I had to do a double-take when I read the headline: “Snow wimps: Seattle is shut down by first real snow of the season.”

OK, maybe they’ve got something there.  After all, it’s fair to self-evaluate one’s self for the sake of improvement.  Snow does cause people to do funny things.  A few years ago, a well-meaning nutjob Seattle mayor decided not to put salt on the roads because he said  it could go into our drain system and find its way into the Puget Sound.  A body of salt water, I might add.

But this headline was yanked right out of the Los Angeles Times!  The place where it never snows was criticizing how we reacted to the largest snowstorm we’ve seen here in 30 years. Yep, someone sitting around in their bathrobe in a town where 60-degrees triggers a frost warning was calling us a town full of “snow wimps”.

Maybe Anchorage has the right to do that.  Or a Siberian writer.  But what’s with Los Angeles judging us on how we deal with snow.  Now, I spent the first 18 years of my life growing up in Torrance and outside of a couple of hard frosts, we never had anything close to snow.  I remember as a young kid, we would drive up to Santa’s Village near Big Bear Lake to see some real snow.  For a time in the 60s, we had that classic Mr. & Mrs. Snowman scene in the family front yard at Christmas, complete with white fiberglass snow. After a couple of years, it became dirty and looked more like an aquarium filter than it did snow.

Now, a writer entrenched in the warm ocean-side region of  Southern California has deemed us wimps.  Because we get into accidents?  Wimps don’t get into accidents, they stay at home.  And, while you may call them wimps, it could be out of wisdom that they stay at home.  The accident statistics you stated were examples of those who didn’t know better or thought they were better at snow driving than they really were.  But they weren’t wimps.

I’ve done my fair share of proving myself over the years.  My guess is the only chains this writer has ever installed were 14-karat and went around his neck.  I’ve driven with and without chains, gone through years of changing tires over to put on the studded ones.  Even though I grew up in California, I’ve easily been through a couple of dozen snow episodes up here.  Being on the radio a bunch of years, I HAD to get in…wimping out simply was not an option.  I don’t see how going out into the snow, having an inexperienced driver plow into me and spending the next several weeks working with a body shop to repair my car makes me less wimpy.

I can’t decide if it’s arrogance or ignorance or a combination of both (ignoarrogance) that inspired this writer to pick on Seattle.  One fact that may have eluded him/her is that our weather forecasts are about as accurate as our country’s economic forecasts.  The local weather folks have a sketchy record at best and even with all the latest technology, they still didn’t nail this one.  As I write this piece, it’s snowing.  Something that wasn’t supposed to be happening today. We went from “maybe some snow” to “up to 14 inches” to “well, maybe 6-inches” to a Winter Storm warning and back to snow.  Today was supposed to be Thawsday, the day we returned to a steady Seattle diet of rain, with occasional showers and drizzle thrown in for variety.  Just turned around again. It’s still snowing.

I’ve heard people from the midwest start to criticize Seattle drivers and how we handle the snow. But after reminding them that they live on a mostly level playing surface and we have hills, mountains and other sharp inclines, they’ll say, “Oh, yeah.”  We’ve got speedbumps that have a higher elevation than Beverly Hills.

Wimps.  Someone in LA criticizing how we deal with our snow is like someone in Seattle criticizing how you run your pro football team.  Oh, wait….

So thank you for the wonderful observations from the land of Kardashians, drive-by shootings and where kites can actually get stuck in the sky on the really bad smog days.  Since we’re helping each other out, why don’t you tan less, stop outsourcing solutions to your problems, use a lower dosage of Botox and stick to offering sage advice to people closer to home.  From what we hear in the news on a daily basis, there are a lot of people who need your help.  For instance, do what you can to stop the animated Napoleon Dynamite show from airing another episode.

We appreciate your thoughts and find it comforting that you’d take the time to point out our inadequacies.  After all, Los Angeles driving is the envy of the nation, if not the free world.

Also, thanks for the reminder of why I got out of there almost 40 years ago.

Tim Hunter

Well, they’re at it again. Forecasters are going out on a limb and projecting that we’re going to get clobbered with snow on Wednesday. Depending on who you listen to, up to 14-inches are on the way to the worst-hit areas. There’s a joke there about a guy promising 14-inches, but I’m steering clear of it. Take your cheap shots here. I remember back when we had that huge storm in the late 80s. I was at work in Bellevue, the kids were at a daycare in Bothell and it started coming down around 1pm. Everyone started to bail, hit the roads at the same time, and no one moved as the snow came down. I remember getting close to the kids’ daycare provider and getting stuck, so I had to walk the remaining part of the way at 6pm at night. Yep, almost four hours of panicking and worrying back in the days before cell phones could give you the answers to your worrisome questions. I saw some pretty nasty and cold days back when I played radio in Yakima. It was where I first met black ice, which up until that time, I thought was a malt liquor. I was heading home after a dance in the East Valley area and state troopers had us going 5mph hour on a stretch of road, for good reason. There were many cars in the ditch and the slightest amount of speed and you started drifting sideways. I heard all the warnings this morning—have food in your car, water, essentials, warm clothes….everything you’d need should you get stuck. Something that wasn’t brought up—gas! Keep your car topped off in the event your only source of heat is an idling car. It happens. So, good luck to all as we approach what could be a historical weather event…or the latest in a long series of disappointing weather warnings that have become a northwest tradition.

Tim Hunter

I’m pretty sure it happened last year and it’s happened again.

However, I think last year, they had just my name….like “Mr. & Mrs. Tim Hunter”.  This year, the Christmas Card arrived on January 6th, addressed to “Michelle & Tim Hunter”.  Of course, my first question:  who the heck is Michelle?

But, with my name and correct address, I opened it…and it was one of those photo cards–an 8-shot medley with mostly shots of cute kids, along with a pool shot of the mom and dad.  It said, “Merry Christmas.  Love, The Pages…..steve, erika, garret, landon”.  The return address on the outside of the envelope was from Steve & Erika Page in Wisconsin.

I have no friggin idea who they are.

I thought about posting this on Facebook, but I was afraid I actually do know them and forgot, in which case I’d feel bad.  I’m going to ask around with the relatives, but I don’t recall anyone on either side of the family with relatives in that town.

We’ve received a Christmas card from some complete strangers that we have know idea who they are.

And it’s happened two years in a row.

Victoria had the idea that maybe there’s a Michelle & Tim Hunter in Seattle and we’ve been getting their Christmas cards.  Checked on line, but still no answer.

So to the Pages of Wisconsin, thank you so much for the card.  My, how the kids have grown since last year.  I can hardly wait until next year’s card….unless I figure out who you are and how this whole thing happened.

Oh and Merry Christmas.

Tim Hunter

Don’t have one of those fancy Smartphones, so I’ll pretty much be detached for the rest of the evening.  Funny how, these days, just having a cell phone and the ability to text still means you’re not fully connected to the world.  The plans are simple: go to dinnner at Claim Jumper with some friends, walk over to the theater for “War Horse”, sneak into a bar before midnight for a toast and the new year….and then head home.

As the clock strikes midnight, I’ll probably head where I always do–appreciative of everything I have, but most of all, my family and friends.  We are all a blip on this planet.  We’re here briefly and then we’re gone.  People 200 years ago thought the most important events of the world were happening around their lives.  Same for those 300 years ago….400 years ago, etc.  This is our world, this is our reality, this is our time to make a mark, to enjoy all that we have and to make it count.  That’s it, pure and simple.

Happy New Year to you and yours and even the ones you’ve rented.

 

Tim Hunter

I was talking to a friend the other day and he passed along this gem.

His wife stumbled across something while shopping.  She gets the groceries at Safeway, which rewards you with discounts on gas, depending on how much you spend.  Spend enough at the store and you could end up with a free tank of gas.

She also shops at Target.  Safeway sells Target gift cards.  Doesn’t cost any extra.  You buy $50 worth of Target gift cards at Safeway, you still have $50 to spend at Target….but Safeway gives you credit towards your free gas.

I’m sure in time, they’ll figure out a way around this, but for now…what a great idea!

Tim Hunter

It’s been a rough couple of years around here.  The Mariners lost 101 games this past season.  The Sonics moved to Oklahoma City, where they have a 1-13 record and have already fired their coach.  The Seahawks were out of the playoffs the second week of the season and their hot-’n-cold quarterback Matt Hasselback, returning from an unplanned vacation due to an injury, has dashed the hopes of a comeback the last two weeks with a final play interception.

As for my Huskies, I can only assume their football team is directly connected to the American economy.  If anyone needs a bailout, it’s the Dawgs.  0-11, with an overtime loss to those Washington State Cougars in the Crapple cup and, after a bye week, one more scheduled loss to the Cal Bears.  Where the Huskies beat the economy, I’ve always heard in regards to the stock market “the bottom is zero” and they’ve already reached that.  From here, there’s no where to go but up.

The good news is that every Thanksgiving, I usually eat too much. This year, they’ve scheduled the Seahawks to play the Dallas Cowboys right before dinner.  If that doesn’t curb my appetite, nothing will.

I wonder how the Seattle Lawn Bowling team is doing?

Tim Hunter

It’s the day we’re supposed to give thanks.  I try be aware of everything I’m grateful for on a daily basis, but having this one day a year is actually a good reminder of the other things.  Think about it:  we’ve got the basics–health, job, loved ones, etc.  Everything else is just gravy.  Mmmmmmm, gravy.  If just for a moment while being distracted reading this blog, realize how much you DO have and how little you really need.

I’d say 99% of the folks I know are very fortunate.  Watching the news every night to see what’s wrong with the country I think is part of the problem.

One time while fishing up in Alaska, I asked the house cook if I could flip on the TV to catch CNN and see what was going on in the world.  She told me to go ahead, but said she could care less.  I asked, “Don’t you want to know what the rest of the world is up to?” and she replied, “My world is here.”

As is true with so many things in life, the truth is always somewhere in the middle.  We need to be aware of the rest of the world, but should not obsess about it.  My world really is right here.

And for that, I am very, very thankful.

Tim Hunter

It was one year ago last Saturday that I lost one of my best friends, Larry Nelson.

Lar was one of those guys that everybody claimed as a best friend.  Two of his closest, long-time true friends were there–Tom Treece and his wife Linda, and “65th Street’s Slickest Shutter Snapper” as Larry called him, Bruce Johnson from Rowland Studios. I was there with my beautiful wife, Victoria, along with a guy who was blessed to be Larry’s “news guy” for a lot of years, Stan Orchard and his wife and life-partner, Joyce.

Bruce went above and beyond with the food….gourmet this, phenomenal that, ranging from lamb to salmon to an amazing rice dish, a Caesar salad that was to die for…and all of those cullinary treats surrounded with stories of old….most that started with “When Larry & I did this….or “Remember the time Larry….” etc.

Larry wasn’t perfect or a saint.  Ask any of his ex-wives (I know he’d laugh if he heard that one).

But he was genuine. A character.  An original, when today, so many people become copies of someone else.  I know that everyone there felt a special bond because of him and that all of our lives were deeply enriched because our paths had crossed the one taken by Larry B. Nelson. (Which is the name of the website we set up:  www.larrybnelson.com)

Next year, we plan something more to coincide with his birthday, October 16th (yep, the same as my nephew Matthew, which is why both always got their cards–for the most part–on time)  Larry was just one of those guys you’ll always remember and while we’re honor his life once a year, the guy is still with us every day.  He’s still with us.

And none of us would have it any other way.

Tim Hunter

Don’t panic!  Wait…THREE weeks from Thursday?  PANIC!

Actually, I’m really excited about this year’s Christmas CD.  This year, I’ll be assembling the 8th annual “Ho Ho Brother” collection, featuring comedy bits, great Christmas songs and who knows what.  Some songs are still being finalized but it looks as though I’ll have at least four originals from family members and friends.

But it’s about enjoying the season, not carving another notch in your holiday belt.  So enjoy.  Remember, Christmas only comes but once a year: every August through December.

Have a merry one…

Tim Hunter

The Detroit Lions just completed a perfect season: 0-16. This made me eternally grateful that the University of Washington Huskies only had a 12-game season this year. Amen.

Tim Hunter

OK, I was spoiled. Went up New Year’s Eve to Victoria’s family cabin and it snowed every day for three days. At one point, the cabin was surrounded by deer and Friday morning, when I had to get up and go to an internet hot spot to write show prep, I looked up when I was done and there was the park’s white deer.
I believe the ancient native Americans believed that it was a sign of a good year to come…or that I should bleach my hair blonde. I’ll have to look that one up.
Stay in touch in the new year….2009 is going to surprise you…in a good way.

Tim Hunter

What a great day for the country. I think we’re in for good times. But I have only one question: where’s my tax rebate?

And one more thing.  Did you see Dick Cheney in the wheelchair?   I guess he pulled some back muscles trying to lift the price of oil one more time.  What really ticked him off were people walking up to him and saying, “Happy Inauguration Day, Mr. Potter!”

Tim Hunter

So, I’m trying to find a parking place at Costco on Saturday. It’s crowded (duh! When did Saturday seem like a good idea, Einstein?) and as I drive up the aisle, there’s handicapped spot after handicapped spot….I keep going until I hit the regular section and just before the end of the aisle, there’s a spot…but before I can pull in, a small pickup whips into it.
The ticker? Hanging from the rear-view mirror of the truck: a handicapped parking permit.
My question? Should I have had him towed?

Tim Hunter

PS Don’t think I didn’t seriously think about it. Or leave him some irate note from a non-handicapped parking person.

I gotta confess. Doing company party videos is one of the most fun things I do.
Comedy, unfiltered….what I know I can do. This year, add in co-worker Scott Burns and some great suggestions from Rich the Editor and man, it cooked. Every company should have one of these at their annual party.

Tim Hunter

Strange but I just heard from a childhood friend that his mom had passed away a few days ago. He included a bio of his mom and all these years later, I just learned that her first name was Sybil. I had no idea. All I had ever known her as was Mrs. Oling.
I saw her every time I went over to the friend’s house during those high school days. She was always such a grand lady…but she was Guy’s mom….not someone with a first name, but Mrs. Oling. At least, back in those days when the earth was still cooling, you would NEVER call someone’s mom by their first name.
Just a different time, so long ago. Fun to go back and visit, but I wouldn’t want to live there.

Tim Hunter

So, a minor controversy has broken out at work. Someone said if it’s a CD, it’s not an “album”…”those are records”. No, an album is a collection of songs…”…from the album, Schmelba, that’s….” etc.
A CD is still an album full of songs, right?

Correct me if I’m wrong.

Tim Hunter

So, actress Lori Petty celebrates a birthday this week and I was reminded of Ray Ramsey.
For those of you new to the area, Ray Ramsey was the channel 4 weather guy before Steve Pool. Ray was right out of the 50s, with a quick wit. When you got him going, he was like a “Hee Haw” version of Robin Williams. The lines would fly fast and furious and it was your job to keep up. Not everyone was fond of that, but some of his morning radio visits with Larry Nelson on KOMO radio were instant classics.
Like so many TV personalities, Ray got his start on radio. Over in Spokane, he had the nickname “Hay-head Ray” because of that mop of his. While doing weather in the 70s and early 80s, Ray always wore sports coats that looked like he was about to sell you a ’59 Ford Fairlaine.
I was fortunate enough during my days at KOMO and a couple of times hence to hang with Mr. Ramsey, although its been a bunch of years by now. The last I heard of him, he was over in Idaho or Montana somewhere that was near a horse racing track, because Ray did love to feed the ponies.
Ray always had a handful of great sayings at his disposal. So, when I read that it was Lori Petty’s birthday, I was reminded of one of them:
“Remember, don’t sweat the petty things. Just pet the sweaty things.”
Quintessential Ramsey. You gotta love it. Thanks for the reminder, Lori.

Tim Hunter

For some reason, everybody wants to do something with us on the same few dates. I’m passing up going to the Soundies tonight (where I’ve got a spot nominated) to go to a Norwegian Dinner that friends bought at an auction. This weekend, I was supposed to go fishing with my Father-in-Law on opening day (saturday) but committed to a film marathon which runs Friday to Saturday and I’m hosting an auction at Our Redeemers Lutheran Church on Saturday night! Don’t even get me going on May 2nd. FIVE different social events are tugging away at us.
Too much to do, not enough time to do it. I guess that’s a good problem to have, huh?
OK, gotta go…to do something, I’m sure.

Tim Hunter

So, the Mega-millions is up to $155-million. At least six of those dollars are mine from the first two rounds I bought into.
I don’t know about you, but I consider every vacation nothing more than training for that day that I win. Funny, but just today I heard Dori Monson on KIRO saying that the lottery was a “tax on the stupid”. I don’t know what he means. Does that make me stupid? Better go out and buy more lottery tickets.
I just think of that old joke where the guy is on the roof of his house during a flood, when a guy in a rescue boat comes by and offers to take him to safety. The guy on the roof yells out, “No thanks, God will take care of me!” Next, a helicopter comes by with the same offer, again the guy said, “Nope! God will save me!” A guy on a wave runner….same response.
Eventually, the guy drowns. He goes to heaven and his first question to God is, “Why didn’t you save me?”
God says, “Are you kidding? I sent a boat, a helicopter, a wave runner….”
My lottery boat is safely moored in my wallet. Good luck to all.
If it’s meant to be, I’m ready.

Tim Hunter

Here we go!
Tonight, buddy Brian MacMillan shows up at our house with girlfriend Ashley and the three of us are going to take part in a “Film Face”.
We’ll get some specifics that need to be in our film and then we have 24 hours to write, shoot, edit and produce a 3-minute movie.
I’ve never done anything like this before, so hang on. I’m sure I’ll have some things to say about this come Monday.
May the farce be with us.

Tim Hunter

Around Seattle, the Olympic Manor neighborhood has gained quite the reputation for having a good number of homes decked out for Christmas. They even have a fancy Santa Claus decoration they put out at the entrance of their development.
The other night, we were guests at someone’s home and, while leaving downstairs through the garage, I noticed something red and white out of the corner of my eye. It was them! The entry-way Santas, hibernating until the next holiday season. Apparently, this long-time resident of the neighborhood had offered up her garage for storage.
I didn’t ask any questions. I just snapped a picture and left with a privileged feeling that I know where they live in the off-season.
If there’s ever a Seattle version of ‘Jeopardy’, I’m ready.

Tim Hunter

It's THEM!

This morning, I was treated to “Lutheran Surprise”.
After last night’s church auction, a few flakey pastries were left over. What appeared to be mini-cinnamon buns were calling me. Just sitting there, covered in a sugary glaze. So, I grabbed a couple, some coffee and sat down to savor my discovery.
But after biting into, it had a chewy center. Not necessarily sweet…and it made for an interesting combination of tastes. It turns out it was an accidental combination.
See, last night, someone had brought these puff pastries with beef in the middle. Today, someone mistook them for a sweet treat and decided to enhance them with the glaze.
You could hear warnings from people being offered at other tables. I preferred to watch those who would grab one and watch their face as they put it all together.
Surprise!

