Friday, 7/29

Maybe they're on to something here.

I came across a weird fact I'll use on the air Monday, a weird fact that has really got me to thinking. And that, as we all know, can be a dangerous thing. The fact?

That almost sixty percent of Americans consider August 1^st to be the end of summer.

The reason that fact seems to be resonating with me is that here we are, just a few days before “the end of summer”, and it really doesn't seem like summer's even started yet. I don't know the reason; I don't know if it's been the less than optimal weather we've had here, the packed schedule I seem to have had recently, or the transitional state of things since the station changed ownership June 1^st. But for me, at least, here we are—just a few days before what some people consider “the end of summer”, and mine doesn't even seem to have begun yet.

Yikes.

That's not to say I haven't enjoyed myself the past few months, because I can really say that I have. I've been playing outside and taking time off here and there like I normally do, but something just seems...different. I can't put my finger on it, nor can I even say if the difference is a good thing or a bad thing. But whatever that difference is, it just makes it seem to me, at least, like summer has barely started.

Even if sixty percent of Americans think it's now over.

****

On a slightly less gloomy note, have a great weekend. It's supposed to be sunny & hot here in Marquette, which is my favorite kind of weather. Enjoy Art on the Rocks, enjoy Outback, and enjoy every other thing going on the area this weekend (and trust me—there are a LOT of things going on in the area this weekend).

Monday? The report on how my annual week of dorky counting turned out. Bet you can't wait, huh?

8-)

(jim@wmqt.com)

Thursday, 7/28

It's time for my annual debate with myself. And this year, I might even change my mind.

You're actually part of this annual debate. You see, when I started hosting “High School Bowl” back in 2014 I put forth a question to everyone who reads this as to whether or not I should color my then slightly gray hair before starting the show. Almost everyone who responded said “no”, except for daily blog reader Darlene of Marquette who said, and I quote here, “I'm too young to have a son on TV with gray hair”.

Needless to say, my mom didn't get her way.

That, however, was eight years ago. In the 80 percent of a decade since then, my hair has gotten (understatement alert here) just a little lighter in color, something that becomes even more apparent during the summer when I'm out in the sun a lot and it turns my hair even lighter in color than its normal shade of almost-gray.

Hmm.

As I write this I'm not only two months away from the start of another year of “High School Bowl” but also two months away from another weekly, on-going TV project about which I can't say anything yet (but, needless to say, will require me being on camera in a whole new setting). And seeing as how my hair isn't getting any darker in shade these days I found myself in Walgreen's this past weekend looking at hair coloring.

You know...just in case.

I actually found one that sounds kind of cool, a color that pretty much matches my original dark brown hair with just a shade of purple in it. I don't think the purple would show up on camera much; that would just be a potential justification I could use to convince myself it's a good thing. I mean, sure—I'd have colored hair, but one of the colors would be purple.

And that would work, right?

At this point, I have no idea what I'm going to do. Go on camera with the hair that just keeps getting grayer and grayer? Color it and have people look at the screen going “did that dork do something with his hair”? I don't know. If I do do it it could be a commitment on which I'd need to follow through for however long I'm on TV. But if I don't do it, pretty soon I'll be on TV looking like an off-white beanpole who stuck a giant cotton ball on his head.

See why it's a debate as to what I should do?

8-)

(jim@wmqt.com)

Wednesday, 7/27

You know, maybe I should take more pictures with that particular camera.

After buying a new Nikon DSLR camera last year I brought my old one—an 11 year old camera, but one that still works perfectly—down to my office, just in case I needed a good camera to take an shot or two for work or these ramblings. Well, yesterday morning I did need to use it, and when I was transferring the shots to my computer I noticed that I have used that camera just three times in the past eight months.

And you can really tell by looking at each of the pictures.

The first one is from last November, believe it or not, when I was taking a few minutes out in the late fall sunshine and noticed a colorful tree--

The second was from late February of this year. I'm not quite sure why I took it, especially because of my very healthy aversion to snow-

And the third was the one I took yesterday morning--

Three pictures, three VERY different seasons in Marquette. If nothing else, those three random shots show that we really do have all kinds of weather around here, whether we appreciate it or not. And they also show proof, I guess, that I should probably use that particular camera just a little more often.

