Friday, 7/31

Farewell, July. We barely got to know ye.

I don't have a “favorite” month of the year, but if I did it might be July. Oh sure, the argument could be made for December, with the holidaze and my birthday all rolled into one,. But I think December would lose out on the argument for the very same reason that July might win it--

The weather.

July is (usually) warm and sunny & fun to play in. December (almost always) is not. That's why if I had to choose a favorite month, it would probably be July. Especially at the beginning of the month when the sun's high in the skies, the days are long and the nights are short, and you can walk around outside and not worry about various parts of your body falling off.

You can't say that about December.

And this July has been particularly nice. I mean, in the past week it's veered from hot & humid to cool and rainy, but for the first half of the month it was, at least for me, downright perfect. We had that 12-day string of 80 degree days, there were very few clouds in the sky, and I could go for countless walks on the beach or countless bike rides or soccer practice sessions with Loraine and not even have to think about it.

Once again, you couldn't do that in December.

Still, with all the stuff that's going on in the world these days, it just kind of seems, at least to me, that despite how good it's been this year's July could've been even better. Just from my own point of view, I might have (in a normal year) taken more time off of work to play outside, and while outside would not have had to worry if the station (or the world) was falling apart.

Even though it may sound like it, I'm not complaining. I'd take a strange July over even a mild December any time. You can just do the things I like to do with no problems at all in July. If I did have to complain about something, it would be that July is just too short.

Unfortunately, there's nothing I can do about that.

So faretheewell, July. Thanks for making it fun this year. I just wish you were able to stick around a little longer.

On that note, I hop you enjoy your weekend...the first one of August!

(jim@wmqt.com)

Thursday, 7/30

Wow. When you sit down and figure out the number, it's really, really high.

Now, before I get into anything, just let me say the number to which I'm referring isn't anything important. It's not Earth-shattering, it's not deep or consequential, and it's not a number that will change anyone's life, much less your own. It''s just one of those numbers that popped into my very weird head.

That being said, Loraine and I are coming up on the 13^th anniversary of living in our current apartment. As I may have mentioned in a blog about a year ago, it's actually the place in which I've lived the longest my entire life, which is saying something. Of course, one of the reasons we've lived there so long is that it has a perfect location. We both get to walk to work, we have (almost) everything we need within a radius of a few blocks, and apart from neighbors who like to light campfires, set off fireworks, and use leaf lowers all day long, it's been a great place to live.

We live three blocks from where I work, and I hike along that three-block long patch of sidewalk quite a bit. So when I was making the hike home from work yesterday I started to wonder—just how many times HAVE I walked upon that sidewalk? So I started thinking (which, as we all know, can be a dangerous thing), and this is what I've figured out.

On average, I make two round trips a day, either to & from work or heading downtown. I actually think it may be higher than that, but let's go with with the average of twice a day, just to be safe. That's 730 trips down that sidewalk a year. I've lived in my current apartment 13 years, so if my math is correct (always a dubious affair) I've walked down the same piece of Front Street sidewalk 9,490 times.

9,490 times!!!

My mind, for some reason, can't wrap itself around that number. I mean, it knows that I've walked down the sidewalk, past the lilac trees and the lawyer's office and Peter White Public Library a lot, but almost 10,000 times? That's just too high of a number to comprehend, for some reason. Yet it's true. Even if I haven't noticed it myself I've walked down the same patch of sidewalk almost 10,000 times in the past 13 years. And without realizing it I've probably absorbed more information about the walk that I've realized. In fact, it wouldn't surprise me if I could make the entire walk blindfolded and know exactly where I was or exactly which crack in the sidewalk way coming up.

That's something I'd actually like to try some day, except for the idiots driving through the 4-way stop sign at Arch or skidding through the intersection at Ridge. Close off the streets and I'm sure I could walk to work no problem at all.

It's funny; I'm sure there are many other things I've done more almost 10,000 times in my life, and haven't given those a second thought. But for some reason, I now know I've trod upon the same sidewalk for 9,940 times. And on that note, I must wrap this up, and get ready for the first leg of my 9491^st round trip.

(jim@wmqt.com)

Wednesday, 7/29

When it came time to make the choice, practicality won out over wishful thinking.

Darn.

As you know, Loraine and I are still holding on to our pipe dream of going to France in just over a month. We're pretty sure it's not gonna happen, but it's not totally, officially cancelled yet, so we both still have to proceed as if we're going. For me, that means working ahead, including making sure the station has music scheduled for while I'm “gone”. Well, yesterday I got to the log of music that would air the day we leave. Normally, I have special parts of it to reflect the fact that I'm not here; that way, I don't have to do a bunch of extra work changing the “usual” clocks to the “vacation” clocks. But when I was about to do the log I realized I had to make a choice—keep the “usual” version, or use the “vacation” version.

I chose the former. I really didn't want to, but I did.

My logic was this—if I used the “vacation” version and we ended up not going, I would then have to do a whole bunch of extra work to switch things back to the “usual” version. By using the “usual” version, and assuming we're not going anywhere, I don't have to change a thing. They're all ready to go.

