Wednesday, March 31, 2021

Wednesday, 3/31

 Well, I guess, at least in one way, that things have changed for the better.

As I mentioned at the end of yesterday's entry I needed to run to take Loraine's car out to Fox Chevrolet to get its oil changed. We do this once a year whether it needs it or not. After all, both of our dads were involved in the car business (hers built them, mine fixed them) and we were (and are) constantly reminded that even though we don't drive the beast that much that we do need to keep up on the maintenance.

So like I said, we get the oil changed once a year, whether we need it or not.

Seeing as how we get it changed once a year, that means that the last time we did this particular task was at the end of March, 2020, right as the world was falling apart. And that's how things have changed for the better. When I brought the car in for its oil change last year I couldn't even go in the dealership. I had to leave the keys in the car, and then had to wait outside as someone brought it in, changed the oil, and then brought the car out. I then had to give them a credit card number to pay for it, and never once did I get anywhere near a human being.

This year, I brought the car in and sat (socially distanced) in the waiting room, where I was able to actually converse with the people who were running the service department, especially when they asked the question they always ask; namely, “you only drove 1,000 miles in the past year?”. Sure, we were all masked and sure, we were all six feet apart, but at least it was a semblance of normalcy.

Unlike last year.

Of course, last year at this time we had no idea what was going on. We had no idea how the virus was spreading and how bad it might get around here, so the precautions that were taken were understandable, especially in hindsight. Now, a year later, we're in the process of getting vaccinated against it, and rendering some of that fear moot. Sure, we're still living with Covid and sure, we're still trying to figure out how to return to normal, but a year in, as Loraine's car's latest oil change has proved, at least we're handling it a little better.

Well, as far as a car dealership goes, at least.

(jim@wmqt.com)

Tuesday, March 30, 2021

Tuesday, 3/30

 Black jellybeans. Never, ever black jellybeans.

I had someone ask me about my favorite Easter candy a couple of days ago, and instead of trying to figure out which is my favorite, because that might be an impossible task, I told them which Easter candy I absolutely abhor--

Black jellybeans.

Unlike, say, the tale I've mentioned several times about how bananas (literally) make me throw up, I've never ever liked black jellybeans. And I'll be the first to admit it's the taste of them. While I like anise in cookies and LOVE the taste of anise in that weird German Fennel-Anise-Caraway Seed tea I drink, the taste of it in black jellybeans (and its weird cousin, black licorice) just turns my stomach. Unlike bananas, I don't know why it turns my stomach. It just does. And it's not even because I force-fed myself so many black jellybeans that I made myself sick, like I did with bananas when I was two or three. I don't think I could ever eat that many black jellybeans, because I just don't like the taste.

If that makes me a freak, so be it, because I know there are a LOT of people who love black jellybeans. I know of people who'll buy a bag of nothing BUT black jellybeans and eat them one after the other. But not me. Any other color of jellybean is fine; heck, I even like those bubble-gum flavored Jelly Bellys that make some people wretch.

But black jellybeans? Nope. I'll leave those for you.

So if you happen to see me being offered jellybeans this weekend (not that you would, but never say never), you can rest assured that I'll happy munch down on the red ones, the green ones, the yellow ones, the blue ones, and even the bubble gum ones. But the black ones?

I think I'll pass.

On that note, I have to take Loraine's car in for its yearly oil change. We put almost 1,100 miles on it since last March. It's time, right?

(jim@wmqt.com)


Monday, March 29, 2021

Monday, 3/29

 Is it any wonder I can never relax over the weekend?

Most people (i.e. normal people) use their weekend to relax and recharge from their previous week, and to rest up for their upcoming week. But do you think I can ever do anything like a normal person? Nah... that would be way too easy.

Case in point--instead of spending the few precious unscheduled hours in my life this weekend vegging out, reading the stack of books I have lying around the house, or doing a little work on one of the many video projects I have, I spent some of that precious time trying to solve a mystery as unsolvable as any Hercule Poirot or Nancy Drew every tackled--

I spent some of my precious free time this past weekend trying to figure out why I had a pen that said “Escanaba Senior Center” on it.

It’s a very good pen; it’s bright orange, has a nice “feel” to it, and writes quite well. But because maybe I AM closer to zero on the Jim Stir-Crazy Clock than I thought, I started to wonder where I’d actually picked up the pen, instead of just using it and then ignoring it (you know, like a normal person). I haven’t been to Escanaba recently. While I am getting older, I’m nowhere near Senior status yet. And as far as I can remember, I didn’t even know Escanaba HAD a center like that.

So just where did I get the pen?

This much I know--it was in my coat pocket as of late last week. I know that because I needed a pen to write down something in a store, and was lucky enough to find it there. But the questions started to pile up. When did it go into my pocket? I have no idea. How did it get into my pocket? Once again, I’m clueless (in case THAT wasn’t painfully obvious). I’m thinking I must’ve picked it up somewhere, but where? Who do I know (or where did I go) that would have a pen from the Escanaba Senior Center? And, most importantly. . .

Why was I spending so much time thinking about this?

It was about that time that I realized I even the few minutes I’d spent pondering the question were a few minutes too many. I realized I should use the time for more worthwhile pursuits, like the books, the video projects, or pestering Loraine. Eventually, I also realized that this was one of those mysteries that can never be answered. The pen was in my pocket; it ended up there somehow, and it’s quite possible that that “somehow” was lost to the mists of time. Maybe I was never meant to know how it got there. After all, it’s only a pen. It’s not one of the mysteries of the universe.

Right?

