Monday, 7/31

Farewell, July. We barely got to know ye.

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

The weather.

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

You can't say that about December.

And even though this July has not been particularly warm, dry, or sunny (in stark contrast with the rest of the planet) there have still been days beautiful enough for walks on the beach or countless bike rides or soccer practice sessions with Loraine..

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

But you know what?. I'd take a cool & wet July over even a mild December any time. You can just do the things I like to do with no problems at all in July. If I did have to complain about something, it would be that July is just too short.

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

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

Tomorrow—the strange thing I discovered this year counting license plates.

(jim@wmqt.com)

Friday, 7/28

I have to go check a few things for damage from last night's mega-storm here in Marquette (and was that intense or what?), but I do want to share two small things today, both of which are a bit of a tradition.

The first is that today is the Blueberry Festival here in downtown Marquette, and that means I get to hang out enjoying it with one of the coolest people in the world--

My mom.

Since the Festival started we've had this standing gig to check it out together. She walks up to the station, I join her, and we see what there is to see (and, me being me, buy stuff to eat). So if you happen to be at the festival and see me hanging out with someone, stroll over and I'll introduce you to the best mom in the world.

My annual Blueberry Festival date.

The other tradition? Well, every year I take a bunch of flower pictures and post them in a blog, and seeing as how I put up a shot of wildflowers a few days ago, daily blog reader Brianna of Marquette wondered when the “real deal” is coming.

Soon, Brianna, soon. In fact, want a sneak peak?

Have a great weekend, everyone. And with 87,000 things going on in Marquette County this weekend, maybe I'll see you at one or two!

(jim@wmqt.com)

Thursday, 7/27

Repeat after me—the sidewalk is NOT a parking lot!

I'm sorry, but I'm gonna spend this blog complaining about something. I know I seem to have been doing that a lot recently, and if you don't want to hear me do it again, you have my permission to come back tomorrow. I promise to talk about something cheery, like sunshine or rainbows or unicorns.

Honest.

Now, on to my rant. There are, sadly, many places around the city of Marquette where people do not know how to park. I know this because I run and walk up & down city streets all the time, and I always have to duck into the roadway when I come across something like this--

 

I'm pretty sure there aren't two parking spots here. Heck, I don't even know if there's one parking spot there. And because of the way these vehicles are sitting means that every single person who walks or runs down this particular sidewalk, plus many others in the city, every parent pushing a stroller, every child riding a bike, and every person who needs a wheelchair or some unblocked access to the sidewalk, has to veer out into the street, where traffic, because drivers are too busy staring at their phones, is often speeding past at 10 or 15 miles an hour over the speed limit.

All because one individual does not know now to park.

Now, if this was just a one time event, I wouldn't be raising any kind of ruckus about it. But this happens all over the city, thanks to people oblivious to the both the fact that the sidewalk is not a parking lot and to the fact that they could be putting people in danger by making them veer out into a very busy street. I don't understand people who do things like that. I don't understand why people would break the law by using the sidewalk as a parking lot. The sidewalks belong to everyone, not just whoever happens to live next to it.

They're OUR sidewalks, not yours.

I think that's what getting my goat here. It's the same thing that gets my goat when I see dog owners bring their pets on a beach or some other place where there are “No dogs allowed” signs. These are public areas; they're not your personal playgrounds. By using them as your own, and by willfully flouting the rules, you're disrespecting every other single person who might need to use them and every single person who does try to follow the law. There are 22,000 of us living on a small piece of land, and the rules (like not blocking the sidewalk or not taking your dog on the beach) are there to make sure that we can all live together in harmony. I try not to disrespect any of the other 21,999 people in Marquette. I'd hope everyone else would return the favor.

Apparently, though, that's not the case. At least for that's the case for people like the one pictured above.

Okay; I'll shut up now. I just needed to get that off of my chest. Like I said, tomorrow we'll talk about puppies or flowers or chocolate. Or how nice & hot it's supposed to be today.

And I won't complain about a thing. Promise.

(jim@wmqt.com)

Wednesday, 7/26

I hope she wasn't disappointed by the answer.

As you may recall, I'm taking time off here and there this week. I did so yesterday, and enjoyed a nice sunny stroll along one of my favorite places in Marquette—the South Beach bike path. While I was just chilling a woman came up to me and said “hey”. She said she sees me enjoying that path every so often, and said she wonders what I'm thinking about while I'm out there relaxing.

