Tuesday, 12/12

It was one episode of one TV show over 30 years ago. Why is it still warping me?

Yesterday I mentioned I did a LOT of things during my three day weekend. One of them was heading out to Kohl's to choose something for one of my birthday presents. I succeeded; in fact, if you saw me on TV last night you saw what I picked up. But that's neither here nor there. When I was in Kohl's and they were playing holiday music over the loudspeaker, I realized that a single episode of “Married with Children” still has an unexplained hold over me.

And here's how.

On the show's first Christmas episode, the plot dealt with Santa parachuting into a mall to visit all the good little girls and boys. Of course, things went awry, and Santa ended up dead in the Bundy's back yard. But that's not what warped me. After all, I have a sick sense of humor to begin with. Nope; what warped me was the continuous use of a song line throughout the episode, sung to the tune of “Santa Claus is Coming to Town”.

Namely, before Santa showed up, all the characters on the song would sing “Santa Claus is coming...to the Lakeside Mall”, which was where he was supposed to land. Ever since then, in the 3+ decades since I first saw the show, every time I hear “Santa Claus is Coming To Town”, like I did at Kohl's Saturday, I instead start singing to myself “Santa Claus is Coming to the Lakeside Mall”.

Who knew?

I highly doubt the people who put together that particular episode of “Married” thought the lasting legacy of that show would be some dork remembering the words to a fake commercial jingle. I'm sure they hoped that, if the episode were to be remembered at all, it would be for Santa dying in a skydiving accident. But it was not to be. And while I (literally) haven't thought of anything else dealing with “Married With Children' for decades now, every single holiday season “Santa Claus is coming to the Lakeside Mall” pops into my head.

Yes, I need help. What's your point?

8-)

(jim@wmqt.com)

Monday, 12/11

We found the chocolate in the most improbable of places. Now I can't find it anywhere else..

First of all, hope you had a great weekend. I enjoyed my three day version, although I did have to do TV, write, shop, bake, shop, wrap, and a couple of dozen other holiday-related activities. So, I guess, I probably could have used a fourth day, but that as not to be.

So never mind.

One of the things for which I was trying to shop was a chocolate bar Loraine and I got when we were in Chicago a few months ago. Had we known it was so good, we would have gotten more. But except for the one very bizarre place in which we found it, it doesn't seem to be available in the US.

It's this bar--

It's quite yummy; a dark chocolate bar with a creamy orange filling in it. Believe it or not, it's actually made in Lithuania, which may account for the fact that it's had to find in this country. Except, apparently, unless you're in a Korean grocery store right next to Chicago's Greektown.

Because that's where we found it.

That's right. We picked up this amazing Lithuanian chocolate bar in a Korean grocery store on the outskirts of a Greektown. The store was H-Mart, and when we walked into it last September we had no idea we'd find the bar there, along with Mozart balls from Austria and a couple of other goodies you can't find in this country. Like I said before, if we had know, I would have thrown a bunch of clothes in my carry-on away just so we'd have room for the chocolates,.

Because they're that good.

Since we won't be at a Korean grocery store next to a Greektown any time soon I guess we'll just have to wait for our Lithuanian chocolate. But if you happen to see it around anywhere, yell.

I'd sure love to have some again soon.

8-)

(jim@wmqt.com)

Thursday, 12/7

Just when I think my life can't get any weirder, the marching band shows up.

I've written in here a lot about the strange twists and turns my life has taken the last couple of years, everything from seeing my ugly mug plastered on the side of a bus to becoming the voice of a plumbing and heating shop in New Jersey. I've also mentioned how, just when I think the absurdity can't get any more absurd, it does.

Like yesterday, when we were shooting another edition of “High School Bowl”.

I figured something was up when I saw some of the students walking in with musical instruments. Now, I didn't discount the possibility that perhaps they had some sort of band thing going on at NMU after the show; many of the students who take part in “High School Bowl” are also heavily involved in music and/or theater. So I just kind of kept it out of my mind until someone walked up to me, mentioned they had written a marching band version of the show's theme, and wondered if they could perform it....with the extra musicians and the band director they brought up with them just for the occasion.

Think we'd say “no” to that?

So between games we shot them performing the theme song and, as a former band nerd, I have to admit it was quite good. One of the students had actually written up the arrangement himself, saying that he had to listen to a promo almost one hundred times to get it fully down. Now, that takes dedication—not only is the theme an ear-worm that lodges itself into your brain, but if he was listening to a promo that means he actually had to put up with me babbling on and on for thirty seconds almost 100 times.