8-)

(jim@wmqt.com)

Friday, March 26, 2021

Friday, 3/26

It’s been awhile since I wrote an April Fool’s Day blog to be translated into another language. I wonder if I should do it again?

Every year for a couple of years a couple of years ago I would write one of these blogs, use Google to translate it into some bizarre language, and then post it on April Fools’ Day, along with an easter egg stuck in the middle of the blog that might allow you to discover how to translate it back. I’ve put these into Dutch, Icelandic, Swahili; and Klingon, among others, and the results were always interesting.

Very, very interesting.

The funniest thing actually seemed to happen on April 2nd, when I translated the blogs from whatever language they were translated into back into English. Often times, the phrases are twisted and mangled; for instance, going from English to Dutch and back to English, the phrase “April Fools’ Day” came back as “the day of the gelukkige scatterbrains of April”. Of course, the surprising thing is that English and Dutch are literary cousins--they’re both Germanic languages--and the fact that it translated back so poorly came as a bit of a shock. And a rather big laugh, at least on my part. And that was even before Icelandic and Klingon changed a whole bunch of meanings.

If you think I have a strange way of writing now, you should see what it was like after being translated to Klingon (and back)!

I'll give it some thought over the weekend, and if I decide to do it, you'll see the results next Thursday and Friday. Of course, it won't be much of an April Fools' joke, because you're already in on it, but who knows—maybe that'll make it that much stranger.

You never know...

(jim@wmqt.com)

Thursday, March 25, 2021

Thursday, 3/25

 Once again, I seem to be below average. But this time it's in a good way.

I came across a statistic yesterday showing yet another way the insanity of the past year has affected us all. As it turns out, the average American gained two pounds for each and every month they've been under some kind of stay-at-home order. For those of us here in Michigan, that works out to an average gain of eight to ten pounds over the past twelve months, depending upon where in the state you live.

Of course, I've once again under-performed. I've only gained two pounds in the past year. Looks like I have some catching up to do.

I can certainly see why people have gained weight since the world changed. Between having your routines disrupted and all the stress in the air I'm actually surprised the average weight gain hasn't been more. But as I've written in here before, for some bizarre reason my life really hasn't been as disrupted as much as it has for some. I've done pretty much what I've normally done the past twelve months, and when you consider that I haven't been able to travel—and partake in all the eating that goes along with it—I'm actually surprised I haven't LOST weight.

The two extra pounds, though, might beg to differ.

I actually think I know where those two extra pounds have come from. As you know, I'm bound & determined to spend every single cent of the stimulus money I've received to actually stimulate the local economy. One of the hardest-hit sectors of that local economy is Marquette's restaurant scene, so a big chunk of the money I've spent has gone to a whole lot of to-go (or even dining-in) orders from many of the yummy places we have around here.

I'm pretty sure that's the origin of my two extra pounds. But you know what? It's a sacrifice I'm willing to make.

8-)

So I guess that while I'm below average, it's one of the few ways in which I probably don't mind. But if I do ever decide to change my mind on that, I know plenty of local restaurants that would be probably be glad to help!

(jim@wmqt.com)

Wednesday, March 24, 2021

Wednesday, 3/24

 I wonder if I've finally gone over the edge?

I wouldn't be the first person to do that in the past year, and I'm sure I wouldn't be the last. But here we are, fifteen months into 2020 and with me beginning my 53rd week of working alone. Perhaps, then, it's not really a surprise that I spent a good chunk of yesterday listening to the same song over and over.

According to my iTunes program, I, in fact, listened to it 54 times in a row.

In my defense, Gloria Gaynor's “Never Can Say Goodbye” is a short song, so listening to it 54 times only took up, uhm, two and a half hours of my life. In my defense, I have liked the song since I was a kid. And in my defense, at least I wasn't listening to Mayer Hawthorne's new album, like I have been every day since January.

So I do have all that going for me.

I have NO idea why I listened to a 70s disco song 54 times in a row yesterday. For some reason, it popped into my head, so I decided to listen to it once. And I don't if it was just dumb luck, a certain brain-dead attitude on my part, or Covid fever, but after I listened to it the first time I stuck it on repeat and then proceeded to listen to it 53 more times.

Yes, I need help. What's your point?

I mean, I THINK I know why I listened to it 54 times in a row. Meco Monardo, the guy who produced the song (and would later go on to have a number one song himself with the disco version of the “Star Wars” theme a few years later) whipped up a gloriously over-the-top string and horn arrangement to “Never Can Say Goodbye”, and I honestly think that's what got to me. There's just something about the spectacle of the music that harkens back to days when we could dance & celebrate and just enjoy whatever life threw your way.

You know...stuff you can't necessarily do today.

But the reason I listened to it that many times is neither here nor there. I listened to the song 54 times in a row yesterday, and I have no excuse for that other than, you know, perhaps having gone over the edge.

So thanks, 2020 (and the three month extension of it we're currently in). I owe you one.

(jim@wmqt.com)

(ps—wanna see if YOU can listen to it 54 times in a row??)




Tuesday, March 23, 2021

Tuesday, 3/23

 It's interesting how it's affecting different people in different ways.

Both Loraine and I, along with a bunch of people we know, have now received our first Covid-19 vaccine. And while we all had some kind of side effect, that side effect was incredibly different in everyone. I had a sore arm where I was injected for a few days. Loraine felt a little out of sorts for a night. Her co-workers had side effects ranging from not being able to lift an arm to having to spend an entire weekend in bed. And then I knew someone who said, and I quote, “Oh, that's right. I had a shot Thursday, didn't I?”