Like I said, it's practical and it'll save me time. It just sucked having to make that decision.

Now, by making the decision, I have screwed myself over if we actually end up going to France. If that miracle DOES occur, I will now have to do a lot of extra work to change the “usual” logs to the “vacation” logs. However, the odds of that actually happening are, well, just as good as the odds of 2020 turning out to be a safe and healthy year for everyone on the planet.

But if that were to occur, I would happily do all the extra work. I wouldn't even complain about it. You just know, and I just know, that that ain't gonna happen.

Oh well...

8-(

(jim@wmqt.com)

Tuesday, 7/28

I'm kind of surprised by the number of states that I saw. I'm also a little worried by some of them.

As I've done every year for almost 20 years now I've completed my annual week of counting how many different state license plates I see in Marquette. I usually do it during the week leading up to Art on the Rocks; since the festival didn't occur this year, I still did it during the same week, just to have a baseline with which to compare the numbers.

I had no idea what to expect, so no matter what total I came up with wouldn't surprise me in the least. In 2016, the record year, I recorded 48 different states (and 3 Canadian provinces). The worst year, 2008, at the beginning of the Great Recession, the number was 18. And while this year's total was much closer to 2008 than 2016, it was not the worst ever.

During the week just ended, I wound up seeing license plates from 23 different states (and, obviously, no Canadian provinces). The vast majority of those out-of-state plates were from nearby states—Wisconsin, Illinois, Indiana, and Minnesota. In fact, I would say that 85 percent of the plates I saw were from Michigan, ten percent from those four states, and then 5 percent from the rest. In fact, for the rest I only saw one plate each, except for four states—Texas, Florida, California, and Arizona.

Those, by the way, are also the four states in the country with the worst outbreaks of Covid-19. That's why I'm a little worried.

I mean, I'm sure the people from those states who came to visit are clean & healthy. But when the only states, aside from local ones, that you see multiple vehicles from are from states where the virus is raging about, you kinda have to wonder. Is it just a coincidence? Did they already have plans to come here before the silliness that is 2020 started? Are they running away to someplace comparatively clean?

I've never had to think about things like that before when counting license plates for a week. But now I do.

I'll be curious to see what the total number is like next year at this time. Assuming, of course, people can actually travel next year at this time. With the way things are going in this country I'm not holding out an extreme amount of hope for that, But if we can move about, will the number of states I see be back to what's been “normal”? Will they stay down? Will the lower number I saw this year end up being the new “normal”?

Who knew this silly hobby of mine could bring up so many questions!

8-)

(jim@wmqt.com)

Monday, 7/27

I'm thinking purple.

That's right; it's time for another installment in the ongoing saga that's my Corona-hair. For those of you who need to get caught up, I've purposely not had my hair cut since the beginning of March. It has turned into a feathery, wavy, and now curly mass of black and gray, and the more it grows out the more the gray becomes apparent.

And I'm not overly thrilled about that particular aspect of it.

Sure...almost every single woman I ask mentions that the gray makes me looked “distinguished”, which I'm hoping isn't a code word for “old”. And I was okay with it when I had shorter hair. But now that it's flying around every which way out of my head? I'm not so sure.

So I'm mulling over a plan. Back when I used to dress up to scare neighborhood kids every Halloween there were several times when I tried to put some weird colors in my hair, just to heighten the ghoulish effect for which I was shooting. But because my hair was so dark, you could never see it. That has led me to think. which, as we all know, can be a very dangerous thing--

If I dyed my hair purple, would the same thing happen? Would the hair that I have that's still black not be affected, and would the (much) lighter gray hair soak up the color, basically giving me dark hair with subtle purple highlights?

See where I'm going with this?

I've been seeing a lot of people doing colorful things with their hair since the whole...fantastic experience that's been 2020 started. That's what kind of inspired me to start thinking about this. Sure, I know a lot of hair experiments, especially the at-home ones, didn't turn out too well. But I have also noticed a couple that have looked amazing, and I'm hoping that I'd tend toward that, especially if I had a professional do it.

We'll see. I'm not committing to anything just yet. But if we happen to run into each other in a few weeks and you notice that either I have purple highlights in my hair or I look like Barney, you'll know which route I chose.

(jim@wmqt.com)

Friday, 7/24

Four months has gone by in the blink of an eye.

I didn't even realize it until I had to look something up, but yesterday (the 23^rd) marked the four month anniversary of me working alone at the station. We managed to hold on as a workplace for a week or so after all the stay-at-home orders and business closings started, but a week after that—four months ago yesterday—everyone else started working from home and I was the designated survivor.

Or the designated sacrificial lamb, depending upon your point of view.

It's funny, because the past four months have kind of hearkened back to those days when I was starting in radio, back when I was still in school in the (gulp) 80s. Back then, because I was new and because radio still had people working those hours, I worked overnights. Being a natural night owl, it didn't bother me, and that was how you paid your dues back then. So it's not like I', not used to it.