Tim Hunter

Ask any stand up comic and repeating jokes isn’t being lazy, it’s using material that you know will get a laugh.
Back in my morning show days, when we rode in area parades, I found that every 90 seconds or so, I could yell out, “I’m not running for anything” and the crowd always loved it.
Last night, I was the auctioneer at the Our Redeemer’s Lutheran Church auction. I may have used this line last year, but it got laughs again this year. I opened by introducing myself with “If you go to the 9am service and don’t recognize me, that’s because I go to the 10:30 service. If you go to the 10:30 service and don’t recognize me, that’s because I go to the 9am service.”
No doubt I’ll be telling that one again next year….

Tim Hunter

Friends Brian MacMillan and his girlfriend Ashley spent the weekend with Victoria and I. It was fun, but WAY busy.
We were one of the teams in the Seattle Film Race 2009. At 10pm Friday night, we were given the theme of the movie (Superstitious) and an action (swallowing a pill) and had exactly 24 hours to write, film, produce and edit together a movie that was no longer than 3-minutes, 30-seconds. We stayed up until 1am working on the story idea, got up at 7, were filming by 8:30, done by 2:30 and then Brian was off to the races on editing.
I had to host the Our Redeemers’ auction that night, so V-woman and I took off…while Brian and Ashley stayed at home and edited.
What a fantastic job Brian did! The end result is a pretty tight 3-1/2 minute movie that moves, has humor, etc.
The real drama was when we got caught in a traffic jam on the way to drop it off and made it with 7 minutes to spare.
It’ll make it’s world debut at the Harvard Exit theater in Seattle this Thursday night. Details here

Wish us luck!

Tim Hunter

OK, there IS a benefit to being old.
You see, if you’ve cracked through the 50-mark, you’ll pretty much remember the last time we did this swine flu thing. President Gerald Ford encouraged everyone to get a Swine Flu shot in the 70s and the final score:
Flu shots 70, Swine flu, 1. That’s right, more people died from the shots than the flu itself.
It’s not that I’m dismissing the seriousness of this outbreak, but panic is NOT what the doctor ordered. Being smart, washing your hands, eating healthy–the stuff we should be doing anyway–is the best thing we can do for ourselves right now until we know more and see what this does.
That and not kissing a pig in Mexico City.

Tim Hunter

You tell me

Tim Hunter

OK, this is NOT a restaurant review page and I don’t even remotely pretend to be an expert, but DANG! I just experienced the BEST tostadas I have ever consumed  at Cocina Esperanza in Ballard. Look, I was raised in Southern California, so Mexican food is nothing new…and there are lots of fine places around Seattle…but their Chorizo Toastadas had the perfect among of zing without being just plain hot. It was love at first bite.  You can tell this restaurant is a project of passion.  I can’t tell you how many times I’ve driven past it and my wife, Victoria, commenting on how good it was.
Here’s their website
But you won’t get the full experience until you go there. Moderately priced, nice selection of Mexican beers and amazing food. I don’t think you can ask for much more.
I’ll be back.

Tim Hunter

OK, the night was not shaping up nicely.
After planning to get out of work early, I got caught up in a meeting and faced a prime-time, rush-hour commute from Mountlake Terrace to Tacoma, with a quick stop at home to pick up Victoria and grab something to eat.
My blood pressure was pretty much out the roof from 4pm until 7:20 when we finally sat down in our Tacoma Dome seats. The concert was supposed to start at 7pm, but I’m pretty sure when they saw our seats empty, they’d better wait.
So with only minutes to go before the music started, the woman behind me decided to dump her beer down my back. Perfect! So it’s going to be THAT kind of night!
But this second show in the Idols’ summer tour started strong and kept getting stronger. In a nutshell, if you were a fan of a certain Top Ten singer, you got what you came for.
Singers 10,9,8,7,6 and 5 all came out and did three songs each, then a group effort before the intermission. Again, all did well. Songs that stick in my mind include Anoop’s “My Perogative” and some tasty piano playing and singing from Scott and Matt.
But the second half brought out the big guns. Allison got it underway with a rockin’ set, Danny wowed the crowd with the strongest complete set of the night (including two Rascal Flats tunes, a nice rap with the crowd and the only Michael Jackson song performed in the evening, one he did on the show, “PYT”), Adam made a HUGE entrance and wowed the crowd with “Whole Lotta Love”, some Bowie songs and of course, “Mad World” and Kris Allen, THE American Idol, stuck more to acoustic guitar and giving the band most of his set off.
As for the Tim Award winners:
Probably Wouldn’t Have Noticed if he wasn’t there: Michael
Artist who confirmed I’m not a fan: Megan
Artist who talked me into buying their album when it comes out: Matt
Artist who shined better in person than they did on the show: Lil
Singer who has the talent, now just needs the album: Scott
Best duet of the evening: Adam and Allison doing “Slow Ride”
Singer on the way to being a star: Adam (just ask the crowd)
By the end of the night, my shirt was dry, the music had been great and the real only drawback was the fact I forgot my Anoop sign in the car.
Great job, Idols! Only 48 cities to go!

Victoria and I doing Idol

Tim Hunter

Thanks to Bothell Reporter Journalism God Andy Nystrom for this nice collection of photos from the city’s 4th of July parade, including one of yours truly.
Enjoy!

http://www.flickr.com/photos/39988388@N05/sets/72157620928117075/show/

Tim Hunter

Enjoy!

Tim Hunter

My wife Victoria and I, along with Scott and April Burns, were invited to attend a “Client Thank You” party last night for 425 Magazine.
It was a catered event, complete with live jazz, mouth-watering appetizers from SeaStar and addictive wines from Kiona (I recommend the Lemberger).
But the star of their show was the 425 Magazine “Idea Home”. Think 1961 2-story home, remodeled with an unlimited budget. From the French faucets in the bathroom that doubled as shelves, to the sauna downstairs, to the water-feature area in the back that was a compilation of ponds and a hot tub (complete with it’s own cave), this was a Disneyland of homes, tucked away in the north Bothell area.
The home will be featured in the next edition of 425 Magazine, which is boasting it’s largest issue ever. Great mag, put out by some passionate people.
The only downside of the evening was being caught filling up Tupperware containers with appetizers. Fortunately, they didn’t notice the boda bags full of wine.

Here’s an article if you’d like to read more.

Tim Hunter

Well, we knew it wouldn’t last.
The Seattle summer of 2009 has been one of the best in a long time. More sun that I can remember, which seems like it translated into more activities and social obligations than most summers.
So, this morning we awoke to a gray day, with freshly watered-down sidewalks and streets and that fall smell in the air. While driving into work, I couldn’t help but notice how much cooler the air felt. If this keeps up, I’ll be digging out the sweaters and….
Oh…wait. I still had the air conditioning on from earlier in the week.
My bad.

Happy fall!

Tim Hunter

A detached retina. Yep, things got blurry on Friday and within five hours, I was diagnosed with a detached retina and scheduled for surgery the following day.
Needless to say, life has been turned upside down. I’m probably not even supposed to be writing this, but I’m usually so connected. Now I’m confined to a massage chair and supposed to keep my face down as much as passible 24 hours a day, so that a gas bubble can press up against my retina, keeping it in place so I can heal. For a week.
So, that’s the update. That’s why I’md not writing back to your e-mails as quickly and why the Twitters are few and far between. I’ll be back, but for the next week, I’m healing. I’ll hurry as best I can.

Thanks for trackinng me down….

Tim Hunter

So, slowly but surely, my left eye is healing. I’m still doing eyedrops four times a day. At times, the band they left around the eyeball irritates enough that I have to take some Tylenol (use only as directed) and the gas bubble they put inside the eyeball to help press against the retina is slowly dissipating. Right now, I’m down to just a little bit of gas left and if you ask my wife, any time I’m down to just a little bit of gas, it’s a good day.
I actually have a bubble floating around in the left eye now, which I keep covered with a patch in public, The surface of the eyelid is still a bit bruised, but the eye itself is still very red. I tell people it looks as though I lost my soul. Anyway, for that reason, I’ve worn the eye patch….which has resulted in a flood of non-stop pirate jokes around the office. Being a comedian at heart, I get pouncing on a subject that’s just too easy to pass up. That helps me tolerate the lamest of pirate references that I’m hearing for the 43rd time. It makes sense. They see the patch and say what first comes to mind. From the other side, this whole thing really has been a tons of laughs and frankly, I’m concerned where the vision in the left eye is going to end up. It’s only been two weeks since the surgery, but I was hoping for more than just bright blurs when all is said and done.
I know, patience.
I’ll keep you posted on developments right here. No need to drag everyone though it on WackyWeek or the other pages.
And, if you have questions, ask. I’d love to help you avoid this kind of thing.
Especially the jokes.

Tim Hunter

I’m going to start this by saying that I wish I had the energy to ride my bike all over town. To cyclists everywhere in this hilly Puget Sound area, kudos.
But while all of the bike people I know personally are awesome folks, there is an arrogant breed of peddler that gives cycling a bad name. You know the ones–they expect YOU to do everything and they peddle as if they’re the entitled ones. It’s YOUR job to watch out for them, not the other way around.
OK, let’s go with what we agree on: it IS a public road and we both paid taxes to build it. So, we both have the right to use the roads. However, the roads come with rules and just because you’re on a bike, if you run a red light or cut in front of a driver expecting them to stop, there are laws that apply.
Bicyclists are always saying they should be treated just like cars. Over the someone, I heard someone make a very good point. If that’s true, then we should be equal in all ways. As in licenses and mandatory insurance. Otherwise, bicyclists are using the road as a privileged group.
It just makes sense to me that if you want me to treat you as an equal, then by gosh, let’s make it equal.

There's room on the road for both of us (as long as there's no on-coming traffic)

My two cents.

Tim Hunter

 

Heading into 2011 means we’re done with the first decade of this century.  I don’t know when they start and stop count, but I’m thinking it’s 01-10, right?  By far, one of the most challenging decades of my life to be a Husky fan.

The losing always hurts.  On my office wall is a framed poster for the 2008 football schedule.  That was the year for the first time in school history our football team went 0-12.  To show you what a rotten year that was, even the schedule on the poster was wrong.  It only showed 11 games.  The final loss against Cal isn’t even on there.  My plans are, some day, to find a yellow ribbon that says, “Lest we ever forget”.  Those were the darkest Dawg days ever.

A new decade, a new era for Husky fans.  Our men’s basketball team has been getting better and better under Lorenzo Romar.   This year, they’re not only picked to win the Pac-10, but at least local sportswriter sees them going all the way to the Final Four.  I’m not going to count on that, but this week’s sweep of the southern California schools–USC and UCLA–makes it tempting to believe.

So now, add to this week’s hot Pac-10 basketball start, the Husky football team upending 14-point favorite Nebraska down at the Holiday bowl, and you have a resurgence of Husky Fever that we haven’t seen in years.  Today, I couldn’t help but notice purple shirts and UW hats everywhere we went.  At the grocery store, a friend came up to us and couldn’t want to tell us about how she watched the game and how great it was.

I subscribe to MyNorthwest.com’s news updates and they actually sent out a “Breaking News” alert last night when the Dawgs won.  Then this morning, when I got up and immediately checked the Internet to make sure I wasn’t dreaming, Facebook alerted me that it was Coach Don James’  birthday.  I sent the coach a greeting and couldn’t help but think how appropriate it was that the Dawgfather was still around to see the rebirth of the Husky football program and to a time that, some day, we’ll look back on as the time it all began.

Not meant to be boastful.  It’s just exciting to see that for the Husky faithful, we’ve got a great decade ahead.

I bark for Sark!

Tim Hunter

What about the children?

Dear Mr. ESPN,

You, sir, are a moron.

I sat with a group of University of Washington Husky fans on the night of December 30^th, watching the clock click down to the start of our long-awaited game against the University of Nebraska.

Our entire city of Husky fans was abuzz about our first bowl game in almost a decade, after a long resurrection from the depths of a program collapse only few teams have ever experienced.  Just two seasons ago, we went 0-12, a winless season for the first time in school history. Now, we had made it to a post-season bowl game, thanks to the return of our quarterback Jake Locker.  Jake had turned down the chance to go pro and probably a Top 5 NFL draft pick so that he could finish what he started at the UW.  That move most likely cost him millions of dollars, but he put pride in front of payoff and for that, has earned a lifetime of devotion from Husky football fans.

I go into the back story in great deal to help you understand the importance of the Husky Holiday bowl appearance.  We wanted to be there for our team.  We wanted to see Jake take the field for the last time.  We all planned to watch and see if our Dawgs would stand up to the Corn Huskers this time, or if we would just re-live the nightmare that helped start our season when they kicked our butt at Husky stadium in September.

The oddsmakers made Nebraska a 14-point favorite.   The sportswriters said that Nebraska was disappointed they had to settle for the Holiday bowl and would probably take it out on the purple and gold.  Like I said, we’ve endured the last 8 years of dismal football, but a true Husky fan will believe and be there for our team.

That is, if they can see the frickin’ game.

Someone in your master control room made the executive decision that our game was not that important.  It was more important to catch the closing minutes of the North Carolina/Tennessee game, combined with live updates of the UConn/Stanford women’s basketball game.  Anything BUT the game we had all tuned in to see.  We missed most of the first quarter.  We missed seeing the Huskies go up by a touchdown.  We sat there in disbelief as some arrogant, small-brained, idiotic moron of a sports director decided in his infinite wisdom that THIS is what sports fans in Seattle truly wanted.

While they are members of the United States and they have NCAA sanctioned football teams, I frankly just don’t care.  I’ve seen you do split coverage before, but instead, the decision was made to send Husky fans to ESPN3 on their computers or to ESPN-U on their cable channels. I tried the U-option but of course, I’m not being extorted enough by Comcast to warrant getting THAT channel.  So then in desperation, I fired up the laptop and the four of us gathered around it to see a couple of plays before you finally switched over.

I’m a strong believer in karma, so I’m all but certain that somewhere down the line, when you’re lying in a hospital bed trying to watch live video coverage of your daughter’s wedding that someone will switch the video feed to the wedding of Earl and Carleen in Hobs Nutton, Maine.  While you desperately try to find the call button to ring the nurse, you’ll get to watch Earl and Carleen’s big moment, while missing your daughter’s one shot at happiness.

Think.  You should really try that sometime.  You have the technology.  Ask yourself: are you trying to please your viewing audience or just power-tripping because you can decide from your comfy leatherette recliner (that your wife had told you was real leather) what is a more important sporting event.

You advertised when the game was going to start.  It started, we just didn’t get to see it. I’m going to make a point of boycotting anything and everything that was a part of that drawn-out pre-emption.  I’ll start by scrapping the family vacations we had planned for North Carolina and Tennessee this year.

In the future, I’ll make sure I have ESPN3 fired up from the get-go, knowing that I can’t count on some mini-minded, moronic, imbecile making the right call in the switching room.

Sincerely ticked off but feeling a lot better now that I’ve vented,

Tim Hunter

 

Margaret Whiting passed away this week in a New Jersey nursing home at the age of 86.

Frankly, until this morning, I had never heard of her before.  But while going through my morning routine of scouring the Internet for radio show prep, I came across her obit that was titled, “Big Band Singer Dies”.  Reading the story, she was a fairly big deal in her day.  She toured with several bands, including Bob Crosby. She was even in a four women musical review that included herself, Helen O’Connell, Rose Marie (eventually, part of the Dick Van Dyke Show) and Rosemary Clooney.  That’s pretty big time.

OK, that’s interesting to a point.  But the gold had to do with when she was growing up and her dad, Richard Whiting.  He was a songwriter and came to Hollywood back in the 1930s.  He gets credit for writing the iconic “Hooray for Hollywood” song.  That’s impressive.

But one day, Margaret came home after school, all sticky from the sucker she’d been working on.  Her dad had run into a mental block, but when his little girl came up and started giving him sticky kisses, the light went on. The song, “On the Good Ship Lollipop” was born and given to Shirley Temple to sing in her next movie.

Margaret had a remarkable life.  The fact none of us knew about her or were aware of her accomplishments didn’t make it any less remarkable.  I’ve always felt that everyone’s life could be turned into a movie. We’ve all encountered heartache, victories, defeats, adventures…but when spread out over a lifetime, we tend to downplay them.

In time, the people who were aware of Margaret will be gone and she’ll quickly become just another old person in a nursing home whose story came to an end in 2011.  I’m glad I got to meet her before she headed off into obscurity and I thought you would, too.

Tim Hunter

So the story goes that last year, a buddy took his girlfriend to her first-ever Seahawks game at Qwest Field.  A first-timer has so much to see: the tailgate parties, the buzz of the crowd, the sea of blue & green, the excitement of the fans…

And, of course, the continuous back and forth cheers that go on.  When one side of the stadium yells “Sea”….the other side yells back, “Hawks”.  Back and forth it goes, until someone thinks of something better to do.

As my buddy’s girlfriend sat their in the stadium, listening to the passionate, full-volume yelling that bounced back and forth across the stadium, she finally had to ask: “Uh, why are they yelling Hawks Sea?”

I guess it all depends on when you started listening.

Tim Hunter

I had one this morning.

The alarm went off and I quickly reached over to silence it, then forced myself out of bed to begin another day. There I was, once again, coaching myself to keep moving, to get to the coffee pot, to just hang in there for one more day.

I’m tired. I’ve lived a tired life.  However, it’s all by choice.  I’ve long felt we’re given so many breaths on this planet and that’s it.  So, rather than having mine run out and suddenly finding myself with no time left and the feeling of so much more to do, I’ve chose to squeeze as much as I can out of this existence.

And that makes for a tired life.  Going back to 1980 when I started at KOMO radio, I’ve spent most of the past 31 years getting up at either 2:20am or 4am.  The 2:20am wake up was to accommodate the morning show responsibilities, the 4am early rise is to facilitate being a writer for Radio On-Line’s Morning Show Prep, which I do before the main job each day.  Hey, getting up at 4am means a good, solid 5-1/2 hours each night.  That’s a promotion.

Back in the radio days, I would talk myself into moving around and getting this day underway with the lure of an afternoon nap on the other side of all I had to do.  Towards the end of the radio career, it seemed like the naps happened less and less, because it always seemed like something needed to be done.  It’s amazing how much you can accomplish when you only sleep four hours a day.

This morning, I heard the inner coach telling me, “C’mon, you can do it.  Just keep going.  Fire up that coffee and start writing.”  Sometimes, I’ll promise myself a nap between 5:30 and 6 if I can get enough done, before waking up Victoria. However, today, I got the blood flowing and the caffeine level high enough that…..well, here I am, writing about it.

Sure, I yawn probably more than most, the circles under the eyes are a little more pronounced and more than once someone has stopped me and asked if I’m in the TV show, “The Walking Dead”, but like I said, it’s by choice and completely worth it.  I wouldn’t have it any other way.

Now, to decide: it’s almost 5:30.  To keep writing, or sneak in that half hour nap.

Hmmmm……….zzzzzzzzzzzzz…………..

Tim Hunter

 

But, like millions of Americans, I felt like I did.  As a kid, I remember always seeing him on the TV, talking about how much better we’d feel if we did some exercise.  Jack LaLanne (la-LAYNE) was continuously doing stunts into his older years, just to demonstrate the benefits of being in shape. See his bio on Wikipedia to see ‘em all, but one included him swimming and towing 70 life boats for one mile at the age of 70.