Different people, different ways.

I mean, it's a good thing we all had a reaction to it. That means the vaccine is working, because our bodies are adjusting to it and building up anti-bodies to the disease. But it just seems strange that every person has a different reaction to it. I mean, maybe I just don't know much about virology. Does every kid react differently to an MMR shot or does every adult react different to a tetanus booster? Because we don't get shots like that simultaneously we don't get the chance to compare notes, as we do here.

So for those of us who are weird and who look for patterns in things, it's kind of interesting. And yes, I know I need to get a life. What's your point?

8-)

I have a friend who's now gotten both shots, and she says she had a much worse reaction to the second than to the first. So now I'm kind of curious—when the group of us vaccinated in the past week gets our second jabs in three and a half weeks, will we have the disparate effects we had over the weekend? Will we all have the same reactions? Will we, en masse, have nothing?

Inquiring minds want to know!

Like I said, I know it's weird, and maybe it's just a strange psychological flaw in my personality that I'm curious about this stuff. But I find it interesting, and seeing as how (fingers crossed) we never have to go through anything like this ever again, I might as well take advantage of that strange curiosity while it's here, right?

(jim@wmqt.com)

Monday, March 22, 2021

Monday, 3/22

 And greetings from my back yard!

Well, actually, greetings from my back yard yesterday afternoon, where I'm sitting in the 60+ degree sunshine and enjoying the final few hours of my three-day weekend. As I'd mentioned Thursday, I took last Friday off just to have a day off. Little did I know that Friday, as well as Saturday and Sunday, would give us early May weather in the middle of March.

Boy, did I luck out.

I spent a large chunk of the three days outside, obviously. I got my bike out early and went for a couple of rides. Loraine and I got our soccer balls out and kicked them around for a couple of hours. And although I haven't yet looked in a mirror to make certain, it feels like I may have gotten a slight sunburn on my face.

Yes, in the middle of March.

I don't wanna sound like one of those people who constantly says “Back when I was a kid”, but it sure seems like things have changed since (ahem) back when I was a kid (or at least when I was a college student and would come home for spring break this week every year). While I can't vouch for every single year around this time, most of those years were filled with huge snow banks, cool temperatures, and even a snow storm or two. But now?

Well, on three of the past five years on this weekend there have been warmer than usual temperatures and a real lack of snow. Not like this year, but certainly a whole lot different than in years past.

How some people can still deny climate change is well beyond me.

Of course, it's supposed to return to closer to normal conditions as this week wears on, and maybe that's why the amazing weather this weekend was so welcome. We expect chilly temperatures and rain (or even snow) this time of the year. To see people out flying kites and running without shirts was a reminder that we're there—we're almost there—as far as kicking out winter and saying “hey” to spring.

I know I've been mentioning in here quite a bit on just what a mild winter we've had. If you're keeping score at home, in fact, we're still waiting for that first storm that dumps a double-digit total of snow on us. But this past weekend kind of took things to the extreme. I have no idea if it portends a really warm (or even hot) summer. But having paid attention to what the weather's doing up here for all these years, I have a sneaking suspicion it might. Now, I'm not a meteorologist (nor do I play one on TV), but the fact that there's no snow on the ground nor no ice ion the lake means that Mother Nature doesn't have to get rid of that all before she starts warming us up for the year. It means we're starting from a much higher base.

Logically, you'd think that maybe—just maybe—we'll have one of those summers that we'll talk about for a long, long time.

At least that's what I'm hoping. Keep your fingers crossed!

(jim@wmqt.com)

Thursday, March 18, 2021

Thursday, 3/18

 Tomorrow is big for two reasons.

The first is that I get to take the day off. That's right; it's another one of those “let's try to use up all my unused vacation days “ three-day weekends, which means, among other things, that there won't be one of these posted tomorrow.

I hope that's okay.

The second reason is a little more profound. And when you think of it, it's kind of tied into why I have all of those unused vacation days. Tomorrow will mark the last time in a year that I had co-workers. Yup...a year ago Saturday marks the day my co-workers were either furloughed or moved off-sight, which means I'm been roaming the musty halls of the station all alone for a year now.

Wow.

I've been reflecting a lot on that recently. When all this silliness started we were hopeful that in what—two weeks?--the virus would be gone and we'd all be back to normal. Fifty weeks after that, we've all adjusted to living in our “new” normal and would, in all likeliness, return to what we did in the Before Times the same way a time traveler might head back to the 1950s and wonder how people ever got along back then.

With a shake of the head and a bemused grin.

What does the future hold? I have no idea. I have no idea when we'll finally make our way out of the surreal life that's taken over the planet. I have no idea when we'll get to do the things we used to do in the way we used to do them. And I have no idea when (or even if) I'll get my co-workers back. But you know what? If all fifteen months of 2020 (so far) have taught us anything, it's that we've all gotten quite good at adapting to change, whether we want to or not.

Have yourself a great weekend. Before I start my weekend tomorrow—in fact, before I even go to work today—I have to go get a shot. So maybe tomorrow (and today) is big for three reasons, and not just two!

(jim@wmqt.com)

Wednesday, March 17, 2021

Wednesday, 3/17

 Well, it happened again.

First of all, happy St. Patrick's Day. As someone who is 14% Irish, I suppose it's a day I should celebrate. And I am, but in a very weird, Jim-like way. Remember a few weeks ago when I woke up with an idea for a video on the history of the ore dock fully formed in my head? Well, I was sitting at work yesterday afternoon. I was just a few minutes until I was supposed to leave, in fact, and I was thinking about what I have to do today, St. Patrick's Day.

