Friday, 1/29

 It's Friday, so you know what that means, right?

I get to repurpose a newspaper article!

Well, actually, I don't do it every Friday. It only happens six or seven times a year, depending upon how many newspaper articles I write each year for the Marquette Regional History Center. But seeing as how I've (somehow) become one of a small group of people that cranks these articles out week in and week out, I figured that I could kill two birds with one stone, at least in a literary sense.

So with that in mind, here's the latest. Please don't think any less of me for doing this.

8-)

Have a great weekend!

(jim@wmqt.com)

*****

It now names an elementary school in Marquette, but a century ago “Superior Hills” conjured up an entirely different meaning.

In the 1920s through 1940s skiing (and ski jumping) reigned as perhaps Marquette's premiere winter sport. Wherever there was a hill (and enough snow) kids and adults alike would strap on their skis, sometimes attached to their feet with plastic cords instead of bindings, and they would soon find themselves gliding through the snow or flying through the air for afternoons on end.

City-sanctioned tournaments were held on home made jumps set up on streets with steep inclines, like Genessee in South Marquette and Sherman in the Piqua Location. Trophies and prizes were given out, and crows in the hundreds would gather to watch the youth of Marquette fly a few dozen feet through the air. But the majority of fun on the snow usually occurred held at two different locations, Superior Hills and Chipmunk Bluff.

(courtesy Superior View Studios)

Both hills were near each other in south Marquette. Superior Hills encompassed an area were Shiras Hills now stands, and went south toward Mount Marquette. Starting off as a rough, natural area, skiers would climb to the top of the hill on foot and then ski down, only getting in two or three runs a day. In the late 1930s, the city installed a tow rope on the hill, which greatly increased the number of runs per day. According to Dr. Don Hurst, who skied the hill as a youth, the tow rope would allow up to 25 or 30 runs down the hill in an afternoon. At the same time dedicated toboggan paths were cut into the snow, allowing sledders and tobogganers to join in the fun, as well.

Less than half a mile away was another winter sports haven in south Marquette. In the 1930s, Altamont Street went only as far south as Hampton Street. There it ended as the base of a hill. The hill is now home to several hundred houses, but 90 years ago it became home to Chipmunk Bluff.

Chipmunk Bluff, courtesy of Superior View Studios

Like Superior Hills, Chipmunk Bluff started off as a rough, natural sports area, but soon became more developed as more people began using it. Not quite a high in elevation as Superior Hills, Chipmunk Bluff drew in residents from all over the city with its sledding paths, gentle slope, and a small (but sturdy) ski jump.

It also had a rope tow to help bring enthusiasts to the top of the hill. Many people who used the tow rope recall having to let go of it at just the right moment lest they get dragged somewhere they did not want to go. The tow rope also had a habit of chewing up an errant mittens or scarves that might happen to get caught up in it. For several years Chipmunk Bluff was also the home to a youth ski jumping tournament that would attract participants from all across Marquette County.

In the late 1940s and early 1950s the area around Chipmunk Bluff began to develop as a residential area for a growing city, and the tow rope and ski jump were traded in for a subdivision. The city shifted its winter recreation focus Chipmunk Bluff and Superior Hills to Kirlin Hill, which eventually became Mount Menard, a ski area that would then operate for the next several decades.

However, for several generations of Marquette winter sports enthusiasts, nothing could ever match the fun they had on Superior Hills and Chipmunk Bluff.

(Note—this material comes from “Skiing, Skating, and Slapshots”, a video slide show from Jack Deo and Jim Koski, available now on DVD at the Marquette Regional History Center or for download at www.marquettehistory.org)

Thursday, 1/28

 I can not believe it's been thirty five years.

For those of us who were born in the 1960s and 1970s the first time we had a “generational” moment, a moment where we know exactly where we were when it occurred, occurred 35 years ago today. Much like people older than us know exactly where they were when John Kennedy was shot, we as a generation know exactly where we were when we heard that Challenger blew up 74 seconds after liftoff from an icy Kennedy Space Center in Florida.

The event that occurred thirty five years ago today.

In one way, it's been amazing that it happened thirty five years ago, because it sure doesn't seem that long, at least to me. But when you look at footage about the accident (something I really don't like to do, always covering my eyes at the words “Challenger, you are go for throttle-up”), you see grainy, standard-def video, you see spokespeople with big 80s hair, and you see computers that, while advanced for their time, probably have less processing power than the phones you hold in your hand. The evidence is there. It really DID happen 35 years ago today.

