Monday, 8/3

Who said it could be August already? No one asked MY permission.

I’m astounded at the speed with which this summer is passing. It seems like it was just a week or so ago that I was getting ready for Loraine's dad to visit over the Memorial Day weekend; it seems like it was just a couple of days ago that I was sitting on the street watching the Marquette Fourth of July parades. Now, it’s August. By the time I wake up tomorrow (or so it’ll seem) kids’ll be back in school, I’ll be back from downstate visiting Loraine's dad, and Labor Day will have come and gone. Then, we have nothing but falling leaves, cold temperatures, and 7 straight months of snow staring us in the face.

Can’t anyone do anything about that? Please?

8-)

The more ancient I get, the more I’m amazed by how much “older people” actually knew when I was a kid. They’d tell me things like, oh, time speeds up the older you get, but I didn’t listen. I didn’t think it mattered. After all, they were “older people’. What did they know, right?

As it turns out, old people know quite a bit. Now, I find myself trying to pass wisdom along to my nieces or the students I get to know on “High School Bowl”. But I always add this caveat—I always tell them that they’re not gonna believe me when I tell them something now, but in 10 or 20 or 30 years, they may find remember some obscure fact or piece of wisdom that crazy old uncle Jim passed along and realize that maybe, just maybe, he knew what he was talking about.

After all, I never believed what I was told until I actually got old myself.

So, anyway, where were we? Oh yeah. . .the fact that that it’s August already. Can anyone please make the summer slow down, even if just a little? Please?? I’ll give you a lollipop and a puppy if you can. Really, I will!!

Thanks in advance,

(jim@wmqt.com)

Friday, 7/31

Downtown Marquette's a busy place these days.

Think I'm kidding? Well, I'm not. You see, between road construction projects--

and major building projects--

It can sometimes feel almost impossible to get around this part of the city. And that'll be exacerbated today when the annual Blueberry Festival closes not one, not two, not three, but FOUR blocks of streets, and an estimated 9,000 people will flood into the area. So if you think it's been bad the last few days...

Just wait.

Because of everything going on, especially with the detours and traffic stoppages this week, I've noticed, while looking out the studio window or standing on the sidewalk sipping my tea and listening to car horns bleating non-stop, that drivers are starting to get impatient. And I get that; after all, you want to get where you're going. But realize this—even with the detours and the stops and the long wait at lights, you're only adding a minute or minute and a half to your journey. It's not like you're stuck in a never-ending traffic jam, or it's not like you're barely moving in the gridlock of a large city.

You're in Marquette. You'll get where you're going in six minutes instead of five.

Or you could think of it this way—you're driving through an area that people WANT to drive through. That's why there's so much traffic. Think of all the places in the UP that would kill to have the kind of traffic count that's making your five minute drive a six minute drive. We're just lucky enough to be in a place that people want to be.

And that's much better than the alternative.

Thankfully, after the Blueberry Fest today, street construction and closures will mostly end, detours will be lifted, and aside from closed sidewalks thanks to all the construction and renovation going on around here, things should return to normal, and your five minute drive will once again be a five minute drive.

And that's when your patience will pay off.

****

If you're going, enjoy the Blueberry Festival today. And whether or not you are attending that particular event, make sure you have yourself a great weekend!

(jim@wmqt.com)

Thursday, 7/30

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 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 and 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 few days of July of a summer that has been all over the map. 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 like 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.

The view from my writing studio yesterday?

See? Can't ask for much more than that, can you?

(jim@wmqt.com)

Wednesday, 7/29

Is it any wonder I can never relax?

Most people (i.e. normal people), given a free hour on a Tuesday night, might use that time to relax, to get ahead on work, or just to enjoy a fairly nice evening. But do you think I can EVER do anything like a normal person? No. . .that would be waaaaaaaay too easy.

Case in point--instead of spending the free hour I had last night vegging out or doing run-through of my “Happy Hour Pt 2” tour coming up in a few weeks, I instead spent some of that precious time trying to solve a mystery as unsolvable as any an Ellery Queen or Nancy Drew may have solved in their prime--

I spent my precious free hour 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 back pack as of last week. I know that because I needed a pen to write down a note while walking to work, and I was lucky enough to find it there. But the questions started to pile up. When did it go into my back pack? I have no idea. How did it get into my back pack? 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 writing a TV bit or working on the tour or pestering Loraine. Much like the question of who built Stonehenge or why do people like black licorice, I realized that this was one of those mysteries that can never be answered. The pen was in my back pack; 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.

Unlike, say, why people like black licorice.

8-)

(jim@wmqt.com), owner of a pen from the Escanaba Senior Center

Tuesday, 7/28

The number was down. And I can't say I'm surprised.

The 25^th annual “Great License Plate” count is over, and I've drawn a couple of inferences from it. As you recall, every week leading up to Art on the Rocks I see how many plates from different states and Canadian provinces I come across. Well, after going through all the chicken scratchings on the note pad I've been carrying around, I can officially report that the total number was lower than usual.

But as I mentioned, I'm not surprised.

I saw a total of 35 different states and provinces this year, down from a long-term average of 43 or so (25 years of doing this allows you a baseline, you see). 35 is in no way a bad number, although it IS one of the lower I've ever recorded. In fact, except for 2020 (Covid) and 2008 (the depths of the Great Recession), it might be the lowest. But when you consider that gas is $22 a gallon and the world is (literally) on fire, maybe we should be glad the number was a high as it is.

Right?

It's funny; while the state count was down, I think the overall count wasn't as bad. And that's because of the states I did see, I saw a LOT of them. In fact, I'm guessing half the population of Wisconsin, a third of Minnesota and Ohio, and (perhaps) a quarter of the people Texas (and I have no idea why) were visiting Marquette last week. So maybe that made up for people not visiting from New England, or the Deep South, or the Plains states. I also didn't see one from Hawai'i, but until they build a big bridge from that state to to the mainland, I think we'll give them a pass.