I have to admit she looked a little surprised when I said “mosquitoes”

Seriously; I was thinking about mosquitoes, although not for the reason you think. I often use my meanderings up & down that path to think about my “Life in the 906” bits. In fact, last summer when I knew I would be doing them but before anything had been announced, I walked up & down that bike path rolling my mind over ideas, many of which have made their way on the air.

That's why I was thinking about mosquitoes.

I had actually another one of those instances where I had woken up in the middle of the night with an idea in my head, and I was just trying to flesh it out. I'm hopeful it'll be a memorable one; I guess we'll find out next Monday night.

So, if you ever see me mindlessly wandering up & down that bike path, be aware that the wandering isn't actually that mindless. I'm actually working, even of that work just consists of thinking about things like mosquitoes.

8-)

If you're curious (and I know you must be) the wildflowers are in full bloom along the path, as well!

(jim@wmqt.com)

Tuesday, 7/25

I wonder how many times a day it actually happens?

As I mentioned Friday, I'm in the midst of counting license plates this week (14 different states after the first day), so I'm keeping my eyes on the streets as cars go by more than I usually do.

And that's when I see them going the wrong way on a one way street.

The one was street is the one block Blaker Street/ East Bluff Street here in downtown Marquette; specifically, this one--

I tried to get a picture of a car coming out of it the wrong way but, of course, as I was standing across the street with a camera no one actually did. But it happens multiple times a day, mostly by people with out of state plates but occasionally by people who are from around here (or at least bought their car around here).

Thankfully, I haven't seen the wrong-way driving cause an accident, although I'm sure it could..

Now, I don't blame the drivers for driving the wrong way on a one way street. Almost all of them are coming out of the back parking lot of the Landmark Inn, and unless you look very closely you don't even see the signs (across the street from the parking lot, partially covered by tree branches) letting you know you're on a one way street. So, I guess, it's natural to turn right and go down the street the wrong way instead of turning left and going around the block, like you're supposed to.

It's just one of those things.

I'm sure the city could put bigger and/or better placed one way signs across from the parking lot, or even in the parking lot itself, just to let people know. And I'm also wondering if some drivers are just doing what their GPS is telling them to, and the GPS doesn't know it's a block of one way traffic. Either (or both) of those would help, but maybe it's just one of those things.

Maybe having one block of one way traffic in the middle of a downtown is just so...weird that something about it just doesn't register with people. I dunno. I just hope that there aren't a lot of people who end up doing it, and that those who do don't (accidentally) cause any trouble by doing so.

See what you notice by looking for license plates?

8-)

(jim@wmqt.com)

Monday, 7/24

I wonder if I could make a living at it?

Several times this past weekend, while I was out enjoying our almost normal (for once) weather, different people stopped to ask me directions or to ask where something was. That’s not unusual; when Loraine and I are out walking, we get that quite a bit. I don’t know if we just look approachable or like we know what we’re talking about or what, but it happens quite a bit. Not only that, but if we happen to be passing a tourist commenting on a local sight, we’ll give them a little local color, fill them in on what they’re seeing, and usually walk away with “thanks” and seeing a big smile on their faces. Add into all the tours I’ve given this summer (with more to come), and it has gotten me to think--

Could I make a living doing that?

Don’t worry; I’m not quitting any time soon. It’s just that every once in a while I think to myself about how great it would be to spend my days walking around Marquette, helping people who are visiting the area, and educating anyone who wants to be educated about what they see in front of them. I could take them on walking tours, biking tours, and any other kind of tour they’d like. Aside from beach bum, if I could have a dream job, that might be it. Of course, I realize that as with being a beach bum, there’s probably not much money in being friendly to tourists, but a boy can always dream, right?

8-)

It's just one of those things that pops into my head as I'm walking around on a nice summer day. And, just so you know, the forecast for this week calls for (finally) a bunch of nice summer days, so if you happen to see a “best of” or not see one of these posted on a day, know that I'm not ignoring you.

I'm just out enjoying summer while it's here and, in a way, making sure that you don't have to read me whining about it again.

You're welcome.

(jim@wmqt.com)

Friday, 7/21

Once again this year, I'm going to be a geek.

(And, as always, I'll pause for a second here while you yell “In which year AREN'T you a geek?” because, you know, that's what you want to do).