And that's when it hit me.

A few minutes later, I had a script written. I recorded the audio before I left work, and then I multi-tasked at home, eating dinner while editing video. Ninety minutes after I had an idea while staring at my big wall calendar at work, this was done--



I don't know where these bursts of inspiration come from. I don't know if I should be happy I get them, or if I should be worried that they're starting to control my brain. It's just....strange to have these things happen. I guess I means that I'm in some kind of zone, much like an athlete might be on a good day.

I have no idea.

Hopefully, they'll keep coming and I'll be able to do something good with them. If they disappear; well, I have no idea how I started to get them in the first place, so I guess that's fair. But if they do keep coming, maybe one will pop up that'll make me, oh, a million bucks. I mean, if I can put that request into my subconscious, maybe it'll listen.

And maybe, just maybe, some day pigs will fly and the Lions will get into the Super Bowl.

8-)

(jim@wmqt.com)


Tuesday, March 16, 2021

Tuesday, 3/16

 I had forgotten all about the pictures.

First of all, happy St. Urho's Day. Hope you're wearing purple and, if you're Finnish, eating whatever it is that would be considered a Finnish national dish. So...squeaky cheese for everyone?

I'll go for that.

Now, onto the pictures I had forgotten about. I used my phone over the weekend to take a picture, a picture you'll see in a second. While I was looking for it, I noticed a whole bunch of pictures taken during the same month, but a different year. Apparently, I used my phone to take a bunch of shots of life as the pandemic was just starting a year ago, kind of my way of documenting what we were going through during an unprecedented time.

Little did I know we'd still be going through it a year later. Back then, there were empty streets--




And messages of hope--





And at least we now have toilet paper. I wonder how many people actually took this store up on their offer?


The state of Michigan's first lockdown began a year ago today. It's been quite the 365 days, hasn't it?

*****

The picture I took this weekend that caused me to notice all the other shots? Well, Loraine and I received a package from daily blog readers Floyd & Betsy in downstate Reese. Mom & Dad #2 had a few Christmas gifts they found but hadn't send, and included among them a bag of chips they found at their local Aldi store. Now, I don't know if they're aware of my obsessive love of these particular sandwiches, but I do have to say—these chips are almost as good as the sandwiches themselves--



Thanks for the yummy gift, Mom & Dad #2!!

(jim@wmqt.com)


Monday, March 15, 2021

Monday, 3/15

 Beware the Ides of March!

Sorry; I just always wanted to write that and actually have it make sense. And since today IS the actual “Ides”, I can now rest happy. I just need to figure out what color to wear. After all, if tomorrow (St. Urho's Day) is purple, Wednesday (St. Patrick's Day) is green, and yesterday (Pi Day) was the color of whatever pie you last ate, what does one wear for an “Ide”?

I'm going for black. I'm assuming Julius Caesar would agree.

And yes, I do need to know I need to get a life. You don't need to remind me!

8-)

Today's gonna be one of those days, I think. Maybe some of that is because I'm working ahead trying to take this upcoming Friday off. And maybe some of it is that fact that I was awakened early this morning in perhaps the one way I don't mind getting awakened early—by the chirping of birds. I don't know if you've noticed it, but at least in my part of Marquette there's been a marked increase in the number of song birds plying their trade during the early morning hours. In fact, after being awoken early today, I went running without my usual iPod, and was astounded by the amount of bird chatter I heard all throughout my little jaunt (which included a lot of downtown Marquette, believe it or not).

In fact, sometimes the birds were even louder than the cars, muffler-less pickup trucks, and Marq-Tran buses that usually interrupt whatever I'm listening to.

I also have to admit I like the fact that evenings that are now longer, thanks to the time change yesterday. Instead of walking home in the fading light or even the dark I'll get to walk home in the light., and for some reason it just seems to make the three-block jaunt a little easier. Not only that, but now that it's light out when I walk home I can see the proto-buds on my favorite lilac tree, and know that Spring will be here for real sooner rather that later. And who doesn't want that?

Okay; seeing as how I've already accomplished so much waking up a few minutes early I'll stop babbling now, go find something black to wear, and get ready to head to work. And with any luck, I won't run into anything (or anyone) I'll need to “Beware” of today. Wish me luck!

(jim@wmqt.com)

Friday, March 12, 2021

Friday, 3/12

 My new camera's here. My new camera's here!

Now you know what I'M doing this weekend.

8-)

Another thing I may be doing this weekend is seeing just how dry and in-shape some of Marquette's parks and soccer fields are. What with the lack of snow all winter (as we discussed yesterday) Loraine and I are wondering if we can get out and kick a few balls around a month or so earlier than usual this year. I know I wouldn't mind; I know she wouldn't mind, so with any luck maybe we can get out and get some extra exercise.

We'll see how that turns out.

Yet another thing I'll be doing this weekend is working ahead a little, as I'm hoping to take next Friday off. I've been trying to take a Friday off once a month, not only for my mental health but because I have all these vacation days to use up. I've written about that before, so I'm not going to complain about that, but it might be an appropriate day to take off, anyway.

You see, next Saturday will be the one year anniversary of me working alone. One year. That's almost, on occasion, too long of a time span to comprehend, yet it also seems like it's been, what? A week or two since all this insanity started? So perhaps having a few free seconds next Friday to contemplate that might be a good thing, as well.