8-)

That's my report for this year. We'll see if the lower number of states I saw translates into some kind of economic predictor. I mean, I'm hoping not, but you never know.

*****

Speaking of my little count, I also dealt with it on TV last night--

(jim@wmqt.com)

Monday, 7/27

You should know that it has a real name, if only to honor the person who gave it to us.

Loraine and I did a lot this weekend, including (but not limited to) checking out all the outdoor art shows in Marquette. One of them was the Outback Art Fair, and while we were there I overheard two artists discussing how “Picnic Rocks Park” is such a great setting for the show. There's just one problem with that, though--

There is no such thing as “Picnic Rocks Park” in Marquette.

As evidence, I present the following picture--

There is a park on the land called Shiras Park. There are rocks in the water called Picnic Rocks. There is, however, nothing at all in the city called Picnic Rocks Park, despite what people think. In fact, when my lovely wife actually had to call the police about something a year or two ago, the officer on the other end of the phone had no idea where Shiras Park was. However, when she said “the park by Picnic Rocks”, he knew exactly of what she was speaking.

Now, I realize people don't pay attention to things. I realize that every single person in Marquette knows about Picnic Rocks, and knows there's a park on land right near those rocks. I also realize people tend to do the easiest thing possible; hence, calling the park by Picnic Rocks “Picnic Rocks Park”. But that does a disservice to an amazing individual who helped make Marquette the place it is today, this guy--

George Shiras the Third, the guy who invented nighttime wildlife photography and hung out with friends like Teddy Roosevelt, did an incredible amount for the city of Marquette, even though he only lived here a few months out of the year. His foundation gave us things like Shiras Planetarium, and he himself donated the land upon which Shiras Park now sits. Back in those days, there was actually a sand bar that allowed people to walk out and bring a picnic lunch out to Picnic Rocks—that's how they got their name—and Mr. Shiras decided that it's be nice if the community had a park near there where people could play and enjoy the lake. So he bought the land and gave it to the city free of charge, where residents have enjoyed it ever since.

That's why the park is called Shiras Park, and not Picnic Rocks Park. I realize it may sound like I'm splitting hairs here, but there wouldn't be a park at Picnic Rocks at all if it wasn't for George Shiras. Maybe it's just the history nerd in me, but I think people should call it by its correct name.

I mean, I'm smart enough to know they won't, but a boy can dream, right?

(jim@wmqt.com), once again tilting at obscure windmills.

Thursday, 7/23

This is my favorite time of the year.

I mean, sure, I love it for the sun, the heat, the days off (more on that tomorrow), and the general sense of well-bring that summer provides. But I also love because I can take my camera out and instead of seeing nothing but white or brown or just plain dull, I get to see colors.

Lots and lots of colors.

Want proof? I went for a little stroll—no more than three blocks—Monday, just to see what I could see, and this is what I saw.

I saw colors like purple--

I saw yellow--

I saw pink--

I saw orange--

I saw magenta--

And I saw a combination of almost all of the colors mentioned above--

And that was just within a three block jaunt from where I live. I can just imagine what kind of pictures I'd get from the rest of Marquette—or you might get in whichever city you live. It truly is (with apologies to lovers of a certain holiday) the most wonderful time of the year!

*****

Because it's a corporate holiday tomorrow I'm off, so there won't be a new one of these. I'll be back Monday with the results of my dorky little license plate count for the year. Have a great weekend!

(jim@wmqt.com)

Wednesday, 7/22

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

I've been taking a lot of pictures recently (you'll see some of them tomorrow), and for some reason, I have a whole batch of the statue of Jacques Marquette in Lakeside Park like this one, from back during lilac season--

Over the years, I've always lamented the fact that the statue is placed (facing north-northwest) so that Father Marquette's face is never lit by the sun. No matter what time of the year, no matter where you stand, you can never get a shot of his face lit by the sun. The photographer side of me has always silently (and jokingly) cursed the people who moved the statue from its original location 115 or so years ago and placed it so that it's never front-lit by the sun. Why did they put it that way? Didn't they know that a century later photographers wouldn't be able to shoot it exactly the way they wanted?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Sometimes, I amaze even myself. And usually not in a good way. So this may be 115 years late, and it may go to show the depths of my stupidity, but to the people who moved the statue to Lakeside Park a century ago, just let me say one thing--

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

(jim@wmqt.com)

Tuesday, 7/20

 Yup. I'm doing it again.

For the (gasp) 25^th year in a row, I have embarked on a project. That project? Finding out how many different state and provincial license plates I see during “Art on the Rocks” week here in Marquette. It's one of the dorkiest things I do, and I can now say I've done it for a quarter century.

One of these days, I really need to become an adult

You know, I now have no idea how this started; I'm guessing I was just curious as to how many visitors Marquette hosted during one of the busiest weeks of the summer. Since then, it's evolved into this “thing” that I use to measure everything from Marquette's popularity to the state of the national economy. I suppose that one of these years I could actually NOT do it, but I have the feeling that if I were to do that I'd miss something bizarre and/or the world would stop spinning on its axis.

And these days, we should really not tempt fate.

Nothing ever really comes out of the count, other than a piece of paper on which I write the states, a blog, and this year, maybe a TV bit. All I know is that I've been doing it for a quarter century now, and I see no reason to stop. So if you happen to see me walking down the street, craning my neck in an attempt to see if a car's from Michigan or not, just remember it's only me being a dork.

As I have for a quarter-century now.