I did it each and every day (er, night) at my first job.

As I've mentioned in here before, there are definitely upsides to working alone for four months. I can get so much done with I'm not interrupted, which is a good thing these days, as I'm doing 22 instead of my usual 16 jobs. I can do what I want when I want, and not have to worry about people pulling my attention in nine different directions.

And that's the good thing.,

Of course, if there's a good thing, there has to be a bad thing, right? Well, I sometimes miss being in contact with people—my co-workers, listeners to stop by to pick up prizes, and people who come in to cut commercials and PSAs. Hardly any of those happen much any more. In fact, there are days when for nine hours the only time I talk or interact with someone is when I go on the air and take a phone call.

That's just a little weird.

I have no idea how long this is going to go on. It could be another four months. Heck, it could be until my career in radio is done and/or I've found a different job. I have no idea. All I know is that there's is no way it's been four months since I've started doing it. I know calendars don't lie, but still...

It seems like they're pretty good at stretching the truth.

Have a great weekend!

(jim@wmqt.com)

Thursday, 7/23

The boxes arrived ten years ago today.

It's kind of hard for me to believe, but it was ten years ago today that I drove out to Negaunee, picked up Loraine (where she worked at the time) and then went on to Ishpeming, where we ended up at Globe Printing and picked up the first press run of Loraine's book “Elwood's War”.

It's hard to believe it was a decade ago.

Since then, the book's been through three printings, it's made us a load of new friends and acquaintances, and has been read throughout the world, including at least three different countries in Europe. It's also opened doors for us in those countries, mostly famously in both 2013 and again last spring when we spent the day as the honored guests of the people and city government of Weissenfels, Germany.

I've written in here many times about how proud I was of Loraine, and how the book was nothing more than a labor of love for her, and that still stands. And it's just the same for her second epic, “Elden's True Army Tales”, Both of those books were a labor of love, and have had a reach far beyond anything she ever imagined. She just wanted to document the lives of Elwood Norr and of Elden Gjers. Little did she realize everything that would happen because of those books, be it here in Marquette or in Republic or even in Weissenfels.

She's probably be the first to tell you it's been a trip and a half. And it's a trip and a half that started (and this blows both of our minds) ten years ago today!

(jim@wmqt.com)

Wednesday, 7/22

I really have to put my foot down sometime. Otherwise I'll never get it done.

As most of you know, I'm putting together a documentary on Third Street for the Marquette Regional History Center. It started off as being just a super-sized version of those “Pieces of the Past” things I did during the stay-at-home order, but has since grown to include interviews, drone footage, and someone putting it together who keeps finding more and more pictures and more and more stuff to stick in it.

And that someone REALLY needs to stop doing that.

In my defense, though, people keep coming up with pictures I've never seen before and stories I haven't heard. They're also finally saying “yes” when asked for on-camera interviews. But—and this is a big but (and remind me to tell you about what my spell check did when I just typed that)--I have to draw a line somewhere, otherwise I'm never going to get it done and on the History Center's website. When I first thought of doing this I had this naive assumption I could get it put together by July 8^th, which was the date of the original cancelled walking tour. Then as people volunteered to help out, I thought I could get it done my the end of July.

And now, unless I stop, draw a line, and say “no more”, I may not get it done before the end of August.

I've been producing chunks of it here and there, and I've actually had to go back and re-edit some of those chunks because I have something else to add. That's good, because there's more stuff in the show. That's bad, because it's taking me so long to put it together and pretty soon it'll be as lengthy as “Titanic”.

And I don't think anyone wants to sit through that.

I guess I'll just have to draw that line, and say “enough”. Even if I get an amazing new picture or a cool new story, I'll just have to leave it out (and maybe make a few “Pieces” out of those extra pieces). I really, really need to just grab my laptop, sit out on the swing in our backyard or on a bench at Williams Park, and edit the you-know-what out of the thing to get it finished.

Wish me luck.

*****

Now, going back to that line earlier in the blog. When I first typed in “and this is a big but”, my spell check added an extra “t” to the final world. In fact, it just did it again when I typed the previous line in.

Geez, Microsoft Word...trying to tell us something here????

8-)

(jim@wmqt.com)

Tuesday, 7/21

I think I owe the people of a century ago an apology.

I've been taking a lot of pictures recently, and for some reason, I have a whole batch of the statue of Jacques Marquette in Lakeside Park like this one--

Over the years, I've always lamented the fact that the statue is placed (facing north-northwest) so that Father Marquette's face is never lit by the sun. No matter what time of the year, no matter where you stand, you can never get a shot of his face lit by the sun. The photographer side of me has always silently (and jokingly) cursed the people who moved the statue from its original location 100 years ago and placed it so that it's never front-lit by the sun. Why did they put it that way? Didn't they know that a century later photographers wouldn't be able to shoot it exactly the way they wanted?

Didn't they think of ME when they put it up?