Since Challenger, of course, there have been other “generational” moments that have occurred. And I think it's surprising that the loss of another space shuttle, Columbia in 2003, wasn't among them. I don't know if that's because we already had a spaceflight “trauma”, or because by that point people just didn't care, but for most people Columbia didn't mean a thing. Or at least it didn't mean as much as the other two “generational” events that occurred after Challenger.

What were those events? Well, September 11^th is one of them. Everybody know where they were when the planes hit the towers. I have a feeling January 6^th of this year, when insurrectionists & white supremacists stormed the US Capitol, might soon be defined as another. And the last generational event might surprise you, but it's true. Everybody knows where they were the night O.J. Simpson took a ride in that white Ford Bronco. It's wasn't as earth-shattering of an event as Kennedy or Challenger or 9/11, but everybody seems to know where they were that Friday night. And some might even argue that since O.J hired an attorney named Robert Kardashian and gave he and his family their first access to fame, it's the most influential of the generational events.

And that's a scary thought in itself.

But for many of us, the first “generational” event of our lifetime was Challenger, which occurred thirty five years ago today, whether you want to believe it or not.

(jim@wmqt.com)

Wednesday, 1/27

 The $600 is, I'm happy to say, almost gone. I've done my best.

Now, what to do with the next round?

As I've written about in here many times, I've been one of the lucky ones the past year. Because I've been working the whole time I really don't have a pressing need for this latest round of stimulus money, so I've been spending every single cent of it at locally owned businesses. With the latest round I've picked up everything from running pants to basil-vanilla soap, and I've been able to pass the money around to as many local businesses as possible.

After all, the stimulus money is supposed to stimulate the economy, right? I'm just doing my part.

If thing go according to plan we'll soon be getting another $1,400, which will be a lifeline for those who really need it. But for those of us who don't, a somewhat unique situation may arise—where to spend the money when it comes in.

This may sound strange, but I think I've started to run out of places to spend the money. I could go buy another pair of running pants or a few more bars of soap; I can certainly find more restaurants from which to get food. But I'm also thinking of another group with whom I could share some of the money--

Non-Profit organizations.

Like I said, I don't necessarily need to buy anything else. I mean, I could, but I'd literally have no place to put it. And knowing the huge hit that most non-profits have taken in the past year, I'm thinking they might be a great way to use the next round of stimulus money. The only thing is...there are so many of them that could use the help that I'm not quite sure who to help.

When I was just trying to buy things, the choices were rather easy. What i was buying had to come from a store that was  locally owned and should have been something that I'd actually use (or discover something new that I now can't live without). But local non-profits? Like I said, there are so many out there that could use the help that I'm not quite sure where to start. Sure, there are a couple with which I'm involved, but there are also others that I wouldn't mind helping out. There are also others that are in dire need, and could use the money.

How does one choose?

It'll be a little while before we get the $1,400, so I do have some time. But I am going to have to devote a little thought to this. I'd like to help out every group that deserves it. The problem is, that's almost every non-profit these days. So which ones get the money, and which ones don't?

At this moment, I have no idea. But I suppose I should start figuring it out soon.

(jim@wmqt.com)

Tuesday, 1/26

 I now know why I don’t like winter. Well, I now know another reason why I don’t like winter

Winter has killed off every car battery I’ve ever owned. And now that I don't even own a car, it's killing off Loraine's car batteries, too.

Loraine went to start her car Saturday and was greeted by nothing more than a sad little “click click click” coming from under the hood. I can’t say I’m surprised; like I said, it’s become quite the tradition. But I am VERY surprised, because the day before I had taken the dog (er, the car) out for a walk to make sure it was still working okay.

Guess that worked well, huh?

As far as I can remember, I’ve owned five or six cars in my life. The first was a late 70s or early 80s Honda Civic with a battery that died (if I recall correctly) on a regular basis, a regular basis usually exacerbated by extremely cold temperatures. In fact, the only thing I know how to fix on cars--the use of jumper cables--I learned about with the help of that Honda Civic. My next two vehicles, a mid-80s thing that my parents (very coolly & with great pride) rebuilt out of two separate cars, and an early 90’s Eagle Summit, each had a battery that died. the last car I actually bought was the Purple Neon I had for a decade, and the battery in that finally gave up the ghost one February morning when it was 21 below. Then, my final two cars were old vehicles of Loraine's, each of which would sit in the driveway while I walked to work every day, and each of which rebelled by letting their batteries slowly fade into oblivion.