*****

Speaking of TV bits, here's last night's. Hopefully you're not too freaked out by the sight of bugs, like some of us are.

8-)

(jim@wmqt.com)

Monday, 7/20

Hopefully--HOPEFULLY--this is a little more normal of a week than last week.

Fingers crossed, at least.

There are a couple of things I'm looking forward to this week, including my annual dorky license plate count (more on that tomorrow).  First, though, I'm focusing on a mystery.  Let's just call it “The Case of the Mysteriously Appearing Beer Can”.

Three times now in the past two weeks, three times since the 4^th of July, I have noticed something very strange, something quite out of the ordinary. Three times in the past two weeks I've been walking down a Marquette street, and I have come upon an unopened can of Busch Light beer just sitting somewhere. On the 4^th it was sitting on top of a trash container on Third Street.  A week or so later it was on my walk to work. And yesterday it was in the street-side garden of my next to next door neighbor.

Every single time, it's been an unopened can of Busch Light. When I first saw a can I laughed, figuring that some underage person was soon to become a very happy underage person. But when I started seeing the cans over and over again; well, that's when I started to wonder what the heck is going on.

Lest you think I'm just seeing things, I'm not. Loraine was with me on the 4^th when I first saw it, and she was with me again yesterday when I took the picture above. And neither of us understands what's going on. Is it just a drunk person losing cans as they're making their way to and from the store? Is it a performance artist trying to make a statement? Is the Easter Bunny getting tired of eggs and leaving cans of Busch Light instead?

I don't know. But I'd be curious to find out.

I highly doubt this will happen, but if you happen to see an unopened can of Busch Light beer on your journeys in and around Marquette, please let me know. Part of me, after all, just thinks it's one strange and bizarre coincidence. But then another part of me, the part that knows the talented, creative, and/or just plain weird kind of people who live in Marquette, wonders if there's something a little more to the whole situation.

Either that, or Busch Light has developed the strangest marketing campaign in history. These days, nothing would surprise me.

So while I'm investigating this whole thing, just call me Encyclopedia Koski. And just call this whole thing “The Case of the Mysteriously Appearing Beer Can”.

(jim@wmqt.com)

Friday, 7/17

Geez. It's not over yet, is it?

The literally unprecedented (as I kept referring to it yesterday) bout of fire haze continues unabated, leaving businesses and events closed, apartments and homes smelling like a campfire, and scenes like this every way you turn your head--

That's from yesterday, and I took it because, if you look at the top of the picture, you see the sun trying to fight through the haze.

Needless to say, the sun lost.

Of course, it's not just us. Everywhere in the US east of us seems to be dealing with the smoke; many places, as well, are also dealing with the extreme heat we dealt with right before the haze appeared. So, I guess, if you wanna be thankful for small things, be thankful that the 100 degrees temps skedaddled right before the smoke showed up.

As of now (and we all know how quickly this can change) things look to get a little better today and tomorrow, if only because we could get a bunch of rain and a wind shift, both of which might help a changing jet stream pattern get rid of the severe smoke situation. Still, I get the nagging feeling that were might be in this for the long haul.

I mean, I'm hoping not, but with the way this week has gone nothing is off the table.

So with that in mind, enjoy your weekend. Stay safe. And keep your fingers crossed that the return of sunshine and warm temperatures we're promised for Sunday actually shows up!

(jim@wmqt.com)

Thursday, 7/16

Talk about going from the frying pan to the fire--

This is a shot down Front Street in Marquette yesterday. And here's one from NMU's webcam on Mount Marquette, looking toward the city--

That's not fog you're looking at; that's smoke from fires around the Boundary Waters Canoe Area in Minnesota and Ontario. After two straight days of temperatures above 100, we're now in our second day of smoke so bad you can smell it in your house and small particles in the air that are 105 times what the World Health Organization recommends.

Not 105%. 105 TIMES. It's bad.

Really, really bad.

It's funny; 40 years ago, when scientists first started to raise the alarm about global climate change they said it would manifest itself as “extreme events”. I'm thinking that two days of temperatures above 105 followed by several days of smoke so heavy you can breathe qualifies as an “extreme event”.

Wouldn't you?

Of course, we're not the only ones dealing with this. Most of the US is suffocating under the heat & smoke, while Europe is broiling (and dealing with major drought), as well. It blows my mind that there are still people out there who deny climate change is happening. You'd think that walking outdoors or just trying to breathe would convince them otherwise.

But, apparently not.

For however long this keeps going, make sure you stay safe. Don't push yourself, and be aware of how this crud is affecting your lungs. Oh...

And keep your fingers crossed it ends some year soon.

(jim@wmqt.com)

Wednesday, 7/15

I don't know who's behind the project, but I highly approve of it.

Highly.

When I was walking to work yesterday afternoon I noticed someone had put painted rocks all along Front Street in Marquette, rocks that said things like –

Or this--

The rocks extended all the way down the street, including one that was set on the retaining wall outside of the station--

Like I said, I have no idea who put them there. I'm thinking it might have been a library project, because there were a LOT of those rocks near there, but I don't know for sure. All I know is that it was a nice thing to see, and something that most people may not have even noticed.

Why? Because people usually don't look down at the ground when they're walking. I mean, I usually don't at the ground myself, but for some reason the first rock caught my eye, and I soon began seeing them everywhere. I'm pretty sure that tourists—looking at all the the cool buildings—wouldn't notice them, and locals, tied up on their phones or caught up in their everyday lives, may not have realized they were there, either.

That's why I'm glad I managed to notice them. So to whomever decided to spread the rocks around downtown Marquette yesterday, kudos. I'm assuming you undertook the projects to make people's days brighter and, at least in my case, you succeeded.

Thanks!