(That's a joke, by the way).

Then as I was walking up Front Street this past weekend, looking at the statue and once again lamenting the fact that the sun never hits the face just so as to be able to take a perfect picture, something dawned on me. It's something so simple and so basic that I'm kinda shocked I hadn't noticed it before, and all of a sudden, the placement of the statue makes perfect sense.

The Father Marquette statue is placed that way because he's overlooking downtown. He's keeping watch over the city that shares his name. And I am an idiot for A). not noticing it and 2) silently (and jokingly) cursing the people who placed it the way they placed it.

To them, I apologize. I'm just sorry I can't break a few laws of physics and send my apology back one century in time.

You guys are obviously much smarter than me, and you may have figured out long ago why the statue is placed the way it is. Or you guys are just much smarter than me in that you know it's only a statue, and it really doesn't matter if it was placed without an optimal photography angle in mind. Either way, I'm sure you never devoted the amount of thought to the subject that I did, and I'm sure your lives are much better for it, especially when you consider that I was born here and have lived a large chunk of my life here and never once in that life realized that the statue of Father Marquette was placed the way it was placed for a reason.

I think History Jim is the most embarrassed. After all, think of the time I've devoted to researching that part of the city (the south part of Downtown, perhaps my favorite) and the countless hours I've spent rummaging around the park, the statue, and (especially) the lilac trees. Yet do you think that even once I might have considered the placement of the statue, and noticed why it is the way it is? Nope; all I did was whine because the sun could never light up Jacques Marquette's face.

Sometimes, I amaze even myself. And usually not in a good way. So this may be 100 years late, and it may go to show the depths of my stupidity, but to the people who moved the statue to Lakeside Park a century ago, just let me say one thing--

You nailed it. Good job. And I'll stop my whining now.

(jim@wmqt.com)

Monday, 7/20

I'm gonna guess not many people agree with me, but I really think that today should be a national holiday.

For those of you who aren't aware (and since most people AREN'T aware, which is why I believe most people wouldn't agree that today should be a national holiday), today is the 51st anniversary of one of the pinnacle achievements of humanity, the landing of Apollo 11 on the moon. It marked a time when people worked together to achieve a singularly unique goal, a goal that was not easy to reach, and then all cheered en masse when that goal was accomplished. It proved what humans could go when they actually worked together on a project, and didn't devolve into partisan sniping, bickering, or a “what's in it for me” mentality.

And if for no other reason, maybe THAT'S why it should declared a national holiday.

After all, it's not like we've done anything similar in the 51 years since. I sometimes stand, jaw agape, at the wonder of the situation—over half a century ago we went people to another celestial body, and then gave up. You wouldn't think it'd be hard to do it again—after all, the technology worked the first time—but it is. We're too busy fighting with each other over every single stupid little thing to step back and realize what our mothers and fathers and grandparents did 50+ years ago, and to realize that, if we had the desire and daring to do it again, we could.

If they were able to do it with the technology they had, imagine what we could do with the tech we have today. But over the past five decades, even though plans have been put forth to replicate that amazing achievement—or, god forbid, even surpass it—nothing has ever happen. Nothing. NASA has a goal of returning there by 2024, but the odds are slim that it'll actually happen and growing slimmer by the day. Maybe Space X will give it a shot. Maybe China will give it a shot.

Maybe.

And since it may a while before we even try to once again attempt what occurred 51 years ago today, maybe we should just declare the day a national holiday, if for no other reason to remind people what CAN be accomplished if we put our minds and our collective will behind it.

***

By the way, if you're curious, I have started counting license plates for the week, even though Art on the Rocks isn't happening Saturday. It's just too ingrained in me not to do it, and besides—I'm kind of curious to see what the results will be!

(jim@wmqt.com)

Friday, 7/17

I wonder if I'll even be able to do Christmas cookies this year?

Yes, I know I just wrote yesterday about how I'm loving summer and no, I don't want it to end so we can get to the holidaze. In fact, I want anything BUT that to happen. But as I was going through a stack of stuff last night trying to find something I came across a cookie recipe from last Christmas that I was thinking of doing this Christmas.

Assuming, of course, I actually get to do cookies.

I mean, I'll be able to bake as many cookies as I want. That's not a problem. But I usually give away almost every single cookie I make to family & friends. At least, that's what I do in a normal year. 2020, of course, is anything BUT a normal year. Everyone's very conscious about giving and getting gifts, and handling stuff that comes from outside your home. I get that. I do that myself. So if the holidaze roll around and all this virus stuff is still hanging on, who's gonna want to get a bunch of cookies from someone as a gift?

I'm guessing not many people. And that's why I was wondering if I'll get to do Christmas cookies—as usual—this year.

Of course, a lot can change before then. Maybe science will discover a vaccine quicker than assumed and we can all go on with our lives. But based on how things have gone and how things seem to be going, I'm guessing that's not gonna happen. It would not surprise me one bit if things steadily became worse, especially in the US where no one seems to care about trying to slow down the pandemic. And by the time December rolls around? Who knows what the heck things will be like.

