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)

Friday, 6/12

The lilacs have started to die.

It's funny, but it only takes a week or two after the most wonderful time of the year starts for the saddest time of the year to begin, the time when the lilac buds start to wilt and fall off their branches.. I know that's the natural life cycle of the plant, but it seems that every year it catches me by surprise. Every year I notice it beginning and silently shout “No, not yet!”.

Still it happens.

This year, it seems a little strange, as well, as right next to plants that are wilting are plants that still haven't yet fully budded. That may add a day or two to the sniffing season, but I'm sure that they will soon go the way of their lilac brethren and start slowly falling off the tree.

Of course, that's what makes lilac season so special. It isn't very long; so you have to enjoy it while you can. It's kind of like the Christmas season; or, at least, the was the Christmas season used to be before radio stations started playing Christmas music in September and that lazy neighbor down the street started leaving their decorations up until July. It's just here for a very short period of time, and you have to cram as much enjoyment into that period as you can.

Because, then, it's gone.

I've heard from a couple of people who've driven past and have noticed me with my nose stuck in a lilac bush. They almost seemed surprised that I like lilacs as much as I say do when I write about them. I don't know why they thought that; I really DO like them as much as I write about them. And since the season for them is so short, odds are you will see me with my nose in them.

After all, you only have a few days in which you can sniff. You have to make the most of them.

And with that, you won't have to put up with me writing about them any more this year. When they start budding next May, I make no promises, but until then?

I think you're safe.

Have a great weekend!

(jim@wmqt.com)

Thursday, 6/11

I wonder how many people had guessed Lower Harbor Park?

“Mystery Spot: Marquette” was a smashing success last night, at least if the crowd size was any indication--

I'm still stunned that a group that size literally put their trust in me, so much so that they would show up for a walk, not knowing where they were going and with the (real) threat of rain, but having faith that I would show them a good time. And I think—I hope—that I did, as I talked about railroads, docks, businesses, wandering cows, a stairway that inspired a novel, an attempt to actually make cars in Marquette, and, of course, the very rich history of the patch of land that we now know as Lower Harbor Park.

I'm also surprised that fewer people than I imagined guessed our actual destination. I was chatting with a lot of people before the walk, and while a few were correct, so many people had so many different ideas of where we might be going, ranging from South Marquette to Park Cemetery. But in a way, that's kind of cool. That means there are so many places in the city that people consider “historic” that you can't guess just one. That, I think, is a testament to the place in which we live.

And, I guess, it also means that if I ever decide to do another version of “Mystery Spot” I have plenty of places from which to choose.

We'll just have to see.

******

Because part of today actually promises to be sunny (hopefully), I'm going to take a few hours off, which means I have to go to work to get a few things taken care of, which means I need to cut this short. It is, however, a big day in Marquette history.

Why? Check it out for yourself--

(jim@wmqt.com)

Wednesday, 6/10

To quote a great Scottish philosopher (although in a WILDLY different context)--

Tonight's the night.

With any luck, my new “Mystery Spot: Marquette” tour will get underway at 630 from the Marquette Regional History center (hint hint). Everyone who shows up knows they're going on a walking tour, although no one (not even the people who work at the History Center) knows where they're going. All they know is that we're walking somewhere you can see a lot of history, and that I'll be telling a bunch of wacky, interesting, and/or unknown stories.

As long as the weather holds out (and, as I type this, it's supposed to be cloudy and 80, but with a chance of rain) I hope that the faith people are placing in me, the fact that they're willing to walk without even knowing where they're going, is rewarded.

And I think it will be.

The Mystery Spot to which we're walking not only has a lot of historical things that can be seen from there, but it has a lot of history in and of itself. When I started work on the tour, I was mostly just thinking of all the historic places you could see from there. But as I started getting into it, I realized that the location itself has such a rich history that it deserves to be the focus of a program in and of itself. So hopefully I've been able to combine the two into and evening that will not only entertain people, but will let them learn a bunch of stuff they didn't know they didn't know.

Keep your fingers crossed.

Now, it's all up to the weather. And if it holds, I'll be joined by hundreds of my closest history friends as we head out on a walk whose destination is known by one person and one person only.

A destination that is, at least for the next few hours, a “Mystery Spot”.

(jim@wmqt.com)

Tuesday, 6/9

Have I ever mentioned I really love lilacs?

I mean, both you & I know of the obsessive feelings I have for the blooms, if only because I take waaaaay too many pictures and talk about them waaaaay too often during this time of the year. Well, last night on TV I decided to come out to all of Upper Michigan about my, uhm, “problem”.

I hope people don't think any less of me because of that.

It's funny; when I was putting together the graphics for last night's piece I wondered if I would have enough good lilac pictures to use. Well, as it turns out, I didn't need to worry at all. I put all of the ones that I thought were good into a folder, used about 20 of them in various video montages, and found myself with only, oh, 100 or so that I didn't get to use.

So I'm guessing that, in the end,. I DID indeed have enough good shots of lilacs.