(jim@wmqt.com)

Tuesday, 7/14

Yay. The weather forecast was actually right yesterday!

It's about time.

It also looks as if it'll be correct today, which means that it'll be hot and sunny, which means that I may not be going to work for a bit, So with that in mind, I'll just leave you with what I talked about on TV last night...

The weather. Because, you know, I don't talk about that enough.

8-)

I'm off to once again play in the sun and the heat!

(jim@wmqt.com)

Monday, 7/13

 This may have been one for the record books.

Now, before I go any farther, just let me say that I would not want to be a weather forecaster.  It's a science that's not always exact, and climate change is making it harder to do correctly.  Add to that the fact that you get blamed whenever the weather turns out poorly, and I'd much rather stick with the four jobs I currently have.

So there's that.

But still...you have days like yesterday.  The weather forecast called for sunny skies and temps around 90, and Loraine and I were looking forward to getting out, kicking around soccer balls, and getting some some.  However, as the morning progressed the cloud started to move in, and by the time we got to Kaufman it had started to rain.

By the time we made it home, it REALLY started to rain--

Several waves of thunderstorms moved through, and the day that was forecast to be sunny & 90 ended up being rainy and 67.  Like I said, I don't blame the forecasters; their job is hard enough as it is.  But I'm starting to think Mother Nature has it in for us, as evidence by the bottom picture here, the visible satellite picture of what was supposed to be a sunny & 90 degrees day--

The only part of the entire Great Lakes region covered by clouds and rain?  Well, that would be the lucky people in the central UP.  And don't think we don't appreciate it, Mother Nature.

8-(

Today and tomorrow call for hot & sunny conditions, and I'm hoping things turned out as planned, if for no other reason that I'm taking half days today and tomorrow to enjoy the heat.  However, I won't be too surprised if it turns out like it did Sunday.

Because, apparently, Mother Nature has it in for us.

(jim@wmqt.com)

Friday, 7/10

Oh great. I'm going to have to look at a dork all summer, aren't I?

As you know, I'm doing a bunch of walking tours for the History Center this summer, and instead of giving each one a poster, they decided to stick them all on one. I'm okay with that; after all, in a way it shows just how active the Center is. But for whatever reason my pal Emily, who put the posters together, also stuck my ugly mug on it. And since we have one of the posters stuck in the window at the door to the station, I get to see this every time I go into work--

There should be a law against something like that, you know?

8-)

I suppose I shouldn't complain too much. I've written in here before how you can take a shot of me from a video, freeze it, and I look either like I'm about to have an apoplectic fit or that I'm a moron of the highest degree (the latter of those, I suppose, is always a possibility). Emily, however, went through some of the stuff we've shot together and found an almost normal looking freeze of me, taken from a teaser video for my bar tour last year. I don't know if it's the exact shot I would have used for a poster, but because there were so many possibilities that were about 1,000 times worse, I'll happily accept what she did.

Even if I still have to look at it every single day when I walk into work.

I know...first world problem, right? I'll shut up now, except to say this—have a fantastic weekend!

(jim@wmqt.com), dork

Thursday, 7/9

There. I think I have my “brand”.

You may remember a week or so ago I was talking about how I seem to do too many things to give myself a “brand”, a 2-5 word statement that describes me and what I do. You know, like Loraine's “That World War II Lady”. Well, after talking to someone about several of the tours I've given recently, she said five words that, if they weren't so absurd and over-reaching, would be a perfect “branding” statement.

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

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

In another universe.

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

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

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

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

8-)

(jim@wmqt.com)

Wednesday, 7/8

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

Working on Front Street in Marquette gives me 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 the area. 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)

Tuesday, 7/7

So...didja survive your holiday weekend?

I realize that most people weren't as lucky as I in getting a four-day weekend. Loraine, for instance, took part of Friday off but had to work yesterday. So I hope you had a neat weekend, in whatever form (or length) it took. I mean, considering everything that was going on--fireworks, parades, food festivals, and the like--you certainly weren't going to be bored.

At least I know I wasn't. In fact, I may need another weekend just to recover from my weekend, which i always consider a sign that I did things right.

So, I guess I did the weekend right.

*****

Actually, I DID work a little this weekend. I helped my friends at TV-19 with a special corporate-wide 4th of July newscast, and then I did put on real clothes for an hour or so yesterday to do my usual Monday night bit. This one was a piece that kinda sprung fully forth on the Fourth, as I was listening to people shoot off fireworks WAAAAAY past the time they were supposed to be doing so. How it actually ended up involving my dad and Sir Mix-a-Lot, I'm not quite sure, but it did, and this was the end result--

(jim@wmqt.com), still needing a weekend to recover from his weekend.

Thursday, 7/2

Which one would top YOUR list?

I took one of a half-days to go play out in the sun and the heat, and while I was walking along the beach, I started to think about smells that can only exist, at least the U.P., during the summer. I have no idea why or no idea how; when you walk along the beach and let your mind drift, strange things pop into it.

Or at least strange things pop into my brain. But that may be a discussion for another day.

Anyway, what smells DID pop into my brain? These ones—Jim’s list of the Top Five Smells Of Summer:

5. The smell of freshly cut grass. I don’t have to mow a lawn myself any more, but I always enjoy walking down a street when someone is in the middle of trimming the grass in their front yard. It instantly makes your mind think of summer, if only because it only smells that way DURING summer.

4. The smell of charcoal heating up a grill. This actually can be more than just a smell of summer; you can usually appreciate it first in late March or early April, on one of the first days above freezing, when NMU students seem celebrate the return of the sun by breaking out their grills. It’s one of the benefits of walking home from work on a day like that. . . trust me on that.