I grew up with a front seat to the birth of our current obese American society.  While Jack was on TV talking about fitness, new “fast food” places were opening up like McDonald’s and their 19-cent hamburgers and Der Weinerschnitzels with their 10 hot dogs for $1.  As Americans became more sedentary, President Kennedy warned us about becoming lazy slobs.  He started a President’s Council on Physical Fitness.  Exercise was introduced in schools–jumping jacks, jump rope, etc.

On TV, Jack made it look easy and invited you to come along.  He also lectured against fast foods and talked about making sure your body got the right nutrients.  He hawked something called “Tiger Juice” for a while and was among the first  to promote juicers.  All the while, wearing that trademark body suit, or the occasional tank top to show off his biceps.

He wanted to be taken seriously, but quick to make you laugh. When asked about sex, he had a standard joke, saying that despite their advanced age, he and his wife still made love almost every night: “Almost on Monday, almost on Tuesday, almost on Wednesday…”

He often said, “I can’t die, it would ruin my image.”  Jack, you’d be happy to know that it didn’t happen.  You were one of those people very visible in my life that, sadly, really could have been used by a generation that never knew you.

You made every tick of your 96 years count. Nicely done.

Tim Hunter

Actual co-worker’s cat not shown

I’m new to all this.  Over my lifetime (which by the way, began AFTER the Jurassic period) I’ve had just about every kind of pet imaginable.  Turtles, goldfish, a couple of aquariums, a few parakeets, several dogs…but NEVER one cat.

When I found the love of my life, Victoria, she came with cats: two of them, Gob & Angel.  Gob has the cat thing down.  I’ve learned most of what I know about cats from Gob–don’t move out of the way, you’re in MY world not the other way around, etc.  Angel is the neurotic form of cat, the classic “Fraidy cat” as it were, who has spent most of her life living in terror, hiding under beds, but recently has been becoming more social.

I thought I had heard and seen everything when it comes to cats.  That is, until a co-worker told me her story this morning.  Out of consideration and to preserve our friendship, no names will be used.

Her cat is big.  Too big.  19-pounds of big.  Being that size has caused problems, like having to pee all the time and tending to be even more anxiety-ridden than the normal cat.  Adding to the cat’s frustration is the fact it’s being terrorized by a neighborhood bully cat.  When the co-worker’s cat sits in his cat tree near the front window, this neighborhood bully cat comes over and right in front of it, scratches at the window as if to attack it.  That leaves the overweight cat even MORE stressed out, which means it’s had to go on anti-anxiety medication.

This sounds more like Lindsay Lohan than a pet.  I know there are literally millions of cat owners out there that love their pets, but truth be told: I just don’t get it.

Now, a cat playing a piano on YouTube, well, now THAT’S a different story.

Tim Hunter

 

 

So sad

Those who know me have heard it before: it’s sad to see where radio has gone.

When I first stumbled into the field, I was a college sophomore trying to figure out what to major in, at the University of Washington.  It was expected of you to have figured out a major by the start of your junior year, but I had been taking general classes to meet the basic requirements, but no real idea of what I wanted to do.

At the time, the working plan was marry the high school sweetheart after graduation, go to work for the airlines in ticket reservations or something and live happily ever after. Most of the way through my sophomore year, the high school sweetheart decided this wasn’t for her and plans changed.  Suddenly, I had to get serious and think, “What would I really like to do?”

Bob Carey, who lived down the hall, had gotten involved at the University of Washington radio station, KCMU.  “You can actually do THAT as a college major?”  I asked.   Yep, it was a Communications degree, with an emphasis in Radio and Television.  Why I didn’t get involved with television back then is a long story for another blog.  I looked into radio, decided it was for me and the next 30 years of my life I’ve spent working directly or indirectly with that imaginative medium.

But as our nation’s economy has gone south and technologies evolved, radio became less of a priority.  As numbers shrank, owners panicked and did money-saving things that–you guessed it–eroded the numbers even further.  Soon, programming was at the bottom of the checklist, and profit sailed to the top of the “What effects decisions around here” mentality.

Recently, another group of hard-working, passionate Sandusky employees were handed walking papers over at Smooth Jazz.  It’s now a convoluted format that’s targeted at a demo that is barely interested in radio.  Good luck on that.

There are those quick to say, “sour grapes” for my criticism of radio.  But at a time when people need more communication, more interaction, more use of their imaginations, sterile, targeting-stereotypes-instead-of-people programming fills the airwaves.  I know at least a dozen of extremely talented communicators out of the profession because there is no room in the inn.  Now, add Dianna Rose to the list.  The Smooth Jazz evening host worked the other side of the building when I was there, but we still got to see each other occasionally in the halls and have stayed in touch since.  She wrote a great farewell letter to the Sandusky troops this week and I thought I’d share some of it here:

Dearest Sandusky Staff,

My last day in the office will be this Friday, January 28th.

What an amazing 12 years it has been!  I remember as if it were yesterday…November 1998 while attending the NAB…that I found myself interviewing for the position of Music Director/On-Air with Carol in the old Belltown studios.  I remember meeting Casey, and Marti and Matt hangin’ out at the front desk.  Two months later I was driving up from Los Angeles and making Seattle my new home.

When I started at Sandusky: Murdock-Hunter-&-Alice and Dave Wingert were on KLSY while Barry McKay ran the ship along with MD Bob Brooks (who hadn’t moved to KIXI yet); Frank Shiers was on-air at KLSY and KWJZ, AM 1150 was KSRB, Tom McGinty was heading Warm, Diana’s daughter Jamie was 3½ years old(!), Scott Paine was Director of Marketing, John Nixon had only been here nine years….and Bennie wasn’t even here yet! (I KNOW!)

I have fond memories of all the crazy-fun Halloween and holiday parties…the amazing potlucks – Marc will have to find another vegan to tease! Plus weddings, a memorial (Alice), many baby showers (including my own!!)…long chats with Helen D., Sue G. and Diana C… the invasion of razor scooter…Diana’s ‘Lobby Chat‘ staff newsletter (I kept some…they’re at the front desk)…and celebrating a LOT of great ratings books from KWJZ (yes, we used to kick some serious butt in this market!!!)

Some professional highlights – Vacation-A-Day broadcasts from Maui, Jamaica and Barbados, meeting/presenting Marcel Marceau, hosting a Mexican Riviera cruise for our listeners. Plus, 12 jazz festivals, the Aquarium concerts, too-many-to-count shows at Jazz Alley, R&R and Gavin conventions (some of you old-timers can explain to the youngins’ what R&R and Gavin are), PAWS Walks, the Argosy themed cruises.

Half of my nearly 25 year radio career has been with KWJZ.  While in Los Angeles, a two-year run was typical for me before a format flip, so 12 years is something to be proud of.  I am especially proud to have worked with Carol Handley, talented jocks, great sales and promotions staff, and such incredible musicians.  And also to have met 1000’s of devoted listeners.

Nathan & I will miss the Sandusky family.

Best of success to you all.

Dianna Rose

Not much more to say except “a very classy exit”.  Wrong format, I know, but very well done Dianna.

Better order these while you still can.

Tim Hunter

How do I know where to post what?

I was going through those unconscious rules in my head when I received an awesome email from a friend.  Denny Mengle passed along this brilliant barb, but I had to weigh out where to place it.

Facebook?  Naw, not everyone amongst my friends would find it funny (Oh, HI MOM!)

Twitter?  I sneak a lot of edgy lines there when no one’s looking and this would be perfect, but it’s too long.

Radio-Online?  I write several daily bits and features for that radio show prep service, so morning guys can slug their snooze bar two more times…but this one was funnier if you SAW it.  It’s the reasons mimes don’t work on radio.

So, it’s off to the blog!  Unlimited space, wide-open topics, whatever my keyboard desires. That is why, without any further explanation that I present to you a little piece of writing that is perfect for my blog:

THE FINE ART OF CAPITALIZATION

I have noticed that many people who email me have forgotten the fine art of capitalization.  I assume this is due to too much texting in their lives.

Capitalization is the difference between helping your Uncle Jack off a horse and helping your uncle jack off a horse.

Well put.

Tim Hunter

I’m not ashamed of my age.  This year, I’ll be 56 and yes, I can still remember when that sounded old.  I’d think, “Boy, that’ll be right before I retire, everything will be set and I’ll just have to make it to 65.”

For starters, retirement?  Puh-LEASE!

And frankly, I don’t want to ever retire. I’ve been blessed to spend most of my life doing what I enjoy doing and calling it “work”.  Now, between writing, the advertising gig, the comedy writing and more, I’m one happy guy.

So, I’ve managed to convince myself–and it’s much easier when you’re in the neighborhood–that 56 just isn’t that old.  I’m in the prime of life!  I’m just like you, I’ve just been doing it longer.

Today, my wife and I walked into a grocery store and a 20-something stood behind a table offering samples of potato chips. There was cheddar and regular and barbecue and after tasting the barbecue chips, I thought “Man, these are nice and light. Not too oily.”  She added that the bags were resealable, which, of course, would help keep them fresh.  I was most of the way of putting one of the bags into our grocery cart.  That is, until she uttered those fateful words….. “Which is great if you have grandkids.”

Oh, so I don’t just look like a grand-dad, but you think I’ve done it several times over?

“Thanks for the sample,” I said.  Oh, sure, I could have said, “Good thing they’re on sale since you’re only 20 and don’t have a meaningful career so far and probably can’t afford anything but food that’s on sale.”  Or, even the classic, “Maybe when you go home to your mommy & daddy, before you go upstairs to your room that they hope you’ll leave some day, you can drop off a bag for them.”

Advice: before you presume something about someone’s lifestyle to make a sale, make sure it’s something they don’t mind hearing.

That one cost you, honey.  No allowance for you this week.

Tim Hunter

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Going through tax receipts for the past year, I noticed a receive from my visit to Bellevue Urology.  The actual name of the clinic is Bellevue Urology Associates….but since there was limited room at the top of the receipt, it said–yeah, you’re WAY ahead of me here–Bellevue Urology Ass.

Tim Hunter

When Jay Leno and “The Tonight Show” dropped some comedy writing friends and I last June after 10 years, I started searching for more freelance comedy writing possibilities. (we were told it was because we were non-union) Then one day, I stumbled across an ad in Craigslist.  No, not THAT kind of ad.  This basically said, “Comedy writer wanted”.

It turned out to be a search for a comedy partner from a ventriloquist named Mark Merchant.  The guy is making a nice living appearing in places all over the world with his cast of characters.  You can even get a little sample of him here on YouTube.

Bottom line is, we connected.  He lets me know a week or so before his next gig, gives me the scenario (cruise ship, convention, etc) and turns me loose.  I aim a bunch of jokes his way and he works in what he can use.  The coolest part is that he’ll follow up each performance with a review of each joke he uses. (“this one killed” or “the response on this one wasn’t great, but I loved it”)

In the time we’ve worked together, he’s appeared on several Crystal Cruise gigs, a national transgender convention, an 80th birthday party for the dad of the CEO of a company, to the latest adventure this Friday night–when he’ll be the main performer on a Celebrity cruise: a nudist cruise.

I’ve sent off the first batch of jokes–I’m pretty sure more will come to mind–but they included:

• You know, this is so weird. My speech teacher back in high school use to tell us, “If you’re feeling nervous, just imagine the entire audience is naked.”  Now you are and I’m STILL nervous.
• I was talking to one couple earlier tonight and frankly, they weren’t having a very good time.  She was nervous about their first nude cruise together…and it took her 3 hours to get ready for dinner.  I said, “3 hours?  Why?”  He said, “She couldn’t decide what NOT to wear!”
• You know what the one this is that you don’t have on a nudist cruise?  Pickpockets!
• Do I really want to know where you keep your room key?
• On this cruise, I’m not really seeing the world, but I’m pretty much seeing everything else.
• I find the idea of a nude cruise fascinating.  I’m looking at an entire cruise ship, full of people excited about exploring new ports.
• Oh, to have the sunscreen concessions on THIS cruise….
• Buck naked?  I’ve seen you.  More like fifty-cents naked
• As I look around at this audience, I’m reminded of Egypt..You mean because of all the freedom….No, I was thinking of their former leader, My Bare Rack!

And so on.  Remember, I’m actually writing for several characters, it’s just that one guy does all the work.

Anyway, just a little peek into one of my little corners of the world.  I was just thinking.  You know, on most cruises they have a Formal Night.  How does that work on a nude cruise?

Tim Hunter

I remember a year or so ago, when a friend of mine in his 70s told me how he had to undergo a cystoscopy.
I said, “A what??”
When he explained what happened during such a procedure, I could feel all the blood rush out of my face. ” They what?  They put a cable with a camera attached up where?”  In wasting no time at all, I began to dread having to go through something when I reached my 70s and 80s.

If nothing else, the 50s have been like a boot camp for getting old.  The day you blow out 50 candles, sometimes even sooner, your first junk mail from the AARP shows up in the mailbox. People you know are becoming grandparents.  You get to undergo your first colonoscopy.  But just when I started thinking I knew about everything that could go wrong, I had a little blood dribble out of a place normally reserved for liquid waste and recreation.

One day.  OK, several times in one day, but this was a true Macy’s style event: one day only.  I decided I should probably tell my doctor, who told me to come in for a checkup, who then ordered a series of tests.  First, a CT of my lower workings, in which everything looked fine, although there were a couple of areas they’d like to have a better look at.  One was the liver, which required having a liver ultrasound, which they did and again, found nothing.  I treated my liver to some Scotch that night.  “Good liver. Good boy.”

I remember one doctor saying that the blood could mean any of a hundred things, five of those not good.  So, if we can rule those out, then everything is fine.  after the CT and the liver scan, we were most of the way there. But, as the nurse at my procedure complained, “There was a huge error during design of the human body.  We can look at just about everything easily EXCEPT for the bladder.”  For that, I would need a cystoscopy.

That word….where have I heard that word before. Oh yeah, isn’t that what…..AWWW!  Yep, it was true.  It’s when they run a “thin cable” up an area that previously had been a one-way street with a tiny camera attached so they can get a good look at my bladder.  I said, “No problem, as long as I am drugged up more than Lindsay Lohan visiting Charlie Sheen’s house.”

The day came, my wife Victoria dutifully came along to drive me home, as I planned to feel pretty good when I had left there.  However, while checking in, the nurse said, “Oh, you don’t need that.  It’s a just a couple of minutes for the doctor to look. It’ll be over before you know it.”

Looking back on that, I suppose I felt my manhood was being questioned.  That she thought I must have been a big baby and so, on her advice, I decided to go through the experience of having just local numbing.

I’m an idiot.

First, the obvious question:  “How the hell would SHE know what it felt like?”  Secondly, as I sat there waiting for a good half hour before the doctor showed up and I was being numbed, another nurse brought in the camera and cable they were going to use and hook up to an HD screen to take a look at the inside of me.  In my mind, I was thinking spaghetti-thin wire.  What they brought in resembled something I’d expect the installation guy from Comcast would use.

I will admit, there wasn’t really sharp pain.  It was more of a pressure thing, but my overactive imagination provided complete play-by-play of where that wire was while competing with the nurse instructing me to aim my eyes at the TV monitor, saying things like, “Look! There’s your bladder.  Isn’t that cool?”

On the queasy factor, this was out the roof.  As I write this, I can still remember that sensation of having a cable pushed through my plumbing–the slow intrusion and the equally slow, gradual withdrawal. This made a colonoscopy seem like a picnic with cake & ice cream.

I’m big on passing along experiences that might, perhaps, help others in this journey.  I’ll entertain questions if you have them.  My end results were “all is well” and they were able to definitely do that because of this series of tests.  In talking about this with co-workers, I was able to the one to introduce this entire concept to them.  While most did the “Tim cringe”, there was one guy who had already had the pleasure and agreed it was one of the most traumatic medical procedures he had ever been through.

So now I know what a cystoscopy is and even how to spell it. If I had seen that word on Jeopardy, I would have probably guessed, “What is a copy of a cystos?”   I just hadn’t planned on being old enough to have one, not yet.  If knowledge is power, you have now been empowered to know when you hear that word, the very next sentence you say should be, “That’s fine, but I will need lots of drugs.”  Stick by that and you’ll thank me later.

Tim Hunter

Seattle’s getting the full treatment this year.  Simon Cowell is including our fair city as one of the stops along the way for “X-Factor” auditions in a couple of months. We’ve always been considered a good test market for the movies because with all the rain, we tend to be “indoor-oriented”.

And today, “America’s Got Talent” is going to cast their net into the Seattle talent pool to see what they can come up with.  Victoria and I are going to the 6pm taping tonight at the Paramount Theater, which ought to be interesting.  They’re doing a total of four tapings and since they usually have a “night” that they’re in Seattle, me thinks they’re taking the best out of the four tapings.  I heard there’s quite a bit of start up and shut down, so it’ll be interesting to say the least.

Interesting wording on the “ticket” that  we got.  Of course, they don’t guarantee admission because they’re giving out way too many tickets.  But at the same time, they don’t want a half-empty Paramount.  They also have a little stipulation on there to wear “bright clothing”.  Got a yellow shirt I’m going to toss off, but after another killer week at work, they’re going to have to take what they can get.

Will let you know about the experience tomorrow.

Tim Hunter

Well, we did it.

I left work around 3:40pm, swung by the house to pick up Victoria, then parked and we hoofed it to the Paramount Theater for a taping of “America’s Got Talent”.

It was an adventure, to say the least.  From the moment I opened the car door and our printed out admission blew out of the car and underneath it, stuck to a tire.  I had to get down on all fours to reach it, Dripping wet, we went to get in line.

Yep, a line.  We finally found where to stand just before 5, for a taping scheduled to start at 6. Most fortunate of all, Victoria had noticed in the fine print that  no cell phones, cameras or even iPods were allowed in the theater during the show.  That meant either a) leave ‘em in the car, which we did or b) check them in like at a coat-check on the way in.   Because once you got to the entrance, a wand was used to make sure you complied.  They did not want ANY pictures or video sneaking out.  Makes sense.  Gotta protect the franchise.

We finally came in out of the cold and grabbed our seats shortly before 6, setting up camp in the center section, in the back of the lower level.   They had a camera section in the dead-center of the lower level, as well as the judges’ area where the orchestra would usually be for a musical.  Stagehands with headsets kept seats filled up front throughout the evening, so it always looked full.  Even when people got up and left, they’d ask for a party of two or three from those of us at the top, to see if we wanted to move down.  We were placed at some end seats at one point.  Look for me and my yellow shirt standing and applauding or holding up an X.

The warm up guy started telling us what a great audience we were and this was the last of the four shows to be taped in Seattle.  I think they tape four times as much as they need and only the best of the best will make it to the kickoff show of the season this summer.  But “America’s Got Talent” will launch in Seattle on TV.

Of the acts, it was the usual assortment of highs and lows.  There was a singer with a guitar that Piers gave a hard time, but who shined…and a comedian named Jen Seamen who was hilarious.  The acts started at 6:50pm and went until 10.  20 acts in all and I’d say over half of them are on their way to compete in Las Vegas.

