Tuesday, 6/30

One of my favorite pictures is now 15 years old.

I don't remember why, but a decade and a half ago I had to run down to the station before I went out on one of my rambling Saturday morning runs. I do remember it was early, that it was warm, and that the sun was streaming down East Bluff Street between the First Presbyterian Church and the Longyear Building. In fact, it was because of the perfectly positioned sun that I saw something sitting on the sidewalk, something that caused me to run into the station, grab a small camera I had in my office, and take THIS picture--

I like the picture for a lot of reasons. I like it because of the way it's lit, I like it because I got lucky when I framed it, I like it because the sidewalk's been redone since I took it and the bricks are no longer there, and I like most of all because I think it perfectly captures what it's like being in downtown Marquette early on a weekend morning following a late weekend evening of revelry.

Besides, it's a lot prettier that the piles of vomit that you occasionally see.

I'm guessing the glass comes from the Elks Club, because I took the picture right outside the bar. But this being downtown Marquette (or, at least, the downtown Marquette of 2005); the glass could've come from anywhere. There are plenty of drinking establishments within a three block area of where I took the picture. It wouldn't surprise me if someone just happened to (ahem) accidentally walk off with a drink they hadn't finished when last call rolled around.

You just never know.

As many of you know, I'm not an early riser. I'm not the kind of person who's up and ready to go the same time as the sun. But there are a few times in my life I've been glad to be awake early, and recently most of those times have come when I've captured a picture of something lit by the early sun. This is a perfect example of that.

The fact that it also captures the essence of downtown Marquette after a rowdy Friday night is just a bonus.

(jim@wmqt.com)

Monday, 6/29

How many dead people do you have on your phone?

I needed to make a call to a restaurant for a little take out Saturday, and as I was scrolling through the contacts list on my phone I started to notice a few names of people no longer with us. While I was eating said takeout I did a full check, and I can now say, with some sadness, that I have six dead people on my phone.

Bummer.

Several were old friends Loraine met through her World War II research. Two were people I met through my History Center research. And one was someone who just died way too early. And, just to be fair, there may be another, a friend in France who was having some medical problems and from whom we haven't heard in a year.

But I'm going to be optimistic and say that I just have six dead people on my phone.

For a while I thought of deleting their info; after all, it's not like I can call them and chat or ask then a few questions. But I couldn't bring myself to do that. I have fond memories of all of these people. For a few, their contact info is literally all I have besides those fond memories. And while I know that deleting their contact info won't delete those memories, the info is an actual physical manifestation of their existence on earth.

Unlike, say, those memories.

What, though, will happen whenever I get a new phone and have enter all my contact info in? Will it be worth it to transfer the stuff from my deceased friends? Will it be strange? I mean, it's not anything I'll have to worry about soon; my current phone's only a couple of years old, but it is something to consider. After all, I may have one or two more on that list when the time comes.

I will, however, cross that bridge and, knowing me, devote quite a lot of thought to it whenever that time finally comes around.

(jim@wmqt.com)

Friday, 6/26

I wonder if I need to narrow my “brand” down a little more?

That thought came to me while I was walking on the beach during a half day yesterday, thinking about everything I have to do in the next few weeks—stuff on the radio, stuff on TV , stuff for the History Center, and even an article for the Mining Journal. That's a lot of stuff in a lot of different areas. And it got me to thinking about my “brand”.

A couple of months ago, before all the insanity started., Loraine and I were having lunch with my friend Deanna, who was telling us about a speaker she had just listened to. This speaker, world-renowned for his marketing savvy, said that everyone should have a “brand” that can be described in two to five words. That's it; just a short statement that tells who and what you are. As an example, Loraine has a perfect “brand”--”That World War Two Woman”--five words that describe perfectly who she is and what she does.

Me? Not so much. Unless, of course, you consider “World Class Dork” to be a good branding statement.

We've discussed in here many times about how there are several different “Jims”. There's Radio Jim, TV Jim, History Jim, and, if you wanna go out on a ledge, “Finish Line Jim”. And many people who know me as one kind of Jim don't even realize there are the other different “Jims”, as has been evidenced by people who've watched my History Center videos and have asked I work for the History Center or if I do something different for a living.

That, I think, is my problem as far as trying to figure out what my “brand” might be. I'm just involved in too many things. My brand could be “That Guy in the Radio” or “That High School Bowl Host” or “That Dorky History Dude”, all of which are accurate and all of which fit within the five word limit. But it can't be all of them. There's not one over-arching theme in which to fit my “brand”, unless we go back to an old (but sadly seemingly true) statement--

Maybe my “brand” should be this--”Jim Koski—Media Wh*re”.

(By the way, I don't remember who gave me that nickname a decade or so ago. All I know is that it seems to be more true than ever these days!)

