Friday, 8/9

I wonder how many names I'll butcher tomorrow?

That's a thought that always pops into my head anytime Finish-Line Announcer Jim makes an appearance, as he will tomorrow at the Ore-To-Shore. I mean, there are people coming across the line all the time, usually in groups of three or four. Their names pop up on a computer screen and then are replaced by names from new people coming across the line. So that only gives me a second or two look at the name, decide how I'm gonna pronounce it, and then spit it out.

So to whomever gets their name mispronounced tomorrow, I apologize in advance. I really do!

Actually, after 20 years of finish line announcing at both the Noque and the O2S, I feel fairly confident that I'll get many more names correct than I'll screw up. Practice, after all, does help, and I've had plenty of practice over the years. But I think I've also had good training in the matter in another way. After all, I used to host a telethon on TV, a telethon where I'd have to read pledges from people throughout the U.P. And if you can correctly read names from throughout the U.P., I'm guessing you can read names from anywhere in the world.

So wish me luck!

If you have the chance, you should make sure you get to one of the mass starts for the race tomorrow in Negaunee. They're like nothing you've ever seen; each has over 1,000 riders getting their race underway at the sound of a gun and a trumpet. It takes over five minutes for all of them to go by, and it's just an amazing sight. The Soft Race race (with, ahem, a dork announcing the start) begins at 9 at Lakeview School, while the Hard Rock gets underway at 945 in downtown Negaunee.

Trust me—you won't be disappointed!

And with that, I have to head to work to put together a couple of CDs of music to play during the festivities. Have yourself a great weekend, and like I said, if you have the chance, check out part of the race!

(jim@wmqt.com)

Thursday, 8/8

It's weird. I will admit that.

This week's I've had several people ask if it's strange not getting ready to head to Europe in a few weeks. And it is—every August for the past 12 Augusts has been a prep period for getting ready to go on vacation, which meant everything from hauling the luggage out of the basement to having to pay attention to Loraine when she tells me not to break my arm, if only because she doesn't wanna be the one to drive around France or Germany.

It's strange going into August and not having to worry about little things like that.

But in a way it's liberating, too. Instead of hunkering down and spending most of August actually having to work to get ready to go, I can now take as many half-days as I want. Heck, if I was daring I could probably (gasp) even take a full day off. That's how liberating it is. I don't know if I'm going to, but I have the option should I so choose.

And that's kind of unique.

With the way my “Summer of History ™” is going, that's a good thing. Instead of trying to put together both a walking tour and a bunch of stories about drunks before we go, now I can just do it at my leisure and not worry about the time crunch. Of course, knowing my habits, I'll keep procrastinating about it and eventually end up having to deal with a time crunch, but at least it won't have anything to do with getting ready to go to Europe.

8-)

I'm enjoying it while I can, because as I explain to everyone who asks if it's weird not getting ready to go to Europe, this is a unique year. And it's leading into what could be another unique year next year, if only because (and I don't know if I've even mentioned this yet) we're thinking of making TWO trips over—one in April for another Bundesliga match, and then the usual late summer jaunt, this time back to Normandy, where we actually haven't set foot in four years. So, if things go as planned next year, not only will I be back in my usual summer routine, I'll get to see if this year's spring routine works out again.

That's next year, though. For now, I'm just enjoying a summer without having to get ready to go anywhere. It feels...weird, but I'm enjoying it.

(jim@wmqt.com)

Wednesday, 8/7

WEDNESDAY, 8/7:

Feel like more pictures? Good. Because I have more pictures!

As you may recall, yesterday's blog had to do with a reader who wondered where my annual posting of summer flowers were. As you may also recall, I hadn't actually gone out and taken any pictures of flowers this summer, so I did that over the weekend. And as I was wandering around downtown, south Marquette, and Founder's Landing taking pictures of the flowers, I was taking pictures of other things, as well.

Things such as a snowboard that obviously belongs to a Pink Floyd Fan...

Staying in that same basic musical genre, a picture I'm thinking of calling “Stairway to Heaven”...