Art on the Rocks week is coming up next week, the week when I do my annual survey of out-of-town license plate in Marquette. I don't know exactly why I started doing it (aside, of course, from being a geek) but if I'm counting correctly (and I'm pretty sure I am) this will be the 20^th summer in which I've done this particular task.

So...yay me?

8-)

The fact that I've been doing this for two decades has provided me with not only a way to gauge the way the tourism industry is going up here on a year to year basis, but its also a little bit of a key to how much things have changed in Marquette over the past 20 years. While I don't know why I started this particular habit, I do know why I chose Art on the Rocks week—back then, it was THE big summer event in Marquette. And now, while it still is a huge event, it's been join by so many others, everything from Ore to Shore to the Beer Festival, that I (technically) could choose just about any week for the survey.

However, for both sentimental reasons and to keep it statistically valid, I keep doing it during the week leading up to Art on the Rocks.

So if you see me walking around the next few days scribbling something down on a piece of paper or swiveling my head around to catch the plate of a car passing me by, have no fear. I'm not dangerous.

I'm just being a geek.

Have a great weekend!

(jim@wmqt.com)

Thursday, 7/20

This is not how it's supposed to be.

I know I whine a lot about the weather in here. Heck, it's even mentioned in the promos we run on air for these pieces. Sometimes, it's justified, and sometimes, it's not.

This month, though, it IS justified.

We're in the span of a week or so when Marquette has its highest average temperatures for the year--76 degrees. After this, the average highs start to fall as Fall slowly encroaches upon us. So what's going on during this span, when we're supposed to be having our highest average temperatures of the year?

Well, if you said, lots of clouds, lots of rain, and temperatures 10 to 15 degrees below what they're supposed to be, you'd be right.

I find it quite ironic, as well, that while most of the north half of the planet is baking in record heat that we're suffering through a very fall-like summer. I mean, I know we broke the planet, and I know that weird weather in one part of the globe has to be balanced out by weirder weather in another part. But still--ending up with the short end of the proverbial weather stick? Is that fair? Where's our record heat?

See? Justified whining.

Now, I know there are many of you would not like record heat. I get that. I get that, for many people, cool summers are preferable to what the rest of the northern hemisphere is going through right now. But for some of us summers are an escape from the reality we have the other nine months of the year. The rest of the year we deal with cool, wet, gray days. To also be given them during the one time of the year when expect (or at least hope) for something different?

I'd sigh if I could. Only I think I've used up my quota of sighing for the year..

Hopefully, some day soon, this trend will reverse, and we'll get the warm. Heck, I'd even settle for a day where there's sun and the temperatures are where they should be this time of the year. Maybe we'll get it. But as the days get shorter and the average temperatures keep dropping, there will be fewer and fewer chances. Like I said, I hope we get them.

Because if not, you'll be subjected to a long nine months of justified whining before the next attempt at summer rolls around.

8-)

(jim@wmqt.com)

Wednesday, 7/19

The skunks are back.

Those of you who’ve been reading these ramblings since the days of the dinosaurs may remember that when Loraine and I moved into our current apartment we discovered two things—that drunk college students can make a lot of noise, and that, for some strange reasons, skunks seem to like our tightly packed little urban neighborhood. Every so often we get a spell when they seem to have a need to let everyone know they're around.

Kind of like they have the past few weeks.

Several nights ago I awoke around 3 am, and for a second wasn't sure I was awake. After getting up, going over to an open window, and inhaling, I then knew WHY I was awake. Needless to say, the windows were shut quickly, but the stench lingered in the air waaaaay too long to get back to sleep. I don’t know where the skunk was, or if it emptied its entire, uhm, bomb bay, but that smell was strong, and it wasn’t going away. Thankfully, by the next morning, it had disappeared, but in the few days since it's happened again. I guess the one good thing about the current cold snap is that our windows were closed and the smell didn't penetrate too far into our apartment, but it was still strong enough o wake me up.

I have no idea why (or how) skunks like our neighborhood. Like I said before, it’s a very tightly packed urban neighborhood; the houses are right next to each other, there aren’t a lot of big yards or trees, and there’s more concrete than grass & dirt. If I had to pick out one section of Marquette where I would guess skunks wouldn’t like to go it’d be ours. But apparently there’s something magical in our little section of the city, and it keeps drawing those wonders of nature back time and time again.

Aren’t we lucky?

