Friday, 12/30

It'll be weird hanging out with Loraine, but if the truth be told, I don't think there's anywhere else I would rather be.

For 15 years now, I have not hung out with Loraine on New Year's Eve. Instead, I've spent the evening with 3,000 of my closest drunk friends, broadcasting as the ball drop occurred at the Savings Bank Building right down the street from the station. I did it the first year we moved to Marquette, just because I could, and since people seemed to like it, I kept doing it for the next decade and a half.

But this year? It doesn't look like it's gonna happen.

Why, you ask? Well, I answer, because they moved the ball drop. In case you haven't heard, the people who've been putting it on at the Savings Bank Building for over 20 years decided to pass the torch to the next generation, which is both good news and bad news. It's good because we know that there will be a ball drop for the foreseeable future, something that wasn't always guaranteed. That's bad news, though, because by moving the ball drop from the Savings Bank Building to the Masonic Square in downtown Marquette, broadcasting it becomes problematic. Instead of just stepping outside the front door of the station and babbling, I'd either have to run a VERY long mic cable a block away (and watch as one of my 3,000 close drunk friends unplugs it for no reason) or hope I could get an internet signal among 3,000 other people trying to get an internet signal and broadcast that way.

And since neither option guarantees that I'd actually be on the air when the ball drops, as opposed to just standing outside the front door, we decided to forego it this year.

Once again, that's good news and bad news. It's bad because for the first time in 15 years I won't be doing the ball drop. It's good news because for the first time in 15 years I get to spend New Year's Eve with Loraine. Now, I don't know if SHE considers it good news or bad news, but I know that I'm kinda looking forward to it.

I know that while I'll miss spending the evening with 3,000 of my closest drunk friends, I also won't miss spending the evening with 3,000 of my closest drunk friends. After all, I don't know if you've ever noticed what happens when you put drunk people next to a live microphone, but I have 15 years of experience with it, and trust me...you get really good at hitting a kill switch very quickly.

VERY quickly.

So tomorrow will be a different kind of evening, but I have to admit I am looking forward to it. To the new gang putting the ball drop on, I hope it's a smashing success and I hope it's the first of a long run at the new location. And who knows...maybe, some year, I'll figure out a fool-proof way to broadcast from mid-way down the 100 block of West Washington Street. But this year, I think I'll just enjoy Loraine's company.

8-)

On that note, have yourself a great end of 2016, and I'm keeping my fingers crossed that 2017 is better—or at least different—than the year we're wrapping up.

See you Tuesday to start the year anew!

(jim@wmqt.com)

Thursday, 12/29

Let's just blame this on 2016, too.  And I'm not talking about Debbie Reynolds...because 2016 definitely gets the blame for that.

You may recall yesterday, when I wrote about how “2016” has sucked as a year, even though “2016” is not anything physical and just a human construct to help us mark time. As much as I tried not to blame “2016” for any of the bad stuff that has happened this year, some of it may have seeped through, because the vengeance of “2016” has struck again. Thankfully, though, it hasn't claim a celebrity.

All it claimed was just my back.

Let me explain—a couple of minutes after posting yesterday's blog taking “2016” to task I was working out a little. While doing something I've done for years now—taking two hand weights and lifting them over my head so they were basically touching the back of my neck—I felt a somewhat sharp pain in the middle of my back. Being just smart enough to know that when you feel a pain like that you should stop what you're doing, I stopped what I was doing and felt the muscle between my shoulder blades spasm for a few seconds.

When I stopped, I knew I had somehow pulled it.

My back was sore the rest of the day, and while it's better today it's still twingy, especially when I move a certain way. Hopefully, it's just a weird temporary thing, and I can go on with my life as usual. But like I mentioned before—I've done this exercise, with slight tweaks here and there, once a week for several years. I've never had any problem with doing it before; I've never even felt the slightest twinge or pull when doing it. Yet right after I write something taking this horrid year to task, there goes the muscle in my back.

Hmm....

Now, of course, the rational side of me knows that “2016” had nothing to do with my pulling a muscle in my back. It's not logical, it's not possible, and I'm sure that not why it happened. I'm sure there's a perfectly reasonable explanation as for why something I've done for years all of a sudden did what it did. I'm sure there is. But I can't deny that as soon as I felt the pain, the first thing through my mind—after telling myself to stop what I was doing—was to say, quoting myself, “Really, 2016?”