Don't worry; there's no way I'm going to officially adopt THAT phrase as my brand, apt as it might be. Maybe I just need how to figure out how to put that concept into a two to five word phrase that sounds a lot better than “Jim Koski—Media Wh*re”. The only problem is that with one exception, I can't at the moment think of a phrase that encompasses everything I do. I wish I could, but at least at the moment, I can't. Maybe you guys have a better idea; if so, please let me know.

And thanks,

(jim@wmqt.com), “Guy Who Talks Too Much”.

(p.s.--see? Not a very good “brand”, is it? 8-))

(pps—have a great weekend!)

Thursday, 6/25

Well,thanks to places like Florida and Texas it looks like Loraine and I are going to have a second Europe trip this year cancelled.

Yippee.

The European Union is finalizing plans on re-opening the continent to visitors, and in order to (understandably) keep themselves safe they're putting together a list of countries from which people should not be allowed. These are countries that don't have their Covid-19 situation under control, countries where people are still getting sick, countries where social distancing is not well practiced.

Guess which country tops that list?

Yup; despite living in a state that seems to have the Coronavirus under control and despite trying to stay safe by wearing a mask everywhere we go Loraine and I will be among the Americans will not be allowed to head into Europe when it re-opens its borders next month. Now, this could change before we're scheduled to leave in early September, but based on how cases are spiraling out of control across a huge swath of the Southern US we're guessing it's not gonna change. Even though we live over a thousand miles away we're getting lumped in with Texans and Floridians and South Carolinians who've decided that wearing a mask and practicing social distancing goes against, you know, “freedom”.

Geez. Thanks.

On of the criteria by which the EU is measuring whether or not to allow visitors from a certain area is the number of new cases per 100,000 people. It has to be roughly equal to the EU average, which right now is around 2. Where's the US? How about 107 per 100,000. Admittedly, it's not as bad a Brazil's 180 (which also puts them on the “don't visit” list), but it's still going to require quite a shift in both public policy and public sentiment to get that number down.

And both you & I know that ain't gonna happen any time soon.

The EU will be revising the list every two weeks so we, like with this spring's cancelled trip to Germany, still have to go through the motions of getting ready to go, just in case we do get the thumbs-up. I mean, you know it's not gonna happen and I know it's not gonna happen, but we still need to get ready on the (very) off chance that two days before our flight they give us the thumbs-up.

It was so much fun seeing all the work I did in April wasted that I'm sure this time around will be a blast, as well.

As I wrote when this happened in April, this is a first world problem. It's really not anything I should be complaining about. After all, people have been suffering and people have been dying. I just don't get to go on a trip. There is no comparison between the two. I know that, and I accept that. But unlike what happened in April, this trip has been cancelled because some people just don't want to...I dunno, be sensible. Be safe. Be thoughtful of their fellow human beings.

Thanks, Texas. We appreciate it.

(jim@wmqt.com)

Wednesday, 6/24

The word is itself amazing. The fact that means what it means makes it even better.

I've just finished reading a book called “A People's History of the Peculiar” which, as you can imagine, is filled with all sorts of weird & wonderful facts. Among the many bizarre things was a section on phobias—some of the things that people are afraid of. And it was in that section that I came across what might be one of the greatest words ever--

Hippopotomonstrosesquippedaliophobia.

Seriously, that's the word—hippopotomonstrosesquippedaliophobia, 36 letters of English language awesomeness. And while any 36-letter word would be rather awesome in and of itself, it's what hippopotomonstrosesquippedaliophobia means that's the icing on the cake. And just what DOES hippopotomonstrosesquippedaliophobia mean, you ask? Well, I answer, hippopotomonstrosesquippedaliophobia is the fear of long words.

I kid you not.

Go ahead; copy and paste “ hippopotomonstrosesquippedaliophobia” into Google and you'll find out it's legit. You'll find out that someone, somewhere, came up with a very long word to describe the fear of very long words. I don't know if they did it ironically, or if it just worked out that way, but the word and the fear it describes could not have been a better match.

You, in fact, could not have come up with a better word to describe the fear of long words.

Not only that, but if you put “ hippopotomonstrosesquippedaliophobia” in Google it also pops up a song called “ Hippopotomonstrosesquippedaliophobia (The Long Word Song)”, put together by someone who not only had an inkling that the word existed but also wrote a song about it.

Don't believe me?

I'm always amazed by some of the weird things I come across in my everyday life, and this 36-letter word may be one of the best. Now, all I need to do is find a way to work it into normal conversation. Or to figure out how to actually pronounce it. Either one of those would work.

(jim@wmqt.com), obviously NOT suffering from hippopotomonstrosesquippedaliophobia!

