone seeing us at Lower Harbor Park.

Loraine and I, at the end of a sweaty summer session of practice, were playing keep-away. One of us would get the ball, and the other would try not to let the other have it. Loraine's a lot better at it than am I, and by the end of this session we just kind of dissolved into giggles over the whole thing.

Flash forward to the next day, when I get a call at work from a lady who saw us giggling in the middle of Lower Harbor Park. She just wanted to let me know that it was, and I quote, “one of the sweetest things I've seen in quite a long while”. She thought it was neat that we still “play” together and have so much fun when we do it. It almost, she joked, restored her faith in humanity.

And all we were doing was ineptly playing soccer. Who knew?

It now looks as if we're in our off-season; four or five months of not having a grassy field on which to play. It's a bummer, too, for a couple of reasons. One is I've really started to like playing. While I'm not anywhere near the natural athlete that Loraine is, I do seem to have one skill that translates well to the sport—I'm ambi, uhm, footerous. I can kick equally well with my right and left legs, which apparently is a prized skill in the sport. Aside from that, playing soccer really burns off the calories, and that's allowed us to indulge in a few things (okay, a lot) of ooey-gooey goodies that perhaps would not indulge in otherwise.

And that's sad.

So now, unless we can find someplace indoors that would work, it looks like we're off until April or May, and it'll be a bummer. I've really grown to enjoy our little “practice” sessions, and our weekends just won't be the same.

8-(

(jim@wmqt.com)

Friday, 11/8

It's been two days. And I think I'm still cold.

I'm not talking about yesterday's blizzard. I'm not talking about the wicked wind still whipping off the lake. Let's flash back to Wednesday morning, after I figured out my clock had jumped 25 years into the future. I was fully awake way earlier than usual, so I decided to do something I do almost every Wednesday morning. I went running

Now, it was rather chilly Wednesday morning, and if I'm not mistaken it was the first time I’ve gone running in temperatures at or below freezing since the last time temperatures were at or below freezing—mid April, if I remember correctly. I didn’t think my body was quite ready for the shock, and I spent the entire day after running, shivering and wondering if there’s a way I can turn up the heat in the station without anyone noticing.

That’s how cold I was even before the snow!

Of course, part of the problem is self-inflicted. I went out to run wearing shorts Wednesday morning, and although the sting of frigid air hitting bare legs was, uhm, bracing at first, I thought they (my legs) would warm up as my body temperature itself warmed from the exercise. Shows what I know; my legs became frozen even as my core, draped in two shirts and a jacket, started to sweat.

Those of you who know me know that I often joke that as long as it’s above freezing it’s warm enough to wear shorts, and that’s especially true when you’re running in temperatures above freezing. But following my experience Wednesday morning, I’m guessing there has to be a DRASTIC drop off in comfort from running in shorts when it’s, say, 35 degrees, as opposed to running in shorts when it was 30 degrees, like it was Wednesday here in Marquette. I normally don’t notice the cold on my legs when it’s 35, but when it was 30 that was a whole ‘nother story. Maybe it was because my legs aren’t used to the cold yet; heck, when I go running in February and it’s 30 degrees I’ve often just run in shorts and a t-shirt. But Wednesday, when it was 30 degrees?

I probably couldn’t have been wearing enough layers of clothing, especially on my legs,

to stay warm.

Hopefully, my body will adapt to its new, colder, surroundings soon. I mean, I probably won’t be going out running in shorts any time in the near future, but it would still be nice if my body acclimates to the cold (and the dark, and the frigid wind) quickly. Either that, or the next time you come into the station you’ll see my sitting in the studio with 14 sweaters on, complaining that the campfire I’ve built in the corner isn’t big enough.

Ah, winter. You gotta (sarcasm alert) love it. Stay warm this weekend. Let's hope the rain actually melts some of this %^&*($%*$ snow!!

(jim@wmqt.com), lover of warmth.

Thursday, 11/7

I know on what date we'll “fall back” in 2044.

Why do I have that esoteric piece of knowledge, you ask? Well, I answer, it has to do with the time change this past weekend. Loraine and I both have these high-tech alarm clocks, ones that use radio signals to keep up to the second and ones that use high tech processors to know when Daylight Savings Time begins and ends. It wouldn't surprise me, in fact, to know our clocks have more computer power than what was used to send humans to the moon.

But that's neither here nor there.

Sunday morning when we woke up Loraine's clock had changed automatically, but mine hadn't. Mine was living in it's own temporal dimension, thinking it was an hour ahead of we mere mortals. I had no idea why; everything looked like it should have changed automatically, but it did. I had to change the time by hand, itself a rather technical feat considering how advanced the clocks are. But after that the time was correct, and I totally forgot about it.

Flash forward to yesterday morning. Loraine's alarm went off as it usually does at 7am, and I, like I usually do, rolled over to go back to sleep. Only out of the corner of my eye I noticed that my clock said it was 6 am. I was kind of puzzled about that; Loraine didn't say anything about waking up early, and I don't think she'd roll out of bed at 6 am just for giggles. That's about the time I noticed that the light indicating my clock was on Daylight Savings Time was off.