In the seven years I haven't had a car Loraine's had two, the neon green Mazda and her current one. The Mazda's battery died after a year, and her new car's battery lasted almost three years until giving up the ghost. And daily blog reader Chicky-Poo in Florida, yes, we KNOW we should be driving it more in the winter to stop this from happening. But it's been a mild winter. And we've been busy. And you're not supposed to be going anywhere anyway.

Fortunately, over the years I’ve gotten quite good at knowing the drill for this. I first call someone to jump the car (in this case, the best sister in the history of sisters, someone who actually left work to help out), and then head out to Advance Auto Parts in Marquette, where someone greets me with a smile, sells me a battery, and even puts it in my car for me.

It's like I'm turning into a regular at that place, or something.

I know I complain about winter and the cold in here an awful lot, but you hafta realize I’m not just doing it for myself. I’m also complaining on behalf of every car battery I’ve ever owned.

That kinda justifies it all, doesn’t it?

(jim@wmqt.com)

Monday, 1/25

 I wonder if 5 O'Clock Charlie made me the person I am today?

Let me explain. Because my usual insanely busy last weekend of January was anything BUT insane and I had a few spare hours, I found myself was thumbing through my copy of Norman Lear's autobiography. Norman Lear, of course, was the guy who turned television comedy on its head in the 1970s with shows like “All in the Family” and “Maude”. While I did watch several Norman Lear shows growing up (“All in the Family” and “Good Times” foremost among them), they didn't have as much of an effect on me as did two other shows. And it wasn't until I started reading Lear's book that I realized a fictional character from one of those shows, a character named “5 O'Clock Charlie”, may be one of the reasons I turned out the way I did.

When I was eleven or twelve I came across a repeat of an episode of a TV show that featured the character “5 O'Clock Charlie”. I was quite taken by the episode and the absurdity of “5 O'Clock Charlie”, so I began watching all the episodes I could of the show, both in first run and reruns, and found myself enchanted by not only the writing but the characters, the way they acted, and what they believed in. All these decades later, I can tell you that I really think watching the show growing up formed a big part of who I became, the way I act (especially my sense of humor), and what I believe in.

I turned out the way I did because a toss-off, one-shot character named “5 O'Clock Charlie” was featured on an episode of “MASH”.

I've always known growing up watching “MASH” had a big influence on me, but I never actually realized WHY I watched it. It seems like the show was always on, and it seems like I always watched it. That why I was surprised when I was leafing through Norman Lear's book and, for some reason, the character of “5 O'Clock Charlie” popped into my head. I've always loved the episode from the show's second year, and I've probably seen it a dozen times over the years. But for whatever reason I never actually remembered that particular episode was my gateway to the show. Why Norman Lear's book made me recall that, I don't know. I just know that it did.

I think I know why the eleven or twelve-year old me liked the episode “5 O'Clock Charlie” so much. It was actually rather goofy and absurd, about a near-sighted North Korean pilot who flew over the unit every day at 5 and tried to blow up a nearby ammo dump. He was so bad that the doctors would take bets on how far off he'd be, and his daily fly-over was cause for a big party. Unlike many of the “MASH” episodes I would like in the future, the first one I watched was more goofy and strange than serious and thoughtful. Maybe if “5 O'Clock Charlie” hadn't been the first episode of the show I watched, the eleven or twelve-year old version of me would've been bored, and I never would've viewed the series again, probably changing the way I turned out.

I could've been a very different person if it hadn't been for “5 O'Clock Charlie”. So, in a roundabout way, thanks, Norman Lear, for making me think about it.

(jim@wmqt.com)

Friday, 1/22

 I promised you a video today, and a video you'll get.

“Skiing, Skating, & Slapshots”, the program Jack & I put together for the Marquette Regional History Center, is Jack's baby. It was his idea, mostly his pictures, and his stories. To use a historical reference, I'm kind of the Ed McMahon to his Johnny Carson on this one. Aside from cracking jokes and editing and producing the whole thing, I also put together a bunch of interview segments with people from Don Hurst to Carol Urbiha, people who actually skied or skated back in the day.

So I'll share a short segment featuring the voice of Nancy Henderson, talking about the night the placed called  Hockey Temple of the 50s or the Church of North Marquette, the Palestra, started to burn. It's just two of the 100 minutes of the show, which is available in its entirety from the History Center as a download or a DVD.

Hint hint.

Enjoy the clip, and have yourself a great weekend!

(jim@wmqt.com)

Thursday, 1/21

 Today was supposed to start my annual “Big Weekend of the Year”. But because it's, what, December 52^nd, 2020, it won't be happened as scheduled.