8-)

(jim@wmqt.com)

Tuesday, 7/26

It's Art on the Rocks week. Woo hoo!

Not only is it one of my favorite summer week of the year here in Marquette, if only because I get to be a dork and count license plates, but it's also a chance for people who may not be from the area and/or familiar with a unique weather phenomena to experience said phenomena. Now, this may be something about which I’ve probably written before. If I have, forgive me. If I haven’t; well, here’s the story about an interesting summer meteorological phenomena in Marquette, a phenomena about which most people who aren't from Marquette or who are from Marquette but always stay in their cars may not even be aware--

It’s called “The Third Street Rule”.

Oh, some days it may be called “The Front Street Rule”, or “The Fourth Street Rule”, or “The Pine Street Rule”. Some days, it may not even exist. But most of the time, between the months of May and September, “The Third Street Rule”, well, rules.

Allow me to explain.

When you’re walking through certain parts of Marquette, Lake Superior can throw around its muscle whenever it likes. You can be walking down the street in warm comfort and then--

BANG

The temperature drops 20 degrees and you’re freezing in your sandals.

If you’ve ever walked anywhere on the east side of Marquette, you know what I’m talking about. But the lake’s effect DOES start to wane, especially the farther you get from shore. If you walk away from the lake, you can (usually) be pretty sure that it’ll start to warm up and stay warm once you get past Third Street. The extra shirt you needed on Front Street? You can usually take it off once you’re past Third Street.

Hence, “The Third Street Rule”.

It’s funny; most everyone subconsciously knows about it, yet never actually seems to think about it, much less give it a name. Guess I’m just unique in that manner.

8-)

Check it out for yourself if you're out and about some day soon. You’ll see what I mean!

(jim@wmqt.com)

Monday, 7/25

It's a question that's just begging to be asked.

I was out working on a project over the weekend when I came across something I have never seen before. I never, not even once in my life, thought I would see anything like it. And that's why I do have to ask the question--

Why did someone leave an open can of tuna on the dashboard of their sealed car on a hot, sunny summer day?

Seriously; this begs SO many questions that the why of it is just the lead-off. So I'll start with that. Just WHY would someone open a can of tuna, take what appears to be a bite, and then leave it on their dashboard? Were they not aware that, in the hot sun, the tuna would turn rancid quite quickly? And did they not know that the tuna, as it was turning rancid, would then turn their car into the giant mobile approximation of what the world's worst cat food might smell like? And did they now know that the possibility exists that that smell might never (ever) leave their car?

See? So many questions, so few answers.

Now, it could be that the person opened the tuna, intending to have it for lunch, but was so put off by the smell and/or the taste that they couldn't stomach it. I get that; I realize that the taste of tuna is not for everyone. But to then leave it in the sun on the dashboard of a car with its windows rolled up?

I just don't get it. Unless the tuna was a late-night snack and there was alcohol involved. Then, I get it. And I would pay big money to be standing nearby when that person sobered up and opened their car door.

But for now, the mystery of the opened can of tuna remains just that. A mystery. And yet another sign that if you drive everywhere, as opposed to walk everywhere, you miss out on seeing things you never ever thought you would see.

(jim@wmqt.com)

Friday, 7/22

This is among my favorite blogs to write all year.

I'm actually writing this yesterday afternoon, sitting in the sun at one of Marquette's crown jewels--Lower Harbor Park--and just watching the world go by me. There are groups of tourists and locals walking around the park, a lunch hour yoga class taking place under the shade of a big tree, and a group of kids who just jumped off their bikes and are now running through one of the sprinklers the city has going in an attempt to keep the park grass green.

If you were ask for a definition of a perfect summer scene on a perfect summer day, this might approach it.

I often get people who, knowing my profound loathing of snow and cold, ask why I live here. I usually give them two reasons--July and August. And while that answer is often given in jest there is a (big) kernel of truth behind it. I get through the cold & snowy months by telling myself that there will be better days, and a day like yesterday (and the one we're promised today) was one of those better days. I mean, here I am, sitting in the 80 degree sunshine 40 feet from the greatest of lakes, watching sailboats go by in the harbor as a gaggle of bicyclists and runners make there way to or fro along the bike path

Could you actually ask for much more than that?