Tuesday, 6/23

Who knew it would take so much thought to spend $1,200?

As you may recall, Loraine and I each took our stimulus money and used it for its intended purpose—to bolster the economy. Once stores began reopening we went to all of our favorite locally owned businesses and bought stuff. We actually began over Memorial Day weekend and here we are, a month later, with a little money left, trying to figure out how to best get rid of the rest of it.

It's perhaps the weirdest first world problem ever.

The first part was easy—we just walked up & down the streets of downtown Marquette and if something caught our eye, we bought it. Purple tea kettle and a stuffed cow that jingles when you shake it for Jim? No problem. New running shoes and a sweatshirt for Loraine? Bought it. We've picked up art, chocolate, a new man bag, locally brewed beer, sandals, and an amazing grapefruit-vanilla white tea, all on a whim. Hiking boots? T-shirts? Bourbon-crusted pecans? Done, done, and done. The money's back in the local economy and, hopefully, has helped just a little bit.

We're each down to a hundred dollars or so, and we've been hanging on to that to spend at certain restaurants once they're fully open again. We've been enjoying take out from some of our favorite places, but we're waiting for a few to either re-open or have an outdoor table on a nice, sunny day. Then we'll get rid of the rest of the cash.

It's funny, because now that we're almost out of money we're starting to think about where exactly we want to spend the rest of it, and how much at each establishment. Do we want to go back to a place we've already been, or do we want to wait until another place opens so we can actually have a dish we've been missing? Because some restaurants on our list are still fully closed, do we hang on to some of the cash, or do we go someplace else and try to get the money circulating into the local economy as soon as possible? And then, if we have enough cash left for, say, four restaurants, but still have five on our list, which one do we leave off?

No one said there'd be stress spending money, I yell ya!

8-)

Actually, we'll still be going to all the restaurants on our list. We'll just be using our own money to stimulate the economy instead of using stimulus money to stimulate the economy. But the past couple of weeks have proven interesting. You'd wouldn't have thought that you'd actually have to think to spend money willy-nilly but, apparently you do. Who knew?

So there it is, yet another life lesson courtesy of the strangest year in modern history.,

(jim@wmqt.com)

Monday, 6/22

Ah, there’s nothing like the sound of a chainsaw at 8 in the morning.

It’s even better when the sound wakes you up, like it did to me Saturday morning. As you may know, I live in a densely packed part of Marquette. The buildings are within 10 or 20 feet of each other, and whatever back yards are around are pretty much all connected, although separated by fences. So Saturday morning I can’t say I was surprised by being jolted awake by the sound of a chainsaw tearing through a tree next door.

It was a joy. Trust me.

I think I knew something was up about 15 minutes before the sound of the chainsaw started, when I noticed the sound of a big bucket truck with a diesel engine idling nearby. I don’t think it was enough to fully wake me up; it was just loud enough to make an impression on someone like me who was half asleep and trying to stay that way. Unfortunately, I didn’t stay that way for long, as the chainsaw started to rip through a tree right at 8, and kept going for the next hour or so.

First of all, who the heck cuts down a tree at 8 in the morning? Especially at 8 in the morning on a Saturday? Especially at 8 in the morning on a Saturday in a neighborhood where there are dozens of other people within 50 feet of your chainsaw-ing, many of whom may still be sleeping (or even sleeping it off) at that hour? And who leaves a loud diesel truck running while doing the chainsaw-ing at 8 in the morning? I mean, you’re making enough noise with just the chainsaw; do you need to leave the truck running to complete your Symphony of Clatter in G Minor, Opus One? The last time I checked, diesel fuel was almost three four bucks a gallon. Based on the size of the bucket truck, it probably went through a gallon in four minutes, even while idling. Wouldn’t that get kind of expensive? Or is it a small price to pay for completion of your little symphony?

Sigh.

I’m sorry if I’m sounding like a Cranky Old Man (in training) here, but it was not the best way in the world to wake up. And I’m sure there are people out there who would scoff at the fact that I was awoken at 8 am; my co-workers who have to get up daily at 4 am would definitely have no sympathy for me. But there’s also common courtesy involved here. When you’re doing very loud work in a very densely populated neighborhood, shouldn’t you think of the people who live around you? I mean, if I had a lawn mower or a leaf blower I certainly wouldn’t go out at 10 or 11 at night and use them. That’s just common courtesy. So what makes 8 in the morning (especially on a Saturday) any different? Some of us work late, have sleeping patterns that reflect that, and don’t appreciate being jolted awake by a chainsaw (and a loud diesel truck) that early.

And that's all I have to say about that.

8-)

(jim@wmqt.com)

Friday, 6/19

Maybe it's just simply the color combination.