3. The smell of sunscreen and sweat. Oh, be quiet; it’s not as gross as you think. In fact, it’s the smell that prompted this whole blog, the smell that you get when you walk down a beach on a warm summer day. It just kind of lingers in the air, so if you’re a bit squeamish to call it the smell of sunscreen and sweat, call the smell of the beach. It’s the same thing.

2. The smell of sunshine. Okay, I know that “sunshine” has as much of a smell as the color purple, but you know that smell you get when you open your windows on a sunny day, and the sun somehow magically reacts with the air in your house to produce a smell that wasn’t there before? THAT’S the smell I’m talking about—the smell of sunshine I’m talking about.

Finally, here’s Jim’s number one smell of summer, a smell that, I will admit, is highly subjective—

1. The smell of all the rose bushes along the South Beach Bike Path in Marquette (the beach down which I was wandering). They don’t smell like summer for any reason other than the fact that they're only around for a short time, but when they are around they're heavenly. Don't believe me? Head down there and sniff for yourself.

There you go...an answer to a question you've never thought existed--what summer smells like for the short time it’s here in Marquette.

                                                *****

Because of corporate holidays I'm off for four (!) days. I'll be back Tuesday with something new. Have a great (and safe) 4^th of July weekend!

(jim@wmqt.com)

Wednesday, 7/1

Don't worry. The chocolate is safe.

Like most of the country, Marquette is stuck under a heat dome this week. Yesterday, temperatures hit the lower 90s (we were warmer and more humid than Miami, in fact), and the same is expected today. Fir me, this is heaven on Earth, while I realize that for others it's pure hell. And I do feel for them; I really do

Hopefully, you'll make it through this week unscathed.

Aside from most people living in the UP (me excepted, of course) there's one other thing that does not tolerate heat in any way, shape, or form, and that is chocolate. Now, if you recall, Loraine and I went to Germany two months ago, and one the things we did was to visit three countries in four hours and buy as much chocolate as we could. We brought it home, where we've been enjoying it piece my piece since.

Most of the chocolate we brought home is still uneaten. And if it sat in our un-air conditioned apartment, all those precious bars and tablets would end up as puddles of chocolate mush by the end of the week.. So I did what I'm assuming anyone would do. I bagged them up, brought them down the street, and stuck them in my air conditioned office.

There the chocolate will sit for the next few days, until the Heat Dome dissipates or until we get hungry enough to want to break one open. And I have the feeling that might be a close race between the two.

Seriously, though--was there anything else we could do? I mean, I love hot weather as much as the next person (actually, probably a lot more than the next person), but I do realize there are a couple pf bad things that may come along with it. And one of those is that chocolate, like most Yoopers, wilt under the heat. Now, I don't know if most Yoopers turn into a puddle of mush when it's over 90 for two days in a row (although I'm thinking a lot of Yooper just may), but I AM certain that chocolate does. And since we went to all kinds of effort not only to buy the chocolate but to lovingly get it all home in one piece, well...

A cool room for a few days is the least we can do for the bars of Galler, Cote D'or, and and all the other pieces we know and love.

So while Loraine and I may be baking in our un-air conditioned apartment, rest assured that we have taken care of some of the most important things in our lives...

Our chocolate from Europe.

(jim@wmqt.com)

Tuesday, 6/30

I guess my secret's out. I like a good barf joke as well as the next person.

Oh, the horror.

8-)

This all came about thanks to my TV piece last night, a piece that marked the end of the first half of 2026 by making predictions as to what might happen during the second half of this year. Since the first half of the year was one of the most surreal we've lived through, I felt license to let my freak flag fly in coming up with a few absurd ideas as to what ELSE we might experience between now and the end of December.

And trust me—my freak flag flies with a lot of gusto these days.

One of the thing I wanted to work in somehow was the UP State Fair, if only because I was trying to spread the absurdity around all of Upper Michigan for this particular epic. I tossed a couple of ideas out to my writing staff, and they (okay, me) quickly gravitated to one that involved a new ride at the Fair, which my writing staff (okay, me) quickly dubbed “The Barfinator”.It was an okay gag, and when you write one of these bits a week sometimes “okay” is okay. But then when I was in the shower Saturday morning a kicker to the gag came to me that elevated the gag beyond “okay” status and shot it into the realm of the absurd.

And that was the line I put AFTER dubbing the roller coaster "The Barfinator".

I also needed to put a graphic together for the gag, and I had one—a generic roller coaster with a sign that said “The Barfinator” on it. Once again, that was okay, but I felt that it needed a little more. Then, for some reason, the idea to move the “Barfinator” sign up & down, like it was designed to make you queasy, popped into my head, and at least to me it worked a lot better than the original graphic.

And all that was just for one 10 second gag in a two minute bit.

So now you know—I like a good vomit joke as much as anyone else. I hope you won't think any less of me, although if you do, I suppose we could always blame my writing staff (okay, me).

I just need to get better control over them, I guess.

The end result?

(jim@wmqt.com)

Monday, 6/29

I wonder if I need to narrow my “brand” down a little more?

That thought came to me after I finished giving a tour for the UP History Conference this weekend, and I was thinking about everything I have coming up in the next month or so—stuff on the radio, stuff on TV , stuff for the History Center, and even an article for the Mining Journal. That's a lot of stuff in a lot of different areas. And it got me to thinking about my “brand”.

A couple of weeks ago Loraine and I were having lunch with my friend Deanna, who was telling us about a speaker she had listened to. This speaker, world-renowned for his marketing savvy, said that everyone should have a “brand” that can be described in two to five words. That's it; just a short statement that tells who and what you are. As an example, Loraine has a perfect “brand”--”That World War Two Woman”--five words that describe perfectly who she is and what she does.

Me? Not so much. Unless, of course, you consider “World Class Dork” to be a good branding statement.