It’s interesting how the show is broken up and shot in segments.  They came out and shot close ups of each of the judges hitting their buzzer or talking amongst themselves.  Nick Cannon, the host (Mr. Mariah Carey) comes out to a standing ovation at the beginning, says “Hi, Seattle”, then stayed back stage the rest of the evening except for a couple of brief periods of interaction with contestants.

The judges were also very entertaining and when you think about it, that IS a long day. Remember, there was a 1pm taping that day, assuming they were on hand for make up at 1pm, do two shows and finally walk off the stage at 10pm. It was a little hard to hear the judges at times, you can see how Howie comes off much better when edited, but the banter between the three feels genuine.

Good stuff.  Another life experience in the books, something to look forward to on TV to see how it all turns out and another exhausted Friday, here I come!

Tim Hunter

At a time when people complain about rising gas prices and dwindling home values, when so many of us haven’t seen a raise in years and wonder how this is all going to turn around, I met an inspiration today.

His name is Jon. He’s the Seattle Bathtub Guy.

We had a half-tub downstairs and it needed refinishing. In the process of getting bids, there were companies wouldn’t touch something that small and others who quoted $600 and up.  I had searched the Internet far and wide, came up with bids….let ‘em sit for a while….and then, when we got fed up looking at the peeling finish again, I went online for a second try.  That’s when I came across Jon.

I went to his website, read up on him and liked what I saw.  I exchanged emails, but as I was talking with him today, I had no idea who was going to come to that door.  That, as a consumer, is the scariest part.  Is it a con artist who wants your money and you’ll never see again?  Someone who does the job, but isn’t very good at it?  The possibilities are endless.

Jon is one those rare people these days that loves his job.  Of course, what drew me to the Seattle Bathtub Guy was the fact that his bid was a couple of hundred dollars less than what everyone else wanted.  What inspired me to write about him and his company is seeing how busy he is, how his phone never stopped ringing while he was here working, and that he doesn’t like to let it ring or go to voicemail.  He likes to talk to people.  He looks you in the eye when he talks.  He’s pleasant and did a fantastic job.  Even now, while he’s on the phone, he’s telling someone that he’s going to go see his grandma tonight.

He’s not a fan of email and the internet, but uses them as a necessary evil.  But he’s on to something.  He’s got a flurry of jobs from Portland to Seattle, hiring more help as work demands,  He’s offering a needed service, at a fair price and backs it up with a “if you chip it, the first repair’s on us” promise.

Got a feeling we’re going to be hearing a lot about the Seattle Bathtub Guy in the future.

Starting now….

Tim Hunter

Apparently, we’re not supposed to make it out of 2011 alive.

Everywhere you look, there’s gloom and doom–and that’s just the U.S. treasury!

But seriously folks…

F0r whatever reason, people are looking for the ultimate way out of this mess of world we’ve got on our hands. First off, there’s been Internet buzz lately about a “Supermoon” coming up on March 19th, when the lunar gravitational pull is supposed to create all kinds of chaos on the earth.  With that rumor already in place, some are pointing to the big earthquake in Japan today as the start of things to come.

Then there’s another group of religious whack jobs who have decided that the end of the world begins on May 21st. That’s be “Rapture” day.  No, not the day that Debbie Harry and Blondie begin a comeback, but you know the old slogan about “Kill ‘em all and let God sort ‘em out”?  That’ll be the day the sorting begins.  Knowing my track record in dodge ball, I’ll probably be picked last.

This “world coming to an end” thing isn’t new by any means.  My sister Debbie reminded me that she threw a Nostradamus party on that date when things were supposed to end.  Sadly for her, it didn’t and she had to clean up afterwards.  As a young kid, I remember there being a day that California was supposed to slip into the ocean and give everyone in Arizona beach front property. I can still see myself on that day, at 3pm, riding my bike around, waiting for it to happen.  I liked my Sears “Sting Ray” knockoff and thought, if I’m gonna go, I might as well go out doing what I like to do.

Again, nothing.

What if the world really was going to end this year?  How would you live your life differently?  Around six years ago I hit a point in my life where I decided you needed to live every day that way.  When we become complacent or swept up in our busy lives that we don’t notice the first buds on the tree, the colors in the sunrise or the caring in the smile of the person we love, you might as well hit the fast forward button.  Live that way and you’re not enjoying life, you’re just doing it.

Now, this isn’t to say, “Well, if the world really IS going to end in May, I might as well buy that Porsche I’ve had my eye on.”  Right now, evening while reading this rambling collection of words, ask yourself, “Are you doing what you want to be doing?  Are you living the way you want to be living?”  If so, congratulations.  Now all you have to do is pay attention to that dream that’s all around you.  If you’re waiting for something outside of you to make your world a better place, you could be in for a long wait.  Or a short one, if those religious nut jobs are right.

Yes, the world IS going to come to an end some day.  We seem to be doing everything possible to help the cause. If you’re a fan of the Bible, you know that there are warning signs that the end is near–the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse, seas boiling (thank you, Exxon-Mobil) and “Jersey Shore” being renewed for a third season. They’re as plain as the nose on your face.

However, for now, I’m going to wait and see.  I’ll continue to savor every moment of my existence and the world of family and friends around me.  But, promise me: if you do buy that new Porsche, swing by and take me for a ride, would ya?

Tim Hunter

I absolutely need to thank Sonia, a T-Mobile employee who works at the Alderwood Mall store, for saving the company’s reputation for me.

Two weeks ago, I went on a business trip to Arizona. When the time came for the announcement, “Please turn off your cell phones”, I obliged.  Pushed that power button and off it went.

After landing, I turned it back on, beginning an endless cycle of powering up, then shutting down the second I touched any button.  I was in town for 2-1/2 days, during which I was directing a commercial shoot for a brand-new client.  Lots on the line…and my phone was dead.  After meetings, I found I had a few minutes to try and catch a T-Mobile store in the area to get help.  A friend with a fully functioning iPhone looked up a store that was supposed to be just a couple of blocks away from the hotel.  After dinner I drove over there…but there was no store.  I remembered our Arizona employee down there saying there was one a couple of exits up the freeway, so I took the chance and managed to get to them 10 minutes before closing.  I walked in, they said they were already closed.  I explained my desperate situation and they called another store and asked if they could help.  The employee said they could, but I’d have to hurry.

Up the adrenaline went as I drove madly to that store which was “ten minutes away”.  After following the instructions, you guessed it: no store.  That was my only time opening over the three days, so for the next two, I borrowed cell phones from people to keep the barest of connection with the world.

Upon returning, the very first thing I did was go up to the Alderwood Mall store right after they opened.  I had made up my mind I HAD to get a new phone. I just can’t afford to find myself stranded somewhere with a faulty phone and no support. I mean, what’s the point?

That’s where Sonia asked me, “May I help you?” and I began to unload on her.  She brought up my account, said, “Let’s try something” and began to work her magic.  Within ten minutes, she had replaced the sim card and my phone was once again functioning.   Why the sim card crashed, I don’t know.  Why the store in Phoenix wouldn’t take the time to try that simple solution, beats me.  I haven’t been a fan of T-Mobile since I left the Verizon family to join the plan of my new bride.  When we moved into our new home, there was absolutely no service unless you leaned up against a window, so we ended up getting a land line so people could contact us at home.

I was at the end of my rope. But a patient, considerate T-Mobile employee named Sonia saved at least a partial respect for their company.  Sadly, as I wanted to tell T-Mobile this “tale of whoa with a happy ending”, I spent 10 minutes looking for a place to do that on their website and came up empty.

So since I can’t sing your praises to your bosses, let me just do it here: Thank you, Sonia.

Tim Hunter

You may have read that headline and wondered if my keyboard was stuck.  Or maybe I had started counting with a lousy German accent and was hesitant on continuing (Vonnnn….Two….Tsree……)

Actually, that elongated word was pulled from deep in my memory bank because of a mini-family reunion coming up this weekend.  Victoria and I are going to get together with my folks, my two sisters and a pair of nieces for a whirlwind weekend.  Friday, we’re planning on doing a pirate dinner, but the bulk of our time there will be spent reminiscing about younger days.

When I was younger, go figure, I was impish at times.  I cut my comic teeth in front of my two sisters during meals, when I would get them to laugh and choke on their food or what they were drinking.  That flustered Mom and she couldn’t get their names out fast enough, usually switching their first letters:  “Derri!  Tebbie! Stop it!”

Mom also coined a catch phrase in the kitchen.  Whenever we got out one of those 2-liter bottles of Springfield soda and were pouring ourselves a glass, she’d remind us, “Don’t plop!”  She didn’t want her clean kitchen counters tainted with this imitation soda, so at the “PSSST” of a bottle being opened, that phrase was usually right behind it.

Which brings us to the Vonnnnnnnnnnn.  Anyone can do this, with only a brief amount of practice.  First, find a subject with neatly brushed hair.  Quietly sneak up behind them, raise your hands above their head and then lay your hands on their hair and “Vonnnnnnnnnn”.  You rub your hands back and forth real quickly to rat up their hair, while saying “Vonnnnnnnn” like a race car.

It sounds silly, but it was the routine for a while in our home while growing up.  We even have a chunk of home movies of an Easter from long ago, when I “vonnnnnnnnnned” Terri’s hair and she immediately points to the camera as if to say, “Aha!  I’ve got evidence!”

They say you can’t go home again, but my parents have done a great job of keeping the place I grew up modern, but respectful of memories.  That pull out clothesline is long gone, the apricot tree quit producing some years ago and a storage shed now sits in its place.  But that backyard where I had neighborhood wading pool parties, where we hunted for Easter eggs and that seemed SO big while growing up, is still there.  There’s even a bird bath in the middle that’s partially painted with a light blue paint from the time my high school class painted the senior pond back in 1973.

So, let the memories fly.  But be forewarned, sisters, you’re never too old to give someone a really good vonnnnnnnnnnn!

Tim Hunter

Dad is 87 years old, going for 88 on August 31st.  Mom is “younger than dad” and we’ll stop there.

Mom went to K-Mart and bought dad a sweatshirt that was on sale.  She thought it would look good on him. It was black, zipped up and had this cool-looking insignia on it.

So on the day went to have their taxes done, dad wore the sweatshirt. It was there, at the accountants office that someone let them know that cool-looking insignia was a gang symbol.

Mom’s course of action?  Sew a button from one of my sister’s Northrup-Grumman projects over the top of it.  Well, most of it.  I still don’t think there’s a serious concern of dad being mistaken for a gangbanger, but just in case, the logo is partially blocked.  Maybe they’ll just think he’s a part-timer.

Tim Hunter

Dad was rushed to the hospital around midnight Tuesday, after throwing up, then falling, hitting his head and being hauled away in an ambulance.  That’s meant the bulk of this “vacation” to southern California has been spent at a hospital.  The point of the trip WAS to spend time with my folks, but this wasn’t exactly what I had in mind.

However, it did give us time to sit around and talk.  It’s amazing the stories you can uncover, that you had never heard once before in his 87 years, just by hanging out.  For example, back in his early days at United Airlines, dad was a fueler.  It’s how he started back in 1947 for 1.65 an hour which at that time was good money.

So here’s how it happened.  Dad said it was almost “High Noon”.  I asked him who the star of that old western was, and he replied, “Gary Cooper.  I met him once.”    “What?”  “Yeah, I had just fueled a flight to Denver and over in the ready area a guy asked me if that plane was heading to Denver.  I replied, ‘Yep’ and after walking away, I realized it was Gary Cooper.”

He also met George Raft back in the day.  But the biggest star on the tarmac was Jimmy Stewart, who filmed scenes from the 1957 movie, “Spirit of St. Louis” out there at LAX back when they needed an airport background.

Over the years, dad grabbed quite a few sports autographs for me.  Like when the Lakers flew United, he had the likes of Jerry West, Elgin Baylor and Gail Goodrich sign a 3X5 card.  Truth be told, I was looking at those autographs one day that had been placed in a scrapbook and when I turned it over, there was another autograph: Lawrence Welk!

The stories you hear when you just take the time to sit down and talk.  Sometimes it takes a fall to bring out the good ones.

Tim Hunter

Down visiting the folks in LA this week and mom whips out this little plastic bag with a newspaper clipping in it and says, “Do you want it?”  I mean, it IS an historical document so I scanned it and offer it up to you, to preserve it cyberspace forever.

This'll save you a trip to the museum some day.

Five and a quarter?  Really?

Tim Hunter

There was a time when it was impolite to be rude.

However, somewhere along the long, as cell phones and texting began to erode our social skills, it suddenly became all the rage to only partially pay attention to the people we were talking with.  Yes, we had agreed to meet and talk about a subject–a client, a problem in the company, an issue with a co-worker–but then, while we sit in the same room, you think it’s completely OK to fire up the phone and give your thumbs a workout while I’m making an important point.  When you don’t give much of a response, I get frustrated, you look up, realize something is wrong and ask, “What’d you say?”

Multitasking at the cost of personal contact is NOT good business.  In time, there will be a rebellion and companies will install cell-phone blocking equipment or begin a “phones-free” meeting policy.  Imagine how productive and short a meeting could be if you stayed on task?

Believe me, you’re no more important than anyone else in the room.  When we’ve sat down to talk, your phone rings and then you answer it, unless it’s a Tsunami warning, you have just offended me.  Let me help.  You invite a girl to a dance and in the middle of a dance, someone you know walks up and you just walk away from your date.

Rude is still rude.   Somewhere along the line, a good number of people began tolerating it until it reached the point of, “Oh, well, he’s just THAT way!”  I’ve witnessed going from a generation that looked ahead to the future to one that’s focused on themselves and now, where instant gratification rules and when the only time they do look ahead is when there’s a mirror in front of them.

There.  I said it.  Now I’m going to go home and check to make sure those brat kids aren’t playing on my lawn again.

Tim Hunter

Barry McKay, Colin Hay from Men at Work & Me

It amazes me how powerful a song can be.

The other day I reached into a pile of unmarked CD’s I had burned and decided to see what was on them. The Alanis Morrissette song, “Thank you” began and I was instantly taken away to a very pivotal place in my life.

It’s one thing for a song to trigger a memory.  Play Led Zeppelin’s “Kashmir” and I remember their concert where I pre-functioned a little too much and sadly, woke up to hear just the last song.

“Precious and Few” is one of those schmaltzy songs from the 70′s.  But hey, it was “our” schmaltzy song.  Actually, that triggers memories of a “Sweethearts Ball” my sophomore year of high school, when the girls asked the guys to the dance.  I was insanely in love with the girl across the street, but a classmate asked me to the dance and I accepted to try and make the other girl jealous.  I wasn’t much of a date,  I think she was pretty hurt by the end of the evening and that will always be one of those do-over moments I wish I could correct with help from a hot tub time machine.

When “Thank you” started playing the other day, I found myself back in the Sandusky Broadcasting conference room.  These were the peak days of KLSY, when a young gun programmer from back east had come into our building and breathed incredible new life into the station.  He was getting songs on the air that we had only dreamed of playing or that we heard on the competition and wondered why couldn’t play them.

It was a programming staff meeting, so everyone was there. Barry McKay, our boyish-looking program director, was very excited to start the meeting with a VHS of Alanis Morissette’s new music video, “Thank you”, he had taped the night before.  It had some daring scenes, even a covered but naked shot of the singer and Barry was just thrilled on how “cutting edge” it was.    As I heard the song playing in my car, I can clearly remember the video, the reactions of the people around the room and my inner voice telling me that, as a station, we were finally on the right path.

After launching as a “soft rock” station in the early 80s, KLSY eventually found itself of being no one thing.  If you wanted soft music, there was WARM.  If you wanted pop music, there was STAR.  KLSY had the fun personality of star, but the soft music of warm, but with a little of the STAR music thrown in. It was like the friend too eager to please, who tried to do everything to make you happy, rather than just being himself.

Barry finally had the the place on a new direction.  Truth be told the ratings he delivered in the Winter Arbitron that year were the highest we’d seen in years and were enough to beat STAR.  Like I said, we were on a great path and you could feel it in the building.

But not everyone likes success, especially if they’re not a part of it.   So, one day, Barry and our Marketing Director, Scott Paine, exchanged emails about the station, playing the “what if” game–how we could be stronger, what staff changes would need to be made, etc.  To this day, I still have no proof who did it, but one of those “out of favor” staff members went back to Barry’s computer, browsed through his email (yeah, Barry didn’t password protect his PC) and when he or she read that email exchange, decided to forward it along to ALL STAFF.

The results were as you’d expect.  There was apologizing, IT was called into action and wiped it off as many machines as possible.  Since I worked in the morning and this happened in the afternoon, I never did actually see the email.  But our GM was among those not amused.  He didn’t like all this planning going on without him knowing about it, especially when one of the staff he was friends with would have been on the chopping block.  Barry kept his title, but lost all power in music choices. The relationship between Scott and the GM became strained and both Scott and Barry were gone within a year.  As in fired.

KLSY went back into it’s in-between, safe existence.  One that pleased, but didn’t demand loyalty.  Oh, there were the fans and I can’t tell you how many have come up to me over the years and said how much they missed the station, or our morning team, especially Alice.  But non-committed broadcasting has a price and, in time, the station paid for it. But we were there, we were SO close. It’s a shame that one person’s bitterness was allowed to launch a ripple effect that destroyed several careers and ended the life of a 20-year old radio station.  However, I can either choose to live as a victim or to remember those “golden months” of the place I called home for 19 years in a positive way, which is exactly what I do.

Every time I hear that song,  I go back to watching the video in the conference room, I see the genuine enthusiasm in the eyes of the Program Director and the team that was ready to win. And I was lucky enough to have been a part of it all.  I guess that’s why I like to go back there, but strangely, it’s only when I hear that song.

No, Alanis. Thank YOU.

Tim Hunter

OK, Lucy, ‘splain this one to me.

This is an old clock that my grandparents used to have in their farm house that dates back to the turn of the century.  Not this most recent century, the one before that.

 

It's alive!

 

My Aunt Judy in Vancouver was the Brandner girl lucky enough to get this and, last year, offered it to me to keep it in the family.  It required some repair work, but eventually, it was up and ticking.

I’ve been futzing with it, trying it to keep exact time.  It’ll run slow, I’ll adjust it.  Then it’s fast, so I tweak the adjustment key again. But for something over 100 years ago, it’s in better shape than I am.

The loud ticking is cool, if not somewhat distracting.  It’s like living near the airport–you train your ears to tune out the planes or, in this case, the clock.  But, go out of town for a few days, or just forget to wind it (which you have to do once a week) and it’ll come to a stop.

I’ll bet it’s been over a month since I last wound it up and it’s been silent for at least four weeks.  Then, suddenly last night, there was a noise, followed by the chiming of 8 bells.  That was weird.

This morning when I got up at my usual 4am, I was in the kitchen and heard the bell toll once.

Just now, coming back from taking the morning shower, the clock chimed 5 times.  Again, without winding it at all since February.

Is the clock haunted?  Is it trying to tell me to play 8-1-5 in our state’s triple choice lottery? (Don’t think I won’t)  Aw, sweet mystery of life, at last I’ve found you.