As I had mentioned yesterday, I've been taking half days a lot this week, just to go out and enjoy the sun & heat. I was on the bike path near South Beach, just letting my mind wander, when an incredibly strange thought popped into my head. I've always thought that Marquette is one of the most beautiful places on the planet, especially during the summer. I've never quite been able to put my finger on why, but could it be because of these colors?

The picture's from my phone, so it's not the greatest in the world, but could Marquette be one of the most beautiful places on the planet during summer because of the way the blue of the water plays off the green of all the vegetation that's around? A lot of times green & blue don't always go together, because they're kind of related, at least as far as colors go. But could the blue of Lake Superior and the green of the trees have somehow found the sweet spot that makes it all go together perfectly?

See where my mind goes when I'm out baking in the sun?

Of course, maybe I'm biased. I grew up seeing those colors and each every summer of my life, so maybe I'm predisposed to them. Maybe someone who grew up in a desert and sees the interplay between the browns and the reds would think that that's one of the most beautiful places on the planet. Maybe it's (literally) nature, and not nurture. But to me—admittedly, someone who grew up seeing a sight like the picture every day of my young life—the blue and the green perfectly capture the beauty of Marquette. You don't see it many places on the planet—in fact, without realizing it it's probably one of the reasons I came back to Marquette—but it's there.

And at least to me, at least yesterday on the bike path, it made perfect sense as to why Marquette's one of the most beautiful places you'll ever see, especially during the summer.

On that note, have a great weekend. Hope the rain stays away long enough that we can maybe see a little more green & blue the next few days!!

(jim@wmqt.com)

Thursday, 6/18

I think I may have hit a major turning point in my life. On my walk to work yesterday morning, I literally stopped and smelled the roses.

Whoever it was who wrote that song back in the 70s (Mac Davis?) would be so proud.

After the bizarre year that we've been through, and after a couple of days when most (if not all) of the remaining lilac bus and dried up and withered away, I started to think. I started to think about priorities, and I started to think about the fleeting nature of time, both short-term and long-term. I mean, here we are, almost the middle of June already. That means there’s what, three months (at the most) of nice weather left before the arrival of the crap we deal with the rest of the year. That means we have three months (at the most) to do things like go to the beach, and to do things like stopping and smelling the roses.

One of my neighbors has several bushes of white roses in their front yard, and over the past few days, they’ve started to bloom. I’ve walked past them many times in those past few days, always catching the lingering scent that rose bushes leave in their immediate area, but until yesterday, I hadn’t actually stop and stuck my nose deep inside one of them.

So I did. And I’m happy to report that I’m glad I did.

Now, roses will never replace lilacs as the greatest smell on the planet. I just don’t think that’s possible. But I do know that like lilacs roses aren’t around for long. They bloom, they smell nice, and then they die. If you don’t sniff them when you have the chance, then that chance is blown. There’s nothing you can do about. You have to sniff them while you can.

And as hokey as it seems, that may also be a perfect metaphor for things like getting out and enjoy the warmth and the sunshine while we can. While it may seem like we have a lot of time to head out and take part in all of our favorite summer activities, that window of time is actually quite brief. I mean, think of how quickly 2020 (an admittedly bizarre year) has gone by so far. The year’s almost half over, after all, even though it doesn’t seem like it. Now divide that by quickness by half, because if we have (at most) three months before all traces of summer are gone, that means that we’ve already lived through a span of time this year that’s twice as long as our “summer” has remaining. If the first six months of the year have gone by in the blink of an eye, what will the next three months seem like?

The start of the blink of an eye?

That’s one of the reasons I’m glad I stopped and sniffed the roses yesterday. It’s something I should’ve been doing more of this year, and it’s something that I’ll make sure I do more of as the summer goes on. As far as the going to the beach is concerned; well, let’s just that's one of the things on top of my list to do today.

After all, there’s not a lot of time to waste on that matter!

(jim@wmqt.com)

Wednesday, 6/17

Well, whaddya know. She was right.

If you've been keeping score at home I'm now in my 14^th week of working alone, of being the only person at the station on a daily basis. So for me, things haven't changed too much. I'm here every day. I don't notice little things that might be different.

Jen stopped by a couple of days ago to drop something off, the first time she's actually been in the station since March. The first thing out of her mouth after walking in the door?

“It smells like Q107 in here. Only just more like Q107 than usual”.

I paid her no heed; after all, it smelled the same to me. But it got me to thinking which, as we all know, can be a dangerous thing. So yesterday morning when I walked into the station, and had been breathing fresh air on my walk to work, the first thing I did after opening the front door was to take a deep, deep breath. And you know what?

She was right.