I try to take advantage of days like these, if only because I know they're few in number and fleeting in nature. After all, here we are, already heading into the last third of July of a summer that hasn't really (at least yet) lived up to expectations. The way time is flying these days it'll be Labor Day next week, Thanksgiving the week after that, and before we know it we'll be huddled en masse indoors in a vain attempt to stay warm during yet another January cold snap.

That's why I treasure writing a blog this on a day like yesterday. The opportunities to do it are few in nature, and when I get the opportunity to do it, I cherish it with all the appreciation I can muster.

Hope your weekend's a treasure, just like today is for me!

(jim@wmqt.com)

Thursday, 7/21

You might wanna think twice before you do it. I'm just saying...

Where I work on Front Street in Marquette, I have a front row view to the world outside. It's often quite entertaining, especially during the summer, when there are a lot of visitors to Marquette. Every so often I'll see people stop and stare at our front window, reading the signs on it and realizing there's a radio station inside. On the rare occasion, I'll even actually see people put their face up to the glass and try to look in.

But that's nothing compared to the people who use the window as a mirror and don't realize that there's someone on the inside who can see them.

You'd be surprised by the amount of people who walk down the street, see a big window, and use it as a mirror to fix their hair, fix their clothes, or just check out their appearance. Because it's a bit of a tinted window, and because the sun's shining on it a good portion of the day, you can't really see inside (unless, like I said, you put your face right up to it). But even though you can't see inside, when I'm in my studio I can see outside.

Trust me on that.

Of course, my situation is nothing compared to Loraine's, who works across the street from me at Range Bank. Their windows are specialty windows designed to reflect the sun and keep out the heat, and you can't see into them. Loraine, however can see out of them just fine, and has regaled me with tales of people taking selfies in the window next to her desk, people using her window as a makeup mirror, people drawing on her window, and people passing by and using the window to, uhm, adjust themselves.

When they're doing all this, they have no idea Loraine and her coworkers can see everything they do.

So I guess what I'm trying to say is this—next time you're in a downtown setting, be it in Marquette or another urbanized area, and you see a business with a big window that looks like a mirror, keep walking. Resist the urge to use the mirror-like window as a mirror. Because if you do, I can almost guarantee that there will be someone on the other side watching whatever you do. And if what you do could be considered embarrassing, impolite, or downright raunchy, trust me.

Those of us on the other side of the window will be chuckling about it the rest of the day.

8-)

(jim@wmqt.com)

Wednesday, 7/20

I know I've said it before, and I'm gonna say it again, even if probably not too many people may agree with me.

Today should be a national holiday.

For those of you who aren't aware (and since most people AREN'T aware, which is why I believe most people wouldn't agree that today should be a national holiday), today is the 53rd anniversary of one of the pinnacle achievements of humanity, the landing of Apollo 11 on the moon. It marked a time when people worked together to achieve a singularly unique goal, a goal that was not easy to reach, and then all cheered en masse when that goal was accomplished. It proved what humans could go when they actually worked together on a project, and didn't devolve into partisan sniping, bickering, or a “what's in it for me” mentality.

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

After all, it's not like we've done anything similar in the 53 years since. I sometimes stand, jaw agape, at the wonder of the situation—over half a century ago we sent people to another celestial body, and then gave up. You wouldn't think it'd be hard to do it again—after all, the technology worked the first time—but it is. We're too busy fighting with each other over every single stupid little thing to actually step back and realize what our mothers and fathers and grandparents did over 50 years ago, and to realize that, if we had the desire and daring to do it again, we could.

If they were able to do it with the technology they had, imagine what we could do with the tech we have today. But over the past five decades, even though plans have been put forth to replicate that amazing achievement—or, god forbid, even surpass it—nothing has ever happen. Nothing.

And since, the way things are going, it could very well be another 53 years before we succeed in attempting to replicate what occurred 53 years ago today, maybe we should just declare the day a national holiday, if for no other reason to remind people what CAN be accomplished if we put our minds and our collective will behind it.