And that's why, for one of the few times in my life, I'm not very optimistic.

We'll see how it goes as the months wear on. I would certainly love to make the cookies as I usually do, and them give them to family and friends so they can devour the calories and spare me the weight gain. I'm just pretty certain that that won't be happening, at least this year.

On that cheery note have a great weekend. If you feel like it, enjoy a cookie or two yourself!

(jim@wmqt.com)

Thursday, 7/16

I'm sure I've written about this before, and I'm sure I'll write about it again, but...

There's no way it's half over, is there?

Sigh.

If you consider “summer” to be the months of June, July, and August, then at noon today, July 16^th, the middle hour of the middle day of the middle month of “summer”, marks the halfway point of the season.

Yup. “Summer” is half way over already.

I don't mention it to bum you out, nor do I mention it to set myself up for an epic session of whining about the unfairness of it all. I just brought it up because my mind is blown by the simple fact that tomorrow the halfway point of a season for which I live but, because never ever seems long enough, even during those years (like this year) when we have sun & warmth and everything else you'd expect from the season.

“Summer”, we hardly knew ye.

This actually all came up while I was off on a half day Monday, running in the 78 degree heat, and sweating like a pig. Setting aside the question of whether or not pigs can actually sweat (can they?), it was one of those runs about which I (literally) dream. And as I was running and sweating like a pig, it occurred to me that it was July 13^th, which is only three days before July 16^th, the mid point of “Summer”...

Well, that's when the whole thing spiraled out of control.

I know there's nothing I can do about it, and I feel like I'm starting to venture into whining territory. And seeing as how I just did that a few days ago, I'll shut up about it now. But if you happen to see grey matter splattered here or there on Front Street in Marquette the next few days, don't worry. It's nothing serious.

It's just what's left over after my mind gets blown.

(jim@wmqt.com)

Wednesday, 7/15

I'm still wondering whether or not I should do it.

Those of you who've read these forever know that I have the world's strangest habit this time of the year. Every year, for the week leading up to Art on the Rocks, I count license plates. I see how many states are represented, and then make some kind of sweeping (and only occasionally correct) pronouncement about the state of the country.

If 2020 were a normal year, Art on the Rocks would be a week from this Saturday, which means my yearly count would begin this Monday. However, as we're all painfully aware, 2020 is NOT a normal year. Art on the Rocks has been cancelled, and I've been left wondering whether or not to do the count anyway.

I just haven't made up my mind yet.

I will admit, though, that I AM leaning toward doing it. After all, I'm kind of curious to see how many people are still visiting, and from which states they come. I'm assuming the number of different states will be way down this year, but you know what they say about assuming. I could be totally wrong about that. I've always counted plates during the week of Art on the Rocks just to make sure that I have a statistically valid year-to-year comparison. Well, even though the show's cancelled this year, by doing it during the same week it would be a great comparison, and a chance to see just how much of an effect Art on the Rocks—and Covid-19—has on people visiting Marquette.

There. In writing that paragraph I've convinced myself. The count will go on.

Thanks for your help!!

****

I need to thank daily blog reader Chicky-Poo of Marquette who, after reading yesterday's blog about the people on the beach (and their response to my warnings about E Coli in the water) sent me this meme--

I appreciate it, Dad!

(jim@wmqt.com)

Tuesday, 7/14

Some people just don't get it.

After writing yesterday's blog and stopping by the station to take care of a little work I took off for a bit and went for a stroll in the warm sun. I found myself on Marquette's South Beach, where I came across two people and their dogs, playing in the water. That in itself isn't out of the ordinary, even if they were braking the rules by having their dogs off their leash.

But that's a blog for another day.

The two people and their dogs were in the water. Now because I didn't know if they had heard that swimming at that beach was temporary suspended because of a very high concentration of E Coli in the later, and because I didn't want they or their pets to get sick, I, in a very friendly tone, let them know about the city rule.

They let me know, in no uncertain words, what I could do with myself.

I just let them be. I mean, if they want to get sick or infect their pets with some kind of strange disease, so be it. I was just trying to help. But the fact that there's a certain subset of people these days who refuse to follow rules or refuse to do what's good for them, even if their health depends upon it, just makes me shake my head. The city of Marquette doesn't want you to get sick. It's in the public good and the public interest that you not swim in water with a high concentration of a bacteria that makes you ill. Yet these people didn't care; they were gonna swim in the water no matter what was in it, and no one was going to tell them otherwise.

Especially me.

So if you happen to hear of someone who has become ill thanks to E Coli, I have pretty good idea who it might be. I tried to warn them, and they just didn't care. They were gonna do what they wanted to do, and it didn't matter if there was reason behind the warnings and the rules.

They just don't get it.

(jim@wmqt.com)

Monday, 7/13

There. I think I have my “brand”.