Because I'm here every day I guess I really didn't notice it until it was pointed out to me. But Jen was absolutely correct—the station DOES smell like Q107, only more so. Specifically, it smells a lot like the semi-musty basement upon which we sit. I'm thinking that when we're all here and people in the other offices are here and when the dance studio upstairs is going full bore that the basement smell is kept in the basement, replaced by people odor and food odor and whatever other odors are lurking about. But because I've been the only person in the whole building the past 14 weeks—a 95 year old building with lots of old stuff in it—the “smell” has been reclaiming its turf.

I didn't notice it because I'm here all the time and have become used to it, but apparently someone who's hasn't been around picks up on it right away.

So if you happen to have to come into the station any time soon and notice a slight musty smell, don't worry about it. It's just an old building trying to reassert its authority.

Even if I didn't notice it.

(jim@wmqt.com)

Tuesday, 6/16

Sometimes, you gotta wonder.

Loraine had to break open a new curling iron over the weekend and I, for some reason, felt possessed to read the instruction guide that went with it. It’s like many different instruction guides, telling you how to operate the curling iron, and how to use it best to style your hair (although I’m thinking that if you bought a curling iron, you already know how to style your hair, right?) The instruction guide, like many instruction guides, also tells you what you should and should not do with your curling iron. And that’s where it got weird.

In the instruction guide was a list of things you should never do with your curling iron. It’s was number nine that caught my attention, a rule that said, and I quote, “Never use your curling iron while sleeping”.

Now, I don’t know about you, but I wasn’t aware that using a curling iron while sleeping was a problem. Admittedly, I’ve never used a curling iron, so I checked with Loraine and a half-dozen female friends, and all seven of them say they've never used a curling iron while sleeping. Four of them wondered exactly how you COULD use a curling iron while sleeping, while the other three looked at me like I was insane just for wondering.

Well, I was curious!!

I’m almost afraid to ask the reason why the people who wrote the instruction guide had to include the instructions “Never use while sleeping”, but I’m guessing that there probably WAS an incident once where someone tried to use the curling iron while sleeping (although how, I have no idea), injured themselves, and ended up having their lawyers contact the lawyers for the curling iron company.

You can probably guess what happened after that.

So now you know. When you’re working on your hair tomorrow, make sure that you don't do it while sleeping. Apparently, it’s hazardous, it’s a huge problem, and it can cause danger and/or bodily harm to you. And we wouldn’t want THAT to happen, right?

Geez.

(jim@wmqt.com)

Monday, 6/15

I was walking down Third Street Saturday afternoon when I saw someone break the law.

It wasn't a big deal, and the only reason I bring it up is that I'm still trying to decide if I should've said something to the person violating the law. It wasn't a gross violation of any civic code, unless you consider illegal parking a gross violation of a civic code, but I'm still wondering if I should have brought it up.

I was walking down Third right by The Pasta Shoppe doing some recon work for my upcoming “Third Street: Day & Night” tour when I noticed a guy in a car pulling up to park. There were two empty parking spaces and a sign that said “No Parking Here To Corner” before you get to the corner of the street. Well, the guy in the car skipped over the two empty parking spaces, went passed the sign that said not to park anywhere else, and parked his car between the “No Parking Here To Corner” sign and the corner.

Clearly, he was illegally parked.

As he got out of his car, I thought about mentioning his illegal parking to him, if only to make sure that he didn't come back from wherever he went to find a ticket on his windshield. I know that if I was parked like that, I'd want someone to point out my mistake to me. After all, if given a choice between someone pointing out a mistake I made and me having to pay a fine, I'd take the mistake any day of the week.

So like I said, I was going to point out the mistake to him. The only thing is, he was getting out of the car with a woman. That in itself would've have stopped me from pointing out his mistake. But as he and the woman were getting out of the car they were having some rather pointed words with each other, and I got the feeling that they didn't want to me interrupted, especially by someone telling them they had done something wrong. They walked over to Stuckos, I continued down the street, and that was the last I saw of them.

Now, I have no idea why they were having pointed words with each other. I have no idea if, when they walked out of Stuckos, there was a parking ticket on their car. And I have no idea how a parking ticket would've impacted on upon the mood they were both in when they left the car. Like I said, I didn't want to interrupt that “mood” and make it worse by telling them they had made a mistake. But then, maybe if I had, I would've spared that “mood” from becoming even worse when they left the restaurant to find a parking ticket on their car.

See why I'm still wondering if I should've said something?

I really don't like getting involved with other people's business; after all, I enjoy my privacy as much as anyone else, and do appreciate it when others keep to themselves. But as I mentioned, I would like to know if I had done something that could lead to a ticket or some other bout of trouble, no matter what mood I was in. After all, even if you're bummed about something, you'll probably be even more bummed if you walk out to find a parking ticket on your car.