Bummer.

Every January I have a weekend that's a whirlwind from Thursday night to Saturday night, one that brings out all the “Jims” that we keep referring to here. On Thursday History Jim would be doing the big annual history jokefest at Kaufman Auditorium. After a few hours of sleep TV Jim would shooting the quarterfinals of “High School Bowl”, then become Radio Jim for the afternoon. After a little more sleep Finish Line Jim would then head down to the Superior Dome to announce the names of 1,500 or so people wrapping up their Noquemanon.

That's why it's my “Big Weekend of the Year”. But this year, it's not even my “Small Weekend of the Year”. Oh well.

The Noquemanon has been turned into a virtual race. “High School Bowl” has been cancelled for the entire season. And while we did put together a video version of the Kaufman show, I finished it a week ago and without a crowd present it's way different than it usually is. So the only part of the “Big Weekend of the Year” that's left is radio, and seeing as how I do that almost every day of my life it's no big deal.

Oh well.

The “Big Weekend of the Year” was always a little hectic; as I've written in here before, I would get to do all of these cool things yet not have any time to reflect on what had just happened. I'd go from Kaufman to TV to radio to finish line announcing without taking more than a few breaths, and while by the end of the weekend my voice would be strained and I'd be craving sleep it was always an amazing 45 or 46-hour span.

Everyone should be lucky enough to experience a weekend like that, and before this year I was able to do it almost every year. And seeing as how this is one of the least painful ways in which you could affected by this whole pandemic thingee, I'm lucky times two.

After all, it's not that big of a deal in the entire scheme of things. It's just a bummer. That's all it is.

Tomorrow, maybe I'll share a little of the “Skiing, Skating, and Slapshots” program we had to do virtually instead of in-person this year. So behave, and that'll be your reward.

8-)

(jim@wmqt.com)

Wednesday, 1/20

 And now, we enter the next phase of our lives.

Whenever there’s a big, transformative event—be it on a large scale, like today’s inauguration, or on a much more personal scale, like a birth or a wedding or a graduation—we tend to realize, if only for a fleeting moment, that the curtain is coming down on one act of our lives, while at the same time rising on the next. There’s a “before” the event, and an “after” the event. Now, we’re living in the “after”.

For many of us, today’s inauguration put the wraps on a surreal chunk of our lives. For the past four years we had no idea on what was going to happen on any given day. As interesting as a day or two like that could be overall it wasn't necessarily a good thing, especially as one thing led to another which then led to another and people near and far would wonder just what was going on, and usually not in a good way.

Now, of course, we're at an “after”. We're entering an entirely different world, with an entirely different cast of characters and an entirely different way of dealing with things. Things could actually go back to, dare I say, “normal”. Now whether or not you agree that's a good thing is up to you, but no matte how you think I do believe you'd have to agree that we're in for an rapid & shocking transition from our “before” to our “after”.

It'll be our new version of normality.

Or it will be until the next “before” and “after” points in our lives, whenever that is and however it comes about. I know many people are hopeful, while a few are wondering what will become of their lives. All I know is that it will not be the same as it has been. I'll leave it to you to decide whether that's a good thing or a bad thing. And that's all I'm gonna say about that.

(jim@wmqt.com)

Tuesday, 1/19

 I can't believe I'm actually saying this, but I sure wish it would snow.

Don't worry; it's not a cry for help, nor is a message that I've secretly been kidnapped and need to be rescued. Instead, it's just an observation (albeit one I never thought I'd make) on the fact that we're kind of stuck in a netherworld of of having a little snow but not enough to play with.

Here's what a street in Marquette looks like--

I took that picture on Sunday, after we had an inch or so snow. If I had taken the picture Friday when it was raining, it would've looked like October instead. And that's the problem—there's just enough snow on the ground to make things like running a little tricky and playing soccer impossible, yet there's nowhere near enough snow to cross-country ski or snowshoe.

We've been at the point where we're waiting for it to go one way or another for what...two months now? I'd just like Mother Nature to make up her mind—either make it rain again for three weeks and get rid of the snow, or bring in enough for us to play with.

Just choose.

Of course, I'm not the only one complaining. A combination of Covid and the lack of snow has caused the cancellation of the Noquemanon Cross County Ski Marathon, downhill skiers are griping about the lack of a base, and snowmobilers are having to zig here and zag there to avoid ruts in what passes for the trails this year.