Tim Hunter

It’s going to be interesting.

Today for lunch, veteran ex-radio buddy Scott Burns and I are going to some kind of gathering for some of the old-timers in radio.  I think of myself as one, but they guys are wandering around in their 60s, 70s and 80s, which is ironic since that was the music I used to play.

Bottom line–I’m going to be seeing some folks I haven’t talked with in over 25 years.  I’ll let you know how it goes.

Also, between you and me, I’ve been working on a “Burns and Hunter” internet radio project for some time.  I’ve finally got the first attempt up and running, with a LOT yet to do.  Down the road, I see it being a constant dumping place for those bits that both Scott & I want to do on the air, but frequency space is tight.  So, until a large money offer is wheel-barreled up to my front door, we can use this internet station to get it out of our system.  I’ve got tracks and things up there–some Scott & I have done as specs of a show, others from both of our “Greatest Hits” reels–but after a year of wrestling with the technology, I believe I am finally winning.

You can hear what we’ve got so far by clicking here or here.

Again, INCREDIBLY rough, but you gotta start somewhere.  Details and pictures of the gathering to come.

Tim Hunter

My co-worker and fellow recovering radio addict Scott Burns and I went to the Lake City Elks today and it was like having your radio career flash before you, just very slowly.

A couple of months back, some of the radio buddies I remain in touch with–Gary Engard and Dick Cross–told me about this annual gathering of broadcast folks that took place in April.  They invited me to join them at the event and so I brought along Burns for the muscle.  As we arrived, the room was packed with folks from our past, some going back 25-30 years ago since the last time our paths crossed.  Over there, Bob Adkins, one-time GM of KOMO radio and one of the nicest guys you’ll ever meet.  Is that….?  Yep, Wally Nelskog, former owner of KIXI AM & FM.  I couldn’t move around the room fast enough–Don Cannon, George Towles, Clem Daniels, former KOMO-TV engineer Warren Severance, Don Riggs, Patti Par…and yes, even Chris Wedes, better known to many as J.P. Patches.

While most of the hour was spent telling tales from the old days (and, as you know, the best ones can’t be repeated here), there were a couple of guys who stood up and said they were part of a museum effort to preserve Seattle broadcasting history and so they asked to interview each of us come July.  They’ll get some of the stories out of us, but the best ones stayed in that room.

Radio is light years away from where it was when I was involved and even further down the track from most of the folks I hung out with today.  It was just another reminder that I was lucky enough to have participated in the medium during it’s swan song. I still have hope that one day that one of the short-sighted owners will experiment with bringing radio back to where it was and have a huge hit on their hands.

For now, I’ve got the memories of my days in the biz, along with all the new ones I picked up today at the lunch.  Enjoy a few of the pictures I grabbed at the event.  More to come next year.

I still think Bob Adkins looks like Bing Crosby

Patti Par, Don Riggs and Scott Burns with a group hugIt's the George, Tim & Carol Show

Remember Patches Pals, today his name is just Chris (left) next to Bill Wippel

Tim Hunter

It’s embarrassing.  I live in a heartless, cruel city that doesn’t respect or understand the feelings of its citizens.  Oh, sure, there are those who think Seattle is already too politically correct.   For example, there’s the city and school district’s current position of dropping the word “Easter” from organized Easter egg hunts and just calling the events “Spring Egg Hunts”.

While that may seem ridiculous to some, it just scratches the surface to others.   If we’re going to be PC, we need to go all the way. For starters, I agree that religion should not be mixed into our public schools and since the words, “In God We Trust” appear on all of our money, all funding to public schools should cease immediately.

But let’s not stop there.  Ask any Easter celebrating Christian what they’re celebrating on that holy day and they’ll tell you “The resurrection of their King, Jesus Christ.”  Well, if Jesus is King, we sure can’t go on calling the place we live King County, can we?

Mondays offend me.  Look up that date on Wikipedia and read the history of that day, and Monday is a chosen day of fasting for both Jews and Muslims.  Awesome, a religious connection!  OK, if we’re going to be PC, from now on, the day after Sunday should be come known as “Tuesday Eve”.

Oh and since it was considered highly offensive to have a Christmas tree out at the airport, let’s just keep going. If it’s wrong to have the word Easter even spoken because it connects Christianity to the government, by all means city workers, guess who’s working this year on Christmas.  Hey, just another day, right?

Nope.  Seattle isn’t PC enough.  I mean, why just be partially insane?  Let’s go deep.  I’ll just take comfort in the thousands of kids that converted to Christianity during all those Easter Egg Hunts that we managed to wedge in over the years before they caught on to our scheme.

I tell you, there are times when I just want to send the entire city of Seattle to it’s room.

Tim Hunter

America is and always will be the “land of the free”.  But freedom does come with a price and lately, the price has never been more obvious: even idiots get to speak their minds.

They’re everywhere today.  As I mentioned in my previous blog, a group of idiots have somehow ascended to power at both the Seattle Public Schools and the Seattle Parks Department and have decided that “Easter Eggs” should now be referred to as “Spring Eggs”.

Why? Well, to keep religion out of public schools, of course.  Not everyone, but a good number of people celebrate Easter as a religious holiday. Because it is religious in nature, it must be removed to keep things (here goes) politically correct.  Of course, Jews and 7th Day Adventists observe Saturday as a holy day and those wacky Christians go to church on Sundays.  So, really, for the sake of not offending anyone, we should have school 7 days a week.

Seriously, who could be behind this level of  insanity?  I have my theories:

“Miseriums”–These are people who are miserable and believe the gospel of misery must be spread.  If I can’t be happy, you can’t be happy.  One of the largest denominations of “Miseriums” gather at a website called “Vote For the Worst”. (yep, www.votefortheworst.com) The fact that so many people enjoy watching “American Idol” bothers them, so they identify the worst talent on stage and then encourage people to call and vote for that person, week after week.  It’s how Paul remains on the show.  To me, the answer is that we should be voting someone off, not voting for everyone but that person.  However, that’s another blog.

“Atheidiots”–These are atheists who are idiots, plain and simple.  Since their lives are so unrewarding, they feel they need to attack religion at every opportunity, especially Christianity. By getting the word “Easter” dropped from the egg hunts, this begins to slowly turn this tanker of a civilization in a higher direction. Children who still get excited and yell out, “Cool!  Easter eggs!” will be forcibly removed from their homes and sent to re-education camps.

“McGunniquists”–These are followers of Seattle’s Mayor Mike McGinn, who are out to transform Seattle into the perfect something.  They’re just not sure what yet.  However, they know what they don’t like and that list is made of demands of social groups with a membership of 12 and under.  If too many people think something is a good idea, it must be challenged.

“Hyper-Sensarians”–Our final group are the alarmists, looking for something–anything–to slap a label on things to pre-condition your thinking to their way of thought.  They say something is racist and sexist and your immediate instinct is to say, “Whatever it is they’re talking about must be terrible so I’ agree with whatever they’re criticizing”.   Then you find out it’s a proposed law that would ban all 18-year-old Irish boys from a women’s locker room.  OK, well, that IS racist and sexist, but at the same time, as Charlie Sheen would say, “Duh!”

Go ahead, whiners and idiots, Miseriums and Atheidiots, enjoy your brief moment in the sun.  Well, besides the fact that today is the first day in 41 that we’ll be seeing the sun in Seattle, but I digress and quite well.  One day, common sense will take back this country and return us to a place where kids can once again look under their Christmas tree 8 months later and safely exclaim, “Hey!  I just found the last Easter egg!”

Have a Merry Friday.

Tim Hunter

I knew the Seattle Mariners were finally home this weekend and had been planning their big home opener for Friday night.  It was a gala event, sold out, the wife of the late voice of the Mariners, Dave Neihaus, was on hand to throw out the first pitch.  It had been a rough road trip, but they were finally home for some home cookin’.

They went out on the field and scored three runs that night.  It would have made the Cleveland Indians look silly, if it weren’t for the fact they scored 12.

The next thing you know, we were offered tickets to game #2.  It was going to be a rare Saturday night with nothing planned and so we jumped at the offer.  John and Susan, who gave us the tickets, suggested we take the bus down to the game and they’d give us a ride home.  Feeling adventurous, we did it.  I went on the Metro site, entered my starting and ending point and found out a bus one block away would take the two of us down to Safeco Field for $4.50.  That’s less than I would have spent on gas and no parking fees!

To make things even sweeter, our seats were in the Terrace Club section.  Front row, second level, just to the right of home plate if you were standing on the pitchers mound.  We easily had a half-dozen foul balls come into our section. PLUS, there was an $8 food voucher with each ticket PLUS they took your order and delivered the food to your seat.  I suppose it would have been asking too much to have the Mariners win, but they came close.  Still a good game and an amazingly good time.  Interesting that the Mariners would lose by the same score the Sounders won by, just hours earlier and one stadium over.

But my Mariner weekend didn’t end there.

While grocery shopping at QFC Sunday afternoon, we were checking out when I started bantering with the cashier and we went from a joke about the Mariners and their losing ways to the fact that, as a teenager, she used to babysit former starting second baseman Jack Wilson.  What are the odds? It seems that her family was friends with his family while growing up in California and that she would, at times, babysit Jack and his brother.  She said both were great kids and that their families would even go camping together. There was the time they had a donut-eating contest and Jack stuck so many donuts in his mouth that he started to cry.

Like I said, it was just another weekend.  I hadn’t planned on it being a Mariners weekend, but somehow it turned out that way.  And that’s just fine by me…

Tim Hunter

I like this blog to be a place where I can say what I want, where you find out a little bit more about me and my world.  One of the other of John & Fran Hunter’s three kids, my youngest sister Debbie, had a cool experience to pass along.  She sent it to me as an email, I thought it worthy (if you are of an age) for you to read about as well.  Enjoy!

So last night I was getting my hair done, and while I was processing (my hair, not about the fact that I was getting my hair done) my hairdresser Annette or “Hairapist as she likes to call herself, sat down to show me two rings that she has gotten from her mom.  Annette’s mom passed away from breast cancer about 10 years ago.  Annette had mentioned before that her mom use to be a Nanny for Charlton Heston and James Garner back in the day.  So during the time she was a nanny for the Heston’s, Charlton gave Annette’s mom two rings.  The first one, which is the multicolor one, is from when he was filming Ben Hur.  Not clear exactly where it was purchased, but guessing Italy since that is where the movie was filmed.  The second green looking one, was one that he purchased for her in Egypt when he was filming the Ten Commandments, Annette’s mom was with the family over in Egypt.  The ring actually flips over, so on the one side you can see the Hieroglyphics, and when you flip it over, you can see the stone is carved in the shape of a beetle.  Thought this was cool and wanted to share.
This story wouldn’t be complete without pictures.

Aw, the stories of life…

Tim Hunter

It’s been a lot of years since I’ve watched soap operas.  I have a feeling that’s true of a lot of people.  There was a time when we had “stay at home” moms, people who actually based their day around being at home, raising kids, errands, housework…with that quick mid-day break known as “All My Children”.  It was a large, captive audience, looking for some spice in their life that they would get by watching TV.

I wasn’t into soap operas for a very long time.  There was a four year stretch when I worked an evening radio shift. I’d get up around 10 or so, and then around noon flip on AMC.  That was back in the days of Palmer & Daisy, Jenny & Greg, Tad the Cad and of course, Erica Kane.  Those with a good enough memory could recall Phoebe Tyler Wallingford, the grand matriarch who, for a time, ruled that town. Of course, that was a long time again.  I think Erica Kane was only on husband 3 or 4.

When I began working as Larry Nelson’s producer in the early 1980s, the folks at KOMO-TV noticed that I made a beeline out of there by 11:30 every day so that I could be home in time to catch “All My Children”.  The next thing I know, they decided to do a segment on my daily soap dash.  To tie into it, Ruth Warrick–the actress who played Phoebe Tyler Wallingford–came into the radio studios and I got to interview her.  Ruth was quite the actress, but one of those many aging stars who found a comfortable niche and spent the rest of her acting days being that role.  It’s not until you dig into her past that you discover she appeared as  Orson Wells’ first wife in “Citizen Kane”.  For her 80th birthday, she hosted a standing-room-only showing of the movie.  She passed away in 2005, so the show will only outlast her by six years.  Eventually, I was able to interview Daisy & Palmer, another “couple” from the show.

The day I came between Daisy & Palmer

Lives change.  My work schedule no longer allowed me to catch a show that was on at noon.  The VCR arrived on the scene, allowing me to tape daytime shows and watch them later.  But soon I realized I could just watch an episode a week and stay caught up.  Then it became every couple of weeks.  I think I began to lose interest once Jenny blew up on that wave runner. As the years rolled by, I’d occasionally check back in to see how things were going in Pine Valley and, as you would expect, it was always such a soap opera.

After all, it was supposed to be.

Thanks, Agnes Nixon, for creating this fictional town in Pennsylvania and for the 41 years of stories that followed.  Here’s the show open as I remember it.  With that, here’s the poem that appears in the full version of the credits, printed in the book–

The Great and the Least, The Rich and the Poor,
The Weak and the Strong, In Sickness and in Health,
In Joy and Sorrow, In Tragedy and Triumph,
You are ALL MY CHILDREN.

Just might have to catch one more episode before the show goes away this September.  After all, we have but One Life to Live.  But that’s another story…

Tim Hunter

I like the idea of being able to just hop on my computer, go to a website, order some photos printed out and just stopping by and picking them up.  Couple of minutes effort and for under 20-cents each, I get some cool pictures to put up at work or give away as a gift.

But the system is not perfect. The other day, I ordered some photos, stopped by to pick them up and they weren’t ready.  I said, “Now wait a minute!  You sent me an email that they’d be ready by 3pm yesterday.”  “What’s your name again?”  “Tim Hunter”.  “Well, you’re in our system, but I don’t see an order for any pictures.”  “OK, I’ll just go home tonight and order them again.”

Then as I was walking out of the store, I saw the sign that explained everything.  Just one word: Bartel’s.

I had ordered them from Walgreens.  I kept looking straight forward, making a beeline to the door and never letting them know I picked them up at the right store on the way home.

Like I said, the system is not perfect.  It’s the system’s fault, right?

Tim Hunter

Well, after all the hype, it’s finally here.  The royal wedding with Prince William and Kate Middleton exchanging vows in front of the world.

Victoria’s going to a friends’ house for an all-girls watching party.  Some will be there all night.  She’s planning to set the alarm and stumble over there around 2am.  I’m sure they’ll have fun, it’s a good group of women.  The host I’m sure will have special food and drinks.  But seriously?  Staying up all night to watch a very slow-paced event like a royal wedding?  I’m sure this is the reason that God invented the DVR.  He was probably got the idea during the Charles and Diana wedding back in 1981.  Seems to me it was around then the VCR became popular. Nice first draft.

I get it, but I don’t.  The weeks are long enough, the royal family never intended for me to be in the will, so I can’t imagine giving up a night of sleep to watch a wedding, let alone a royal one.  Now, don’t get me wrong—I’m all about pop culture, seeing and knowing all that’s going on.  I know Elton John and his sig other will be there, David and Victoria Beckham, even “Mr. Bean” was the invite list.

But I didn’t see the Charles and Diana thing live and I survived.  I’ve had time to review my decision and thirty years later, I’m convinced I made the right call.  It may be a royal wedding and all the news of the day, but I’m not going to lose sleep over it.  Good luck Wills and Kate. See you on my DVR.

Tim Hunter

I don’t remember exactly who said that.  It was either Forrest Gump or Sarah Palin.  But here we are, one more time, watching oil prices go up, which under-mines our economic recovery, while politicians say, “We need to do something”.  How many times has that happened in your life time?  I’m easily counting five, if not ten times, in my lifetime and it seems to be getting more frequent.

And why not?  We’re coming off the most ridiculous stretch yet, where Exxon-Mobil supposedly had to pay HUGE cleanup costs and penalties for leaking oil in the Gulf of Mexico last summer.  You would think that would have been really expensive, maybe set the company back a little.  Nope.  Third quarter of last year, they made $14-billion.  This week, they reported profiting $11-billion for the first quarter of 2011.

Can we talk economics ever so quickly?  If the price of something goes up and you’re selling me that something, I’m going to assume you’re going to pass the price increase along to me so that you can still make a profit.  Since last year, the price of a barrel of oil has practically doubled.  So, stay with me, the cost of Oil Companies getting that product went up.  That, logically, should mean that their profits might take a hit unless, of course, they increase their prices, which they have.  So, we’re paying more than ever because of “the cost”, yet the oil companies are making more than ever.  Again, I’m all for a business making money and staying healthy, but the oil folks are getting rich at a cost of harming the economic health of their host country.  That would be like me offering you the nicest spot in my living room, you sitting down and farting.  Well, not really, but I like farting analogies. And a fart is made up with gas, so it does connect. Sorta…

Experts are predicting that we’re just going through a phase again…up to $6 a gallon or so, down to $3-something by December, for which we’ll all be eternally grateful.  And then, sometime soon, we’ll go through this all over again.

Forrest Palin or Sarah Gump, whoever it was, you were so right.

Tim Hunter

I’m the last person anyone should be asking for advice on how to think about a subject.  This country is based on freedom of expression and I fully embrace that concept. It’s why the early pilgrims came here, it’s why we continue to be able to express things that would have you arrested or shot in other countries.  I’m not much of a “take to the streets and protest something” kind of guy, but I defend your right to be able to do that, regardless of what idiotic cause you might have.

Now, to the topic of Osama bin Laden.

No matter how you spin it, a guy who orchestrated an attack on our country that resulted in the deaths of thousands of people is our enemy.  There are some who hope that love and kindness will win out over the likes of bin Laden, but after ten years of trying that approach (OK, it was only because we didn’t know where he was) we were finally able to end the life of a terrorist.

No, he didn’t go through a trial.  Bin Laden didn’t need a trial, nor deserved one.  He proudly took credit for the September 11th attack and promised more attacks in the future, all on videotape.  Yes, we need to transfer it over to DVD, but we’ll get to that later.

I heard people criticizing the people who took to the streets last Sunday night, cheering the demise of one of the most evil people of our generation.  While there was a mob mentality, it was still great joy to know the mastermind of 9-1-1 was finally out of business.  I wasn’t going to put on the clothes and go out and join someone, somewhere, chanting “USA! USA!”, much like I didn’t publicly display my happiness over the Boston Red Sox finally winning a World Series or Tiger Woods winning the Masters the first time, but I was very, very elated.

There have been those who said that our celebrations over bin Laden’s death weren’t very “Christian”.  As much as Osama was an enemy of the United States, he wasn’t exactly fond of Christians, either.  Remember, he was a Muslim extremist, one of those “We’re right, you must die” types.  People have celebrated defeating their enemies for as long as we can remember.  I’m not going to go all Biblical on you, but, for example, the story of “David and Goliath”.  Young kid with a slingshot–the one on God’s side–and a giant warrior from the other side.  Did they celebrate Goliath’s demise?  Absolutely.  David even laid out the game plan: “This day the LORD will deliver you into my hand, and I will strike you down, and cut off your head; and I will give the dead bodies of the host of the Philistines this day to the birds of the air and to the wild beasts of the earth; that all the earth may know that there is a God in Israel.”  Yep, that’s what they had to do back in the days before TV to make a point.