You know, people are always joking that they see me (and Loraine) walking everywhere, commenting about how we must get a lot of exercise that way. It's true; we do. But as you see, walking everyone can also bring up a situation or two you'd never get yourself into by staying off the sidewalk.

Ah, the things that happen on streets of Marquette, I tell ya!

(jim@wmqt.com)

Friday, 6/12

Hmmm. I wonder how the math's gonna work out on this one?

As you know, our trip to Germany was cancelled a month and a half ago. As you know, there's a better than average chance that our upcoming trip to France will go bye-bye, as well. Because of that, I have almost 20 vacation days that I may need to use between now and September 6^th, which is when my work anniversary rolls around, the date by which I need to use those days because I then get a whole new batch of them.

Hmmm.

There are 12 weeks left during which I can use those vacation days. I could take a day and a half a week. I could take a half day three days a week. I could I could take four day weekends for ten of those weeks. Heck; I could even take three whole weeks off and have a few days to spare.

But then there's the problem.

I've written about “the problem” in here before, about how it seems like I have to work almost a day ahead to take a day off, a problem compounded these days because I'm the only one here and have to do, you know, everything. Thankfully, I had worked ahead to get ready for Germany, just on the slim chance that we would get to go, and I've continued trying to work ahead just in case we get the chance to go to France, so part of that wouldn't be a problem. However, there is a bunch of topical stuff that needs to get done on a daily basis, and that's stuff that's really hard to do ahead of time.

Hmmm.

At the moment, I have no idea what I'm going to do and how it's going to work out. Part of it all depends upon whether or not we go to France, and if that's like Germany we may not know until a couple of weeks beforehand. But if I seem to disappear off the face of the Earth for a couple of days or even a week at a time, you now know why.

I have my vacation days to use up.

On that note, have yourself a great weekend. And even though I can't believe I'm having to say this in the middle of June...stay warm!

Sigh...

(jim@wmqt.com)

Thursday, 6/11

Maybe there won't be a final episode after all.

As you may recall, a couple of months ago, when the lockdown was at its height, I started putting together short videos about Marquette history and posting them to Facebook. I was intending on stopping when things started to get back to normal. In fact, today's video, because it's a rather important day in Marquette history, was supposed to be the last.

But it looks like that won't be the case.

I don't know what it it. I don't know if it's the strangeness of the times, or if it's a shift in the zeitgeist, or what, but I think I've been recognized for these videos more than anything else I've ever done. And keep in mind I've been doing radio forever, I've hosted a TV show for the better part of a decade, and I give tours to hundreds of people at a time. Yet no matter where I go—from a downtown store to the beach at McCarty's Cove—all people wanna do is talk about the videos and let me know how much they've enjoyed them.

Who knew?

I mean, I'm glad people have taken to them so much. I'm REALLY glad that people have enjoyed watching them, and I've grateful that their enjoyment is allowing them to walk away knowing a little more about the history of this great place. I just had no idea that they would go over the way they did. I just started doing them as a goof, as a way to pass a little time during “Stay Home, Stay Safe”. Little did I know that I'd have people sending me pictures and suggesting topics and wondering when the next one would be posted.

I'm humbled by it all. Really, really humbled.

Like I said, today's was supposed to be the last day. But now, it won't. I'll be taking a few weeks off from producing them so I can get ready for my “Third Street: Day & Night” tour in a few weeks, but after that, I'm guessing I'll be back with a new “season”.

After all, even though it blows my mind, it seems like people can't wait.

8-)

****

Why is today such a big day in Marquette history? Well, watch the “season finale” and learn for yourself!

(jim@wmqt.com)

Wednesday, 6/10

I’ve tried to start thinking in French again.

Three months (give or take a few days) from today, assuming all kinds of things fall into place and assuming all kinds of restrictions are lifted (fingers crossed) we'll be taking off on our latest European trip, which has reminded me that I need to brush up on my French language skills. Those of you who read this on a regular basis know that, over the last ten or so I’ve managed to teach myself enough of the language to get by, thanks to Rosetta Stone and my handy dandy “French is Easy; Don't be a Coward” book (a book, as they note, geared for seventh graders, but good for adults, too). While I’m nowhere near fluent in being able to speak or listen to the language with someone who grew up speaking and listening to it, I’m pretty good at reading it, and I can hold my own in a two or three sentence conversation with a native French speaker.

As I’ve found every time I’ve been in Europe, as long as you make the effort to speak the language in whichever country you’re visiting, people will meet you halfway. After all, students in Europe learn several different languages, and most choose English as one of them. So between my self-taught French and their school-taught English, Loraine and I have managed to got around France & Belgium with no problem whatsoever. In fact, the only problem is in the few months before we leave, when I realize I’ve forgotten half of what I learned before the previous trip, and need to brush up.

Which is why I’m trying to think in French these days.