Or maybe that's just me.

(jim@wmqt.com)

Tuesday, 7/19

Well...I hope this is the only bump in the road.

A couple of weeks ago I wrote about how Loraine and I are dipping our toes back into the waters of international travel, hoping to go to Germany at the end of September to see RB Leipzig play. We went into it with eyes wide open, knowing that things could so haywire at a moment's notice.

We just didn't think it would happen so soon.

Loraine read a news story about how British Airways canceled 10,000 flights through early October in order to deal with the fact that Heathrow Airport in London seems to be imploding. So when she went to check on our itinerary it was not too much of a surprise to see that our flights over to London were fine, but that our flight from London to Berlin didn't seem to exist any more. Our flight back from Berlin to London a week later was fine, but it appeared—at least according to our itinerary—that unless we swam the Baltic Sea we wouldn't get to Berlin, and then from there by train to Leipzig.

Grrr.

BA was still flying from London to Berlin that days—three times, in fact—but the flight on which we were booked was pulled, and neither BA nor American thought to let us know about it. Our itinerary showed we were flying to London and then flying back from Berlin. It made no mention that we were originally booked through to Berlin, and if Loraine hadn't checked the flight, we would have shown up at Sawyer to fly to London.

Not Berlin.

Why they didn't reschedule us on another flight that day is beyond me. And when I called AA t see what the fudge was going on, Nina, the very nice lady who helped me, couldn't figure it out, either. She rebooked us on another flight, and we will now get to Berlin on he day we were scheduled to.

Just eight hours later than before.

So instead of getting to Berlin at noon local time and having the afternoon to rest and and explore areas we have yet to explore we now get to spend eight hours at Heathrow and then into Berlin at 630. We have to go through their version of Customs, hop on a train into the city, check into our hotel, get a few hours sleep, wake up, go back to the train station, and get to Leipzig around noon the next day.

Thanks, British Airways.

I'm not complaining too much...really I'm not. I just find it (ironically) funny that the one flight they canceled from London to Berlin that day was ours. But what I AM disappointed in is the fact that they didn't tell us.; If Loraine hadn't seen the news article and she hadn't thought to check, we could have (theoretically) shown up the day we were scheduled to fly over only to find out we had no way to get to Berlin.

That would not have been good.

Hopefully, this will be the one hiccup in the entire trip. I say “hopefully” because I'm experienced enough and realistic enough to know it won't be. But, with any luck, it won't be any worse than this.

Keep your fingers crossed.

(jim@wmqt.com)

Monday, 7/18

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

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

Hippopotomonstrosesquippedaliophobia.

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

I kid you not.

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

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

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

Don't believe me?

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

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

Friday, 7/15

You know, there are probably times when you DON'T have to ring the bell on your bike.

If you're riding your bike on a bike path and you're coming up on a group of walkers or a bunch of people wandering all over the place, it's probably a good thing to ring the bell on your bike or to say “on your left”, just to warn those on the bike path that you're approaching them.

However...if, say, the bike path is mostly empty as far as the eye can see and, say, the one & only person in sight is sticking to the extreme right hand side of the path and, say, that person is lost in thought, do you REALLY need to ring your bike and jolt that person out of his zen-like reverie?

Especially if that person is me?

I took a few hours yesterday to walk in the sun on the South Beach bike path. I was the only person in sight; there were no other walkers, no runners, and, surprisingly, no people on bikes. So I was walking down the edge of path, out of anyone's way, just enjoying my meditative state (the reason I love walking on the beach or a quiet bike path), when all of a sudden I'm blasted out of it by a series of bell rings from someone coming up on me. There was no one else in sight; the rider had a clear path around me. Yet they rang their bell, disrupting the clear, calm peace of mind I had achieved.

Man.

Now, I'm not saying ringing your bell or shouting “on your left” is a bad thing. I myself do it all the time, especially when I'm coming up on a group of people wandering all over the place. But when I come up on an individual, staying on their own side? Not so much. I leave them be to their thoughts and the fact that they're responsibly sharing the path with others by sticking to their own lane.