As to releasing photos of the body of Osama bin Laden:  seriously, we shouldn’t because they may incite violence?  No more than the video of people jumping from the Twin Towers, or the on-line executions and beheadings of Americans or even the JFK autopsy photos.  They’re available any time. If you don’t want to look at them, you can easily avoid them.  You probably won’t see them soon on any postage stamps (although I’m giving serious consideration for this year’s Christmas card)  But to a fanatical group of religious whack jobs, the photos make it real.  He is gone.  This is what happens when you try to terrorize us.  You won’t win.

We even took the high road when it came to disposing of bin Laden’s body.  Did Osama deserve the David treatment, leaving his corpse out for the “ birds of the air and the wild beasts”?  Absolutely.  But instead, we followed Muslim law and disposed of the remains according to their religion.  If only the thousands of people in the Twin Towers had been treated with such dignity.

I think those who take a high road from afar weren’t close enough on September 11th.  You shouldn’t have to worry when you go to work that this might be the day the building implodes and you’ll never go home to your family again.  The death of Osama bin Laden doesn’t end that threat, because there are still those who would like to do that again.  But it’s a healthy step in the right direction and if you feel like celebrating the occasion, you’re lucky enough to live in a place that allows that.

Go ahead.  It’s up to you.

Tim Hunter

In a few minutes, we’ll be getting into the car and hitting road.  We’ll swing by the bank, run a few errands, then drive south on I-5 until we get to our state capitol.

I’m going to meet someone very important for the very first time.  She’s not a politician, although she’s going to be leading a family in their decisions for the next couple of decades.  Her name is Lillybeth Jeanne Pfaff.

My new grand-daughter.

We’ve actually got a couple of first-time grand parents in the hopper at work.  Those who have crossed into that realm have nothing but great things to say about it. But it seems just like yesterday that my grandparents were these kindly old folks, who spoke gently and moved slow.  My dad’s mom was a Scottish woman named Harriet.  I never met my dad’s father.  He passed away before I was born.  Then there were my mom’s folks.  The complete set of grandparents, who raised her on a farm and, when I first remember going back to South Dakota to visit, still lived on one.

Then there was the shift when my parents became “Grandma & Grandpa”.  That became my image of what grandparents were like.  Now, I just have to look into the mirror.

Time is a sly creature.  You blink, they’re grown up.  You blink again and you find yourself being welcomed into the grandparents club.  Today, of all days–a Friday the 13th–I’m going to be lucky enough to meet my granddaughter for the very first time.  It’ll be a while before she calls me ‘Grandpa’, but don’t worry, Lillybeth.  My friends are already doing it, and loving every minute of it.

I’ll keep the club going until you’re ready to join.

Tim Hunter

I guess I’m disappointed…again. Thursday night, the contestant I picked to win this time around was sent home.  Apparently, he got the fewest votes, so he was sent packin’.

Well, not exactly.  James Durbin was informed he was done competing for the 2011 title of American Idol.  He’ll still be around for the remaining two shows, for a shot in the audience or some end-of-the-season finale number involving the top 11 finalists.  Then, of course, there’s the Idol tour this summer.  But when that’s done, James will be free to launch a music career and he’s going to be a presence.  He’s likeable and has all the things that you need to win over America’s hearts–he’s straight, has a wife and a kid and has also been diagnosed with Tourette’s Syndrome.  It’s a trifecta of good luck. 

So what happened?  Let me say up front that I just said to my wife Victoria the other night that I was fine with whoever won out of this final four.  I had my favorite, but this year was a talented lot and I could see any of these final four winning it all.  But even though with the reboot of this year’s edition, I felt so much more connected to the show….I have to ask myself–who’s doing the voting?  Maybe a better question is “How exactly does the voting work?”

I voted four times for James Durbin.  But for every 4-time voter, there’s probably a passionate teen somewhere hitting their redail and voting over 100 times for Scotty “’cause he’s cute” or Lauren “’cause she’s like me”.  Ryan Seacrest likes to brag about how many votes come in each week (last week, 72-million)  but that’s votes, not people.  So is this a talent show or a popularity contest? Should their be a limit on how many times one phone line could vote?

If I were predicting how it will go, it’ll be Scotty or Lauren winning it all.  Why do I say that? Middle America does the deciding. Scotty & Lauren are both all-American, God-fearing kids with country music roots, what’s not to love?  We’ve already had a female country music sweetheart. As for Hailey, she  has shown she has spunk, but when you stand up to what the judges are saying, that’s gonna cost you points somewhere.

It’s exactly what the producers want.  They’ve got the most-watched show on TV.  The voters will vote even more feverishly next time because they don’t want their favorite to meet James Durbin’s fate.  James will go on to a great career, much like other “losers” such as Daughtrey or Jennifer Hudson. And after all these years, American Idol still has us talking about them.

I’ve gotta remind myself, it’s just a TV show. And it’s all about what America wants, isn’t it?

Tim Hunter

This year, May 18th falls on Wednesday.  To most people, if it’s not a family birthday or anniversary, the date just rolls by as part of the 365-day blur that creates each year.

But in 1980, it fell on a Sunday.  I had just spent the weekend at the new in-laws house in Yakima, a home with a swimming pool overlooking the valley. Sunday was drive-home day, because I had to be back to work on Monday at my new Seattle radio job at KOMO, AM-1000 as the producer for the Larry Nelson Morning Show.  Yes, this was a long time ago.

The game plan was to sneak in one more dip in the pool before driving back.  There was no rush, but we didn’t want to leave too late in the day and hit returning-home traffic.  Then, around 9am, I noticed clouds in the distance.  Deeply dark clouds in the Southwest sky that seemed to be coming this way and in a hurry.  I remember thinking, “Oh well, so much for the swim.”

Back in the days before cell phones and instant messaging and texting, the news wasn’t spreading like wildfire.  But as we saw this dark, thick cloud start to swallow up the valley…and saw street lights turning on before disappearing in the cloud…..we flipped on the radio news and discovered that Mount Saint Helens had blown its top.

The mountain had basically, imploded, then shot the ash straight up into the sky and THAT was the cloud.  Not being one of those things you train for, we turned on the TV and heard health warnings NOT to go out and breath the stuff.  Of course, I had to go out long enough to scoop up a couple of coffee cans’ worth of ash.  It was bizarre.  Imagine a fine mist, like fog, that felt gritty.  Soon we had inches of ash piled up on the ground.  Later that day, as we looked out at our gray surroundings, a storm passed through…and I recall seeing an electric charge of some sort come into the house through the kitchen chandelier. I filed reports for KOMO as their on-the-scene insider, since all ways into town were closed due to the eruption.

Eventually, we drove down around through Portland to get to Seattle. I-90 was closed.  It was probably sooner than we should have left, but we grabbed the first opportunity possible.  My Plymouth Horizon made it through, although for years after that, every time I turned on the heater or air conditioning, a little bit of volcanic ash came out of the vents.
It’s an experience not many of us can claim.  I happened to be in the wrong place at the right time.  The eruption of a volcano in the United States seems to have already faded into the history books with everything else that has gone on since then.  But for those of an age and who were there or in the path of “there” when it happened, the date of May 18th is always going to be Mount Saint Helens’ Day.

Tim Hunter

Ray in one of his classic "insincere-sucker suits"

It was around this time of day, if you were to wander around the old KOMO broadcast building, you would venture through the quiet halls of the radio side and see a light coming from the voice booth.  This is the same booth that Don James, Steve Allen, Patty Duke and Tiny Tim had sat in while I interviewed them.  It was after the 5 o’clock and 6:30 news updates and Ray Ramsey would sit there, looking at the newspaper, relaxing until he had to tape some weather cut-ins prior to that 11pm forecast he’d have to deliver.

For a lot of years, it was the routine.  It was how the Puget Sound Area came to know Ray Ramsey as that sly, witty weather guy on Channel 4.

But I knew a different Ray Ramsey.

Because just before 7am every morning on the Larry Nelson show, Ray would check in from his home, sitting in his bathrobe in front of a microphone and tell us about the day’s weather forecast.  Eventually.  For a couple of years, as Larry Nelson’s producer, I was turned loose to come up with some kind of musical or crazy intro to this just-before-the-top-of-the-hour weather forecast and when it was good, it was great.  Larry and Ray would speak as if they were talking in one big living room, a couple of friends passing in the morning, knowing that a forecast of some sort would have to eventually emerge, but in the meantime, there would be clever remarks, bursts of laughter and some of the best, most genuine fun ever heard on the Seattle airwaves.

It was fun to hear him react to the day’s musical intro.  He never knew what was coming. He would drop in a zinger, a one-liner, that lined his brain like a Wikipedia of humor, ready for even the slightest hint of what topic to focus his comedy.  One of the more crazier things I remember him doing is referring to the body of water between Peru and Bolivia. Lake Titicaca.  He’d say it slow and repeatedly…Titi….caca…..as if he knew he was getting away with something, but because it was a real location, they couldn’t get him for it.

In his early Spokane days, he was on the radio as “Hay-head Ray”.  For years, he was the witty KOMO weather guy until the brass upstairs decided it was time to move on…and, when was not exactly ready to hand over the keys to Steve Pool, was forced to retire.

One of the more interesting moments of my radio career at KLSY was when the GM decided we needed a team-building exercise.  So, we gathered at this place and had to create a spaghetti dinner out of scratch.  No money. Figure it out.  One of the tasks was to bring someone famous to the dinner and the PD at the time, Bobby Irwin, lived just down the road from Ramsey.  Between Bobby’s wife being a producer at KOMO and my relationship with Ray years before, he agreed to just give up whatever he was doing and come to our dinner. The wisecracks were ready, he was a huge hit.  I wished him well, noting it was great to see him again.  And it was.

And it was the last time I’d ever see him again.  Now, the news of his passing.

I’ve been fortunate to have some extremely interesting people pass through my life.  Among them, Ray was one of the classics.  He liked to “play the ponies”.   He had sports coats that were so loud, Lady Gaga would ask him to turn them down. He had taken his punches, but rolled with them, all with an admirable way of dealing with them. He was a classic character on Seattle television and unselfishly did everything he could to help out the Lake Titicaca chamber of commerce.

Ray, thanks for your friendship and making people laugh.  After all, it’s why we’re here.

Tim Hunter

I was talking with someone over the weekend about the things we did at one time in our life.  We were in the 1970s and he was recalling the time he did a great radio promotion involving paper dresses.  Pouncing on the opportunity that someone would actually know what I was talking about, I shared with him the story of my one week job as the chauffeur for the founder of the KING Broadcasting empire, Dorothy Bullitt.

I’m not making this up.

It was a series of unlikely circumstances, but I had recently graduated from the University of Washington, with a major in communications.  I had interned at KING radio, back when it was a Top 40 station.  The KING lineup included Rob Conrad, Dan Foley and Andy Barber.  Over on “the competition”, it was Gary Lockwood, Chet Rogers and others.  I tried to land a writing job with KING, but lacked the experience.  Someone who had been a writer for Planned Parenthood for five years was the preferred hire.   While continuing my search for full-time employment, I did odd jobs at KING–phone music surveys, helping out a tad with radio production, etc.  Then one day, someone approached me about being Mrs. Bullitt’s driver for a week.

ME?

I must have made an impression with someone, but the following Monday, while her regular driver Frank took a week of vacation, it was my job to go to the radio station, get the keys to her Volvo and pick her up at her home at 9am.  It was a very proper week.  I’d ring the doorbell, she’d answer, come out to the car and ride in the back seat as I drove her around.  I remember taking her to the yacht she was having restored.  There were lunches at the Washington Athletic Club, shopping, meetings, whatever.  We didn’t talk much, we both knew our places, but at the age of 21, I find it amazing that they would have trusted someone of my age to drive around the owner of the company.

It was so matter-of-fact at the time, I didn’t think much of the fact I was driving around Mrs. Bullitt. But I suppose it’s one of those “claims to fame” I’ve got buried in the gray matter of my brain.  That and the being the announcer for a “Salute to Michael Jackson”.  But that’s another story….

Tim Hunter

It’s that weekend again.  Father’s Day is Sunday.

It’s the nobody-gets-a-day-0ff-and-nothing-is-closed holiday that came about AFTER Mother’s Day was established.  Mom was honored first and then someone finally asked, “Uh, what about the guy?”

As a dad, I always enjoyed playing the Father’s Day card and getting to do what I wanted to do.  Looking back over the 29 years of being in the club, I would milk it for a day of fishing with the kids, a Mariners game or two, or just hanging at home with the little ones.  The trick is, the little ones ain’t so little any more and as adults, it’s just plain hard to get all of us together.

My dad knows that.  Once again, youngest sister Debbie–our ambassador to the hometown of Torrance, California–will be on hand to represent all three kids.  Dad celebrates his 88th birthday later this year and I’m fortunate that he’s still around.  I have several friends at work who both have already lost their fathers and don’t have kids.  For them, this is a weekend that wasn’t even on their radar: “Is Father’s Day THIS weekend?”

While being a dad, this Sunday will always be about John Hunter to me.  The guy who was born in Scotland, came over to America when he was three and landed in West Virginia.  He grew up there, enlisted in the Navy for WWII, got out and moved to California and has been there ever since.  While lately his world consists of Dodger games and Sudoku puzzles, I have a brain full of memories from days gone by.

There was the time, as a very young kid, it just seemed like it would be funny to pick up the running hose and turn it on him.  That was the last time I remember being spanked.

I remember him running into the lake fully dressed with his clothes on when Terri couldn’t hit the brakes running down a hill.  I can also easily recall him standing there with that 8mm camera and the light bar, as the three kids fought the brightness to squint his direction.  My sister Debbie still insists that’s the reason all three kids eventually needed glasses.

He was the manager of my Little League team and dad often tells the story of how he was trying to control my teammates in the dugout when I hit the only home run of my Little League career. It was a grand slam over the center field fence and Dad could only look up and ask, “So, what happened?”

For a while there, after he and my mom both decided to quit smoking, it was rare to find him without a toothpick in his mouth. I mean, ALL the time.  He was a board member of the private elementary school I went to, which meant  that he shook the hands of all the graduates. I remember one year, a kid telling me that he was afraid to shake my dad’s hand out of fear of getting splinters.

For the record–dad smoked Kool cigarettes.  Yeah, he was a menthol guy.

So, I remembered to put the card in the mail.  Debbie tipped me off that he really likes his Subway sandwiches these days, so I got him a gift card.  Dad doesn’t drive any more, so it ‘s a good excuse for the two of them to go to lunch and he can treat.  I’ll call Sunday, get a Dodger update and the current temperature of the patio and all will be right with the world.

Another Father’s Day is rolling around and all I can say is, “Dad, enjoy it.”  There are those who might use me as an argument, but I think you did a great job.

Tim Hunter

John Hunter’s son

Yep, something right out of Look Magazine back in the 1960s: the Generation Gap. It was a catchy way to describe the difference between the baby boomers and their parents who just didn’t get it.  What’s with the long hair?  The far-out clothes. This “peace and love” thing.  The Beatles?  Do they know they spelled their name wrong?

There were the exceptions. Kenny Vaughn down the street had a cool mom, who took all the kids on day one when a new Beatles movie came out. One neighborhood kid said his parents were cool with him watching James Bond movies. Ooooh…..

I’ve fought long and hard and tried to reach out and stay in touch with the younger generation.  As part of my writing job, I have to stay in touch with trends and pop culture and celebrity happenings, so much that very little gets past me.  It’s not rare for co-workers in their 20s to marvel at just how much I know about “their” stuff.

But this past week, I waved the white flag.  A guy who became famous for stapling himself, getting kicked in the groin or being a target for an air rifle died in a car crash.  His blood alcohol was at least twice the legal limit.  He was going over 100 mph so that when his car flew off the road and into the woods, it burst into flames and he along with it.  And his passenger.

Tragic, yes, but not unexpected.  He’d had multiple citations and at least one DUI before.  He lived life hard and his recklessness finally caught up with him.  Totally preventable. Yet, there are those in the previous generation who view this as a great loss.  I’ve heard clips on the radio where his “Jackass” buddies describe him as “a genius”.  Please.

Living as though you’re invincible has never worked out.  James Dean. Jimi Hendrix.  Janis Joplin. John Belushi. There are too many to list, but all my life, people with incredible talent have had their lives cut short because they believed they were invincible.  Steven Tyler said it best, when talking about his drug days, saying you either end up dead or crazy.

To see this guy elevated to star status because he killed himself and a friend boggles my mind.  He was stupid and it was just a matter of time. When Mel Gibson decided to get a DUI, I don’t recall our generation coming to his defense or laughing it off.  We’ve learned that drinking and driving is pretty unforgivable.  Oh, there was a time we laughed it off.  Go to YouTube and listen to a Foster Brooks routine.  Being drunk was hilarious forty years ago.  Maybe that’s the difference of the generations.  We’ve already seen the losses that come with reckless behavior and they were pretty expensive prices to pay. Read the Judy Garland bio and how they drugged her up to keep her weight down while filming the Wizard of Oz, which sent her off into a drug addiction that haunted her for life. And a short one at that.

Perhaps it’s a right of passage. Of seeing the cool, rowdy kids who seemed to laugh at authority and responsibility finally have to face the inevitable. Twenty-somethings, please take note. We all partied in our early days, but at some point, be it for kids or a dream job or just exhaustion of trying to keep up the lifestyle, you just realize that there are ways to live a long life.  Driving drunk in a Porsche going over 100 mph is not one of them.

Tim Hunter

Last Saturday, the strangest thing happened at Emerald Downs.  That’s the horse racing track down in Auburns that I called “Longacres” the first 10 years of it’s existence.

What’s even weirder is that we heard about the incident on the news on the way down to a 50th birthday party.  Then, while at the party, this guy walked in that looked very familiar and it turned out to be the guy who plays the bugle at the track, a family connection to the party named Dan.

Dan was at the track, playing the parade to the post when the incident happened.  For whatever reason, right before the third race, horse #2 decided to freak out.  I mean really freak out….as in running back through the narrow path the horses are led prior to the race.  At one point, it knocked over a 69-year-old owner that got in the way.  As it continued its run of madness, it headed straight for the picture window of a restaurant and would have surely crashed into it, if not for the quick thinking of someone who took off their coat and started waving it furiously.  The horse then made a sharp left turn at incredible speed and ran right into a tree, breaking its back.  Sadly, the creature had to be put down.

As to what caused it, we may never know.  But then, a couple of races later, one of the horses about to race suddenly bucked its rider and fell backwards. It had to be scratched from the race.

This weird behavior had everyone at the track buzzing, like the animals were trying to tell us something.  Perhaps a big earthquake?  We haven’t seen that yet, it wasn’t a full moon and so far, it was just one freakish day at the track. Hopefully, one of those in a lifetime is enough.

Tim Hunter

I’m too busy to follow sensationalized trials.  If the O.J. thing was going on today, I’d probably say “Let me know when it’s over.”  Come to think of it, I believe I treated it the same way as the Casey Anthony trial.  Heard about it, knew people were intrigued, which piqued my interest….but didn’t really get on board until the surprising end.