Like I said, I can't believe I'm complaining about the lack of snow, yet here I am. We haven't had a big snow event yet this year. We had six or so inches at one time once back in December, but that's about it. Between the lack of big snow, the record summer-like warmth in November and the above freezing temps with rain we've had this month, there just hasn't been the chance for anything to accumulate. I shouldn't be complaining about the lack of snow—really, I shouldn't—but being stuck in this limbo is just...

Well, let's put it this way—it's SO 2020. And it's not 2020 any more. So there you go, Mother Nature. Make up your mind, one way or the other.

We appreciate it.

(jim@wmqt.com)

Monday, 1/18

Happy Martin Luther King Day!

I had very good day off Friday, thanks for asking. Although I didn't get to do any of the things for which I had originally taken the day off, I just kind of relaxed, chilled, and did what I wanted when I wanted.

It was weird. But fun.

I also made a discovery, too. This was a discovery I never thought I'd make, nor one that I ever assumed would have to be made. But a few moments after I finished running (in the rain, in January) Friday, I did indeed make a discovery so profound and so (dare I say) horrid that it may change my life in ways have yet to understand.

I discovered I may be getting tired of eating chocolate.

I know...mind blown, right? Yet for a moment Friday morning, right as I reached for my first piece of the day, that flash did cross my mind—did I REALLY want to eat it? For several seconds, I pondered the thought, holding the chocolate that really, in that immediate moment, didn't seem all that appealing.

Then I ate it.

I ate several other pieces that morning, too, proving that (I guess) I'm really not tired of eating chocolate. And as I ruminated on this bizarre reaction, I all of a sudden realized that I probably wasn't getting tired of eating chocolate so much as I was getting tired of eating chocolate with bits of candy cane crushed up inside, the kind I was holding in my hand when I had that strange feeling of not wanting any more chocolate.

And just between you & me, I'm okay with that.

As we entered the holiday season a few months ago Loraine and I may—may--have gone a little overboard in buying seasonal chocolate. I personally blame the Marquette Food Co-op; they had a selection that was too good to be true. And a lot of that chocolate, especially the dark chocolate of which I am a little too fond, had crushed up candy canes or some other peppermint flavoring inside. Those bars consist of the majority of the chocolate I've been eating recently, and Friday morning just must have been a kind of breaking point, a way of my body reminding me that there ARE other kinds of chocolate, not just the kind with crushed up candy canes in them.

So that's why I thought I was getting tired of eating chocolate. And that's also why I spent a chunk of the day eating more chocolate. It just wasn't the kind with the candy canes in it.

Of course, I still have several various bars of chocolate containing candy canes or peppermint flavor lying around. I'm now kind of curious. If I let them lie around for a few months, will I still be sick of them? Will I be able to eat them with as much gusto as I usually attack chocolate, or will I be forced to, say, stick them in cookies and give them away to someone? I have no idea. We're in uncharted territory here, so we'll just have to see.

I'll let you know the answer in three or four months.

8-)

(jim@wmqt.com)

Thursday, 1/14

 It looks like it's gonna work. It looks like I'm actually going to get a day off.

I had written in here last week about taking tomorrow off, which would be my first non-holiday vacation day since the pandemic began. Well, the stars have aligned. Hell has frozen over. The Lions have gone to the Super Bowl.

Well...that last hasn't happened, and quite probably never will. But I get to take a day off, so maybe there's hope for even the Lions. You never know.

I had planned on taking tomorrow off for a couple of reasons, one being so I could work on the “Skiing, Skating, and Slapshots” video I'm putting together for the History Center. However, I finished that last night. And I had planned on using the extra time to go cross-country skiing or snowshoeing and not have to rush through the activity. However, there's hardly any snow on the ground, so that's been rendered moot, as well.

So what am I going to do? Well, I can sleep late. I can go running, and then take a nap. I can try to spend as much of the $600 in stimulus money I have on as many locally owned places as possible, and then take another nap once the money's gone. And then I can...

Well, it really doesn't matter what I do. I have the day off tomorrow, and that's all that matters. I can do whatever I want whenever I want, and since that will be such a huge change from the last 10 months of my life, that's all that matters.

There won't be one of these tomorrow, and there will be a “best of” afternoon full of stuff on the air. Hopefully; that's okay. And if not, well, you know what?

I'm on vacation tomorrow. I'll deal with any complaints on Monday.

8-)

(jim@wmqt.com)

Wednesday, 1/13

 I guess, in the end, it's a case of two rights making a wrong. Or at least a burp in the space/time continuum.

I wear a mask whenever I'm around people. It's the smart thing to do, it's the respectful thing to do, and it's the healthy thing to do. I also try to eat salmon a couple of times a week. It's the smart thing to do, it;s the healthy thing to do, and besides, I actually like salmon. I know some people don't like the taste or smell, but it doesn't really brother me.