Well, there have been one or two more words in there, but we try to keep this family-friendly. So we'll skip those for now.

Like I said, I'm sure “2016” had nothing to do with my sore back. There's no logical way it could have. However—and I'm not saying this because I'm superstitious or I believe in any way, shape, or form that an amorphous concept like a “year” has control over out destiny—I think I'll skip my next workout, and wait until (ahem) Sunday to do it again. After all, I wanna make sure my back heals, right? I should give it a day or two off.

And if that day or two just happens to get us into “2017”, then I wouldn't have to worry about “2016” striking again, right?

Right?

(jim@wmqt.com)

Wednesday, 12/28

Well, looks like I was wrong yet again.

You may remember yesterday when I commented on how it seems like Carrie Fisher had been able to beat the Grim Reaper known as 2016.. Little did I know that just four hours after I wrote that sentence she would become the year's latest victim.

Hope I wasn't a jinx, or anything.

I realize that trying to blame a year for something is like trying to blame the sun for shining. A year is not a physical entity. 2016 did not physically reach down and rip everyone from Prince to Carrie Fisher from our hands. 2016 is not to blame for any of this.

But still...2016 has really sucked.

I can't remember for the life of me—and I've been on this planet for a while now—a year which claimed so many beloved celebrity figures, and a year that also took the word “normal” and shook it upside down like it was some kind of hyperactive snow globe. If you had told me last December 28^th what I would be writing about on this December 28^th I would've called you a fool, if not worse. I would've joked that you need to stop drinking, or wonder what was in one of those drinks that you had just sipped. There would've been no way for me to even fathom what has in fact transpired the past 366 days.

Maybe that's it. Maybe the leap year should take the blame.

After George Michael died Sunday, Loraine & I were joking how, with only 6 days left, 2016 couldn't screw us over any more. But we should've known better. Even though “2016” is just an ephemeral concept, and not a physical entity, it seems to have it in for us. I can't explain why, and I certainly hope 2017 doesn't follow in its footsteps.

With any luck, I'll be a little more correct about that than I was writing about Carrie Fisher yesterday morning.

(jim@wmqt.com)

Tuesday, 12/27

Survive the holidaze okay?

I did myself, thank you very much for asking. I was actually able to enjoy a very rare three day weekend, and at one point Monday morning actually realized that I had an hour and a half with absolutely nothing to do. As far as I can tell, that was the first time in over a month where I had an hour and a half with absolutely nothing to do, so for the first 10 or so minutes of that hour and a half, I just sat around, stunned by the fact. Then when I realized the clock was ticking and I’d better enjoy that hour and a half, I got off my butt and did enjoy it.

It was, in fact, one of my favorite gifts of the weekend!

Other than that, I’m guessing my holiday weekend was pretty much like yours. I spent some very enjoyable time with family members, I ate waaaaaaaaay too much, and I was able to take care of all kinds of crap around my apartment that hadn’t been taken care of over the past month. Oh, and I was able to foist the remaining few dozen of the Christmas cookies off on people willing to give them a good home.

All in all, a win-win weekend, except for wondering if 2016 would claim another victim Friday night (thankfully, Carrie Fisher pulled through), only to find the year wouldn't give up that easily (George Michael...really, 2016??)

Now I know for some of you, the weekend’s actually an 11 or 12-day break from reality, but not for all of us. No, some of us have to go back to work today. In fact, some of us actually have work extra this week because of the fact that everyone else is gone for the holidays. But that's okay; they're the ones who stay at work when I'm spending a summer half-day playing at the beach.

And trust me—I'd much rather be stuck working between Christmas and New Year's Day than be stuck at work when it's warm and the sun is out!

Tomorrow...whether or not I continue a 12-year tradition this weekend. I still haven't decided.

(jim@wmqt.com)

Friday, 12/23

I'm not on the air today; in fact, my three and a half day weekend starts at 2. But I did want to wish you all a great holiday weekend. I hope it's filled with love and cheer and cookies...lots and lots of cookies, in fact.

I'll be back both here and on the air with something new Tuesday. Before then, though, if you'd like to read about a Christmas Eve tradition Loraine and I have, just click here. So until then...

(jim@wmqt.com)

Thursday, 12/22

Who would you rather have been--Chubby Checker, or Bobby Helms?