I realize I'm just being cranky about this because I was in such a mental zone and was jolted out of it by one person, someone who was probably just looking out for my welfare (and actually doing what it says to do on all the signs posted along the path). But I was in a REALLY good zone. I was in that spot that experts say is great for your mental health, and the spot that people who meditate strive for. The person who rang the bell did nothing wrong.

Even if it's something I kinda wish they hadn't done, and even if it's something I myself would not have done.

*****

To show you that not I'm actually NOT a Cranky Old Man in training, once I was jolted out of my reverie I noticed just how amazingly beautiful that section of the South Beach bike path actually is right now, and whipped out my phone.

See?

So despite all my whining, something good actually did come out of the whole incident.

Have a great weekend!

(jim@wmqt.com) 

Thursday, 7/14

And happy Bastille Day!

Yeah; I know the French version of our Fourth of July probably doesn't ring many bells with the vast majority of you, but I do know that we have a couple of people who read this everyday who live in France (bonjour, Thierry, bonjour, Nathalie!) so I figure we might as well mark the day, right?

That got me to thinking. And that, as we all know, can be a dangerous thing. I've been writing these little...whatever you wanna call thems for over 20 years now, since 2001. Over those two decades, I wonder how many other countries we've touched? Thankfully, for the past six years, I've used Blogspot to post these, and on the site there's a little thing you can click on to tell you what countries readers are from (or, at least, in which countries the servers they're using to connect to you are located).

So I decided to take a look.

Looking at the statistics for the Blogspot site makes me laugh, on occasion, if only because of some of the, uhm, interesting places from which we get hits. The U.S., of course, always pops up first, followed for perhaps appropriate reasons, countries in which I have friends and have visited—France, or Belgium, or Germany. But then it gets weird. For several months, India provided a large chunk of readers—in fact, I've even received a few nice notes from several of them. At other times, it was South Africa. Recently (and I'm guessing it's more for the bots & spiders & potential hackers than any actual reason) it's been Russia.

How people from those countries stumbled across a blog from a dorky American blathering about the weather I do not know. But apparently it happens, and apparently it happens quite a bit.

So here's the deal—if you read this regularly, or have even just stumbled on it by accident, and you're from a country outside of the U.S., please let me know. My e-mail address is always at the end of each post, and don't worry—I won't mention you in any way. I know almost everyone who reads this does so as a “lurker”, and I'm cool with that. I don't want to “unlurk” you. But I'm curious, so let me know, and we'll see how many people in how many different countries read this.

Who knows...I may then have to start wishing people happy holidays OTHER that Bastille Day. And that would be one of the coolest things that I could do.

(jim@wmqt.com)

Wednesday, 7/13

Have I ever mentioned that I have the greatest dad in the history of dads?

Sure, you may disagree with that statement, preferring to have yours top the list instead of mine, but I'm still standing by the choice. The latest example of how he's the greatest dad in the history of dads lies in cookies I made over the weekend, cookies I would not have made if I didn't have the greatest dad in the history of dads.

And here's how.

One of the things my dad likes to do is to pick berries, which is a good thing for me, seeing as how I like to eat berries. He's been picking strawberries the past few weeks and giving me some of his stash each and every time (because, you know, he IS the greatest dad in the history of dads), and after getting another batch on Friday a thought popped into my head.

I should make cookies with some of them.

So I did. I was playing around in the kitchen when I seemed to have stumbled upon a fairly interesting mix, involving cut up strawberries, chocolate chips, oatmeal (to soak up some of the liquid from the moist strawberries) and whole wheat flour (to soak up even more of the liquid from the moist strawberries). They ended up looking like a cookie, having a nice, chewy texture, and, most importantly, tasted quite good. And the dude who picked the strawberries—you know, the greatest dad in the history of dads—seemed to enjoy them, as well.

My only regret is that I didn't make more of them. After all, I was just playing around and didn't want to make a lot, lest they didn't really turn out. And since I (ahem) ate the rest of my strawberry stash before realizing how good the cookies were with freshly picked strawberries, well...

That's on me.