One of the final things I might be doing this weekend (well, aside from changing the clocks at home and at work) might be trying to figure out which local non-profits might profit from my latest stimulus check. I said I wanted to spread some of that money around to groups who need it more than I, and I'm sticking to that. So if there's one you know needs the help, pass it along so I can put it on the list.

That's YOUR chore for the weekend. Well, that & changing the clocks, waking up Sunday morning and hoping you put them forward and not back. Not that I'm speaking from experience or anything, but you know me...

Have a great weekend!

(jim@wmqt.com)


Thursday, March 11, 2021

Thursday, 3/11

 No, I wasn't kidding.

Yesterday's blog about my farting shoe seems to have piqued the curiosity of a few of you in a way I really didn't consider. I mentioned I wore the shoes because the snow's gone here in Marquette, and despite the notes I received wondering if I was insane, I wasn't kidding.

Don't believe me?



I took that yesterday, even before the rain we had melted whatever snow we had left. When I say that we've had a really mild winter this year, I'm not kidding. I know someone who keeps track of weather statistics in the city of Marquette, and this may be the first year in the 172 years Marquette has been Marquette that we won't have a storm that dumps over a foot of snow at one time (although, to be scientifically accurate, she's missing a dozen or so years from the mid and late 1800s, so that may not be 100% totally correct). Not only that, the National Weather Service office moved from downtown Marquette to the old airport location between Marquette and Negaunee sixty years ago. Because it's six miles west of and almost 1,000 feet higher than the city, they get a lot more snow that we do.

But for the first time in the sixty years since they moved, there hasn't even been 100 inches of snow out there yet. See? I'm not kidding about all of this!

When I went running this morning, though the lack of snow, I noticed the smell of fallen pine needles in Shiras Park for the first time since whatever snow we did have started to fall. Now that it's all gone, even Mother Nature is starting to get into the Spring frame of mind. That doesn't mean that we won't get more snow; that doesn't mean that the National Weather Service will get to that 100-inch mark. It just means that, despite everyone's incredulity, we've had a mild winter that, hopefully, will lead into a warm Spring and an even warmer Summer.

Then think how many minds will be blown.

(jim@wmqt.com)


Wednesday, March 10, 2021

Wednesday, 3/10

 My shoe squeaks.

And when I say my shoe squeaks, I don’t mean a cute little mouse-like ”pip” if I step on a warped tile on a floor. No, when I say my shoe squeaks, I mean that every time my right foot hits the ground, it sounds like the Lower Harbor foghorn on the most humid day of the 21st century.

Yes, it’s that bad.

Last year I bought a new pair of dress shoes from a local store (with some of my stimulus money, of course), and I'm very impressed by them. They look good, they feel great, and they don’t hinder me when I have to make that 4-second dash from my office to the studio after realizing that a song is running out and that I should REALLY be in the studio to say something because, after all, that’s why I get paid. I didn't get to wear them much last fall because I didn't have a TV show to shoot, but when I did try them out before the snow started to fall there didn’t seem to be a problem.

Flash forward, now, to yesterday. It was nice out, the snow was FINALLY melted off the sidewalks between my apartment and the station, and I felt like wearing a jacket & tie to work. What would go well with melted sidewalks and a jacket & tie, you ask? Well, I answer, my new shoes. So I stuck ‘em on, and walked to work.

I guess I should’ve noticed things were amiss when, even while walking down a rather loud city street, I heard. . .something. I wasn’t sure what it was, but I noticed it was kind of rhythmic in nature, and that it wasn’t going away. And then when I walked into the station, away from the street noise, I noticed that I heard it every time my right foot hit the ground. And when I started walking down the tiled hall to my office, a tiled hall where sound bounces a little, I realized what it was.

I realized my right foot was farting.

Well, it wasn’t literally farting; that’s just what it sounded like. And the sound continued even when I walked through rooms with a carpeted floor. Every time my right heel hit the ground, that sound was there. Didn’t matter what kind of surface it was; every step I took brought forth that sound. The only time I got around it was to tip-toe on my right foot while walking normally on my left. Trust me--if you ever wanna look like a dork, trying walking normally on your left foot while tip-toeing on your right.

And, as you may be aware, I am pretty good at making myself look like a dork.

Now, I have no idea why my right shoe started to squeak. Maybe it just needed to get a workout after several months of sitting idle. Maybe I wore it just enough last fall and broke it in just enough to have brought its natural sound out. Maybe there’s too much humidity in the air. Maybe it just wanted to bring a little attention to itself.

I dunno. All I know is that I probably want to avoid wearing the shoe until I figure out what the deal is. After all, even though I'm working alone I still feel embarrassed when I walk around, singing and talking to myself while occasionally running into doors & walls because I’m not paying attention while singing and talking to myself. And then throw a very loud shoe into the mix?

Some days, it’s not easy being me. It really isn’t. Especially when I have a shoe that farts.

(jim@wmqt.com)


Tuesday, March 9, 2021

Tuesday, 3/9

 Really? It's been ten years?

One of the ten zillion things I did over the weekend was to order myself a new Nikon camera. The one I've been using, while it takes great still pictures, doesn't shoot video. And since I seem to be doing so many documentaries these days, I figured that having a good quality camera that shoots HD video is a good thing.

Besides, I already have the lenses for the camera, so why not just upgrade the body, right?

Back when I was first getting into photography, almost (gulp) two decades ago, I found myself buying new cameras almost every year. I'd learn everything I could from a model, and then upgrade for the next step. But once I bought the Nikon DSLR I'm still using I really didn't need a new camera. That one worked perfectly well. In fact, it worked so well that I haven't bought another camera since 2011.

I haven't bought a new camera in a decade. What's wrong with me?