You may remember a couple of weeks ago I was talking about how I seem to do too many things to give myself a “brand”, a 2-5 word statement that describes me and what I do. You know, like Loraine's “That World War II Lady”. Well, after shooting some stuff with other people for the “Third Street: Day & Night” video and telling them a few stories (including the Adams Hotel fruit basket story mentioned last week), one of the people gave me what might be my brand.

What did she say? She said, and I quote, “you're the funniest guy in history”.

Hmm. “The Funniest Guy in History”. Well, it DOES fall into the two to five five word limit for a branding statement. It IS pithy and memorable. And aside from the fact that it's wildly inaccurate and way too narcissistic for me, I suppose it could work.

8-)

First of all, she did not mean that I was the funniest person who ever lived...you know, the funniest person in all of history. I wouldn't even come in the top 500 million of that category. What she meant (and had to explain to me after she realized what she had said) was that I was the funniest person she's ever heard talking about history. You know, “history” as in an academic subject, and not “history”, as in “of all time”. In all honesty, I sure there have been many funnier people than I talking about historical subjects. But I do appreciate the thought.

I guess looking for the strange and the absurd in local history has paid off in at least one way.

So while I appreciate the thought, I don't think “The funniest guy in history” will become my branding statement any time soon. I'm still trying to figure out how to combine Radio Jim and History Jim and TV Jim and Traveling Jim and just Plain Jim in to one pithy statement, but with no luck yet. Daily blog reader Kate of Marquette did have a suggestion after my original post a few weeks ago. She said I should just call myself “Renaissance Jim, the Renaissance Man”, which I suppose could work if real renaissance people like Leonardo Da Vinci or Thomas Jefferson or Bono hadn't set the bar so high.

Ah well; it was just a thought experiment to begin with. Maybe I don't really need a “brand” to be who I am. Although, I have to admit, it probably WOULD be neat to hand out business cards that say “Jim Koski, the Funniest Guy in History”.

Maybe in a another life...

(jim@wmqt.com)

Friday, 7/10

I don't have a lot of time to write this morning, as I have to meet up with my drone guy (and yes, I now have a drone guy) to go over some of the stuff we're shooting the next few days for “Third Street: Day & Night”. But I did want to make mention that I won't be able to do something I've done every weekend for over a decade now.

I won't be able to go to Farmer Q's.

In case you haven't heard, Marquette's favorite produce stand closed a few days ago, ahead of a transition from selling fruits and vegetables to selling something else that grows (and is now newly legal in Michigan). I've been a fan of the store since they opened on Washington Street, and the walk that Loraine and I have made almost every weekend since to South Marquette (even through some pretty nasty weather) will no longer be.

Bummer.

I wish Tom & Sue the best in their new endevour, and I'm a little bummed that I won't be able to pick up fresh Michigan cherries or toasted pumpkin seeds whenever I feel like. But things change, even moreso than usual this year, and I'm sure I'll (somehow) adapt.

Loraine and I will just have to find someplace else to walk on our Saturday mornings.

With that in mind, I have to scoot. Have a great weekend!

(jim@wmqt.com)

Thursday, 7/9

Well, I couldn't do it.

I had a hair appointment scheduled last night, and as I wrote last week I was torn between letting my feathery and wavy Corona-hair keep growing, or get it cut off and return my head back to normal. For some strange reason, I've been fascinated by the increasing length of the stuff popping out of scalp, and I wasn't sure if I wanted to see it go quite yet.

That's why I still have it.

Oh sure, the ends are trimmed and it looks a little neater, but I still have my Corona-hair. What can I say? I guess I just enjoy being a lab experiment.

As of now, at least, I do have plan for when the experiment will end. I'm thinking of letting the Corona-hair grow until either Loraine and I go to France at the beginning of September, or, more likely, because Americans aren't allowed to go anywhere these days because we can't act like adults and wear masks, right before I start shooting “High School Bowl” for the season in late September.

Either way, I'll still have the Corona-hair for a while longer.

I'm shooting some on-camera stuff for that “Third Street: Day & Night” video this weekend, which means that everyone who pays to watch it will see a host with some wild hair. Recently trimmed wild hair, mind you, but wild hair nonetheless. And if that's not worth the $5 or whatever it is they'll be charging to watch it, I don't know what is.

Hopefully, it won't scare anyone off.

That's the deal with my hair, at least for now, in case you were so bored by the world in 2020 that you were dying to know. We now return you to matters much more pressing and important.

(jim@wmqt.com)

Wednesday, 7/8

How much do you have lying around?

Loraine came home from work a couple of days ago and was telling me about how banks (the one she works at included) are running short of coins these days. That's probably not a surprise; for most of this year people haven't been out buying things, and many stores aren't even accepting cash these days. So it makes sense that there aren't a lot of coins in circulation these days.

However, that means than stores that do need to give out change (and the banks that supply those stores) don't have what they need, thanks to the jars, bowls, and pockets filled with unused coins. I'm one of those people; I have a jar at work in which I throw change that's just lying around. Knowing banks are in dire need, I emptied the jar into a plastic bag, walked across the street to Loraine's bank, and walked away with $56.12.