I have no idea if this was a one-time incident, or if some kind of skunk real estate agent is telling the little creatures that our neighborhood is the new “must move into” neighborhood for hip skunks. I’m certainly hoping it’s the former; after all, I don’t want to have to deal with this on a nightly basis. You can shut noisy college students out with earplugs. I have yet to figure out anything that keeps the smell of skunk out of your nose.

Yum. Or yuck, depending up on your point of view.

(jim@wmqt.com)

Tuesday, 7/18

That was a hard one to cut.

As I've mentioned in here several times before, when I do my “Life in the 906” bit on TV-19 I have two minutes of airtime, and no more. The pieces I write are often longer than those two minutes, but I usually find that they're easy to cut and, often, made better by the trims to get them down to time.

But not this week's piece.

When I got done letting it pour out of my brain Saturday, I knew it was long. But I also knew it was solid, with enough gags and obscure UP references to make everyone happy. However, when I timed it out, I was surprised as to just long it was—three minutes. That means I had to cut a third out of it.

And that was hard.

I ended up slashing whole paragraphs of the copy, which means that two whole bits—about the word “youze” and the words you might hear during winter—had to go. I mean, I think that what remained was gold, but maybe—just maybe—it might have been platinum-plated gold with everything left in. But alas, it was not meant to be.

At least not on TV. Here, I don't have a time limit. I can write as much as I want. So herewith, I present the UNCUT version of “How to Speak Yooper”, with all the gags left in. Maybe, someday, they'll also reach television, but for now?

They'll have to be content with life on the internet.

(jim@wmqt.com)

*****

In my never-ending quest to help tourists fit right in when they visit the UP, this week I would like to present….

“Jim’s Keys to Speaking Yooper”.

They always say that when you’re visiting a foreign country you should learn at least a few words, just to show you’re making an effort.  And you could say the same if you’re coming to visit the UP.  After all, there are some linguistic…quirks you’ll find all around our amazing peninsula.  Quirks you don’t find anywhere else.  In fact, there’s even been a very interesting book written about it.

So how do you define speaking “Yooper”?  Well, I don’t know if there’s a precise way of defining it.  I guess the closest I can come is to describe it like this–you take a standard midwestern accent, cover it with squeaky cheese, dunk it in black coffee, and wash it down with a jumbo or two of Bosch beer.

Make sense?

There are a couple of phrases everyone needs to know right off the bat–the ubiquitous “Holy Wah”,  the even more ubiquitous “Say Ya To Da UP”, and the no longer used but still fondly remembered “We Go Green Bay”  and its wayward cousin, “We Go Shopko Liquor”.

There are also several ways in which you can start or end a sentence, with exclamations like “Ya Sure, “You Betcha, or “Eh.  They can go at the beginning of a sentence or wrap it up, and you can use them in any combination, including the often-attempted but not always mastered “Ya Sure You Betcha Eh”.  However, if you’re a newcomer to speaking Yooper, you may want to warm up before trying that combo.

After all, I have seen tourists blow out their vocal cords trying that without proper practice.

You can actually fit it quite well with the use of just one word–youze.  It’s not “you guys”, it’s “youze guys”.  And when you walk into a store don’t be surprised if someone cheerfully says “Can I help youze?”  And that, by the way, is the perfect time to use a phrase like “Ya Sure” or “You betcha” as a reply.

You’ll fit right in.

I know it’s theoretically summer right now, but if you were to visit us during our ten months of winter you’d have a whole ‘nother set of words to use.  Swampers, chooks, rubbers, and choppers are all things you wear to stay warm, and “pank” becomes an all-purpose verb when you’re dealing with mud, snow, slush, ice, or the giant Himalayan-sized peaks snow plows leave at the end of your driveway.

And since you’re  tourists, you should be aware that we do have special names for you.  For our friends from Lower Michigan, you’re trolls, because of that, you know, whole under the bridge thing.  People from Wisconsin are Cheeseheads, and if you’re visiting us from Chicago or anywhere in the great state of Illinois, you’re a FIB.  That is an acronym, by the way.  The “I” in FIB stands for “Illinois”.

And I’ll, uh, leave the “F”and the “B” in that acronym to your imagination.

This is just skimming the surface.  There will be so many different ways of saying so many different things as you make your way across the UP.  So don’t be afraid; just dive in with your Yooperisms.  After all, just making the effort is the important thing.

I'm Jim Koski, and that's another slice of “Life in the 906”...eh? 