And even the phrase “thinking in French” is misleading. After all, it’s not like I’m thinking about what I’m typing in this blog in French; like I said, I’m not fluent enough in the language to do that (some people, of course, would say that I’m not fluent enough in English to write a blog, either, but that’s a conversation for another day). When I say I’m “thinking in French”, I do it in small ways. When someone asks me a question, I’ll answer it verbally in English, but mentally in French. My head will be filled with “ouis” and “nons” and “mercis” and “je nais sais pas”. It seems to work for me, although the checkout lady at the grocery store last weekend gave me a funny look when I answered “papier, s’il vous plait” when asked if I preferred paper or plastic.

Oops. My bad.

So with any luck, by the time early September rolls and (big if here) if we're allowed to roll through France I’ll be ready with enough French at my disposal to let us do whatever we need to do whenever we want to do it. It’s worked before, and hopefully, it’ll work again.

As always, wish me luck!!

(jim@wmqt.com)

Tuesday, 6/9

You know it's been coming, so if for some bizarre reason you've actually been waiting for it, here it is--

Lilac-palooza 2020!

I spent part of my half-day off yesterday sniffing lilacs, and since the sun was actually (almost) out I brought a camera along, just for good measure. I'm glad I did, too, because there are among the sights I saw--

For some reason, I feel a little...skittish when I include someone in a picture I'm taking without asking their permission. However, I personally think that, in a case like this, having a person really makes the shot. So I hope I didn't encroach on anyone's personal space.

I'm guessing this creature won't mind, though--

Okay. I promise not to rant & rave about lilacs any more. And if for some reason I do break my promise and rant & rave about lilacs, I'll try to keep it to a minimum.

Oh, stop laughing. I really WILL try!

8-)

(jim@wmqt.com)

Monday, 6/8

“You owe me restitution”!

That line, from my second favorite Charlie Brown cartoon ever (and bonus points if you know from which cartoon that line comes) has popped into my head over the weekend when, at least here in Marquette, we had lovely “summer” weather (at least if you consider clouds and mist and  temperatures hovering around 50 “summer”) It wasn't just this weekend, either; we've had many days when the forecast sounded promising then turned out to be nothing like what it was supposed to be, and we've had days when the forecast sounded promising yet a lake breeze decided to play tricks on us. Both Saturday & yesterday, like I said, was a perfect example, and it marked the first time that I actually said the above-quoted line about restitution out loud.

And now I can't seem to stop.

Yes, I know that complaining about the weather is about as futile as trying to change the weather. There's nothing you can do about it. You get what you get, and you have to take it, no matter no much you may loathe it. You'd think that after living here most of my adult life I'd realize that. But for some bizarre reason I still think that Mother Nature is making this personal, that she's doing this just to make me whine. Yes, I know that I have absolutely no bearing on the weather, and whatever happens is not because of me. I'm self-aware enough to know that.

I just wish Mother Nature knew that, too.

8-)

I know I shouldn't complain, not when you look around other parts of the planet and see extreme heat or extreme drought or extreme rain (or any of the other non-weather crap 2020 has thrown at us). In that respect, we're lucky. We have enough water to live normal lives, we're not dying because of flooding or extreme temperatures, and our lives, unlike the lives of many people, aren't torn asunder by weather. Just because it was 25 degrees cooler than it should be, or a little foggier than normal, or because we have a breeze coming off the world's largest freshwater lake, a lake that still has water in it, is no reason to complain.

I know that. I realize that. So yes, I should stop complaining about it. Yet still, for some weirdly bizarre reason, I still think Mother Nature owes us restitution.

And no, I don't know why.

I'll shut up about the weather now. After all, I'm sure you're tired of me complaining about it, the same way you're tired of me waxing rhapsodic about lilacs. Besides, today's supposed to be warm. Really, really warm. So I'm just gonna go outside and enjoy it.

And then maybe that line from the Charlie Brown cartoon will finally leave my head!

(jim@wmqt.com)

Friday, 6/5

At the moment, I'm leaning towards keeping it.

I've written in here many times the past three months about my Corona-hair...my feathery, wavy, increasingly long Corona-hair. Like many people with their hair these days, I've gone back & forth on whether or not it's good or it's bad or it's just merely different. But the more I see it, the more I'm coming to terms with it

And that makes me wonder how it would look on TV.

I'm not talking about those “On The Town” things I do for Fox UP. If I felt like it I could look like a slob while doing them (and, on occasion, have). I'm talking about “High School Bowl” where, technically, I'm the adult in the room. I've always tried to look my best on the show, which means (among other things) that I've tried to keep my hair neat. But what if I started doing the show with hair that looks like I just got done surfing?

Interesting concept, I must admit.