Thankfully, I actually wrote down the ingredients I used in the batch, so if I ever want to make them again I can (and, as a side note, you'd be amazed how many times I make things and then can't recreate them exactly because I didn't write down what I originally did). And if I do make them again, I'll know who to thank for giving me the idea in the first place.

And that would be merely the greatest dad in the history of dads.

(jim@wmqt.com)

Tuesday, 7/12

Being married is dangerous. It really is!

As promised yesterday, here's that particular story. Those of you who've been reading this for a while may remember when I had a rather gruesome bike accident nine years ago. Aside from losing a tooth and a whole bunch of skin, among other things, I also lost my wedding ring, which had to be cut off when my bashed-up ring finger started to swell to extremes. A year later, once my finger totally healed, Loraine bought me a new wedding ring, which I love. It looks like something from a futuristic space station, and it's made out of titanium, which is supposedly indestructible. In fact, I had rarely thought about that aspect of it since getting it in 2014.

Well, after something that happened last week, I can say one thing for certain—my wedding ring IS indestructible.

How do I know? Well, I was in one of the studios at work when I realized I needed to be in another studio in a few seconds to say something on the air. I ran out of the room, and somehow—I still don't know how—my wedding ring got caught on a door jam that was sticking out a little bit. My wedding ring did what it was supposed to do. It held its place. Unfortunately, it did its job so well that the door jam got pulled out of the door frame a little, and thing that was holding my wedding ring—my finger—ended up missing a little skin.

There's your proof that marriage is dangerous.

I don't know how I did what I did; I'm thinking it's just a gift that I was given at birth. But while running out of the studio my ring somehow got caught on that door jam and started to wrench my finger off. Luckily, I was able to realize what was going on and stop fairly quickly, but not before the door jam started to give way and certainly not before the ring started to dig into my finger. I'm thankful it didn't do more damage than it did; after all, it took me almost a year for that finger to return to normal after my bike accident, and I really don't want to start doing little finger exercises all over again.

Sometimes, I amaze even myself. And usually not in a good way.

Of course, if nothing else, the whole incident proves that Loraine picked out the right ring to get me. She wanted to make sure that if I had some kind of weird accident (Me? Weird accident? No.....) the ring would survive unscathed. And while I can't say the same for the door jam, my ring did just that—survived unscathed.

Hopefully, something like this won't happen again. But it still leaves me shaking my head, wondering just when marriage did indeed become so dangerous.

8-)

(jim@wmqt.com)

Monday, 7/11

The world can rest easy. We're still legally married.

You may recall a couple of months ago when Loraine discovered we didn't have a copy of either our wedding license or our marriage certificate. At the time, she thought she might need it to prove to a governmental agency who she actually is. Thankfully, she didn't need it, especially since we couldn't find a copy of it anywhere in our apartment. Oh, we tore the place apart, but didn't find it. It also wasn't in a safe at my parent's house, nor in our safe deposit box.

Technically, we had no way of proving we were married, other than the fact that we've perfected shouting “what?” to each other as we're trying to talk while in different rooms of our apartment.

Anyway, I went over to the Marquette County Clerk's office last week and finally picked up a copy, and as it turns out, made a very interesting discovery--

We probably never had a copy of it in the first place.

We received the copy of both the license and the certificate on one big legal, stamped piece of paper, and while looking at I came to realize something. On the marriage certificate was a notice to return it to the County Clerk no more than 10 days after it being issued, so we're positive that after Loraine used it to do the name-change thing she brought it back and never gave a second thought to the fact that we didn't have a copy of it.

Or, at least, never gave it a second thought until she almost needed it again three decades later.

The certified copy of the license & certificate now sits on our safety deposit box, where it will probably never be touched again. However, should anyone ever actually need proof that yes, we ARE legally married, we have it.

And we won't even have to tear our apartment again to find it.

********

Tomorrow, another tale of life as a married person. And just how fricking dangerous it can sometimes be.

8-)

(jim@wmqt.com) 

Friday, 7/8

Wait. You can use the Internet to say NICE things about people, too?

If you've ever wanted to find out just how mean human beings can be, just read the comments section of an Internet post. If you've ever thought humanity could sink no lower than it already has, just log onto a Twitter feed. It seems like the anonymity of Internet allows people whose comments would wither in the sunlight of decent society to have those comments flourish without a second thought like the mold on two-year old cheese.