That's right. Instead of changing Sunday morning it changed yesterday morning, for no particular reason.

Of course, once I noticed that I couldn't get back to sleep, and so having an extra hour added to my day I decided to figure out what the heck was going on. I checked my clock through and through. It was on the correct date, it was set up to change between Daylight Savings Time and “Why The Heck Is It Dark So Early” time, and everything else appeared to be fine. Yet, it had changed time four days after it was supposed to, and my little pea brain couldn't figure out why.

That's when Loraine noticed that I was up & around earlier than usual. When I told her the reason, she was as stumped as I. So I just sat around, trying to wake up. A few minutes later, she came into our living room and asked a simple question--

“Do you think the clocks have a year setting”?

I have to admit, I couldn't answer the question. I had never seen one, and the (pitifully lame) book that came with the clocks never mentioned one. But that got me to thinking, which as we all know can be a dangerous thing, and I headed back into the bedroom to see if it did. After almost 10 minutes of pushing buttons, and a lot of fumbling around just hoping something would happen, I came across a screen that said “44”. I pulled out my phone, and checked a calendar for 2044. November 6^th, 2044, is the first Sunday of November, the Sunday on which we always fall back.  Yesterday, when my clock switched times, was November 6th, 2019.

My alarm clock, in an attempt to live in its own temporal dimension, wasn't just an hour off. It was 25 years and an hour off.

I have no idea how it got that way. It's switched the time the weekend it's supposed to for several years now without a problem. Why it just started to think it's 2044 instead of 2019 is beyond my pay grade. Maybe a power outage fried its brain. Maybe the little plastic cow I have sitting next to it managed to change it somehow. Maybe the clock, of its own volition, jumped ahead into the future to see if the Lions still suck. I don't the how; I just know that it did.

I reset the “44” to “19” and, with any luck, things will now be working okay. However, if come March and the time doesn't change back to Daylight Savings Time, I'll know where to look. And I'll also probably be able to learn on which March date the time will change in 2045.

******

Tomorrow, the story of what happened AFTER I fixed the clock.

(jim@wmqt.com)

Wednesday, 11/6

Which one should I write about next?

When I was voting yesterday morning I ran into several fans of History Jim, and one of them brought up the articles I've been writing for the Mining Journal. This person wondered if I have another one coming up (spoiler alert--I do), and then asked what the topic would be. I had to give them the honest answer--

I don't know yet.

My next article is scheduled for the end of December, so I do have a little time. And while I have three that I'm considering, I really don't know which I should do next. So I tell you what—I'll present them to you, and if you wanna weigh in on which you'd be interested in reading, I'll take it under advisement.

The first? The story of this church--

That's the old First Baptist Church in Marquette, a glorious sandstone structure that used to sit in what is now the Landmark Inn's parking lot.

Then there's this field--

Know what and where it was? It's what used to be called Longyear Field, and sits across Lakeshore Boulevard from the Maritime Museum. At one time it was the front yard of the Longyear Mansion, and before they built houses on it it was a place where everyone from marching bands to the Graveraet High School football team would use for practice.

And finally, I do wanna write about this place some time--

You know what that place is, right? You don't? It's Marquette's oldest existing continuously operating bar. It's been going since the 1880s, with just one stop for Prohibition (and even then...well, that's part of the story). Still not sure?

Take a look again--

Now do you recognize it? If you don't, here's a hint.

It's Remie's.

8-)

I've been leaning toward doing a story on the First Baptist Church, as the anniversary of its burning down is just a few weeks after the story will be published. However, I do realize that there are other stories that should be told, so if you wanna weigh in on the matter I will certainly take your opinions to heart. Just let me know.

And thanks!

(jim@wmqt.com)

Tuesday, 11/5

I kinda wish I was in Germany this week.

To be a little more specific, I kinda wish I was in two of my favorite places in Germany this week, Leipzig and Berlin. Why, you ask? Well, I answer, because Saturday is the 30^th anniversary of the fall of the Berlin Wall, which means that protests that started earlier that year in this Leipzig church courtyard--

Eventually led to this--

If you were following along with the blogs I wrote while in Leipzig earlier this year you may recall the fascination I seem to have developed with both of the fall of the Wall and how the protests that led to it started in another city 150 miles away. Not only is it an amazing piece of recent history, but it's also a story of authoritarian tyrants and their desperate attempts to cling to power through lies, deceit, & force, and how the sheer human need to be free brought them down.

It's a story that's as vital and important today as it was back then.

Berlin, especially, is going whole hog on the celebration, with history walks & lectures, and an amazing light show throughout the city where they light up the sides of building with projections of scenes of those fateful few days. I would love to just wander around and soak it all in. Leipzig actually had their big annual “Light Fest” a few weeks ago, where city residents gather in the plaza where 400,000 of them protested a few days before the Wall fell for a candlelight commemoration of those heady days--

(That's obviously not my picture, by the way, but I sure wish I could've been there to take it).

I think this is just a coincidence, too, but the soccer teams of those two cities—RB Leipzig and Hertha Berlin—meet at Berlin's Olympic Stadium Saturday afternoon. I don't know if that's something the Bundesliga actually considered or it they just got lucky on, but it would be another great reason to be over there this week.