As many of you know, I write jokes for a living.  I’m always looking for that punchline, that clever twist that I can discover and make people laugh out loud.  Ironically, it happened today when the editor of Radio Online, Ron Chase, took the time out of his chaotic schedule to tell me how much he enjoyed one of the jokes I had sent him earlier in the day. (FYI, the joke was–A giant dust storm swallowed up Phoenix on Tuesday.  FEMA is already on the scene, delivering emergency shipments of Pledge. What makes this a big deal to me is not only the fact the boss noticed, but also, with the outcome of that trial, I just haven’t felt funny.  Sure, the witty remarks slip out…some of that is auto-pilot.  But when I write show prep in the morning, I usually write jokes as I scan the news.  The past couple of days, I’ve wrapped up the morning writing and stared at a blank section where jokes should live.  So, I’d have to dig deep and come up with something, anything, fairly funny.  The fact that the “pledge” joke got such a response lets me know that I’m heading back into the zone.

What have we learned from this?  It goes back to what I’ve always said, people should have a license to be a parent.  You need one to drive, to fish, to own a pet…but pop out kids one right after the other?  It’s a “right”.  Then you end up with people who think not reporting your child missing for 31 days or putting duct tape on their mouths is normal parenting.  I don’t think the duct tape thing ever happened to me, but I’m sure if I was my parent I would have seriously considered it.

So, it’s back to being funny.  To looking at Charlie Sheen or Lindsay Lohan and saying “Thank GOD you’re back in the news!”  Sometimes it’s tough.  Sometimes the news just isn’t funny.

Tim Hunter

Frankly, I’m surprised this doesn’t happen more often.

Down in Texas, an inning ended, outfielder Josh Hamilton tossed the ball into the stands for the fans, a guy leaned out to get it, lost his balance, fell over the rail and died from his injuries.  Tragic, but completely avoidable.

I’ve never been one to try to get a foul ball at any cost.  Those things hurt and even if you do catch it, if you’re not with your own kid, you’re going to end up giving it to one nearby.  It’s going to mean a whole lot more to them than to you.

I figured if God wanted me to catch a foul ball, he’d make it easy.  So, one game a ball was fouled off and headed my direction.  It perfectly hit the aisle 30-feet to my right, bounced in the air and then landed right in my hand. The cute kid in the next row inherited my good fortune after a quick “happy dance”. I’ll never forget how big his eyes got.

I had one more opportunity.  Sitting on the third base side again, one headed my way again but this time, everyone in our section clammored for it.  It came down, no one knew where it went until I sat down in my seat, looked over and there it was: in the lap of an old fellow sitting next to me.  In the crush of trying to get it, the ball landed in his lap and he didn’t even know it.  Now, the decision: reach into this guy’s crotch and grab the ball…or, option #2, which was saying to him, “Excuse me, sir, but there’s a baseball in your lap.”

#2 without hesitation.

Foul balls can be dangerous.  If you’re meant to get one in the future, you’ll have your opportunity.  It could end up being as close as the lap next to you.

Tim Hunter

It was over a week ago, while my wife Victoria and I were in the laundry room, that we heard a dripping noise.  We followed the sound, which took us to water coming out of the ceiling.  Tracing the source, it turned out to be that noisy dishwasher we had talked about replacing.

So, off to Lowes we went.  When our refrigerator had suddenly died, we shopped around and Lowes was the hero.  They had the same fridge Sears was offering at hundreds of dollars less.  Done deal.

However, this time, our Lowes experience was less than stellar.  We went to our regular store a few blocks away and found their appliance section swamped.  It took two trips to the front, asking for additional help in appliances before we finally had someone to guide us through the process.

Again, nice guy, but slow.  He also seemed to know what he was talking about, but when the installation guy showed up to put in the dishwasher and it didn’t fit, it gave me second thoughts.  Our entire process from “Whaddya got?” to filling out the paperwork and “See ya later” was around an hour.

But as you read, a week later when the installation guy came out to tell me that it wouldn’t fit without a plumber coming in at an additional cost, we still didn’t have a dishwasher and had to make one more trip to Lowes to pick out a different one. That night, we were given a choice of one.  We were told that it was the only one that would fit and it would take perhaps 16 days to arrive.  Then, after it arrived, an installer would come out and install at his convenience.  Bottom line, from broken to new dishwasher, we were looking at around 5 weeks.

Really?  In this day and age?

Lowes, you had us.  We wanted to be regular customers and make you our go-to store.  But just to be sure that there wasn’t something better over at Home Depot, we wandered down the street.

From the time we walked in to the time we walked out: around 20-minutes.  We bought it, the one we wanted was in-stock, they could install it as soon as this Friday or Saturday, the installation fee was $20 less than Lowes, the extended 4-year-warranty was $50 less than Lowes and we’ll have a new dishwasher this weekend instead of waiting until August.

Did I mention I went back to Lowes to get a refund and they credited me for labor, but said they didn’t have a record of the dishwasher being returned, so I would have to wait for that.  How long?  We’ll find out.

I had been with Lowes for a long time.  Since back when they were Eagle Hardware. But it looks like this guy is going to make the switch to the folks with the orange aprons.  I can do it.  They can help.

Tim Hunter

I lost a cousin today back in South Dakota.  He was older by 10 years, but that’s still way too entirely young to check out.

Rick had been ill for some time and perhaps, the borrowed time he got to enjoy made his departure a little easier on his mom and sister.  I hope so, but through my experience there’s no way for any of us to imagine what they’re going through with any accuracy.  People like to say that: “I can only imagine how you feel.” Well, yeah, you can try, but you’ll probably be way off.

Rick was a cousin. The son of my mom’s sister. I knew of his existence from an early age.  I still have several of those black and white photos that made their way through the mail so I could recognize him on the street if I would ever see him, but I would have to say I was limited to only seeing him less than a dozen times in my life.  Yet, he was family.  There were a couple of times I got to see him as a kid during our family vacations to South Dakota. I know I chatted with him on the phone a couple of times over the years, so I can still hear his voice. But one of the more memorable times I had with him lives on, courtesy of our home movies. Fast-forward to the 1970s section and you’ll see Rick and I playing basketball together in our driveway, Rick wearing his navy uniform.  He had come up from San Diego for a weekend visit and I just remember him being so nice and down home South Dakota friendly.

Don’t know if I saw him after that time and if I did, it just didn’t stick in my brain.  He’s gone now, but ask me about Rick Hoff any time for the rest of my life and the picture of us playing basketball together is the picture that comes to mind.  I’ll tell you he was a great guy and my cousin.  Wish I could have spent some more time with him.

Which makes me think of my other cousins out there that have scattered. Like my cousin Clay and his wife Dawn, who still live on the farm in South Dakota that his parents down.  Cousin Rhonda, Rick’s sister, in Aberdeen, South Dakota.  I’ve got others in Minnesota, West Virginia and God knows where else where, that I haven’t seen in decades.  To all you guys: I miss you and enjoying being connected by the family tree.

Cousins–one of the coolest family connections you can have.  It’s a shame it doesn’t come with more time together built in.

Tim Hunter

What nice surprise!  Today, got an email from an old radio buddy who pointed out that one of the jokes I had written was in the Seattle Times.  What was funny was that after all these years of being in this town on the radio followed by 7 years of advertising, I was identified as “Seattle Blogger Tim Hunter”.  I was curious how he came up with that title, since the writer is not on my weekly Wacky Week email list, so I dropped him a note to say thanks for giving me credit.

The author wrote back that he had come across the quote on a humor website, one I didn’t even know my material appeared on.  So, what I wrote in Seattle went to Radio Online in Texas, was distributed to the world, stumbled on to a website, which a Seattle sportswriter picked up and then printed it in my home town.

Seems like a long way to go, but the joke eventually found its way home.  You have to let jokes go and if they were ever truly yours, they’ll find their way back home.  Or, wait: is that someone you love? I always get those two mixed up.

Tim Hunter

When former KOMO TV4 weather guy Ray Ramsey passed away recently, I shared some stories with you.  But I also promised you a clip or two of the guy in action.

Here’s a moment that never saw the airwaves because, c’mon, we were talking conservative KOMO Country Radio, the MOR (Middle of the Road) Monster of Full Service Radio.

This is a drop that I was recording for one of our Husky Tailgate parties.  I’d arm Larry with a bunch of these back in the day when we’d put a bunch on a cart and when he pushed it, he never knew what would come up–which would crack him up.

This one would have ticked off management so much, we all would have been called into the office. But I wasn’t about to let it go.

THE SETUP:  Ray, gimme a line about the Husky Tailgate party.  And Ray said….

I wonder who Donald was…

Love the classic Ramsey laugh.

Every morning at 6:54am or there abouts, Larry would come out of spots and visit the land of Ramsey.  The goal was to get in a forecast before the news at the top of the hour.  Simple enough.  Ray came to us each morning from a setup at his home, since he had been in KOMO the night before doing the 11pm news.

But Larry couldn’t just introduce Ray.  And all of these things we threw at him, he had no prior knowledge.  Eventually he would get to a forecast.

Here’s a great example

Thanks for the laughs, Ray.

Tim Hunter

Tim Hunter

So, I turn to you.

I thought of a joke. One of those that could viewed as “too soon” or maybe years before it’s time. Or, it could just simply be in bad taste.

When those types of jokes roll around, I have to put on the filters.  Facebook?  Probably not.  Twitter?  Yeah, pretty accepting crowd.  But all it would take is one over-sensitized Tweeter to read it and brand me as a monster on the Internet.

So, I’m sticking with the home court advantage.  This is my turf.  As you’ve read over time, pretty much everything flies here, so here goes.  In order to “get this”, you’ll need to know that Dave Niehaus was the original voice of the Mariners and after 34 years in the broadcast booth, suddenly died last fall following the season.

That being said…..

The Seattle Mariners just lost their 17th game in a row.  Boy, I’m glad Dave Niehaus isn’t around to see this.  It would just kill him.

Yeah, I know…but now that that’s over with and I’ve got it out of my system, I can go back to the mainstream stuff.  Thanks for the talk.

Tim Hunter

Gotta love those company picnics!

Today is our annual Destination Marketing company picnic, along the Edmonds waterfront. We’ve been doing this for a couple of years now and while the weather hasn’t always cooperated, it’s consistently been a chance for co-workers to hang and chat about something other than work.  Mostly.

I’ve always enjoyed company picnics, going back to the days of United Airlines and the big spread that was put on by the Machinists Union down at Elysian Park, the one near Dodger Stadium.  I just remember lots of room to run, games, water balloon tosses, a swimming pool, hot dogs, you name it.  Looking back, it was like a scene out of The Wonder Years.

KOMO radio put on quite a deal the first couple of years I was there back in the 1980s. They were out at Vasa Park on Lake Sammamish and it was the tail end of companies providing kegs for such celebrations.  In fact, the two moments that might have led to this being the final year of beer at the company was picnic was Norm from the mail room running around on his broken foot and one of the news people slobbering all over the wife of one of the VP’s.  Sure was a heck of a lot of fun to watch.

These days, company picnics are rather tame.  Ours is a fairly civil celebration, but as I look back on the video I took at these occasions, there’s  some great stuff. Most recently, at our last picnic, we have video of Jennifer announcing to her co-workers that she was indeed pregnant.  This year, she’ll bring along a special guest to the picnic.

It’s not easy making these things happen, especially when work has become so busy.  But sometimes you just gotta force people to have fun and today, I’m not taking no for an answer.

80-degrees and sunshine along the Edmonds waterfront, here we come.

Tim Hunter

So, the stock market continues to free fall, even after the Federal Government announced that interest rates would stay stable for the next two years.  The current rate is 0%.  Doesn’t get much more stable than that.

So, the government is loaning money out at 0% interest.  Doesn’t that seem like a fundamentally bad move?  I’m no financial genius, but I’ve been promoting this idea for a while and since no one seems to be making any serious movies, let me propose this to the country again.

The 2% Home Mortgage Refi.

These would be government sponsored and only available to those who have NOT missed a payment for the past five years.  Period.  No exceptions.  I am among a small group of homeowners who have been taking it for the team, versus going the quick sale route or just walking away.  Sure I’m under water and have watched the value of the home dropping almost as fast as the Dow Jones. But hear me out.

The government is only getting 0% on their money, when they could get 2% on what they’d loan out.  That puts money in the coffers.  The homeowners that see their payments drop have money to spend, pay off bills and help spend our way out of this mess. The spending triggers lower unemployment and back we return to prosperity.

What’s the worst thing that could happen?  People who have been playing by the rules get a break and the government actually earns interest on their money instead of just giving it away. (Wait…’their’ money?  That’s OUR money)

Nay-sayers, please line up over there and offer the better solution. I can see from here it’s a short line.  Look, it’s something.  It’s a plan.  I originally posted a Facebook page promoting this idea last year, called How About 3% Government Mortgages for Regular Folks?  Look it up, Like it and let’s see if this idea can pick up any momentum.  Or, we can just wait for the politicians to do whatever it is they’re doing.

Tim Hunter

John and his just desserts

65 years ago, a young kid from West Virginia returned home after 4 years of serving in the United States Navy. He and many others of his generation got a crash course in life, leaving home and being thousands of miles away while not knowing what his future looked like.

John Hunter, like so many others, came back after doing what was asked of them.  Once their feet touched American soil, they were told they would receive medals for all that they had done.  However, they wouldn’t be ready for another week or so, if they wanted to wait around.  Or, they could just go home.  Many took option “B”, including John.

It wasn’t until the past 40 days or so that we found out my dad had these medals coming.  Sister Terri grabbed the steering wheel and when she ran into some roadblocks (“Oh, no problem. He should have them in 18-24 months”) I appealed to the Facebook nation and had several people step up offering to help.  But before they could assist, my sister had a big breakthrough with someone connected to the military back in her neck of the woods.

The result–the day of my parents 60th anniversary, a FedEx package was delivered to their home, to add a crowning touch to the day’s celebration.  Talk about one proud 88-year-old American veteran.

Congratulations, Pop.  We were always proud of you, but somehow you made us up the pride another notch.

And thank you for your service.

Tim Hunter

 

We can all do it.  Most likely, we’ll be able to do it years from now as if it just happened. September 11th, 2001.  Ten years ago, America was attacked on our own soil by a group of religious nut jobs whose sole purpose was to kill.  Men, women, children, Christians, Muslims, Jews…it didn’t matter, they didn’t care.  Someone bent religion again enough for some weak, mindless pawns to crash passenger jets into a building, while believing they were doing God’s work.

We all found about it at different times.  Some were there from the beginning, others came in after the first plane and watched in shock as another came in…and then reports of a third. When would it end, when would it stop.

For me, it had been another typical day in the life of a morning show disc jockey.  Up at 2:17am, into work by 4, writing and putting together another show.  The day before, we had interviewed an author of a new book that was all based on real calls to 9-1-1.  So, he felt it timely to release it around September 11th, for promotional purposes. It was a five minute piece or so and we had developed a little habit of playing our interviews early for the 5:50am crowd….and then sneaking it back on around 8:20am, killing two breaks with one decent bit. This wasn’t one our best, but it was ready to go, edited down tightly and after the song that was playing, we’d check traffic and with a quick intro, launch into the bit.

But while the song played, we saw on the TV monitor in the room ‘breaking news’ that a plane had crashed into one of the twin towers.  That was too bad.  Probably some pilot getting too close in his Cessna. After all, this was back in New York City and there were plenty of disturbed people there.

But right before the song ended and we began to put our headphones on to talk on the radio, they were now saying commercial jetliner.  We did our disc jockey thing, got the bit going….but then dumped out of it a minute or so in…..as we began to follow the events of that morning.

I know the tapes of that show exist somewhere and I’d love to hear it again…because the rest of the morning was spent with listeners on the air, talking about what they knew or had found out, breaking the news to people, hearing from folks who had relatives back there, sharing the grief.

As we witnessed one of the darkest days in our country’s history together, we also saw it at it’s best: united, non-partisan, working together to defeat a common enemy.  It didn’t last long and soon it was right against left even worse than before, but for me, it was reassuring that it could happen.

My heart goes out to the families of the victims. The wives that kissed their husbands goodbye for the last time that morning without realizing it.   The kids who were dropped off at a daycare in the Trade Center, never to see their family again.  Brutality has been present throughout humanity and in this day and age, it’s unimaginable to think that someone would conceive of crashing a jet into a building like that for idiotic reasons. But as much as they envisioned themselves doing this to honor their god, I’m counting on the God of my beliefs having a nice, toasty warm place for them to dwell for all eternity.

God bless America.

Tim Hunter

 

You write a blog, you put down your thoughts and that’s all there is to it.  What you think, exposed to the world: right or wrong, true or misguided, it just doesn’t matter.  It’s the truth as you see it, as you interpret all the things that have flown past you as you compile your opinions.

The sad thing about American politics is the polarization.  You can’t have a differing opinion than the person you’re talking with or you’re either a “conservative whack job” or a “bleeding heart tax & spend liberal”.

I am neither.  I like to hear both sides, I like to try and understand both points of view and then vote accordingly.  So many people view their politics as “steak or seafood”.  They’re sitting there in the restaurant and even though the waiter just said “I’m sorry, the beef is rancid but the seafood just arrived here 2-minutes ago” they’ll choose beef, because that’s what they believe is the right answer.

I was listening to those nut-jobs Ron & Don on the way home tonight on KIRO, and they played a clip of Ron Paul from last night’s Republican debate.  First off, if you don’t know who Ron Paul is, he’s the idealist candidate who appears to have a few screws loose, but that would probably actually make a really good thinking president.  As you’re aware, Americans aren’t big on those.

The question was put to him, “If a guy didn’t buy health care insurance, then came down with a terrible something that required six months of medical care, what do you do?”  Ron’s response was non-commital, but what he believes in is minimal government.  The announcer said, “So, what is society’s obligation?  Save him?”

And then, as Ron gave his answer, it struck me.  He may be on to something.  He said there used to be a time when the churches would take care of him and that’s the idea.  Yeah, churches don’t get the PC stamp of approval these days, but go back to the moderator’s question: Does society have an obligation to save the guy?  All of us being caring, loving individuals, the answer is “yes”.  That’s when the great truth dawned on me.

The government is NOT society.  Government doesn’t listen to Lady Gaga’s latest song or wonder how “Two and a Half Men” is going to do without Charlie Sheen.  That is US!  We are society.  Government is that thing we do to pool our resources to protect us, give us roads and clean drinking water….you know, the basics.  The extras have been piled on by those who believe government should do everything in our lives and I’ve got to agree with the Tea Party wacko’s on this one: government does NOT need to be our brains.  There are some things it should be involved in–laws that protect others from harming us–but the rest?  C’mon folks, we’re adults here.  You can think for yourself, right?  You’ve made some big decisions, like which car to buy, where you’re going to live, do you keep the job you’ve got or look for a new one–that’s being free and able to make your own decisions.

If I decide to walk out on to the freeway during rush hour, I’m an idiot and someone will probably run me over.  I know that’s a bad idea, so I don’t do it.  If I opt to NOT get insurance, I sure as hell don’t expect the government to bail me out.  They’ve done too much bailing out to begin with.