Even though it hasn't moved in over a century, I wonder how many people who used to live in Marquette would recognize the sign by the Father Marquette statue?

Speaking of the statue, I think it's grown a second cape, this one made out of wildflowers.

I don't know that I've ever taken a picture with BOTH Coast Guard stations in it, so I did

Can anything beat a bike path on a hot summer day?

And finally, I present to you the humor of Tom Vear at the Delft, without comment.

I now apologize for sticking that song in your head the rest of the day.

(jim@wmqt.com)

Tuesday, 8/6

I didn't know it was a tradition, but you know what?

We'll make it one.

I received a note from daily blog reader Holly in Marquette, who wondered where my flower pictures were. I wasn't quite sure of what she was speaking, so I sent her back a note asking for a little clarification. As it turns out, every summer Holly looks forward to seeing pictures I take of flowers as I wander around. I hadn't done it so far this year, if only because I haven't been out just wandering around much this year, but Holly's note provided the impetus for me to get out and take pictures.

Trust me. It wasn't much of a sacrifice on my part.

What did I see on my stroll? How about reds...

Yellows...

Magentas...

Purples...

Whatever this thing is (and, of course, you guys know much better than do I, so if you wanna share, I'd appreciate it...

And just about every color you could find crammed into one shot--

Heck. Even the wildflowers got into the spirit of the thing...

So there you go, Holly. Your annual summer flower presentation. Next year, I'll do it without your prompting (he says optimistically). Thanks for the note!

(jim@wmqt.com)

Monday, 8/5

It seems like there's only been one change in ten years, but it's a change that I, at least, really notice.

Loraine's been writing a series of Facebook posts about people from Marquette County killed 75 years ago in Normandy. One of them did not deal with one of her “guys”; instead, it was a homage to our friend Jean-Paul, who's helped us find out information on all kinds of things. One of the pictures she posted was from a French newspaper, taken 10 years ago--

You know who I am, you know who Loraine is. Jean-Paul is the guy on the right, while one of those French mayors we seem to have befriended is the other dude. That picture is from September of 2009, and I have to admit that both my dear wife and I seem to have aged well in that past decade. Well, she has; I, however, have may not have been as lucky. Take a look at the picture again--

Now take a look at a fairly recent (from April) picture that I'm in--

Or, if you're in a weird mood (like some of us), this one, taken three days ago--

Notice how dark my hair was in the 2009 picture? Notice how gray it seems to be now?

ARGH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

It's especially noticeable when my hair is longer, like is is at this moment. In fact, I'm getting it cut tonight, which means that I'll probably soon be shedding tears seeing all the white as it falls to the floor. I just guess that while I try to take care of myself and try to slow the aging process as much as possible, there's one part of my body that's not cooperating.

Dang hair.

Kind of as a joke (kind of) I asked you guys a question when I started hosting “High School Bowl” five years ago. That question was “should I color my hair?”, seeing as how even back then I started noticing a little gray on my temples. With one exception, you all said no (that one exception being daily blog reader Darlene from Marquette, who said, and I quote, “I'm too young to have a son on TV with gray hair”). You all said it would look dignified, and add a little character.

Well, apparently now I have a LOT of character.

I don't know why I have this thing about gray hair; I mean, at least I still have most of my hair (unlike say, my little brother (hi, Marc!!)), so I probably shouldn't complain too much. It's just that, well, it's a sign that despite everything I've done and everything I've tried, I am getting older. It's not fair, and I'd really like to lodge a complaint with someone's supervisor about the whole thing, but it (the gray hair) just kind of points out the futility of it all. Sure, I could color it and sure, I'd probably look almost exactly like I did in the picture from a decade ago. But I'd still know what would be lurking underneath.

Gray hair sucks.

(jim@wmqt.com)

Friday, 8/2

I saw Santa Claus at the beach yesterday.

Okay, maybe it wasn’t the REAL Santa Claus, but there was this big round guy with long white hair and a flowing white beard just laying in the sun, and I thought to myself, “Well, THAT’S not something you see every day”. Then as I was walking home from said beach, I came across a family of tourists, standing on the Lower Harbor bike path, looking in at the city of Marquette. What did I hear the mom of the family say?