We've discussed in here many times about how there are several different “Jims”. There's Radio Jim, TV Jim, History Jim, and, if you wanna go out on a ledge, “Finish Line Jim”. And many people who know me as one kind of Jim don't even realize there are the other different “Jims”, as has been evidenced by people who've watched my History Center videos and have asked I work for the History Center or if I do something different for a living.

That, I think, is my problem as far as trying to figure out what my “brand” might be. I'm just involved in too many things. My brand could be “That Guy in the Radio” or “That High School Bowl Host” or “The Weirdo on TV 19” or “That Dorky History Dude”, all of which are accurate and all of which fit within the five word limit. But it can't be all of them. There's not one over-arching theme in which to fit my “brand”, unless we go back to an old (but sadly seemingly true) statement--

Maybe my “brand” should be this--”Jim Koski—Media Wh*re”.

(By the way, I don't remember who gave me that nickname a decade or two ago. All I know is that it seems to be more true than ever these days.)

Don't worry; there's no way I'm going to officially adopt THAT phrase as my brand, apt as it might be. Maybe I just need how to figure out how to put that concept into a two to five word phrase that sounds a lot better than “Jim Koski—Media Wh*re”. The only problem is that with one exception, I can't at the moment think of a phrase that encompasses everything I do. I wish I could, but at least at the moment, I can't. Maybe you guys have a better idea; if so, please let me know.

And thanks,

(jim@wmqt.com), “Guy Who Talks Too Much”.

(p.s.--see? Not a very good “brand”, is it? 8-))

Friday, 6/26

I wonder if the video inspired the article. I'm actually curious about it.

Last night I was checking out a few news sources online when I noticed a picture. A very familiar picture. In fact, it was a picture I took, a picture now adorning the head of a Bridge Michigan article about weird laws in Michigan.

Specifically, it looked like this--

That's a screenshot from from the article, and the picture of the sidewalk was one I took over a decade ago and used a couple of years ago in a “Pieces of the Past” video about Marquette's legacy of “Don't Spit on the Sidewalk” stampings. As I scrolled down the article, I noticed another picture from the video, and wasn't quite sure if it was cool they used it or not. But once I found out that they paid the History Center for the use of the shots, it was cool.

It was quite cool.

As it turns out, it was quite the interesting article about old, outdated, and absurd laws in the state of Michigan; they even interviewed Marquette City Manager Karen Kovacs about the sidewalk spitting law. But because my pictures were featured so prominently in it, I wondered...

Did they find the pictures after coming up with the article, or did the video prompt the article? I mean, it doesn't matter one way or the other. I'm just curious because, as we all know, my life is weird, and having a video of mine prompt a statewide news article would be, well, another example of the weirdness.

Either way, I'm just glad the video was useful, both for Bridge Michigan and for the History Center. After all, that's why I make them, especially one that's about one of the signature pieces of Marquette's history.

Have yourself a great weekend. If you wanna spend part of it reading the article, just CLICK OR TAP HERE. And if you wanna check out the video for yourself, here 'tis!

(jim@wmqt.com)

Thursday, 6/25

Really? They think Marquette is THAT cold?

For the past couple of weeks it really hasn't been very summer-like. As an example, it was only 60-ish and rainy yesterday, the fourth first day of summer. But given the type of year we've had so far, it wasn't snowing. So we have that going for us.

8-)

Anyway, as I was working yesterday I noticed tourists wandering up & down Front Street, a common site any day during summer. Only, I noticed that more than one of the tourists wandering up & down the street—maybe a dozen. actually--were wearing winter jackets, hats, and, in some cases, gloves. And that made me think two things, one is that I'm glad they were able to stay warm.

The second? Just how cold do they think Marquette IS if they felt the need to bring winter gear with them on a summer vacation? I mean sure, yesterday actually proved their point, but just how cold do they think Marquette is during the summer? So cold that you have to bring winter clothing with you in June?

I mean...what the what??

Two weeks today ago it was 86 degrees. We've actually (believe it or not) had five days over 80 so far this year. It's not like it doesn't get really warm here during the summer. It obviously does. But what kind of a reputation must a place have if people feel the need to bring winter gear to visit at the end of June? Do they actually think it's rainy and 60 every day of the summer here? Yesterday was (I hope) a fluke. It might have been the one of the few days in the past five summers where winter gear could've been useful. But these people obviously brought it as a matter of course, like they expected to use it. I mean, it';s not a tropical paradise here, but it isn't Siberia, either.

Well, excepting yesterday, of course.

Now, these visitors to our fair city will go home with a story to tell—about how they had to wear winter clothing on the fourth day of summer. It's a great story, and I hope they tell it to full effect. However, those stories will only perpetuate the myth that you'll need winter clothing when you visit Marquette in the summer. So don't be surprised if, in the near future, you see all kinds of people walking around with a winter coat on a summer's day.

It's all the fault of days like yesterday.

(jim@wmqt.com)

Wednesday, 6/24

The street basil tasted really, really good.

As I've mentioned once or twice, I had a busy weekend last weekend. Loraine's brother Joe was up, and in an attempt to not eat out at every single meal I made pasta for dinner one of the nights he was here. It's a dish I make quite often, with ground turkey in the sauce and lots of sage stirred in to make it yummy.

It also uses basil, and usually when I make it I just use the dried stuff. Of course, we all know fresh basil is a whole lot more flavorful, and as we were walking through downtown Marquette a few hours before dinner I suddenly realized that I DID have some fresh basil lying around--

Street basil.

Lest you think I'm insane, I'm not. If you've walked at all through downtown Marquette recently, you may have noticed these flower boxes--

Instead of having decorative flowers in them, for the past couple of seasons the Marquette Downtown Development Authority has stocked them with herb and vegetable plants. Once they've ripened, anyone is welcome to grab a leaf of basil or a tomato and use it however they see fit.