And no one should have to do that.

I'll have video of the performance soon, and will share it when I do because, and let's be honest here, how many times in your life do you have someone work up a marching band arrangement of the theme song of a TV show you host and then want to perform it?

I'm guessing for most people that's zero, and that's another example of, just when I think my life can't get any stranger, it does. So to Chris Burie and the members of the Kingsford High School Bowl team and band, thanks for making my day. And for making me once again wonder...

What's gonna top that?

8-)

*****

Because I get a day off during my birthday week I won't be here tomorrow. Hope you can survive. Heck, I'm doing another “High School Bowl” so I hope I can survive. Have a great weekend; back on Monday!

(jim@wmqt.com)

Wednesday, 12/6

Remember yesterday when I mentioned something about being in a streak of weeks where I have to be on TV three days during those weeks? Well, guess what I have to do in a few minutes?

(And I HOPE you said “go on TV”)

I have to go do “High School Bowl”. And since I have to do that I'm going to leave you with something I wrote ten (wow!) years ago, but something that's entirely appropriate for this time of the year.

Tomorrow—no TV. So you get something new!

(jim@wmqt.com)

*****

(as originally posted 12/8/2014)

I was looking through an old laptop of mine a few days ago, and one of the things I found was a link to a newspaper article, an article I had entirely forgotten about. But I'm glad I found it, because this is the perfect time of the year to discuss everyone's favorite gateway drug. No; I'm not talking about a gateway drug that's either pharmaceutical or alcoholic.

I'm talking about “A Charlie Brown Christmas”.

That link I found was from a newspaper article  from back in 2012. In the article, the jazz critic for the Los Angeles Times made the argument, while talking about Vince Guaraldi’s soundtrack to the show, that for a large chunk of American kids the music in “A Charlie Brown Christmas” was their first exposure to jazz, that it was their “gateway’ drug to the musical form.

And you know what? I think he may be right.

Just speaking from personal experience, I’m quite certain that the first jazz music I ever heard was from the TV special. I’m sure that I didn’t know at the time I was listening to jazz; the music, however, imprinted itself onto my brain so strongly that even 40-some years later it’s still a disc I have to listen to at least once a holiday season. And the rhythms and phrasing of the music must not have been totally alien, as even when I was a kid I was drawn to pop music with jazz influences. The older I became, the more jazz I listened to, even being part of a jazz band in high school. And while I listen to all kinds of music these days, jazz still has a special place in my musical consciousness.

And though I had never thought about until reading the LA Times article, I can now say that it’s all Charlie Brown’s fault. Good grief!!!

I don’t believe that’s the only way “A Charlie Brown Christmas” affected those of us born in the 60s or the 70s, either. I mean, how many times have we referred to a “Charlie Brown tree” when we see a particularly pitiful holiday tree, or a “Snoopy’s doghouse” when we see an incredibly gaudy display of Christmas lights? And speaking from personal experience, I know that at least a few times in my life I’ve given the answer “Cash, preferably in tens and twenties” when asked what I want for Christmas. None of that, of course, would’ve been possible without the influence of that one holiday cartoon.

So when you think about it, “A Charlie Brown Christmas” is more than just a gateway drug to jazz. You could almost make the argument that’s a gateway drug to how an entire generation of Americans celebrates the holiday season. I wonder if, back in 1965, Charles Schulz and Bill Melendez and Vince Guaraldi had any idea that the little cartoon they put together would have such an influence?

Hmm. It's amazing what you find when you're trying to clean up a hard drive, isn't it?

Tuesday, 12/5

I've been doing it for years, and NOW you're just noticing?

It's been a busy few weeks in Jim-Land, and because of that I find myself dressing up a lot, which is not a surprise when you're on TV three times a week (at least as I have been since the beginning of November). After all, you either want or need to look nice, and I try my best.

It's not always possible, but I try.

Anyway, since the beginning of last month, the period in which I've been dressing up more than usual, I've had a bunch of people make pretty much the same comment to me--”you get dressed up to be the radio?”, like it's a weird thing, or something. I mean, just because no one can see me some people assume I look like a slob?

I mean, there are many days when I DO look like a slob, but besides the point. Is there a reason I can't get dressed up? For as long as I can remember, I've always put in a jacket and tie at least once a week, just because. Even during Covid, when I was the only one at work and the rest of the world was locked in, I still wore a jacket & die one day a week.