8-)

Unfortunately, even though they just came out last week, the first signs of their short life have appeared. I've seen many bunches turning brown, even while a few lilac trees in Marquette, mostly by the lake, have yet to sprout. But like I said in the piece last night, that's one of the things about the blooms. They're here and then they're gone, meaning that if you're like me (and hopefully, you're not) you have to make good use of them while they're here.

Even if it means coming out as a “lilac-holic” on TV--

(jim@wmqt.com)

Monday, 6/8

Who knew so many people liked the song?

Loraine and I were at lunch at a local establishment recently, enjoying our food and taking in the selection of late 60s/early 70s music being played. Most of it was forgettable and/or cheesy, and it was just treated as background noise by the people in the restaurant. However, when one song came on, people stopped talking and started listening. A few even started singing or humming along.

It was cool.

It was kind of amazing, too, because I didn't think many people remembered the song. I sure do; in fact, it's one of “Jim's Top Five Songs Ever Recorded (TM)”, a song that I have loved since I was a kid. In fact, it's one of those songs like, “September” or “Superstition”, that I can listen to over & over & over again. It's also perhaps the best example of one of my favorite kinds of music, Philly Soul. It was written and produced by a master, and even 50-plus years after it was recorded it can still cause an entire restaurant of people tapping their toes and humming along.

That song? “I'll Be Around” by The Spinners.

Like I said, I was flabbergasted when people sitting around us started humming the song, and one of the workers at the place even started singing along. I mean, it's not a song you hear a lot these days. It's not a song that's filled with power or deep meaning. But maybe that's the key to it. It's a simple song; three chords, strings and horns, and amazing vocals. When you have someone like the immortal Thom Bell sticking all of those those together, you end up with three minutes and thirty seconds of musical magic.

Musical magic that, apparently, still shines through over five decades after it was originally released.

I'm sure that everyone who was humming or singing along with the song didn't give it a second thought. Heck, they might not even have realized that they were even doing it. But that just goes to show the power of the song. I'm sure those people aren't like some dorks and consider it one of the five greatest tunes ever recorded. The people humming and singing along just know that they like it.

And that's all that matters.

(jim@wmqt.com)

Friday, 6/5

It'll be 82 years ago tomorrow when thousands of American, British, and Canadian troops hit four beaches on the northern coast of France to begin the liberation of Europe and the defeat of Nazi Germany. On one of those beaches--Omaha Beach, the setting for the opening 25 minutes of “Saving Private Ryan”--over 2,000 men died in just a few hours.

One of them was from Marquette County.

William Richards was born in Virginia, Minnesota, graduated from the Michigan College of Technology and Mining, and, in 1940, was working for Cleveland Cliffs at the same time he was a lieutenant in the 107^th National Guard Combat Engineering Battalion in Ishpeming. He had been married to a Negaunee girl--Mary Archibald--for two months, when the battalion was called up for a year of active duty. World War II then started, and that one year became “for the duration”.

The 107^th was shuttled around various camps in the U.S., and headed overseas in 1942, where Richards eventually attained the rank of Major. The invasion of Europe was on the horizon, and Richards’ battalion would be given one of the most dangerous of assignments--to clear the invasion beaches of mines, obstacles, and booby traps laid by the Nazis.

The 107^th was going in with the first wave of troops.

Now, if you’ve seen “Saving Private Ryan”, you get a pretty good idea of what the first wave had to face. That did not seem to daunt Richards and his engineers, especially when you read what was written about his actions in a Distinguished Service Cross citation he posthumously received--

“Major Richards landed with the initial assault waves under heavy enemy artillery, machine gun and rifle fire. He immediately effected the removal of barbed wire by directing the operations of a tank dozer, preceding it on foot under heavy small arms fire. After removing this obstacle, he personally reconnoitered inland to find the exact position of an enemy gun which was harassing troops and equipment at the entrance of one of the beach exits. After locating this gun, he made his way back to the beach and reported its location. He then proceeded to organize the units of his battalion for aggressive action against the enemy on the cliffs. Though wounded, Major Richards again proceeded to a beach exit to direct the efforts of the mine clearing and obstacle removing parties. While organizing these parties, he was killed by enemy fire. The courage and devotion to duty exhibited by Major Richards reflects great credit upon himself and is in keeping with the highest traditions of the armed forces.”

This is Major Richards’ final resting place, at the Normandy American Cemetery, on a bluff overlooking Omaha Beach, in St. Laurent sur Mer, France--

Aside from his wife in Ishpeming, Richards left a 2-year old daughter.

(As always, many thanks to Loraine for uncovering this amazing story and supplying the biographical data).

(jim@wmqt.com)

Thursday, 6/4

For those of you wondering—yes, I HAVE been sniffing lilacs to the exclusion of almost everything else.

Did you expect anything different?

Not only have I been sniffing the greatest flowers (or, more technically, the greatest tree buds) on the face of the Earth, I've also been snapping a few pictures of them. After all, they're only around for a week, week and a half at most; it's really a shame (at least in my weird opinion) if you don't take advantage of them while they're here. It is, after all, one of those classic “use it or lose it” situations, and I know on which side of that equation I would much rather err.