Of course, I wear a coat & tie on the show, and during the last dress-up day we had here at work I noticed that the long hair really looks good with a black jacket. If you recall, wearing a gray jacket just brings out the gray in my hair, but with a black jacket it just looks...interesting. I don't know that I could get away with wearing the same color jacket for 20 shows, but that possibility is out there.

So we'll have to see.

Luckily, I still have another three months to make that decision. For now I think I'll just keep letting it grow, and see what happens. I have no idea why I've become so intrigued by the thought of long hair, but if that's the only way in which I've been affected by these insane past three months..

Well, then, maybe that's not a bad thing.

Have yourself a great weekend. I'm gonna go stare at my hair a little more!

8-)

(jim@wmqt.com)

Thursday, 6/4

Well, it looks like the tours are a go.

If you've been reading these since the pandemic started you may recall that I've been wondering if I'll get to do my Jim Koski ™ walking tours for the Marquette Regional History Center this summer. Now that the state's stay-at-home order is lifted and now that the History Center itself is reopening June 15^th, the answer to my question is “yes”. A qualified “yes”, but it's still a “yes”.

And these days I'll take a qualified “yes”.

Here's why the yes is qualified. Despite the fact that the state's stay-at-home order is lifted, there is still a ban on gatherings of more than 99 people. Now, for most things that really doesn't matter, but seeing as how my tours average 160 or so people, and the last one I gave—South Marquette—almost topped 300, that could be a problem

Hmm.

Now, the possibility exists that the limit on gatherings may be raised by the time the first tour—Third Street Night & Day—rolls around July 8^th. That part of it wouldn't be a problem. But I do have a concern about socially distancing 99 or 160 or 300 people while walking up a street.

Is that even doable?

That's why the “yes” was qualified. I will be doing the tours, but we're just not quite sure what form they will take. One option is for me to give it several evenings in a row to smaller groups. That way, everyone who wanted to go could go, and hopefully we can maintain some kind of social distance. The other option would be to give the tour once, cap the number of people who are actually physically there, and then livestream it to everyone else. I think it's kind of a neat idea, but with one big problem.

I give these tours to make money for the History Center. Would people donate if they could only go virtually? Is there even a way for them to make a donation?

Once again, that's why the “yes” is qualified.

We still have a couple of weeks to figure things out before the first tour rolls around (the second, if you're curious, is in late August). We'll just have to see if that “yes” becomes more qualified or less qualified.

Keep your fingers crossed that it's the former.

(jim@wmqt.com)

Wednesday, 6/3

WEDNESDAY, 6/3:

Does anybody remember when I wrote what follows?

First, let me explain how I came across it. With all the insanity of the past few months my office has been getting quite messy, and for the past week or so I've been trying to neaten it up, 30 seconds at a time. It's not the best way of doing it, but because I'm the only one here these days I feel a strange sense of responsibility to keep things as neat as they can be during these challenging times.

Go figure. And, as an aside, won't it be nice someday not hearing commercials that use the phrase “these challenging times”?

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

So without further ado, here's the list:

SEVEN SIGNS YOU MAY NOT BE A TRUE YOOPER:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

See what I get for trying to clean my office?

8-)

(jim@wmqt.com)

Tuesday, 6/2

I did not mean to make anyone cry.

Yesterday's short blog and picture seems to have touched an awful lot of people (just scroll down a little to check it out, if you haven't yet). I've gotten all kinds of notes about it, and I just wanna say 'thanks” to everyone who took a little time to send me something, even if it was just an e-mail that let me know (jokingly) that one reader had to reapply her mascara after looking at it.

Sorry about that.

The genesis for the piece came about while I was running yesterday morning and saw the lilac tree that was pictured. It's the first one (at least that I've noticed) in Marquette with blooms, so it immediately caught my attention. I was six or seven blocks away from home; by the time I got back, the little written piece that went with the picture was fully formed in my head, and a few minutes later (after I ran back down with a camera) the piece was up on the web.

Amazing how quickly you can do things these days.

Now here's the kicker. I wouldn't have normally seen the lilacs, because I usually don't run where the tree was blooming. But every so often I feel compelled to run down a certain street, and for whatever reason yesterday was one of those days. If I hadn't run down that street I wouldn't have seen the lilacs, wouldn't have posted the blog, and wouldn't have made Michelle from Marquette's mascara run.

But yesterday, for some reason, I felt compelled to run past my grandparents' old house on Magnetic and see the buds blooming on the first lilac tree I ever remember consciously sniffing.

Weird how that works out, huh?

(jim@wmqt.com)

Monday, 6/4

In a world awash in pain, where chaos seems to grow on an exponential basis, look for the things that make you smile.  That bring you calm.

That let you breathe.

(jim@wmqt.com)