After all, a world-wide pandemic doesn't mean you still can't look good, right?

But yet, there is (apparently) quite a large group of people out there who are shocked by that fact. I'm guessing that's because they've met other radio workers whose style of dress must have made an impression on them. And because of that, they assume everyone who works in radio has the same sense of style.

I, however, am here to say that's a false assumption. You CAN work in radio and not be a slob, and you can do it even if you're not doing TV at the same time. All it takes is a willingness to do it, a style of sense, and, perhaps, an ability to flaunt the expected norm.

(jim@wmqt.com), flaunting the expected norm.

Monday, 12/4

I'm not going to forget his birthday again this year.

There's a guy whose birthday I share. I've never met him; in fact, he died over 20 years before I was born. But after Loraine discovered the story of his amazing life, I've always felt a certain kindred link with him. And despite the fact the we share a birth date, there have been years when I've totally forgotten that my big day is his big day.

Well, not this year. This morning, when I was running through Park Cemetery I stopped & wished him a happy birthday, and as a present I figured I'd post a speech I gave about him when Loraine organized a ceremony for him on the 70^th anniversary of his death back in 2012. Like I said, even though he died long before I was born he seemed like he was a cool dude. It would have been interesting to know him as an old man. But, sadly, it was not to be.

Happy birthday, Oliver. It's kinda neat that we share a big day like that.

(jim@wmqt.com)

*****

“As far as I can tell, there haven’t been a lot of noteworthy people who’ve been born on December 4^th. There’s Jay-Z; there’s Dennis Wilson, the late drummer of the Beach Boys; and there’s some British guy who did something with economics back in the 1700s. They may be famous; whether or not they’re noteworthy is another matter altogether.

So let me introduce you to someone born on December 4^th who, while he’s in no way famous, certainly is most noteworthy. Alvar Liimatainen was born in December 4^th, 1919, to Albin and Lempi Liimatainen. He was one of four children growing up in what was then referred to as Marquette’s “Piqua Location”; in fact, you can still see the family house if you’re riding or walking down the bike path near Sherman and Cleveland streets. Oliver, as absolutely everyone knew him, was a typical kid in the 1920s and 30s; he had a paper route, he tried his hand at ski jumping, he sang, and he ran track. He was most atypical when he received an award at his graduation in 1937 honoring him as never having missed a day of school his entire academic career. Not one.

This wouldn’t be the only time in his life Oliver was out of the ordinary.

 

After graduation he worked as a bellhop at the Hotel Northland before joining the Army Air Corp for what was supposed to be a three-year hitch in 1940. He had hoped to become a pilot; however, he was given training as a radio operator and assigned to a bomber crew that found themselves being sent to places like Brazil and Egypt before ending up on the island of Java the day the Japanese attacked Pearl Harbor. The Japanese also attacked other U.S. installations that day, including the base where Oliver was stationed. He found himself in the middle of the airfield when the raid began, and took cover in a foxhole made out of sandbags. He received a mild concussion and was put in the base hospital for a few weeks. He didn’t mind, though; in a letter to his brother, he said in the hospital he was finally getting food that was edible and, quote, “that helps a lot”.

The next couple of months were busy for Oliver and his crew. They flew 22 bombing missions in the South Pacific. They were attacked by enemy fighters 15 times; Oliver himself was credited with shooting down three of those fighters and damaging three others. On August 6^th, 1942, Oliver’s crew—commanded by captain Harl Pease, and co-piloted by an Australian, Fredrick Earp—left their base in Australia for a bombing mission over Lae, New Guinea. On the way there, they had one of the engines on their B-17 fail, and had to return to base. This wasn’t an uncommon occurrence; what happened next was.

When Oliver’s crew returned to base, they knew that they had another mission the next day. They didn’t know what it was; they just had been told it was important. So the entire crew found another B-17 that was barely flight worthy and worked all day and all night to make sure it could get off the ground. On just three hours sleep, Oliver and his crew took off the next morning on a mission they knew was important but didn’t know why. As it turns out, their mission that day was bombing a Japanese fighter base at Rabaul Island. They were to bomb the base so that the fighters could not attack U.S. Marines that would be, at the same time, landing on Guadalcanal. They had no idea why they were flying the mission; they just knew they had to fly it.