So here we go, starting with what some people might consider to be paradise--

Or another view of paradise--

Or, uhm, this view of paradise--

While I was just spinning around shooting every lilac I could find, I took this shot. Now, I don't know if it'll show up for those of you looking at this on a phone, but look at the upper half of the picture.

See the bee?

Oh...and how about one more shot of paradise, just for no particular reason--

Okay. I'll stop now. It's hard, but I'll stop now. Instead, let's pivot over to history, and the tour I'm giving next Wednesday, the one I wrote about yesterday. Here's the teaser video my pal Emily and I shot, giving absolutely nothing away. After all, we don't wanna spoil the gag, right?

8-)

(jim@wmqt.com)

Wednesday, 6/3

In one week we'll see if the history gag works out.

I wrote yesterday about my TV gag (gags, actually) from this week. Well, one week from tonight I'm trying another kind of gag for my latest History Center walking tour.

And I'm hoping this one works out as well as the TV seemed to.

The tour itself will be fairly straightforward, as all of my tours all. The gag comes from both the title and the way we're rolling out the tour. It's called “Mystery Spot: Marquette”, and the gag about is that no one knows where we're going. We'll meet at the History Center next Wednesday, and we'll start walking. We'll end up in a place only I know, a place from which you can see a whole bunch of history, but everyone who goes on the walk has no idea where that'll be.

They'll just have to trust me.

The idea for the tour popped into my head last summer as I was walking around the city, and I figured it might provide a hook for a tour. I've found a bunch of interesting and/or fun and/or weird stories, so it should be a good tour. And as far as the hook? Well, I've had a lot of people share their guesses, but no one seems to have gotten it quite right yet. The people at the History Center don't even know (nor have guessed it right yet), and they're joking that they should raise money by selling guesses as to where we're going.

I'd be all for that.

One week from tonight we'll see if the gag pays off. We'll see what the crowd is like. And, if nothing else, we'll see if anyone ever correctly guesses the final destination of “Mystery Spot: Marquette”.

(jim@wmqt.com)

Tuesday, 6/2

Well, what do you know. The gag actually worked out.

My TV piece last night was an out and out 2 minutes of jokes and stupid one liners, something I've been working on for a while now. As you may recall, thoughts just pop into my head, and I'll write them down on a scrap of paper to, perhaps, do something with one day. Well, a scrap of paper that's been lying around for a while now had the words "tourist bingo" written on it. And seeing as how the start of June is usually the start of the tourist season around here, I decided to put a "tourist bingo" card together, just in case people wanted to play along during the summer.

Putting the card together was one of the most fun things I've done recently.

I took every single tourist stereotype I could think of and placed them upon the card. I took a couple of other ideas that were just absurd and added them in. And then I had to take the running gag Kevin and I have and placed it in the one final spot I had left.

Needless to say, anyone who's playing along at home may have a little trouble completing that particular row.

I have no idea if anyone would actually download the card and fill it out during the tourist season, but just in case, we did make a downloadable version available at WZMQ19.com. If anyone does want to play along, that would be the icing on the cake. It was just a blast stretching whatever muscles of wackiness I seem to possess, and having an end product that turned out like this--

If you do happen to play along, good luck filling up your "Tourist Bingo Card"!

(jim@wmqt.com)

Monday, 6/1

I can't believe they tore the lilac trees out.

First of all, hope you had a great weekend. I did myself; since it was the first weekend not Germany or in-law related in over a month, Loraine and I went on a date. And, since the the most wonderful things on the planet outside of Loraine also started to bloom, I also spent waaaaay too much time with my nose stuck in these--

And that's when I noticed the lilacs had been torn out.

One of my favorite places to sniff (and sniff, and sniff) is Father Marquette/Lakeside Park in Marquette. I usually sniff all the bushes by the statue, and then make my way behind the old LSCP building and sniff everything there. Only, when I finished sniffing the bushes by the statue and went behind the building, I noticed that all of the lilac trees that were there were torn out, probably as part of the conversion of the structure to the new City of Marquette Arts & Culture office.

The horror. Oh, the horror.

I don't know if tearing out the bushes was planned, or just a by-product of the construction. Nor do I know if the bushes will be replanted once everything is finished. All I know is that for decades now people have strolled into the park--for many, the one time they're ever there--just to sniff the buds. To not have them there any more is...just not right. I mean, if they're gone for a year or two, I think most people can handle that. But if they're gone forever?

That's just a loss beyond words.

Lest you think I'm resistant to change, I'm not. I'm happy that someone is taking over the old building, and that it'll soon be filled with artists and actors and every other member of a very vibrant Marquette arts community.. A city like ours needs a place like that. But to lose one of the things that drew people to a park that hardly anyone visits?

Well, that would be a shame. So on behalf of lilac-holics everywhere, I hope the bushes are replaced, and one day in the future we pay a visit to sniff one of the loveliest fragrances on the face of the planet.

You know--this fragrance:

(jim@wmqt.com), bummed lilac-holic