That's a lot of change.

If I'm normal (and stop laughing at that statement) and had $56.12 in change, just how many coins are lying around the country in jars and bowls and pockets around the country? Say I represent one household. There are 128.5 million other households in the country. If each one of them has $56.12 in change lying around, that's....let's see here...carry the one...bang the calculator on the desk because the batteries are dying...that's $7, 211,000,000 in coins lying around being unused.

Over seven billion dollars worth!

Now, despite my supposition above I'm not normal. Maybe I had a higher amount of coinage lying around than most people. But maybe not. Maybe there really IS 7 billion dollars worth of quarters, dimes, and pennies lying around. It wouldn't surprise me. If we haven't been able to spend them and we've just been collecting them, there really could be that much floating around.

So do your bank a favor. Get your coins together and schlep 'em over to your favored branch. Who knows—you may have a lot more lying around than you ever thought possible.

Maybe even $56.12 worth!

(jim@wmqt.com)

Tuesday, 7/7

Did I forget to mention it?

I received a note from someone who had noticed that yesterday I mentioned I'm putting together a Third Street video for the History Center, and wondered what happened to the walking tour, which had been planned for tomorrow night. I thought I had written about that, but seeing as how it's 2020 and nothing is working right, I may have forgotten about it.

Oops.

No, Stephanie, it's my sad duty to report that the tour for tomorrow night has been axed. Concerns over social distancing and spacing along some very narrow sidewalks along Third Street led the History Center to put the kibosh on it. We'd been trying to figure out ways that we could safely put the tour on, and had a lot of different ideas thrown on the table, but in the end it just wasn't to be.

Bummer.

So instead of a walking tour I'm now working on putting together an hour long video about the street. It'll be like a super-sized version of the “Pieces of the Past” clips I did earlier this year, and it'll be available on the History Center's website for viewing (with a donation, of course). Even though we've never tried anything like this, it's probably the best solution we could come up with in a very bad year.

So we have that going for it.

I have no idea when it'll be ready for viewing. Putting together a tour and putting together a long video are two very different things, and while the research I've been doing can still be used I now need pictures, videos, and a written script, then hours upon hours of editing it all together. It's kind of like going from making a cake out of a box to making a cake by hand, multiplied by, I don't know, a thousand.

That's why I don't know when the video will be ready.

In fact, I'm meeting someone who's offered to help in a little bit. He works in video production, and has offered to shoot stand-ups, interviews, and even fly a drone around Third Street to capture some really cool images. If it works out, it'll add quite the spectacle to the production. It'll probably add on a few days to the production schedule, as well, but it would be so worth it.

So that's the story about the non-tour tomorrow, Stephanie, and what's taking its place. Sorry I forgot to mention it earlier!

(jim@wmqt.com)

Monday, 7/6

I wonder if the story's gonna outlive both me and the person who told it to me?

First of all, hope you had a great weekend. I did a lot of things. Aside from biking to Negaunee with Loraine and eating a lot and wondering just how stupid the 1,000+ people on the beach at McCarty's Cove on Saturday were, I also walked up & down Third Street with my mother trying to gather info on my big upcoming video about the history of the place.   The story I'm referring to came up when we stopped to speak with someone. And then I spoke with someone else this weekend on another part of Marquette history, that person said she's been telling my fruit bowl story to friends and relatives, getting the same kind of reaction I get when I tell it, which is basically a big laugh.

Cool. It's kind of like going viral, but in the old fashioned way!

If you've never heard the story, it's about (naturally) prostitutes in Marquette; namely, the working women who used to ply their trade at the old Adams Hotel in Marquette (now the building that used to house the Upfront). As the tale goes, you would know they were open for business when there was a bowl of fruit in the window. This apparently went on from the 1910s to the 1940s.

By the way, speaking of my mother? She's the one who originally told me the story.

Interesting & cute historical story, right? But so interesting that people tell the story to other people they know? Not in and of itself. I have a feeling the story gets told thanks to the kicker to it, which goes like this—fifteen or sixteen years ago I was giving a downtown tour to a bunch of elderly NMU alumni, describing what used to happened at the old Adams Hotel. As I was telling the story, an elderly gentleman looked at me, looked at the building, and looked back at me again with a mix of confusion and curiosity in his eyes. After a few seconds, he held up his hand and said this--

“You know, when I was a young boy I used to work at the Adams, and one of my jobs was to put fruit in the window. Until today, I never knew why”.

THAT'S why the story gets repeated over and over, I guess. And it's because of that elderly gentleman that the story may outlast even me and the person who told it to me.

Thanks, Mom!!!

8-)

(jim@wmqt.com)

Thursday, 7/2

It's re-purposing carried to the extreme.

The Marquette Regional History Center needed a newspaper article last week, and I was able to toss one off for them in 20 minutes. How? Well, I took one of the scripts I had written for my “Pieces of the Past” video series, added a few words to it, and turned it in. It ran in yesterday's Mining Journal, which means that I can now share it with you here. So this will be the third time something I wrote a few months ago has shown up in different formats.