The camera I've been using since 2011 must have been a good one. That's the only reason I can think of that I'm still using it. It does what I need and want it to do with still photography, and it does it well. But like I said, it doesn't shoot video. Of course, until this past year I really haven't had the need for it, but if I'm gonna get into this documentary thing—I mean, really into it—I should have the equipment to reflect it

And that's why I got the new camera. Besides, it also came with a tripod, bag, filters, and all kinds of little things, so even if I don't know what I'm doing with it, at least I'll look the part.

But hopefully, I'll figure everything out, and figure it out soon.

It should be here in a day or two, and I'll post a sample of what it can do. After all, it's been a decade since I've gotten to play with a new camera. It should be fun.

8-)

(jim@wmqt.com)

Monday, March 8, 2021

Monday, 3/8

 I wonder what the odds are?

I don't know if you've heard, but a Japanese billionaire is looking for seven people to join him on a flight around the moon & back. He's already paid for the flight through Space X, and he's giving people the chance to sign up for free and join him. It caught my attention, for reasons that would be obvious to anyone who's ever read these things. It caught me attention and should Space X ever get their Starship rocket to actually, you know, not blow up when it lands the flight should be the first by humans to the moon since 1972, where they will shoot past the moon, loop around, and then (hopefully) make it back to Earth.

Uhm...can I get a couple of hundred thousand entries for this?

8-)

I can't even imagine how much this billionaire is paying to make the trip, and if I'm totally honest, part of me wonders if the money wouldn't be better spent feeding people or providing safe housing for millions of refugees who currently have no home. But if you have the money and you have the desire to make the trip, I can certainly see why you'd want to go. Only (I think) 26 people have ever left Earth orbit to head to the moon, and to be among the first to do it for a vacation would just be incredible. I mean, sure, they'll be launched on the rocket that has an unfortunate tendency (at least thus far) to end up in a ball of flames, but you'll be going to the moon.

That outweighs the risks, right?

According to the story, the company says the billionaire is is fully aware of the risks, which I would hope is the case. Going to the moon isn't like hopping onto a plane and heading to, say, Europe. Nope; at least in a plane, if you have a problem you can usually land somewhere and take care of whatever the situation is. But when you're going to the moon, you're going to the moon. You don't have any place to land if you have a problem. And even when you get back to Earth there's still that little problem of not burning up in Earth's atmosphere and landing safely in the ocean.

But other than that it's not too risky.

Now, that being said, would I go if given the chance? You bet I would. I know how risky space travel can be. But I also know that everything is done to make sure that those risks are minimized. I have to admit, the fact that the booster they want to use hasn't been fully tested yet, which could keep pushing the flight later and later into the future, but if they ever get it worked out, I could see the allure of heading to the moon, especially as the first private citizens to do so. After all, the history books awake.

Here's my prediction--I don't think they'll fly any time in the near future, but I do think they will eventually make it. And I do think that this will open a whole new era in spaceflight, at least for those who can afford it. But it's a start. One day—maybe too late for my dream of making it into space, but one day-- flying into space will be as common as hopping onto a jet and flying to Europe. After all, think how exotic that concept was a century ago, and now people don't even give it a second thought.

And at the very least, we can all say we were around when space became a place for you to go on vacation.

(jim@wmqt.com), still volunteering, if anyone asks!

Friday, March 5, 2021

Friday, 3/5

 Here we go...the conclusion to “Serendipity”.

(But if you haven't read yesterday's blog yet, do so. Don't worry. We'll wait for you).

Okay—everyone caught up now? The newspaper article on Billy Powers, the boy who went missing in 1944, was written on a Saturday afternoon. It was based on old news accounts and a story or two I've picked up over the years. Of course, with stories you're never quite sure if the details are right or not, but you gotta use what you have, I guess.

Like I said, the newspaper story was written on a Saturday and turned in. Three days later, the Tuesday after that, I was given access to some historical material from the Marquette Police Department for a project I'm doing. In that material? The complete police file on the case of Billy Powers, missing boy.

Three days after I wrote a newspaper article about Billy Power, missing boy.

I know it's just coincidence. I know it's just random chance. But the...serendipity of coming across the file, when I did and when I could use the material in it to make sure the info in the story was right, was, well, serendipitous (our made up word from yesterday). It was freaky, to put it bluntly.

I'll be using some of that material for the police project I'm doing, which will now include the story of Billy Powers in another medium. Because perhaps, just perhaps...

It was meant to be.

****

You know what else was meant to be? Me wishing my favorite one-year old in the world a welcome into being two tomorrow!



My nephew Calum is quite the interesting young man. He's into that stage where does his best Godzilla impression everywhere he goes. If I had more time, I would've put together a village of cardboard houses and let him stomp through it. Although, technically, his party isn't until tomorrow, so I guess I do still have a little time...

8-)

Have a great weekend!

(jim@wmqt.com)

Thursday, March 4, 2021

Thursday, 3/4

 Okay. Now I can start to tell you why I was so geeked out last week.

If you recall, I had a moment of serendipity last week regarding a newspaper article I wrote for the Mining Journal. It was totally unrelated to writing the article, which came out yesterday. So here's what I'm going to do--

Today, you get to read the article, which is a sad and tragic—and very true—story, part of the history of Marquette. Tomorrow, I'll tell you why I geeked out. And how serendipity can be, well, very serendipitous.

If that's even a word.

(jim@wmqt.com)

*****

THE MYSTERY OF BILLY POWERS

On a Wednesday afternoon, an 8-year old boy came home from school, changed his clothes, and went outside to play.