“THAT’S not something you see every day”.

Right then and there, I knew I had today’s blog topic. So here’s your assignment for this weekend--

Go out and be a tourist in your own town.

I mean, sure, you can probably see Santa Claus on any number of beaches around the country (although he probably WAS in Marquette so he could swing by Christmas for a few supplies on his way back to the North Pole). But like I written in here about many times in the past, do you realize what we have here? We have beauty. We have natural wonders. We have history. And you don’t have to spend several thousand dollars in gas money to see them.

That’s your assignment for this weekend. Become a tourist in your own town, be it Marquette, or Ishpeming, or Houghton, or wherever. Look at your town through the eyes of someone who’s never been here. Don’t act like the typical local, someone who drives past Lake Superior or strolls past the Savings Bank Building and just ignores it? We see it every day, so it’s not that big of a deal for us.

But you know what? It IS a big deal. We live by the largest lake on the planet, surrounded by history and by natural beauty. And it’s not just here in Marquette; there are MANY places in the U.P. where water, history, and beauty come together unlike anywhere else in this country.

So therein lies your assignment for this weekend. Take an hour or two, head to the most beautiful spot in your city, and look at it like you’re experiencing it for the first time. Marvel at the natural beauty of your hometown, explore the history of your local buildings or complexes, and rediscover why you enjoy living in the community you choose to call home.

Trust me. You won’t be disappointed. And who knows. . .you may even see Santa Claus in the process!

Have a great weekend,

(jim@wmqt.com)

Thursday, 8/1

After writing about historical and semi-historical things the past few days (actually, the past few months, seeing as how this is turning in my “Summer of History" ™ ) I starting thinking (which, as we all know, can be a dangerous thing)—in 30 or 40 years, am I gonna be one of those old people who young people visit to listen to all their old stories about how Marquette “used to be” way back in the 1990s or the 2000s? And, if so, will my stories be of any interest to them, the way the stories I hear from old people these days are to me?

I don’t know why, but I’ve started thinking about that recently. One of the greatest resources that I, as a history buff (and occasional researcher) have found, are the memories and recollections of the people who actually lived through or made the history about which I’m interested. Sure, you can read about, say, the storm of 1938, but it really doesn’t come to life until you hear the story of a young man, then a student at Northern, who was stuck in his fraternity house because he couldn’t drive his car anywhere, yet found the inner strength to slap on snowshoes, trek four blocks through the cold, and buy a case of beer. Oh--and he did this three days in a row.

Now, to me, THAT’S the side of history you never get to read about in “official’ sources, and that, to me, is actually the most interesting side of history. That’s why, when Loraine goes to talk with people who knew the men & women she’s researching, I tag along, and see what I can find out about other important moments in local history. You never know when asking a person one question might trigger something that’s been buried deep down in their memory, just waiting for the right moment to pop back up to the surface.

What’s funny is that the people who share these anecdotes really don’t think they’re sharing anything worthwhile. They’re just telling stories of a few of the thousands of everyday incidents that make up their lives. To them, it’s just one of many things they’ve gone through in 60 or 70 or 80 years of living; to me, though, it’s a vital part of local history.

And that’s what I’ve been thinking about recently. When I’m sitting in my hovercraft rocking chair in 2045, talking to a young person interested in what happened 40 or 50 years ago, which one of my little experiences—an experience which I’ve probably forgotten about even now, in 2019—will they find fascinating? Is there a small part of my life, which I groan about now, that will make them laugh? Have I taken part in some activity, or have I met some person that, years from now, will have as much of an impact on future generations as, say, the storm of 1938 has on me? Will I be able to tell the story of someone I know now, who then goes on to cure cancer, become the first person to walk on Mars, or who dies tragically in some future conflict?

I just hope that, in 30 or 40 years, I’m able to share as much information with anyone who’s young and interested as I’ve been able to gather from speaking with all these wonderful people over all these years. That, I guess, would be one way of “thanks” to them for everything they shared with me, back when I was young and interested.

(jim@wmqt.com)