Monday, 7/17

Really, Facebook? THAT'S what you think I'd be interested in?

I'm not spending as much time as I used to on social media, but I do log on occasionally to ask questions and/or promote things I have coming up (like a walking tour (and, as an aside, thanks Mining Journal for the front page coverage last Friday!)). As I was scrolling through a few things after posting a picture following last week's tour, I was dumbfounded on a "suggested like" the site was aiming at me.

"Suggested likes" are pages or personalities Facebook's algorithm thinks you may enjoy, based on what it thinks it knows about you. It bases the information on what you already like, the items with which you most interact, and whatever else its data mining can discover about you.

And that's why I'm dumbfounded that Facebook thinks I might want to follow the Hooters restaurant in Chattanooga, Tennessee.

There are so many layers to unpeel here. First of all, a Hooters restaurant? Really? Have they actually met me? And second of all, the Hooters Restaurant in Chattanooga, Tennessee? I have been in Tennessee twice on my life--once on a quick overnight visit to Nashville, and the other a three-day stay in Memphis. I have never once been to Chattanooga. I have no real desire to to go to Chattanooga. And I certainly have NO interesting in popping into the Hooters in Chattanooga, or, more to Facebook's point, following them on social media.

What the what, Facebook?

When I showed the recommendation to Loraine, she (someone who actually knows me) laughed out loud. She also brought up an interesting point, not really related to Facebook's recommendation, but interesting nonetheless--Tennessee's one of the states trying to ban drag shows, but they're okay with a Hooters in Chattanooga?

But like I said, that was just a tangential point. The real interesting thing is why Facebook thought I would like to follow the Hooters Restaurant in Chattanooga, Tennessee in the first place. I was almost tempted to share the recommendation and to make a joke about it, but I stopped before I did. Why, you ask? Well, I answer, if I DID mention the Hooters in Chattanooga, Tennessee, Facebook might actually think I have an interest in it, and start deluging me with other "suggested likes" that would be just as, if not more strange, than the original.

And I'm not sure I could handle that.

So thanks for the recommendation, Facebook, but no thanks. I'm sure the Hooters in Chattanooga, Tennessee has plenty of fans. Just don't count me among them.

(jim@wmqt.com)

Friday, 7/14

I have never, ever been accused of being a pessimist. I always look at the good side of things, and I’m always marveling at the potential of what’s to come. Yet I was struck with a thought this morning—

If you consider summer to be the months of June, July, and August, then tomorrow's marks the halfway point of the season.

SUMMER’S HALF OVER!!!!

So, for the moment, at least, feel free to call me “Mr. Pessimist”.

The sad thing about that observation is that it really doesn’t SEEM like summer’s been with us long enough to be half over. So much of the past month and a half has been so cold and so wet (for instance, did you know that here in the city of Marquette it hasn't been above 80 since June 23rd?), and so many of us spent the month and a half complaining about it, that it really doesn’t seem like we’ve used up half of our allotment of summer. It just seems like winter and what passes for spring up here lasted so long that, well, summer just started. Not that it’s halfway over.

That's just not right.

But numbers don't lie. There are three months (June, July, and August) to “summer”. Tomorrow is the mid-point of the mid month. It's like we're at that moment when you're on a teeter-totter and it's perfectly balanced between you and the person on the other side. That's where we are tomorrow. Sunday, you start heading toward the ground, or up in the air, depending upon your point of view.

And if that's a mangled metaphor, I don't know what is.

But since I don’t seem to have the capability to be a pessimist for long, let me share a neat local weather forecast that I picked up a couple of years ago. According to records from this century—the past 22 years--Marquette has gotten an average of almost five 85+ degree days AFTER July 15th. That means the second half of summer promises at least a little more warmth.

So while summer may really BE half over, it seems like the best of it may yet be coming. And if that’s not cause for a return to optimism, I don’t know WHAT is!

Enjoy your “mid-point of summer” day tomorrow, have a great weekend, and get ready to enjoy the rest of the season.

(jim@wmqt.com)

Thursday, 7/13

Well, I guess it turned out to be a successful tour--

Even with (perhaps) too many people trying to cross streets and even with trying to navigate through the new Wednesday Farmer's Market on Washington Street, "Burn Baby Burn: The Infernos of Downtown Marquette" is now in the books. If I had to guess, I'd say there were between 200 and 250 people joining me on the stroll, as we talked about burning buildings, told a bunch of bad jokes, and shared a very sad story that I don't think anyone in the crowd actually knew about--

The story of the Stensrud fire.