It's not a nice place.

So imagine my surprise in the 36 hours since I wrapped up my “Tracks Through Time” tour, my surprise (and astonishment) that people have used the Internet to thank me for showing them a great time, for teaching them a few trivial facts, and for sharing my geeky love for this place we call home. It's almost like there's a shred of humanity in humanity these days.

Who knew?

First of all, thanks for the kind comments. You really didn't need to make them; I was just doing what I do, this time in the company of 150 people. But I'm glad you enjoyed yourselves. Secondly, thanks for raising 700 or so dollars for the Marquette Regional History Center. That was the whole purpose of the outing. And finally, thanks for restoring my faith in humanity. I'll admit that it's crumbled a bit in the past four or five years, what with the virus-like spread of hate and cynicism that seems to have overtaken our daily lives. But you'd be amazed at how one or two small acts of kindness from people who actually care can overcome hundreds or thousands of large acts of hate from people whose lives consist of nothing but large acts of hate.

It was cool to see.

Like I said, thanks to those people who actually took a few seconds out of their day to post kind words or to send me a note of appreciation. You really didn't need to; I'm just glad you enjoyed yourselves. And thanks for giving me hope, too, that one day—maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow, but hopefully one day in my lifetime—we can all read the comments section of an Internet post and not feel like you need to take a shower of Lysol when you're done.

Have a fantastic and hate-free weekend, everyone!

(jim@wmqt.com)

Thursday, 7/7

Well...that seemed to go well.

“Tracks Through Time”, the latest Jim Koski ™ walking tour I've put together for the Marquette Regional History Center, has now entered the (ahem) history books, and it seems to have gone off with nary a hitch. The weather was nice (if a tad cool) and a couple of people actually showed up for it.

Well, okay...more than just a couple--

And yes, the line does sneak up the entire block.  I took the picture holding my phone up as far as I could over my head.  Let's just say there was quite the crowd!

As I had mentioned yesterday, this was a slightly different tour, in that I was able to put my made up philosophy of “urban archaeology” to the ultimate test. And I'd like to think that the people who took the tour enjoyed it; I lost track of how many people said things like “I didn't know that” or “I walk past here every day and didn't realize why it's like that”.

So...mission accomplished.

Now, I get to take a break for (looking at calendar here) a whole day. Friday evening I'm giving my “50 Years of Change” program for a high school reunion. After that, though? Nothing on the schedule until late August and a couple of shows at the Lake Superior Theater with Jack. I have a couple of pop-up tours I'm trying to squeeze in (including the fire tour that got rained out last month), and I suppose I should be thinking about the North Marquette walking tour I have in early September.

But for the next few weeks...it's time to enjoy summer.

Now...if it would just warm up so I could actually do that!

8-)

(jim@wmqt.com)

Wednesday, 7/6

I really think it'll be fun.

Tonight's the night I get to do “Tracks Through Time”, the railroad-oriented tour I've been babbling about in here non-stop for the past 137 years. While it's still a Jim Koski ™ tour, it'll be slightly different than usual in a couple of ways. The first is that instead of talking about things that used to be there, we'll be looking things that are still around, but shaped by railroads (even if you never realized it). It'll be taking my made-up phrase of “urban archaeology” to the extreme.

I think that'll be cool.

And the other way it'll be different? Well, the History Center has a new sound system that gets pulled along n a cart, and that means that (sob) my dad won't have to hold my portable speaker up so people could hear as I speak. This is a big deal; when I mentioned on Facebook that we'll be trying out a new sound system someone said, and I quote here, “your dad won't be carrying the speaker around on his head?”

Nope, he won't. And it sounds like his fan club is really bummed about that. But think of it this way—now my dad actually gets to enjoy the tour.

I think after all these years of schlepping the speaker around he deserves it.

If you're in the area and interested it starts at 630 at the History Center. Just bring along a mobile-internet capable device to look at some amazing pictures...you know, like this one--

Details on how it turned out tomorrow!