His family never saw him alive again.

While that may sound like a plot from a best-selling mystery or a ripped-from-the-headlines TV movie, it actually happened in Marquette, in March of 1944, to a young boy named Billy Powers.

Despite the fact that World War Two was going on strong, and despite the fact that a presidential election was being waged, the disappearance of an 8-year old boy galvanized Marquette. Front-page newspapers stories were run daily, hourly updates were broadcast on the radio.

For two months, residents of the city followed the saga of a missing boy. And it all started on March 1st, 1944.

Billy Powers was a third-grade student at the old St. John’s School in Marquette, a block away from where he lived with his grandparents. His dad, William, was serving in the Army, while his mother was living in Detroit. He came home from school on that fateful Wednesday, changed into play clothes--including brown army mittens--and went out to play in the snow.

He was observed by several people in the next hour, including at the 5th Street railroad crossing, where he was noticed in the company of an older boy. When he failed to return home that night, his grandparents, obviously concerned, notified authorities. In the next two days, searchers combed the city, looking through vacant buildings, garages, even the Lower Harbor ore dock, but found no trace of Billy. They asked bus drivers and train conductors if they had seen the boy; none had. They searched through the wreckage of the Piggly-Wiggly grocery store downtown. The store had burned down several days earlier, and some thought Billy might have fallen into a flooded cellar. They even contacted his mother in Detroit, who said she had not heard from him in some time.

Police were stumped. Billy was a bright kid who, in the words of then Police Chief Don McCormack, “knew the city like the back of his hand”. They talked to Billy’s friends, who said they knew of nothing out of the ordinary. They had last been with him playing by the downtown railroad trestle. He was wearing his brown army mittens, and seemed to be in good spirits. They also could not help police in determining the identity of the “older boy” who had been with Billy at the railroad crossing.

Over the next week, the search intensified. Billy’s picture was published in all U.P. newspapers, and WDMJ broadcast updates to the search, even putting his grandparents on in an attempt to contact anyone who had any information. Authorities were also interested in the disappearance of a Manistique boy two weeks prior to Billy’s disappearance; no trace of that youth had been found, either. The FBI joined the investigation, while Billy’s father William received an emergency furlough to return home. Still, no sign of Billy was uncovered, and the identity of the “older boy” was a continuing mystery.

Marquette residents and authorities became alarmed as March stretched into April, with still no break in the case. Billy’s picture was sent out by the FBI to several states around Michigan, and while he hadn’t been found, several young runaways had been discovered because of the search. Billy’s classmates and friends were questioned over again, and a new investigation failed to turn up any sign of the “older boy” with whom Billy was last seen.

Then on May 1st, 1944, a Marquette father and son were fishing in Lake Superior by Gaines’ Rock, and noticed something floating in the water. Pulling it to shore, they noticed it was a body, and called the authorities. Immediately, the police determined it was the body of Billy Powers, still dressed like he was ready to play outside. In fact, his brown army mittens were still on his hands.

Investigators found no sign of foul play on Billy’s body, aside from a couple of superficial bruises. They have no idea how he got into the water; the currents in the area were not very strong, so his body obviously hadn’t traveled very far. Unless they could find the “older boy”, they concluded, they may never know what happened to Billy.

They never did find the “older boy”. And to this day, no one knows exactly what did happen to Billy Powers on March 1st, 1944.

Unfortunately, this wouldn’t be the only tragedy in the Powers’ family in 1944. Three months after his son died, William Powers had to write home to tell his parents that his brother, John, had been shot and killed while serving in the Army in France.

He was the victim of a Nazi sniper while standing in line to get his lunch.

Wednesday, March 3, 2021

Wednesday, 3/3

 I used the wrong toothpaste yesterday morning, and it threw my whole day off.

What--you don’t have two different kinds of toothpaste? A morning toothpaste and an evening toothpaste? One that you use when you first wake up and another that you use right before you go to bed? Please don’t tell me I’m the only person who does that, because that would make be an oddball, and we all know that that would never be true, right?

Okay. You can stop laughing now.

I’m not quite sure how the habit started; I think it began with one of our first trips to Europe, when I brought along two small tubes of travel toothpaste. Both were from Aquafresh; one was kind of paste-y, which I used in the morning, and the other was rather foamy, which I used at night. Somewhere along the way I began picking up regular-sized tubes of the same two kinds of toothpaste and started using them the same way I was using them on that trip.

And apparently I haven’t stopped since.

When I used the foamy toothpaste yesterday morning instead of the paste-y one I don’t think I realized what I was doing. After all, it was early in the morning, and we all know how well I don‘t function early in the morning. I’m sure I must’ve noticed something was off--after all, my mouth usually doesn’t foam like a rabies victim that early in the day--but I wasn’t aware why. It wasn’t until last night when I noticed my morning toothpaste was where my evening toothpaste usually sits--and vice versa--that I realize what I had done.

Oh, the horror!!

Of course, there was nothing wrong with me using my “evening” toothpaste in the morning, just like there would be nothing wrong with me using my “morning” toothpaste in the evening. Gingivitis and plaque wouldn’t suddenly attack my teeth, causing them to fall out. My breath wouldn’t repel everyone I met that day. And the planet wouldn’t stop rotating on its axis, causing half the planet to live in permanent daylight and the other half to live in permanent night.

I, by the way, would hope to be on the half permanently stuck in daylight. But that’s just me.