On the 300 south block of Front Street there's a very unassuming building called the Stensrud Building. It's two stories now and the home to Marquette's Knights of Columbus, but back in 1948 it was three stories tall and home to, as it turns out, an unlicensed rooming house. It was so unlicensed that it had never been inspected, and the people running it didn't even know their tenants' names, only their nicknames.

And when it caught fire in 1948 and killed eight of those tenants in the deadliest fire in Marquette history, they still didn't know who some of the tenants were.

In fact, I'm not quite sure if they ever fully identified one or two of the victims of the blaze, which started when someone who'd been drinking fell asleep while smoking. Since the building had never been inspected or licensed there was only one entrance, no fire suppression system, and no way out for several of the tenants who had mobility problems. Perhaps it's surprising more people didn't die.

I don't know if there was a cover-up or if people just didn't want to think about what had happened, but there isn't much in the official record about the fire. As far as I can tell no one ever went to jail for it, or that anyone was even fined. But it was the 40s and the people who perished were indigent and/or drifters, so maybe no one cared. I do know that in one the articles I saw the city was vowing to crack down on any other unlicensed rooming houses that may have existed.

For their sake, I hope they did.

Like I said, it's a story that hardly any one (if anyone) in Marquette is aware of, and it's one of those stories that I really think should be shared. So, if you've ever wondered why I do these tours, the Stensrud fire is one of those reasons why.

And I hope the people on the tour last night appreciated learning about it.

(jim@wmqt.com)

Wednesday, 7/12

It's almost like my dad was more famous for these that was I. And that's kinda cool.

Tonight's the night the big Jim Koski ™ "Burn Baby Burn: The Infernos of Downtown Marquette" walking tour takes place for the Marquette Regional History Center. The weather looks like it'll be okay, the crowd sounds like it'll be huge, and all systems are go.

And that includes the sound system for the tour, as well.

For the last couple of years we've been using a big speaker on wheels that pumps out enough sound so that several hundred people can hear it on streets where individuals are talking, motorcycles are roaring their engines, and the occasional fire truck or police car goes speeding by. It wasn't always like that; before the History Center picked up the new system we just had a microphone and a little speaker that was held aloft--for the entire length of the tour--by someone who did not start out to become a History Center volunteer but, through the goodness of his heart, ending up being one, at least on the tours--

My dad.

In fact, my dad became part of the fabric of the tours. I'd make sure everyone gave him a big round of applause at the end, and before each tour I'd actually have a person or two ask if he would once again be lofting the speaker over his head.

That's how famous my dad and his speaker became.

Since the History Center picked up the new system his speaker holding skills haven't been used, but in the time he did it he made such an impression that even as of last week, when I was pushing the tour on Facebook, we were still getting comments like this--

It actually strikes me as hilarious--people may not remember everything I've said on a tour, but they DO remember Chicky-Poo holding up the speaker and, from the sounds of it, actually miss him doing so.

THAT'S the kind of impression I hope to leave on people some day.

So if you're on the tour tonight, I hope the stories I tell will be suffice. And if he's there I will, just for old times' sake, point out my dad, with a speaker not perched on his head. Hopefully, people will recognize him without it.

Thanks for ALL your help over the years, dad!!!

(jim@wmqt.com)

Tuesday, 7/11

Hi, my name is Jim, and I'm a strawberry-holic.

This time of the year, my “addiction” becomes readily apparent. Since last week, I've had strawberries for breakfast on some days, for lunch a couple of those days, and during dinner (or for an evening snack) every single day since, I believe, last Friday or Saturday. Some of the strawberries I've eaten came from the Marquette Food Co-op, while the best of them came after my dad (the greatest dad in the history of dads,  by the way) spent Saturday morning living through a thunderstorm while picking a dozen or so quarts in Gladstone.

And seeing as how my dad picked all those strawberries by himself, maybe I'm not the ONLY strawberry-holic in the family!

I can't explain my addiction to strawberries, other than to say I've had it for as long as I can remember. Unlike my dad, who loves picking any kind of berries, I've only been out gathering strawberries once, and that's when I was a young kid and my parents took me out to pick. I don't believe I did a very good job; in fact, if I remember correctly, I ate more than I actually put in the containers.