If you're interested in any of this history, there are a couple of phone apps I might recommend. “Leipzig 89” tells all about what happened in the city in the six months before the Wall came down (including the arrest of street musicians who defied a ban on actually playing music in the streets, believe it or not), while one called “Berlin Wall” talks about the building and history of the structure, how it came down, and the story of those who died trying to escape the fascist regime ruling over them.

They're both available from Apple and Google; like I said, I highly recommend them, especially this week...a week that would be great for anyone either of those really cool places.

Okay...that's enough German history for today. Tomorrow, a tale from local history!

(jim@wmqt.com)

Monday, 11/4

Remind me never to eat Surströmming.

As I’ve traveled to Europe, and as I’ve come to realize (thanks to my DNA test) that I am a true American “mutt”, born of many different nationalities, I’ve spent a lot of time exploring the history, culture, and lifestyles of other countries, especially countries from which one of my ancestors came. I’ve done so with the help of a great series of books called “Culture Shock”, which are a great guide to cities and countries around the world. While the books are designed mostly for people who are thinking of moving to another country, they’re also a great resource for those of us just curious about where our roots lie.

I’m currently reading the “Culture Shock” edition on Sweden. I’m around 10 percent Swedish; my dad’s grandmother (which would make her my great-grandmother, right?) was born in Sweden, and came to the U.S. as a young girl where she married an Irish guy who was actually born in Canada. She died many years before I was born, and all of her kids (especially my grandmother) were American kids through and through, so I never knew anything about Sweden other than what every other American knows about Sweden—namely, Abba. Oh, and the word “smorgasbord”.

But that was it.

But as Loraine was researching her book on Elwood Norr a decade or so ago, we spent a lot of time with Elwood’s sister Jeanne, whose grandparents also came from Sweden. Jeanne actually did know a little about the culture—in fact, she could speak a little Swedish—and was able to whet my appetite just enough that I knew I’d like to explore the country from which my great-grandmother came just a little more.

And so when I saw that “Culture Shock” had an edition on a country that gave me (around) one-eighth of my genetic makeup, I pounced.

Being a geography nerd, I actually know a bit about the country and its history and its economic system; however, the book is quite fascinating about the people who call Sweden home. Apparently, they’re not a lot like people from other Scandinavian countries; they’re much more reserved & thoughtful & orderly. In fact, the book has a joke that many Swedish residents themselves tell—two Danes, two Norwegians, two Finns, and two Swedes each land on different islands. By the end of the day, the Danes have set up a commune on their island, the Norwegians have gone fishing, the Finns have cut down all the trees, and the Swedes are still waiting to be introduced to each other.

Ah, Nordic humor. You gotta love it.

I also found the chapter on Swedish food interesting. For instance, did you know that there really is no such thing in Sweden as Swedish meatballs? And that while younger generations of Swedes prefer a much more worldly and sophisticated palette, some of the very old, traditional Swedish dishes are still hauled out for holidays and special occasions. Those, of course, include a lot of fish and root vegetables, including the aforementioned “Surströmming”, which is basically rotten herring that’s been allowed to ferment in its own juices.

Sounds appetizing, doesn’t it?

It’s a dish from the northern part of the country; the herring used to be allowed to ferment because salt was rare and couldn’t be used to preserve a lot of food. It sounds like there were a lot of traditional Swedish dishes like that; Surströmming, however, is one that’s still eaten, if only by a small group of people in the country.

I think I’ll pass, though.

So if you’re ever curious about some of the countries from which your ancestors hailed, I highly recommend books in the “Culture Shock” series. They have volumes on 50 different countries (as well as over 20 large cities), so you’ll probably find handy information on most of your background. Next to actually going to your ancestral lands the books are a great way to see how some very distant cousins, aunts, and uncles still live their daily lives.

Especially if it involves eating dishes like Surströmming.

(jim@wmqt.com)

Friday, 11/1

There. I jump-started my old Halloween tradition--

I really do have the cutest nephews in the history of nephews, don't I? Abel (pictured here) & Calum stopped by the station yesterday in their Hobbit outfits, and I in return gave them waaaaaay too much chocolate, although Calum, who's eight months old, just kind of looked at the chocolate and then looked at me like I was strange or something.

Boy. Is he gonna be shocked as he gets older.

That's pretty much all I have to say today, as I have to skedaddle over to NMU to shoot another episode of “High School Bowl”. Speaking of the show, the 42^nd season premiere is coming up tomorrow night at 8 on Public TV 13, so if you're in the area and so deathly bored that watching it seems better than watching paint flake off of your living room wall, check it out. And speaking of tomorrow...

It's my favorite brother's birthday! Well, okay, he's my only brother, and I think because of that I'm contractually obligated to call him my “favorite”, but it is a big day. I know Marc really doesn't give a rip about turning a year older (like the rest of us), but seeing as how he's the dad of the cutest nephews in the history of nephews I hope he has a great day nonetheless.

Same for you guys, too. See you Monday!

(jim@wmqt.com)