Oliver’s crew as one of thirteen bombers that made it successfully to Rabaul and dropped their bombs on the Japanese base. On the way back home to Australia, their jerry-rigged plane started having mechanical problems, and fell behind the rest of the squadron. Thirty enemy fighters had by then appeared in the sky, and since Oliver’s plane had fallen behind the rest of the group, they bore the brunt of the attack. The B-17 was last seen losing altitude over the jungle, with no parachutes observed leaving the aircraft.

With that, Alvar “Oliver” Liimatainen became the city of Marquette’s first service casualty of World War II.

Several months after the incident, each member of the crew was awarded the Distinguished Service Cross for their work the day before and their actions that fateful day. Captain Pease was also awarded the Medal of Honor, and to this day, there is a Pease Air Force Base near his hometown in New Hampshire. But it wasn’t until 1946 that searchers discovered the wreckage of the plane, as well as two bodies. They moved those remains to the National Memorial Cemetery of the Pacific in Honolulu, where they spent several years trying to identify the remains. It took until 1950 for them to be able to distinguish that one of the bodies belonged to the Australian co-pilot I had mentioned earlier. In fact, that was thanks to the discovery of a shoulder patch of a member of the Australian Air force. After studying dental and physical records, the other body was identified as Oliver’s. His parents asked that his body be returned to his hometown, and it was on this spot on August 7^th, 1951—nine years to the day after his death—that Oliver was laid to final rest.

A total of 72 men and women from the city of Marquette died in World War II. Some are buried not far from here; some are buried in the countries in which they died, and some were never found. They all have stories like Oliver’s, and that’s one reason why we wanted to hold this ceremony tonight. Whether they were born on April 20^th or July 7^th or December 4^th, they were all among the most extraordinary people ever born on that particular day. They were the men and women who did things that most of us could never imagine doing ourselves, and they were the men and women we honor tonight.

 

 

Alvar “Oliver” Liimatainen. Born December 4^th, 1919. Died August 7^th, 1942. Laid to rest here August 7^th, 1951. Thank you for your service. And thank you for being extraordinary.”

Friday, 12/1

Because I have to head off to be on TV for the (ahem) third time this week (and, in an unrelated aside, what normal person is ON TV three times in a week?) I'm going to leave you with something that first appeared five years ago tomorrow, something I actually noticed again yesterday morning as I was taking an early (at least for me) run through Lower Harbor Park.

Have a great weekend. Back with something brand new Monday!

(jim@wmqt.com)

*****

(as originally posted 12/2/18)

It’s December already? Nobody asked if that was okay with me!!!

December’s one of those months that I can’t quite decide if I really like; after all, it has the good (Christmas cookies), the bad (cold, and no time to do anything), and the ugly (I turn another year older). But it also has something that happens during this time of the year. It gives me my only chance to see a phenomenon that I otherwise am unable (or unwilling) to experience.

That’s right--December allows me to see my only sunrise of the year.

Those of you who know me know that during most of the year I’m never awake to see a sunrise. The closest I come are those nights in June when I fall asleep a few hours before the sun rises. I’m not complaining, or anything; based on my body clock, that’s just a fact of life. But with the sun rising so late (if at all) during December, it does allow me the opportunity to get out see it come up. . .if, of course, our ever-present cloud bank actually allows it.

I’ll usually get to see my sunrise while out running, and it always seems to occur when I’m out running on the bike path near Picnic Rocks. I’m pretty sure you get the best view of a sunrise in Marquette from there; after all, there must be a reason a bunch of cars are parked in the lot every morning around the time the sun comes up. And I have to admit, the one sunrise a year I see from that location is much different than the sunsets I see from many different locations on a regular basis. The sunsets always seem to be “dirty”, for lack of a better word. When the sun goes down for the night it’s masked by all kinds of gunk in the air, kicked up by the activities of everyone during the day. Sure, the sunsets can be quite vivid, but like I said, they seem “dirty”.

Not the one sunrise a year I see, though. The atmosphere’s had the chance overnight to clean out all the gunk that accumulated in it the previous day, so that when the sun comes up, it comes up undiluted by the flotsam of the previous day. Like the daybreak it heralds, the sun when rising is clean and clear and full of promise. I can see why people enjoy watching it come up, and I’d do it more often myself, if during most of the year the sun just didn’t come up so darn early.

So aside from Christmas cookies, I guess you can add “sunrises” to the list of good things that December brings. I’m not quite sure if those two outweigh the cold and lack of time and the fact that I turn a year older, but at least December has one or two things going for it.

Unlike, say, January. But that’s a topic for another month!

(jim@wmqt.com)