Of course, the best part of that story is the fact that after I spent the entire morning eating strawberries instead of picking them, we went out to lunch where the only thing I ordered, if I remember correctly, was a strawberry shake.

What can I say? Even as a kid, I guess I was kind of, uhm, special.

I think the reason I go so gaga for strawberries this time of the year is that they're fresh. They taste like strawberries. You know they've just been ripped from the ground, and they taste that way, unlike some of the packaged strawberries you can get during the winter. I mean, sure, I'll eat those, because they're the only strawberries available, but I know that they're not as good as the strawberries you get in June (or, this year, July). I look forward to them every year, and often find myself bingeing on them, as I'm doing this year. After all, strawberries have one of the shortest shelf lives of any fruit or vegetable, so it's either use 'em or lose 'em, right?

And I know which side of the eating equation I'd rather be on.

So if you happen to see me in the next week or so and my lips are redder than usual or I have seeds stuck in my teeth, just remember I'm feeding my addiction to strawberries. We all have our demons.

And I'm guessing that's mine.

8-)

Tomorrow, another story about my dad, and about how he apparently has built himself quite the following among a small group of people, even if he didn't know he did it.

(jim@wmqt.com)

Monday, 7/10

There is, I'm sure, a story waiting to be told here.

I've often commented about how, if you're out on Marquette streets early on a weekend morning, you see things you might not see during the day. If you're early enough you may get to see signs of what happened the night before, before it's cleaned up. Normally, that means piles of barf on the sidewalk or the occasional lost ID that slipped out of a pocket.

When I went out early Saturday morning, I saw this--

I have no idea what went on here. Did someone's feet hurt, they slipped off their shoes, and totally forgot about them? Were they offended by the color and/or style, and just decided to toss them? Did they stop to smoke the cigarette whose butt you can see in the picture, and then decided to walk home barefoot? I'm assuming alcohol was involved, but what if it wasn't and they left the shoes there on purpose?

See? There IS a story behind the shoes. I just don't know what it is.

This isn't the first time I've seen discarded pieces of clothing while out walking. I've found men's & women's underwear on the Lower Harbor breakwater, a bra stuck in a tree on Magnetic, and more single socks & mittens than I can count. And each and every time I come across a piece of discarded clothing I wonder why. Did they need to shed weight because they were being chased by a bear? Did they feel more comfortable having just one foot with a sock on it? Did the people who left their underwear on the breakwater...

Never mind. I have a pretty good idea why I found the underwear piled on top of each other on the breakwater.

So many discarded pieces of clothing, so many stories yet to be told. The shoes are just another plot point in that epic. Now, I have to admit, I'm starting to wonder what I'll come across next.

8-)

(jim@wmqt.com)

Friday, 7/7

Hey kids...welcome to our favorite word ever--

Repurposing.

You remember repurposing, right? When you take something intended for one forum and use it in another. Like when you write a newspaper article and then stick it in a blog because you're kinda busy and taking the quick way out?

See? NOW you remember repurposing.

8-)

So here's something that appeared in the Mining Journal a few days ago and now appears here. It IS topical, though, as it's something that's just a few days away. On that note, have a great weekend and if, for some bizarre reason, you see me walking around downtown Marquette looking at buildings, the following will explain why.

(jim@wmqt.com)

*****

It was one of the final fires to totally destroy a downtown Marquette building.  And it came with a question that has never been answered.

The fire that consumed the building housing Lord’s Outfitters in downtown Marquette set the community abuzz in February of 1971.  The structure, which sat on the southeast corner of Front and Spring Streets (now home to the Watermarq Suites), had been the long-time location of Tonella and Rupp, a furniture and household store that had changed its name to Lord’s Outfitters following the sale of the business in the mid 1950s.

According to Marquette City Fire Department records they received a call reporting the blaze at 8:36 pm the evening of February 19th, 1971.  Who made the call is unknown, although according to the official report it must have been someone who was nearby, as they reported “seeing smoke” coming from the building.

Both Marquette fire stations–including the Fire Station #1, located just a few hundred feet down Spring Street from Lord’s–immediately responded, and upon seeing the severity of the blaze quickly put out calls for assistance from nearby departments.  They were soon joined by firefighters from Chocolay Township and KI Sawyer Air Force Base, as well as 50 or so community volunteers.  

While they were fighting the fire, what the Mining Journal estimated as “thousands of spectators” lined the streets of the southern section of downtown Marquette, hoping to catch a glimpse of the inferno.