Yesterday, I was eating a pouch of salmon for lunch when someone stopped by the station to pick up a prize. Before I let them in I threw on my mask, even though I hadn't finished swallowing the mouthful of salmon I was ingesting. I gave them their prize, they left, I took off my mask, and finished eating my salmon.

All was well in the world.

A few hours later another listener showed up to pick up their prize. I threw my mask back on, and was immediately overcome by the smell of two hour old half-chewed salmon that was lingering in it. I may have held my breath as much as I could while giving that listener their prize, then after they left I whipped off the mask, ran back to the sink, and washed that sucker out.

Twice.

As I said, I know that some people don't like the smell of salmon, but it's never, ever bothered me. However, apparently, if you breath through a half-chewed mouth of salon into a contained space...say, a face mask...and don't immediately wash out that contained space the scent lingers. It festers. It eventually makes a dirty baby diaper smell almost alpine fresh by comparison.

Really, it does.

Thankfully, I survived to tell the story. However, it's not a mistake I'd be prone to make again. I'm not going to stop wearing a mask. I'm not going to stop eating salmon. There is a distinct possibility, though, that I won't do both at the same time. I really think I learned that lesson yesterday.

So to quote a favored saying of the grandfather I was writing about last week, don't do as I do. Do as I say.

8-)

(jim@wmqt.com)

Tuesday, 1/12

 Well, this is turning out to be quite the epic.

I haven't mentioned it much, but I've been hard at work putting together the video version of “Skiing, Skating, and Slapshots”, the program Jack Deo & I were planning on giving at Kaufman Auditorium. In the Before Times, it was slated to premiere next Thursday, the 21^st. But because this is the 41^st of December, 2020, and there's still the virus raging around the country, we're just doing a video version, instead.

All one hour and 45 minutes of it.

While the concept, the stories, and the pictures are mostly Jack's (in this one, I'm the Ed McMahon to his Johnny Carson) I'm the one who's actually putting it together. We recorded the audio one day, I've been editing all of his pictures to that, and I'm also putting together interview packages with people who've been involved, in a historical sense, with skiing, figure skating, and hockey.

And now it's almost done.

I'll have the final edit completed and the full mastered production rendered (a time consuming process) by the end of the week, at which time it goes to NMU for DVD burning and the History Center for downloading. Then, everyone gets to see it—the pictures that Jack collected, the interviews I did, and some other amazing stuff no one had seen for decades, including color movie footage shot by TV-6 of the old Marquette Iron Rangers playing at the Palestra.

That alone should be worth the $15.

So if you're bored January 21^st or anytime thereafter, we have this almost two-hour epic for you to check out, either on DVD or via download. I've seen every single portion of it a hundred or so times, and I hope you'll trust me when I say this--

It's really cool!

(jim@wmqt.com)

Monday, 1/11

 Well, I guess I'm below average.

I was doing some laundry this weekend; one load, specifically, was jeans. And that got me to thinking, which as we all know can be a very dangerous thing. How many pair of jeans does the average American own? So after I stuck the jeans in the machine, I pulled out my phone, went to Google, and received my answer.

Seven, if you're curious.

As I mentioned, I'm below average in that respect, as I had just thrown each pair of jeans I own—all four of them—into the washing machine. But as I scrolled down a little further, I took solace in another fact that had followed the mention of seven. You see, even though the average American owns seven pair of jeans, they only wear four of those pair.

And since I wear each of the four pair that I own, for once, at least in that regard, I'm perfectly average!

That was one thing I learned by Googling the number of jeans that the average American owns. The other thing I learned? That tracking cookies are everywhere.

After checking out that fact on Google, while I was waiting to put the jeans in the dryer, I checked out a few more websites on my phone. And, wouldn't you know, each and every site I visited had an ad on it just for me—an ad about buying jeans. I mean, I wasn't surprised; after all, cookies are on every single computer device we use, and advertisers use those cookies to determine what we're interested in. But to see the ads for jeans just a few minutes after I did a Google search that had (literally) nothing to do with buying jeans.

Well...let's just say I had to chuckle. And had be glad that I hadn't just searched for something a little more, shall we say, adult. Because then I can just imagine what would've popped up as ads on my phone. I probably would've had to buy a new one.

8-)

So the next time you get set to throw jeans into the wash, check and see if you're above or below average. And be thankful that you won't have to look it up yourself, and then be bombarded by ads for jeans each and every time you go online.