If only ALL my writing was this easy.

By the way, I have tomorrow off so there won't be one of these. Have yourself a great holiday weekend!

(jim@wmqt.com)

*****

MARQUETTE'S “HOTEL ROW”

Anyone who's ever been in Marquette is familiar with the Janzen House. The Janzen, for a long time, was a traveler's hotel. In fact, it was one of four such buildings that once sat on the 100 west block of Spring Street, a block that for a span of over sixty years was home to Marquette's “Hotel Row”

Why that particular block of Spring Street? Well, the hotels were located there because of their proximity to the Main Street train station. Until 1948, when that train station closed and a new passenger terminal was opened on Fifth Street, visitors and business people could just hop off the train, walk a few feet to the establishment of their choice, and check in.

The first of the hotels, built right after the station itself, was the The Merchants Hotel. Constructed by Karl Rohl on the corner of Third and Spring, the Merchants was a three story wooden structure. When it first opened you could get a room at the Merchants for $5 a week. If you wanted to bump that up to ten dollars a week, they'd feed you meals, as well. Or course, there was one caveat to that great price.

You had to be a man to be a guest at the Merchants Hotel. At least when they first opened, they wouldn't allow women to check in.

Merchant's Hotel.  Photo courtesy Marquette Regional History Center

The hotel hung on for a few years after the train station moved but ended up closing in the 1950s. It was replaced by a new A&P Store,a building that still stands as the home of the Marquette Regional History Center.

Right next to the Merchants was the Windsor Hotel, which sat it what is now the site of a city parking lot. Opened by Peter Kremer in 1891, it changed its name to the Central House three years later. The smallest of the Spring Street hotels, the Windsor stood out from the others by having an in-house saloon and by having a horse barn built in back. It was, mostly likely, downtown Marquette's first parking garage.

Windsor Hotel.  Photo courtesy Marquette Regional History Center

The Windsor closed in 1915.

On the other side of the street sat two hotels that were almost mirror images of each other, the Janzen and the Brunswick. The two hotels were built around the same time, in the late 1880s, and even shared a small courtyard. The Brunswick was a slightly bigger facility, and had what one newspaper article of the time called “one of the finest dining rooms in all the city”. Like the Merchants Hotel, the Brunswick suffered after the closing of the downtown train station in 1948. It did hang on for another twenty or so years, eventually becoming a long-term hotel, where retired workers and indiividuals without other housing would live. After catching fire a few times, the structure was eventually torn down in the late 1960s. It was replaced by law offices and another parking lot.

Brunswick Hotel.  Photo courtesy Marquette Regional History Center

The one ex-hotel that's still standing on Spring Street is the Janzen. Like the others, once the train station moved it too changed its clientele. Like the Brunswick, it became more of a home for retirees and transients. It did manage to host one final famous visitor, though, as in the late 1960s a high ranking government official from Czechoslovakia came to NMU to speak on the superiority of the Communist system. Through a mix up, he was booked at the then-seedy Janzen, a stay that probably did nothing to change his mind about the excesses and failures of the capitalist system.

A public fundraising campaign in the early 1980s brought much-needed capital to repair the then crumbling structure. Since then, the Janzen has been used as transitional housing for individuals looking to re-enter society. One of the oldest remaining buildings on that block, it stands as the final testament to what was once Marquette's “Hotel Row”.

Wednesday, 7/1

I'm still VERY up in the air about it.

If you've been reading these the past few months you know that I've been letting my Corona-hair grow. Except for little trim of scraggly hairs here and there, I've been letting it blossom since the beginning of March, and now it's feathery and curly and, basically, out of control.

You can't see most of it in this picture, but it might give you an idea of what it looks like.

I'm up in the air about keeping it for two reasons. One is that it, at the moment, looks a little wild. It looks like I haven't gotten it cut in almost four months. It's like it's in the middle of doing what I want it to do—grow out. In a couple of weeks it might look amazing, like a chiseled adult, but for right now it looks like a 14-year old with braces and acne.

So I'm willing to let things slide on that account.

However, as my hair's getting longer the (ahem) gray in it is a little more noticeable. I shouldn't be surprised; while my hair's a combination of black & gray on top most of the hair underneath is quite gray, and since I now have more of it showing it just goes to reason that what's popping out is that color (or more to the point, that lack of color).

Maybe this is just my pride, but the gray bothers me more than the out-of-control aspect of it. With it all feathery and curly I could convince myself that I look like I just came in from surfing or something. But with the gray hair flying everywhere?

Well, it's everything I can do not to convince myself I just came in from the nursing home.

I have a hair appointment a week from today. I have no idea if it'll just be a little neatening or if it'll be a full blown get-rid-of-the-gray cut. Between now and then I'll probably change my mind several dozen times.

I guess we'll find out which way I go in a week.

(jim@wmqt.com)