The fire spread quickly; the building’s sprinkler system seemed to not work, while the intense amount of smoke and heat hampered firefighters as they tried to first enter and then move about the structure.  According to the official report, several firefighters said they believed the fire started in the second or third floor elevator shaft of the building, which caused sparks and burning embers to rain down upon them.

Another issue firefighters had to deal with was the fact that over the years most of the windows of the building had been bricked up, cutting back on the number of access points for those looking for another way to enter.

Fighting the fire wasn’t just a strain on the Fire Department.  It was estimated that six million gallons of water was used to fight the blaze, which at the time was three times the daily use for the entire city.  Many residents reported low to non-existent water pressure in their homes while the fire raged.

After approximately 12 hours the flames had destroyed the structure.  No one died in the fire, although several individuals reported various injuries while battling the blaze.  Firefighters had, luckily, been able to stop the flames from spreading onto nearby buildings.  It wasn’t the end of their efforts, either.  They were called back to the site two days later when several hot spots flared up and started burning the wreckage.

Those hot spots were extinguished within an hour.

In all, it was estimated that the fire caused nearly half a million dollars in damage to both the business and the structure, one of the biggest losses in Marquette since the Opera House fire of 1938.  

No cause was ever found for the fire, nor, at least for the time being, the reason why the building’s sprinkler system failed to work.  However, a possible answer to the latter question was discovered several weeks later, when debris was being removed from the site.

According to Fire Department records, when excavators began removing debris from the basement of the structure, where water pipes entered the building, it was found that “the main water supply valve to the sprinkler system in the south half of the building had been shut off”.

The question of how (or why) the valve had been shut off was never answered.

***********

Stories just like this will be shared during the “Burn Baby Burn: The Infernos of Downtown Marquette” walking tour put on by the Marquette Regional History Center,  The tour, led by Jim Koski, will get underway at 6:30 Wednesday, July 12th at the History Center.  There’s a $5 suggested donation.  To find out more about the tour or any History Center program visit www.marquettehistory.org or call (906) 226-3571

Thursday, 7/6

Well...that's an unfortunate turn of events.

First of all, I'm back! Hope you had a great holiday weekend. I myself enjoyed my five day weekend, as weird as it was. Hopefully, I can find me more of these in the future because, you know, everyone deserves something like that. It was during my five day weekend, though, that I discovered a longstanding summer tradition of mine is going by the wayside.

I'll no longer be able to watch the Tour de France each evening for the next three weeks.

Some of you may recall this long-standing tradition of mine, in which I gaze longingly at the French countryside while listening to the rather zen-inducing voice of Phil Liggett as he calls the race. Since I started doing it a decade and a half ago every stage of the race has been on NBC or one of its cable networks, but as I discovered last Sunday that's not the case this year. Nope; after tonight's stage they're moving the whole race--kit and kaboodle--over to their streaming service Peacock, which means that unless I want to subscribe to yet another streaming service I'm screwed out of the race until the final stage in two and a half weeks.

Thanks, NBC.

Part of me realizes why they're doing it. After all, it is a bit of a niche event, but fans of the race are hardcore, and sending them over to a (pay) streaming service to watch the race does make a little sense, especially when your streaming service (Peacock) is NOT doing very well, either financially or subscriber-wise. But I already subscribe to four other streaming services, as well as cable. I do not want to subscribe to another one just to watch three weeks of a bike race, no matter how much I like it or how longstanding of a tradition it's been.

I'm just not.

So, the tradition is coming to an end. and maybe, in a way, its a good symbolic time for it to happen. The rider I've enjoyed watching over most of those 15 years, the amazingly talented Peter Sagan, is retiring after this year's Tour is done. He holds the Tour record for most green jerseys (given to the best all-around rider, as opposed to the one with the best time) and he was a joy to watch. However, several injuries and three (!) bouts of Covid have left him not up to his usual standards the past few years, which is why he's calling it quits.

And seeing as how NBC's coverage is apparently not up to their usual standards anymore, either, maybe it's time I should be calling it quits, as well.

Sadly, traditions must, inevitably, come to an end. I was kind of hoping this one would go on a bit longer, but circumstances were not to be. So just let me say thanks, Tour de France, for 15 years of thrilling races, beautiful scenery, and a way to spend my July evenings.

It won't be the same without you.

(jim@wmqt.com)