In other words, street basil. I tore a couple of leaves off, brought them home, washed them, cut them up, threw them in the pasta, and, as usual, marveled at how much better fresh basil tastes than the dried stuff. Not only that but it also makes your fingers smell like fresh basil for a few hours, and what's not to like about that?

I have to commend the DDA for thinking outside the (flower) box in this instance. They actually started it because of the food security issues that many people are facing these days. Fresh vegetables can be expensive, and if someone in need wants a carrot or a tomato, they should be able to have them. And that's why anyone is welcome to help themselves from whatever's in the downtown garden boxes.

To me, it's a very Marquette way of creatively dealing with a situation, in the hopes that it lessens the burden on others.

The boxes are on the 100, 200, and 300 blocks of Washington Street, so when you're downtown, check 'em out. While the vegetables still have a way to grow, the herbs are ready, and if you don't need any, just stick your nose in them and catch a whiff of nature--and humanity--at its best.

And if you just happen to find yourself needing a leaf or two of fresh basil? Feel free to grab them. After all, that's why they're there.

(jim@wmqt.com)

Tuesday, 6/23

It's going to be one of the five. I just don't know which of the five it'll be.

Seeing as how yesterday was the second day of summer I decided to use my two minutes of TV time to wonder what kind of summer we'll actually have. If you live up here you know that our “summer”'s been all over the map so far, and there's no way to tell what the next two or three months will hold.

So to address the issue I had my “crack team of researchers” (i.e. my demented mind) come up with five possibilities for the season. They're all based in fact; in fact, we've had something resembling them all in the past decade or so. So despite whatever absurd flourishes I may have given them, any (or all) of them could happen in one form or another over the next few months.

I just have no idea which of the five it'll actually end up being.

As I mention in the piece, I'm thinking (at least based on the past few weeks) that a certain one of the five may come out on top. I mean, I'm hoping not, but I'm also realistic enough to know what summer weather is like around here. Hopefully, we'll get a pattern shift in the next few weeks and warm up a little.

Who knows—maybe we can even be like Europe and bake under 90 degree temperatures for weeks on end. I wouldn't mind; I'm guessing, however, that many of you would.

So just what were the five possibilities? See for yourself, and see if you agree with my assessment of the situation--

(jim@wmqt.com)

Monday, 6/22

I think I may have hit a major turning point in my life. For a few brief seconds during this past busy three day weekend, I literally stopped and smelled the roses.

Whoever it was who wrote that song back in the 70s (Mac Davis?) would be so proud.

After the bizarre year that we've been through, and after a couple of days when I literally didn't have a chance to catch my breathe, I started to think. I started to think about priorities, and I started to think about the fleeting nature of time, both short-term and long-term. I mean, here we are, almost the middle of June already. That means there’s what, three months (at the most) of nice weather left before the arrival of the crap we deal with the rest of the year. That means we have three months (at the most) to do things like go to the beach, and to do things like stopping and smelling the roses.

One of my houses between my apartment and downtown has several bushes of roses in their front yard, and over the past few days, they’ve started to bloom. I’ve walked past them many times in those past few days, always catching the lingering scent that rose bushes leave in their immediate area, but until yesterday, I hadn’t actually stop and stuck my nose deep inside one of them.

So I did. And I’m happy to report that I’m glad I did.

Now, roses will never replace lilacs as the greatest smell on the planet. I just don’t think that’s possible. But I do know that like lilacs roses aren’t around for long. They bloom, they smell nice, and then they die. If you don’t sniff them when you have the chance, then that chance is blown. There’s nothing you can do about. You have to sniff them while you can.

And as hokey as it seems, that may also be a perfect metaphor for things like getting out and enjoy the warmth and the sunshine while we can. While it may seem like we have a lot of time to head out and take part in all of our favorite summer activities, that window of time is actually quite brief. I mean, think of how quickly 2026 (an admittedly bizarre weather year) has gone by so far. The year’s almost half over, after all, even though it doesn’t seem like it. Now divide that by quickness by half, because if we have (at most) three months before all traces of summer are gone, that means that we’ve already lived through a span of time this year that’s twice as long as our “summer” has remaining. If the first six months of the year have gone by in the blink of an eye, what will the next three months seem like?

The start of the blink of an eye?

That’s one of the reasons I’m glad I stopped and sniffed the roses yesterday. It’s something I should’ve been doing more of this year, and it’s something that I’ll make sure I do more of as the summer goes on. As far as the going to the beach is concerned; well, let’s just that's one of the things on top of my list to do today.

After all, there’s not a lot of time to waste on that matter!

(jim@wmqt.com)

Thursday, 6/18

It's nice to know that, in at least one respect, I haven't changed in the past 40 years.

I've always been a night owl; mornings (especially early mornings) are unnatural to me, and in a perfect world the day would actually begin no earlier than, oh, 11am. And I've been lucky in that I've been able to tie my professional life into that time frame, which is why I have never—nor will ever—do mornings on the air.

THAT would not be a pretty sight for anyone involved.

So when I saw that the New York Times' Wellness section had a quiz on your “chronotype”--whether you're a morning person, a night owl, or whatever—I had to take it. You go through a dozen or so questions, and if you're like me, you end up finding out you're a “nighthawk”.

And I think that fits me to a T.

A “nighthawk” differs from an “owl”, which is someone who goes to sleep when the sun rises. And I'll admit I've never been that kind of person. One or two in the morning? Yup; that bedtime fits me perfectly. But even though I spent several years working overnights early in my life I don't think I've ever been what some people might consider a “night owl” (or just “owl” in this survey). After all, I'm not a vampire. I DO like the sun.