That's okay. You can thank me later.

(jim@wmqt.com)

Friday, 1/8

 I'm gonna try something almost unprecedented a week from today. I have no idea if it'll work, but I'm gonna try it anyway.

I'm taking the day off next Friday.

I know; shocking, isn't it? And a bit surprising, seeing as how I've actually had two of the three last Fridays off because of the holidays. But since I have almost two years of accumulated vacation time to use up, because Fridays are about the only day I can take off without causing myself a crapload of extra work, and because (assuming Covid restrictions are lifted) high school basketball begins the Friday after my proposed day off, I figure that it was next Friday or never.

Wish me luck.

Now, because I'm actually the only person working here, that just doesn't mean that I can take the day off and not care about it. Nope; I have to make sure everything for the weekend after my day off is done, and I also have to make sure that there's something on the air while I'm not. And that's why next Friday you'll be hearing “best of” bits,so I can actually be on the air without actually being here.

Besides, these were bits that I was going to use when I was supposed to go to Germany last year. And then I was going to use them when I was supposed to go to France last year. At least this way they'll get used.

So wish me luck. I think I can pull it off, and if so it should serve as a test run should I ever want to take, say, a week off.

You know, like a normal person.

Have a great weekend!

(jim@wmqt.com)

Thursday, 1/7

 For some bizarre reason I’ve been looking at several coffee cups & tea mugs I have lying around, and you know what I've realized?

I may need a personality adjustment.

I mean, I don’t know if the sayings on coffee cups reflect someone’s personality, but if they do, then it appears I whine a lot. And in real life, I don’t whine that much. Honest--I don’t. Despite what I write in here and what I say on the air and the way I talk to my friends and the way I....

Uhm...well, never mind. Maybe coffee cups (or, in my case, tea mugs) really DO reflect the person who has them. And maybe by looking at the ones in your possession, you’re able to tell just what people think about you, even if they’d never say it to your face. Maybe they know you and your personality quirks better than you do, and the coffee cups are a way to for you to discover those quirks.

Take three of the mugs I have lying around our apartment. One of them was a gift many years ago from one of my parents, and says “It’s hard for a night person to work days’. Now, aside from being quite true (trust me on that part), I’m sure it stemmed from the way I’d try (and actually still try) to wake up in the morning. My brain’s not working, my body follows and the only thing that comes out of my mouth is a series of mumbles and grumbles that try (but don’t quite succeed) in becoming intelligible sounds.

So chalk one up to truthiness in coffee cups.

Then there’s one Loraine got me as a gag gift (at least I think it was a gag gift), one that says “still perfect after all these years’. This, of course, is a veritable cornucopia of personality quirks, in that I’m far from perfect (witness how many times I say “Oops...my fault” during the day), and in that I also have that wonderful Koski family phobia about aging. So you see? You kill two personality traits with one stone in that cup!

Finally, there’s one mug that I still use all the time, and one that I will fully admit reflects my personality. I don’t remember who got it for me, and I don’t remember the circumstances under which I was given it. All I know is that it fit perfectly when I was given it, and it still fits perfectly to this day.

What does that mug say? It says this--“Some days, all I want is a normal life”.

Amen to that. It’s still a motto to which I still aspire. Admittedly, I won't be getting it any time soon, but a boy can dream, right?

So if you’ve ever wondered how others see you (for good or for not so good), take a look at the coffee cups they give you. You’ll either be shocked or pleasantly surprised or, perhaps, both.

(jim@wmqt.com)

Wednesday, 1/6

 So what do I do with 2020's calendar? Burn it as a sacrifice, or keep it as history?

I changed the big wall calendar in my office yesterday. That's the calendar that kind of rules my life; I write down where I need to be when, and I follow it as closely as I can (or as much as I can when I actually remember to look at it). Normally, at the end of the year, I just chuck it (after all, there's not a big market for used calendars), but when I took it down yesterday I noticed so many things had been written down and crossed out, or X'd out, or just not written in, that it made me think--

Should I actually keep it as history of the strangest year in recent history, or bury it somewhere under a bunch of sage to make sure 2020 never, ever happens again?

As I've written in here before, I think we're all actually a little too close to the situation to determine what we should keep and what we should toss concerning the year just finished. It's hard to decide what to do about something when you're still experiencing it, and it's even harder to decide once it's finally over and you're looking back at it with a little perspective and/or post traumatic stress disorder. I'm sure in 20 or 40 or 60 years some great books will be written about this era.

I just don't know if any of us are still around that we'll want to read them.