(jim@wmqt.com)

Tuesday, 7/5

Have a great holiday weekend?

I myself did, taking care of all those things one wants to take care of during the 4^th (family, friends, soccer with Loraine, food, sunburned knees (and just my knees.  Seriously.), and lots of grumbling about idiots shooting off fireworks, among them). Now, I'm getting ready for a very busy rest of the week. So with that in mind, let's re-visit our favorite word of the past few years...re-purposing!

I have my Jim Koski ™ walking tour for the History Center tomorrow, and had to write a newspaper article about it last week. So here it is...an interesting story that does indeed have trains (the topic of the walk tomorrow) at the center of it.

Details about the tour itself tomorrow.

(jim@wmqt.com)

*****

A RAILYARD INFERNO

By Jim Koski

Marquette Regional History Center

Fire and railroads have a long and intertwined history in Marquette. The Great Fire of 1868 started in the downtown shops of the Marquette and Ontonagon Railroad, while 42 years later one of the biggest fires in the history of South Marquette also took place at a rail facility, in this case the Duluth, South Shore, and Atlantic shops in the South Rail Yards.

The evening of August 12^th, 1910, a DSS&A night watchman named Edward Carr was making his rounds around the facility when he noticed a bright light coming through the window of one of the car barns. He asked a fellow employee if anyone was working in it, and after being told “no” he went over to investigate.

It was then he discovered the building was on fire.

The barn which had caught on fire was an 80x100 foot structure made of wood and a tar covered roof. There was no one in the building, nor were any pieces of equipment turned on and operating, so how the fire started there remained a mystery. But by the time Carr was able to sound the alarm the blaze had shot through the roof of the barn, and a steam pipe has burst from the heat, pushing down one of the walls. The fire also began igniting barrels containing flammable materials, in the form of oil and other lubricants.

By then, both city and South Shore firefighters had arrived on the scene. Because the flames from the exploding oil drums were so intense the decision was made to just pull back and let the fire burn itself out, while using their equipment to try and protect several nearby buildings. Thankfully, they could let the fire, the flames of which were seen by residents downtown, burn itself out because at the time the South Rail Yards were several hundred yards away from the residential portions of nearby South Marquette.

Once the flames died down and railroad officials were able to get into the complex they discovered that not only was the car barn destroyed, but one train car sitting within it had been melted, as well. And perhaps more importantly, all kinds of specialized machinery, from one of a kind tools to large cranes, were gone, as well. Losses during the South Rail Yard fire were the equivalent to over 2 million dollars in 2022 currency.

Thankfully, no one was seriously hurt, either by the fire or the explosions, and the DSS&A was able to replace all the destroyed facility fairly quickly. The South Rail Yards were up & running rather quickly, and they served the Duluth, South Shore, and Atlantic—which later became part of both the Soo Line and Canadian National railways--until the late 1990s. The yards were then cleaned up and redeveloped, where we now know them as Founder's Landing.

The photo was taken at the DSS&A South Rail Yards the day after the fire (8/13/1910) and shows the destruction that occurred. Photo courtesy of the Marquette Regional History Center.

Friday, 7/1

One down, a zillion to go.

Seeing as how it's now July, you're probably not surprised that I have all kinds of things going on for the Marquette Regional History Center the next few weeks. The first occurred yesterday, as I led a fundraising tour through one of the more unique houses in Marquette, a log cabin on the lake in which not a nail was used in construction...a house that was even at one time used as a restaurant.

Don't believe me?

Now Wednesday I have a legit Jim Koski ™ walking tour about how railroads shaped downtown Marquette. “Tracks Through Time” actually got its start two years ago when I proposed doing a tour called “I've Been Working On The Railroad” (and good luck getting that song out of your head now). It was held over until this year because of a Covid-induced backlog of programs, and because the History Center's main exhibit this year is about railroads.

So it's the perfect time to finally roll it out.

I'll discuss it more Wednesday, but just let me leave you with a teaser picture, a picture whose mysteries will be resolved if you have the chance to join us Wednesday night--

See? Now you want to go, right?

8-)

Have a great holiday weekend. Try not to blow any fingers off!

(jim@wmqt.com)