I just don't like it at 6 or 7 in the morning.

But like I said—most of my current jobs involve me working afternoons and/or early evenings, and that suits me perfectly. I don't need to wake up before the crack of dawn, and on those rare occasions when I actually have to? I just sit and stare at the wall for minutes on end. But, as the quiz points out, that's one sign of being a “nighthawk”.

I just never knew there was an actual name for it.

Wonder what type you are? Take the quiz yourself by clicking or tapping here.

****

By the way, I have tomorrow (Juneteenth) off, so there won't be a new one of these. I'll be back on Monday, so until then—have a great weekend!

(jim@wmqt.com), nighthawk

Wednesday, 6/17

Don't worry. I'm not turning into a “bro”, or anything.

Heaven forbid.

I did, however, do two things on TV Monday night that I hardly ever do. Or, at least, hardly ever do in public. I wore a jersey and I talked about sports. For those two minutes, I almost felt like a “guy”. But thankfully, when it was over, I went back to normal.

8-)

I joke, of course. Despite the public image I seem to have I DO have an interest in some sports, especially soccer. And now that the World Cup is going strong, I felt it would be a prime opportunity to bust out one of my jerseys and let Upper Michigan in on my little secret. So my TV piece Monday was, basically, “A Yooper's Guide to the World Cup”, describing soccer to people who might not be familiar, and suggested a few countries other than the US for whom they might like to cheer.

The reason I wore a jersey to do it? Well, the jersey itself was one of the gags, if only because the one I wore was pink & purple, and those colors on a jersey are a good reason to cheer for a team, right?

(See? I'm really NOT a guy, am I?)

if you're a fan, I hope you're catching a match here and there. And if you're not, check one out, especially when a country like Norway or Japan is playing. As I said in the bit, you might be surprised by what you see and, maybe, find yourself getting hooked in the process.

You don't even need a pink & purple jersey for that.

(jim@wmqt.com)

Tuesday, 6/16

In some ways it seems like it was forever ago. In other ways, it seems like it was yesterday.

If you haven't completely erased the shock of it from your brain yet, you may remember where you were three months ago. It was three months ago today—March 16th—that our epic three day dumping of snow occurred, an historic storm event that had few equals in history.

You remember, right?

Like you, part of me has tried to block the trauma of the event out of my brain, making it seem like it was something that happened years ago, if indeed it even happened at all. But I've come across a couple of notes on stuff I'm currently working on, stuff I actually started during that epic event because, well, there wasn't anything else you could do for the better part of a week. And that makes me realize that the storm really wasn't that long ago.

Especially when you think that three months really isn't that long of a time span.

We felt the after effects of the storm for weeks; in fact, I have a dude I work with at one of my other jobs who didn't have the last pile of snow in his yard melt until mid May. The cold & the lingering snow caused flowers to bloom later than usual, and some places still have dirt on the streets from the epic amount of it dumped after the storm. Not only that, but I still have the snowshoes sitting in my apartment that I used for two days just to get from my apartment to the station, three blocks away, because that was the only way to get around.

So, yeah. That was fun.

Thankfully, what's passing for summer this year (and, just as a side note, “summer” better get better soon) has erased most immediate memories of that week, consigning it, for most people, to “do you remember?” status. But for people who pay attention to these kind of things?

It all began three months ago today.

(jim@wmqt.com)

Monday, 6/15

Does anybody remember when I wrote what follows?

First, let me explain how I came across it. I decided to do something I haven't had the time to do on Friday—cleaning up a few things in my office. Over the 23 years the station's been in Marquette things have, uhm, started to pile up on my office floor, on my desk, and in every nook & cranny you can see (and some you can't). So the past few weeks, for 30 seconds a day, I grab something and see if I need it. If I do, I file it away. If I don't, I toss it. I figure it's a painless way to clean; after all, it doesn't take much time, and at the rate I'm going, my office should be spotless when I'm ready to retire in 20 or 25 years. And it must be working—when a former coworker came over to visit she noticed something was quite strange, and then realized that my office actually has carpeting on the floor, that my floor is not just a collection of cardboard boxes and stacks of paper.

I guess, if nothing else, I'm on the right track.

Anyway, when I was doing my 30 seconds of cleaning Friday I came across a list I once wrote. I have no idea when I wrote the list, nor do I have any idea about the context in which I wrote it, although I'm thinking it might've been during one of those bouts of “Is Jim a Yooper or Isn't He?” that seems to occur every few years. I don't know if I ever used it on the air or in here, although I recognize several pieces of if that have popped up on my TV bits here and there. Like I said, though, I don't know when (or why) I wrote it. All I know is that I did indeed write it, printed it out, and must've promptly stuck it in a wire basket, where it's sat buried under a bunch of other papers (and a thin layer of dust) for an unknown number of years.

So without further ado, here's the list:

SEVEN SIGNS YOU MAY NOT BE A TRUE YOOPER:

7. If you've never—even in a dream—thought about buying a pick-up truck.

6. If, when someone says “hilltop”, you think of a mountain, and not a sweet roll.

5. If you don't salute when you hear the name Vince Lombardi.

4. If you don't own a single piece of clothing in hunter's orange.

3. If you've never gone ice fishing, because you're afraid of cold feet.

2. If you realize the Appleton is NOT the shopping capital of the universe.

And the number one sign you may not be a true Yooper?

1. If you've ever—even once and even by accident—pronounced it PAY-stee

Well, that's the list. Like I said, I'm not quite sure of its date or its origin, so if any of the lame jokes seem familiar; well, maybe you can help me figure it out. I know I'd appreciate it.

See what I get for trying to clean my office?

8-)

(jim@wmqt.com)