Hence, the decision about what to do with my calendar.

I should just toss it. After all, I don't know of anyone in their right mind who would want to relive 2020 again. But I also know that what we lived through last year was history. Someday, someone is going to want to know what we went through on a daily basis. And while I'm not saying my calendar is the key to it all, it's also the kind of primary resource that people who dig into history are always giddy to find. I'm pretty sure that a calendar with a bunch of crossed out vacation and meeting dates wouldn't be the basis for a thesis, but it might provide a little context.

You never know.

Maybe, for now, I'll just roll it up and throw it in a corner. That way, I can pretend it's not there and not have the spectre of 2020 hovering over me. But maybe some day—some year—when the trauma has worn off, I can dig it back out, take a look at it, and then determine whether or not it might ever be of any use to anyone.

(jim@wmqt.com)

Tuesday, 1/5

 As I do every year, I did it as a little tip of the hat to my grandfather. I mean, I don't actually wear a hat, so it wasn't a literal “tip', but you get the idea, right?

My grandfather died over thirty years ago, but in a way I see him every day. You know those ungainly long legs and arms I'm always complaining about? They come from him. The sunken eyes, too. I'm sure that I picked up a few of my odd quirks and idiosyncrasies from him, as well. Those quirks may be lurking in the background, or they may present themselves out in the open like one in particular that happens every Christmas Day.

And that's what I'm talking about here.

When I was a kid, my grandfather would slowly unwrap his gifts and then, if at all humanly possible, put the present back in the wrapping paper and make it look as close to an unwrapped gift as he could. I don't know why; all I know is he did it, and it made him happy. I grew up watching him do it, and probably pretty much every year since he passed away, I've tried to carry on the tradition.

No I have no idea why.

Because I have nowhere near the skill level that he had, I always have to try it with a book (or, this year, a Blu-ray disc set). I'll slowly undo the tape (much to Loraine's consternation, who just wants me to get on with it), pull the book (or Blu-ray) out, see what it is, thank who gave it to me, and then slip it back into the wrapping paper, where it sits in its little cage acting as my little tribute to my grandfather, at least until I open it again to read the book or start watching the Blu-ray, which I did this past weekend.

Yeah, I know. I need help.

8-)

There's no real reason for me to do it other than to carry on a rather weird tradition, but you know what? For me, at least, it wouldn't seem like Christmas without doing it. And then every year in January when I re-unwrap the gift, I smile a little smile and think back to a guy who left an impression on me, not only with those long arms & legs I see every day, but in a much more quirky way, as well.

(jim@wmqt.com)

Monday, 1/4

 I am never going to eat again.

First of all, hope you had a great New Year's weekend. So far—at least as of when I type this the morning of January 4th—2021 hasn't yet done anything to try to top the insanity of 2020 (assuming, of course, you ignore politics), so there's hope yet for the new year.

Not a lot, but at least there's some.

I spent part of New Year's Day doing what I seem to have been doing quite a bit the past few weeks, and that's cook, and then eat the cooking. I stepped on the scale the next day and noticed I've gained a pound & change the past month, so I really should stop that habit (cooking, that is, not stepping on the scale). However, if this is indeed the end for a bit, I'd like to think I went out in style.

Let me present to you New Year's Day Kaiserschmarnn, topped with home made cranberry sauce and Nutella--

I've written in here about making the Bavarian delicacy before; it's just basically a super-charged pancake that's torn up & covered in some kind of fruit topping. Usually, that fruit topping is applesauce, but since I had leftover fresh cranberries from Thanksgiving (which I had frozen) and leftover Nutella from one of the few kinds of Christmas cookies I made this year, I decided to throw them all together in one last final shot of food gluttony.

Kind of like the finale of a Fourth of July fireworks show, except without the big “booms”.

I have to admit the dish turned out quite well, especially in the way the tartness of the cranberries played off the gooey sweetness of the Nutella. But I now think I may have reached my limit (at least for now) of dishes that take hours to prepare and contain more calories in them than any human should ever consume in a single day. In fact, just yesterday I found myself craving not Greek food, not Indian food, not some insanely huge desert, but instead a simple turkey sandwich and a carrot.

No cranberries,, no Nutella, no bechamel sauce, no nothing.

I'm sure that, too, shall pass, and in a few weeks or months I'll start to get adventurous again. But for now, for (at least) the beginning of the year, it's back to normal. It's back to simple. It's back to healthy.

At least until my body says it's“okay”, and until I lose that extra pound and change.

(jim@wmqt.com)