No, I haven’t gone off my rocker, and no, this isn’t just some bizarrely random question. It may be bizarre, but it’s not random. It’s probably not a question you would think of any other time of the year, but it’s certainly not random. And, if it’s okay with you, I’ll explain why.

Both Chubby Checker and Bobby Helms were singers as the 1960s rolled into existence. Now, they were both popular before I was born, but I do have an understanding of what they did and the impact they had in the world of music. For about a year and a half, Chubby Checker was the biggest thing in pop music. He had three number one songs, including one that topped the charts twice (“The Twist”), and was mobbed everywhere he went. If I had to make an analogy, he was kind of like the Lady Gaga of his day, minus the outrageous costumes. For that year and a half, he was a S-U-P-E-R-S-T-A-R under any definition of the word. Bobby Helms, on the other hand, was never really that famous. He had a few semi-popular country songs, made it onto the pop charts once, was never mobbed, and just kind of disappeared quietly. His stardom certainly wasn’t anywhere near the magnitude of Chubby Checker, but you know what?

If I had to choose between having been Chubby Checker or Bobby Helms, I would’ve chosen Bobby Helms.

While Chubby Checker was the biggest thing in music for a year and a half, we don’t think about him much any more. People don’t listen to his music on a regular basis, and people (like me) born after his reign on the top of the charts probably couldn’t tell any of his songs from any other recorded during that span of time. While Chubby Checker was the biggest star in pop music for a year and a half, nowadays he’s, basically, forgotten.

Not so Bobby Helms. While he was never a superstar in the musical world, and while he never had a number one song, the one song of his that DID make the pop charts was a little Christmas ditty called “Jingle Bell Rock”. The song actually charted three years in a row in the sixties, has been featured in everything from TV commercials to the movie “Lethal Weapon”, and is instantly recognizable to anyone born after it was released. Bobby Helms may not have been a huge star in his time, and people may not even know who he is today, but unlike any song by Chubby Checker, we sure do know one of his songs.

And THAT’S why, if I had to choose an answer to that bizarrely random question I asked at the beginning of this blog, I’d choose Bobby Helms. How about you?

(jim@wmqt.com)

Wednesday, 12/21

It’s a miracle, I tell you...a real holiday miracle--

It looks like I have a 3 and a half day weekend coming up this weekend!

I just figured that little fact out, and I have to admit I’m both happy and stunned. Because of the way the calendar (or the stars) line up this year, I have to work until 2 on Friday. There’s the “half” part of the three and a half day weekend. I have Saturday and Sunday off, like a normal person. Then I get Monday off as my “holiday” day. You put it all together, and I have myself that legendary and occasionally mythical three and a half day weekend. Of course, that in no way measures up to the 2-week break my friends who work at NMU get, but then I don’t have one of those legendary and mythical cushy state jobs like they do, right?

8-)

My extended weekend’s actually kind of a nice thing, too. After all, I’ll be doing the usual weekend stuff like shopping & laundry when I get done Friday, and then doing the usual holiday stuff Saturday and Sunday. But then there’s Monday, a day to which no one ever looks forward but all of a sudden looms like an extra gift found under the tree hours after everyone thought they had opened all of their presents.

Hmm...now that I think about it, you know how I always ask Santa for a 25^th hour in the day? Well, maybe this was the best he could do, the gift of an “added’ day in one particular year, a day on which I have no plans, no responsibilities, no...nothing. If that’s the case, I think I owe the jolly fat guy in the red suit quite the thank you card!

Yay!!!

****

Speaking of things about which to yell out “Yay!”, consider this—starting today, a certain thing starts getting better each and every day. Today is the shortest day of the year, a day when get to experience a whole eight hours and 32 minutes of “sun” (or, more likely, gloom that’s not totally dark). But tomorrow, we get an extra minute of “sun” (or gloom), and it does nothing but up go a little bit each and every day from now on, until we hit June 20^th and get to bask in something like 17 hours and 40-some minutes of actually sun (and usually, thankfully, not much gloom). Sure, we’ve not yet reached the coldest time of the year, and sure, we’ve not yet reached the snowiest time of the year (believe it or not), but at least in one very small way, winter’s over, and things are starting to look up.

So like I said before, “Yay!”

(jim@wmqt.com)