As I’m thinking of what I did and my reaction to it, my thoughts sadly (and perhaps a bit scarily) turn to the character of Sheldon on the late, great “Big Bang Theory”. Those of you who watched the show (or its current prequel, “Young Sheldon”) know that Sheldon can be a bit, uhm, anal about things, especially when things don’t go according to whatever schedule he’s set up. I could just imagine Sheldon thinking the world would stop revolving if he used his morning toothpaste in the evening (and vice versa); while I certainly did enjoy the character (and the energy Jim Parsons put into playing him) I’d hate to think that I’m even a little bit like him.

Sure, I wouldn’t mind having two doctorates, but I also like being a functional human being in society, something Sheldon certainly is not, especially when confronted by something like the Wrong Toothpaste Paradox. So forgive me if I actually notice when I use the wrong toothpaste and it makes the whole rest of my day seem just a bit “off”. However, keep your fingers crossed that the use of said toothpaste doesn’t send me over the edge of sanity.

Because as we all know, there are days when I’m teetering over it to begin with. I certainly don’t need a little push in the wrong direction!

(jim@wmqt.com)

Tuesday, March 2, 2021

Tuesday, 3/2

 I have no idea. I really don't.

Any time two different people ask me the same question over the span of a few days, I have to wonder if there's something in the air, or if I'm giving off some kind of vibe I don't even realize. I'm mean, I know it's probably just a coincidence, but still--

You have to wonder.

Both Saturday with a friend and yesterday when someone came into the station to drop something off I was asked when we're going to start traveling again. Both times, sadly, I had to give the same answer, if only because it's true—I have no idea. We literally can't go to any of our favorite places outside of the US, and until we're vaccinated (and because of our jobs, both Loraine and I are in line after elderly people and those with pre-exisiting conditions are taken care of) I don't know that I want to go anywhere in the US, especially a place that's lax on things like masks and social distancing.

That's why I have no idea.

We're actually looking at it from two different perspectives. One is that we may go somewhere in the US this fall, a quick weekend getaway to some place that's, well, different. Not that we both don't love where we've been the past year—we both really do—but we're both also stuck with this gene that somehow contributes to an increased proclivity for wanderlust.

We need to go to places other than where we live our lives.

More problematic, of course, is returning to our favorite stomping ground across the ocean. We have no idea when we're going to be able to go back. Americans aren't even allowed into the EU right now, and there's no indication that's going to change any time soon. And unlike jumping on a plane and getting away for a weekend in the US, going to Europe for a week or two takes a lot of planning and lots of work beforehand. If we had to guess, maybe the fall of 2022? Spring of 2023?

But that's just a guess.

In a way, people asking us about our plans is a good thing. After all, it shows we've developed a reputation for going interesting places, and I do know there are a lot of people who like to travel virtually with us. But when they ask about our plans and what we have coming up, I just wish I could give an answer anything other than “I have no idea”.

Sigh...

(jim@wmqt.com)

Monday, March 1, 2021

Monday, 3/1

 I know dreams don't literally come true. But I sure wish this one could.

As I've gotten older, the dreams I have at night have become less vivid. No longer about falling from the sky or walking down the street with no clothes on, my dreams now tend to be a bit more prosaic,.a bit more down-to-Earth. Because of that, I don't really seem to remember them when I wake up as much as I used to.

And that's why the dreams I had two nights ago really stuck with me.

The dream wasn't about anything weird or strange; it didn't involve zombies, dragons, Jennifer Aniston, or me heading down the street wondering where I had left my underwear. It was another in a series of prosaic, boring dreams. No one died, no one was in danger; my subconscious wasn't trying to tell me anything. It was just a dream. But it was an amazing dream, at least for me. It's a dream that has stuck with me the past two days, and a dream that makes me wish dreams really could come true. Some of you may laugh when I tell you about the dream, while others will think it makes perfect sense.

What was the dream that's stuck with me the past few days? Well, I had a dream that I was wandering around downtown Marquette, taking pictures with my 20 megapixel Nikon DSLR camera, which is something that I actually do all the time.

But in my dream, I was doing it in 1935.

That's right—the dream that I had involved me having a piece of modern technology in my hand and using it to document buildings and people that were around decades before I was even born. Instead of looking at the black & white pictures that exist from that era, I was able to capture structures that burned or were torn down in vivid, stunning color. In my dream, I saw the old Marquette in a way that I'd never actually be able to in real life. In my dream, I was able to walk down Washington & Front Streets and take pictures of the Opera House, of the Union National Bank building, of the Nester Block, of all the bars that existed on the 300 block of South Front, and all the old hotels that existed around the train station.

And all the pictures I was taking of those amazing old buildings were in color.

I know; I'm a dork. You won't get any argument from me. The fact that, in my dream, I was able to walk down the street and know exactly where each old building was is a testament to that. But just to have the chance to break multiple rules of physics and to go back in time, even if it was in a dream, was amazing. I've poured over hundreds of historic photographs in a decade-plus of doing programs for the History Center, but those were all black & white. In the back of my mind, I always wondered what those buildings looked like in person, what they looked like to those who passed by them on a daily basis.

And thanks to my dream, I now know. Kind of. I mean, whatever images popped into my brain while I was sleeping weren't true. They weren't real. They were just stylized images, put together with whatever clouding and shading my unconscious mind generated. But still...they were in color. Unlike every other time in my life when I've glanced at those long-gone buildings, they looked like living, vital structures, and not just mono-chromed images from decades past. I realize no one else would probably ever have a dream like that, but I still think that it was an amazing way to spend part of an REM cycle.

It's just too bad a dream like that can never come true.

(jim@wmqt.com)