The bottom line: there are common sense rules at play here, and in most situations.  Try to removed the partisan emotions and rhetoric you’ve been raised with and think for yourself.

We’ve got lots of time for you to consider the options. If you’ve got the country you’ve always dreamed about, keep it as is.  If you’re itching for a change, do the home work.  Figure out who works and who doesn’t for you.

There IS a difference between society and the government.  Society will do just fine by itself.  But about that government…

That is up to you.

Tim Hunter

Good family friends had a daughter getting married. A daughter I’ve met a couple of times, but didn’t really know very well.

What I did know of her was that she was a free spirit, had gone to Evergreen State College, rode her bicycle a lot, had spent some time in Turkey and was in a band. Pretty wild assortment, huh?

To no one’s surprise, her wedding was eclectic as her life.

Marit and Grant were married at Norway Park, a private campground and recreation area for members of the Sons of Norway. They have a recreation building with a kitchen and, because of the possibility of rain, the two exchanged vows inside, with a ceremony led by a former professor of both the bride and groom.

The crowd consisted of his family from Montana and New  York, as well as her family and friends from Illinois, Seattle, Portland and other spots in the northwest. After the two exchanged their original vows and the pronouncement was made, that’s where it got interesting. The DJ for the reception walked in, carrying two turntables and stacks of albums. Yes, records. I flashed back to my KQOT and KMWX days in Yakima, when I did high school dances and wedding receptions with the same gear. I just had to take a picture of this setup, because I earned extra bucks that way for several years.

There was Turkish music, an uncle who brought out his accordion and led the group in the Chicken Dance and some polkas, members of the Norwegian Ladies Chorus teamed up for a Norwegian wedding march—but the biggest surprise was the music selection.
A lot of the songs were the same ones I played in the 70s, along with some 80s and 90s that were probably hits before the bride was born!  Hall & Oates, Milli Vanilli, some real throwbacks.

In the end, everyone got up and danced.  The bride and groom invited everyone to take home a bottle of private brew that the bride, her mom and a friend had made and everyone had a tremendous time.

Going in, I had no idea.  Coming out, I was exhausted from more dancing that this old body is used to.  Congrats to Marit & Grant, two kids heading off on their life adventure together and if the reception is any indication of how much fun’s ahead, hang on!

Tim Hunter

I took a seminar the other day.  One of those “sit in a hotel event room for six hours and try to absorb something useful” ones that work felt would be a good idea.  They were right.  Good stuff, good instructor, some nifty tricks to utilize at work…but best of all, this little nugget about what’s going on in some work places.

I’ve ranted before about 20-somethings and don’t get me wrong: they ARE the future (until they’ve been in charge for 20 years and then the next generation will replace them).

Seriously, I’ve got two kids that are Gen-Y’s and while I’m pretty proud of what they’ve accomplished, I’ve noticed some negative traits that I wish they would recognize for their own good. Things like “you are NOT owed anything, you have to earn it”, “your way isn’t the only way”, “you don’t really know it all”, etc.

But sit down before I pass this along.  Our instructor said he had discovered a certain phenomena first inCanadawhile teaching classes, but that now it was showing up down here in the states. When some of these Gen-Y kids were having a hard time at work and, since they still live at home, complained to their parents—THEIR PARENTS WOULD ACTUALLY CALL UP THE KID’S BOSS AND HAVE A TALK WITH THEM.

Are you kidding?  Seriously?  I don’t know how wide-spread this practice is, but if you have ever called your kid’s boss because of their troubles at work, you are messing them up for life. 

We all have to go through less than perfect conditions.  It happens, we survive, it shapes us, we learn from it and move on.  Work happens. Life is unfair.  Sorry, but not everyone gets a trophy when you put on the big boy pants.

Maybe you’ve heard of this happening before, but to me, it was a shocker.  I think back to some of the crappy bosses I’ve had to deal with and some of them, I wouldn’t even want my parents knowing that I worked for those kind of people.  Hey Gen-Y’s, this is your captain speaking: Grow up and learn to do things for yourself.  It will serve you in the long run and prevent you from having to get on the phone some day with your kid’s boss.

Tim Hunter

I go back on forth between how much we can control in our lives and how we can’t really control things.  You can spend each of your days on this rock frustrated by how things turn out, resentful of the outcome.  You could also choose to just let things happen around you and spend your entire life reacting, feeling like a helpless victim.  Over time, I’ve chosen a blend of the two.

Both times I lost my job, that was beyond my control, but what WAS in my court was the course I would choose after finding myself unemployed.  In both cases, I evolved to a better job, a better position.

Oh sure, it’s easy to apply that rule to major events, but what about the day-to-day incidents that occur?  What is the grand purpose of, say, the New England Patriots blowing a game last Sunday that they should have won?  I’m glad you asked.

That same day, a punk around the age of 20 walked into a convenience store back east, grabbed a 30 rack of beer and walked out without paying.  The owner, beloved by his neighborhood, started chasing the lad.  As word spread of the theft, neighbors came out of the woodwork to help and track down the thief.  Eventually, one man heard what was going on in the neighborhood. stopped working on a clogged toilet, went outside and joined the chase, plunger in hand.

The next thing you know, the beer thief wandered down an alley, where the man threw down his plunger and body tackled the suspect, holding him until police arrived.  What inspired him to be such a hero?  He was a frustrated Patriots fan and thought he would just take out his aggression on this likely candidate.

Why some things happen are no-brainers.  Other annoyances, disappointments and frustrating events have a purpose in our life, to motivate us to do something or to make a change.  Harness that power and you’ll find out that things are actually working in your favor more than you think.

Now, excuse me.  I’ve got to go tackle an old boss.

Tim Hunter

If you think of your mind being one big filing cabinet, it only makes sense that one day, it gets full.  As you approach that bloating point of information overload, I imagine that you start to let some things go to make room for the barrage of details that are more important to what’s going on in your life today.

I was pondering what to write about this week and starting with a blank slate, I went straight to Raylene Crocker.  She was the girl next door when I was like 4 or 5 and I really don’t remember that much about her.  I have some old black and white pictures to assist me and a couple of jumpy moments in the home movies video, but other than that, when I think of Raylene, I think of a girl a year or two older than me, wearing her one-piece bathing suit and a plastic swimmer’s cap that girls wore back in those days.  Funny that I remember her wearing that, since the only times we went swimming together were in a 6-inch deep swimming wading pool that you had to inflate.

I couldn’t even begin to remember what her parents looked like.  Checking back in to the dusty corners of my memories, I recall them moving away when I was 6.  I heard later that they had gotten a divorce and once they were gone from the neighborhood, the news about the Crockers stopped.

But, for some reason, I remember Raylene.  You don’t hear that name very often.  Probably what keeps her memory so alive is the time when we were over in her yard, playing in that inflatable swimming pool that hardly had any water in it.  As we both laid there talking next to each other, she grabbed the side of the pool, pulled it over us like a blanket, then leaned over and kissed me.  To be completely honest, I don’t recall if it was on the lips or just the cheek, I just remember it being a kiss.  My first ever outside of the aunts or grandmas that would peck your cheek.

And that’s what I remember most about Raylene Crocker.  It only happened once.  At the time, I didn’t really understand what had happened or its significance, but her I am half a century later reflecting on that sunny California afternoon–before school, work or any other daily obligations other than just being a kid–but on that day, Raylene, you entered my mind and have been there ever since.

I hope life turned out well for you, Raylene, and that you realized all of your dreams or at least some of them.  Everyone has their own ‘first kiss’ story.  I suppose mine was on the early side,  but not too early so that I don’t remember it. That was a long time ago, but it’s one of those  childhood memories I can remember like it was yesterday.

Tim Hunter

Some weekends come and go so quickly.  Others are so packed with commitments and events, you can’t wait to get back to work on Monday to relax.

This past weekend was not overly busy when it came to activities, but it had a very big high and an extremely big low.

I’ll start with the high.  I’ve been thinking about this for a long time, have been to the Toyota dealership several times before, trying to make an affordable deal happen to get me into a Prius.  Finally, this past Saturday, everything came together and I now drive around in a silver Prius, getting 51 MPG in the CITY!  48 on the highway. Since the dealer bought the first tank of gas and we don’t have any out-of-town trips scheduled in October, my goal is to make it through October without filling up!

The bad news came Friday afternoon at 5:40pm.  I was trying to get out of work when the cell phone rang. It was my doctor’s office.  I had been in for a physical two days’ before and had forgotten to ask for a refill on a massage prescription for my forearms and thumbs, which take a beating with all my writing (ouch).  The perky medical assistant gave me the usual greeting and then began to dish.  The blood test results from my physical were back and they were not good.  The long and short of it:  I have type 2 diabetes.  For those new to this prognosis, it’s the best of the bad news.  It means I have diabetes, my liver is producing too much sugar….but that it can be controlled with diet and exercise.  As you all know, that’s easy, so in a way, of all the things this could have been, Type-2 diabetes is the lesser of a lot of evils.

So, goodbye sugar,  Never again will my lips touch cotton candy, sourdough bread and so many other things you eat without even thinking about them. I have a 30 day window to eat better, do some exercising and drop a few pounds, to see if I can turn this thing around.  Needless to say, my beloved Scotch is going to take a seat on the bench for a while.  If nothing else, I’ve never been a fan of sweets, so giving them up won’t be so bad.   It’s just all the thinking involved and making sure I eat something every two hours to keep the blood sugar even.

So there you have it.  When I finally get around to writing the book on my life story, I already have the name for this chapter: “The Weekend I Got a Prius and Diabetes”.

I just wanted you to know.

Tim Hunter

I did something this past week that was pretty cool and that,
years from now, I’ll admit. But for now, the secret’s still intact.

My longtime radio buddy Bryon Mengle asked me the other day if I’d
do him a favor. I don’t think I’ve ever said “No” yet, from making
sure he made it home safe after his bachelor party to standing up as his best
man at his wedding.

He went back to my radio days when I occasionally would do a
Mickey Mouse voice and asked if I would call and leave a message for his
4-year-old daughter Alyssa, asking if she could check with her mom and dad
about coming down to Disneyland. Yep, the trip was already planned by mom &
dad, but he thought it would be fun to have Mickey call and personally invite her.
Well, I couldn’t stop at that and since my Mickey voice had slid down in pitch
over the years, I thought I’d add in Goofy (which I can still pull off) and
toss in Chip ‘n Dale for extra effect.

I don’t know how it was received yet and suggested they videotape
it, to see if they could catch some magic. But for one little girl in Bend,
Oregon, this week, she had a magical moment that I was part of….but only her
mom & dad, me & Victoria and YOU know the real identify.

For now, let’s keep it a secret.

Tim Hunter

So, being a nice guy, I probably end up saying “Yes” a heck of a lot more than I should.  But when I was asked by the Snohomish County chapter of WICS (a support group for widows and widowers) to help them create a website, I said, “Sure”.

This is where problems occur.  I set them up in the same system that I used to create this blog.  So, what happens?  The past weeks, I filed a couple of blogs and went on my merry way.

Tonight I realized that I had posted my confessions on the front of their website.  Two weeks in a row.   No one said anything.  Either no one visited their site in that stretch, or they didn’t want to comment on someone who obviously needed to talk about their life.

The posts are down from there, and up here where they belong.

Oops.

Tim Hunter

I was in one of those casual conversations with a co-worker when I
flashed back to the greatest lie every told to me.

No, it wasn’t in an election or by someone I loved. It happened
when I was young—4, 5, I’m not sure–but I remember being old enough to
realize that someone had told me something that was technically true, but in
fact, a lie.

I was getting ready to have my tonsils taken out. I was nervous
about it, but the calming nurse said, “You know what’s so great about
having your tonsils taken out?” “What?”, I asked, curiously.
“When you have them taken out, the next day you get to eat ALL the ice you
want.”

“Really? Great!”

The next day, there I was, in the hospital bed….with a throat so
sore, even the thought of having more than one swallow of ice cream was more
than I could bear. OK, technically, I could have all the ice cream I could
possibly want…but because of my sore throat, I didn’t want it! I’d been tricked.

And to this day, I’ve never again agreed to an elective surgery.
When someone asks, I sit down and eat a gallon of ice cream. I’ll show them.

Tim Hunter

Co-workers and I were talking about the places we used to work….or almost went to work at.  One guy said he almost took a job at a place where weekends and overtime were the norm.  “It was the place for single people” because no one with a family would survive.

What really told me a lot of about it was the company unofficial slogan: “If you don’t show up to work on Saturday, don’t bother coming in on Sunday.”.

Wow.

Tim Hunter

I’ve decided that, as far as people under 30 go, I come from another planet.

I was reminded of that the other day at work, when a fellow 50+ co-worker and I were discussing TV ‘back in the day’ and how there use to be “ghosting” when your antenna wasn’t exactly lined up.  My work buddy Scott remembered how the family would beg their dad to get on the tractor and go out into the field where the TV antenna was set up and adjust it so they could get a better picture from the TWO TV stations available.

What seemed normal to me growing up now makes it sound like either I’m from another planet or a time traveler. There couldn’t have been “party lines” as recently as 50 years ago in the United States.  There were.  You’d go to use the phone, pick it up and someone else from another home that shared your line was using the phone and you’d just have to wait to make your call.  Of course, that was back in the rotary dial phone days, when the first two numbers of your phone number were letters that stood for something.  For example, our home number was FRONTIER 5-1980, or FR5-1980 for short.  These days, that would just be 375-1980.

I remember our family being invited over to the neighbors to watch the Rose Bowl parade in COLOR.  The color TV was new and only a few people had one.  It was amazing.  On the other end of the spectrum, I was probably 10 years old before relizing that most of “The Wizard of Oz” was actually in color.  Much more impressive.

We use to drive to “the Milk Store”, a nearby dairy in Torrance, California, where we pulled up to a drive-through window and bought cartons of milk collected and processed right there, less than half a mile from our house.  There was the meat store down the street, where mom would send me with a list to buy the week’s meat.  (If I made it across Hawthorne Boulevard and back)  At the cash register, if you were a kid, they’d give you an uncooked hot dog to eat as a treat.

I lived in a land without seatbelt laws, because cars had no seat belts.  Music came on records, recorders used tape and if you needed to make a phone call, you’d use a public phone booth. Gee, as recently as the 1980s, we still did a bit on the radio called, “Payphone Payoff”, where we’d call a phone booth, let it ring and ask whoever picked it up to do a stunt for a prize.

The world continues to evolve so quickly.  If you feel that we’re not progressing that quickly, just give it a little bit of time.  The older you get, the faster the years roll by and the innovatioin you’re amazed at today become the “I can’t believe you did it THAT way” in the future.

What’s interesting is that most people feel that the time they grew up was “their time” and things just aren’t the way they use to be.  Well, of course not–but that’s OK.  The payoff of sticking around is that you were able to enjoy all that amazing innovation–like the new Mousetrap game or Funny Face soft drinks–while also being able to enjoy the breakthroughs that continue today.

I bid you all goodbye from the 1960s.

Tim Hunter

The results are in and state of Washington voters aren’t the sheep I thought they were.

Here’s the deal.  Last year, they tried to privatize liquor sales in our state.  Yeah, I grew up in California, where this is a non-issue.  But when I moved up here in 1973, I was amazed to find out that the state actually controlled booze sales.   Sure, you could get beer and wine in the grocery store, because as we know, you can’t get drunk on those.  But as far as evil, evil hard liquor, we could not be trusted with the high-octane stuff.

And besides, then the state could mark it up 52%.

Seriously.  A bottle of fine single malt scotch in California would run $24.  Sure, you could spend more, but there was no need.  Up here, those same bottles of Scotch would cost you $35.  There was that much mark up.

But last year, when the issue was brought up, it was voted down because of a well-run fear tactic campaign.  That was one strike:  instead of saying why the current way is better, opponents to privatization spoke of what could happen–teens being able to easily buy hard liquor and our state’s votes being bought by Costco.  The righteous group trying to save our state was “Protect our Communities”.  Yep, sounds like a nice bunch of citizens who are worried about the effects of demon rum.

But while Costco was held up as the villain financing the “For” vote in both elections, what “Protect our Communities” failed to point out was that it was basically a coalition of unions and distributors trying to protect their pockets.  Again, if that’s the case, tell us that…but instead of those Firefighters and Policemen held up in front of the camera saying, “If this passes, all of our union brothers and sisters would be out of a job”, they portrayed their stance as being the moral high ground.

Over time, you’ll realize that we’ve made a wise choice.  That the state will actually save the cost of running those stores and paying those employees and go back to just collecting taxes on the product….and we’ll come out ahead, if the state’s own estimates hold true.

The anti-1183 that ticked me off the most is the one that said, “Let’s show Costco that our democracy is not for sale.”  First off, that’s already true and we proved it.  The unions and distributors (including one in Wisconsin of all places) couldn’t buy our democracy or two elections’ worth of deception.

Just in case it’s not clear, everybody, the good guys won this time.

Tim  Hunter

So, I needed to get a prescription filled.  I went to the pharmacy, handed over the prescription and 10 minutes later, it was ready to be picked up.  However, my insurance would only allow me to get a 30-day supply at a time.  For that, it would cost $4 and my Benny plan would cover it.

But just before ringing me up, the pharmacist said, “Wait a minute. You know, if you skip your insurance, you can get a 90-day supply for $6.”"  Huh?  So, I could have come back two more times and paid twice the price….or cough up $6 and be done with it.

We need a serious overhaul, folks.

Tim Hunter

I live a busy life, no doubt about it.  I actually enjoy having lots going on and while I do hear myself occasionally whine about it, I wouldn’t have any other way.

It’s probably due to my long-standing observation that we have a limited amount of time here and that’s it.  That’s obvious from the get-go, but most people prefer not to think about it because it’s morbid or macabe or fearful.  Nope, just common sense to me.  We’re born and we die, those are the rules.  What we do with our time between those two points is entirely up to us.

So I keep busy.  I believe a day will come when I say, “OK, I’ve done enough, I’ll just sit and take it easy” but I could be wrong.  Getting things crossed off my list makes me feel productive and I get a buzz when people comment on how amazing it is I get so many things done.

I do my best to also appreciate the things around me day after day.  Because of my outlook on life, I know things can go away quickly and so I make the most of every minute of every day.  ’Appreciate what’s around me and not waste a moment of time’ are my two major mantras.

However, recently, the two of them collided.

I’ve been driving a Toyota Prius for over a month now and I love it.  The comfort, the fuel mileage, the comments it gets.  It has some cool features like an iPod connector and secret compartments to hide things.

With absolutely no connection, I recently lost my favorite umbrella.  A big old $50 University of Washington Husky umbrella that I feared I left behind at a restaurant.  I called, they said no one saw it.  Bummer.  Then, last Saturday morning, I was looking for a tool that I normally carried in the car with me and it was no where to be found.  I searched in the house, in case I had brought it in.  I went through the car, looked under the seats–nothing.

Then, I remembered the cool secret compartment of the Prius.  I doubted it was in there, but wanted to rule out all the possibilties.  Sure enough, there was the tool…and the umbrella…and the blanket I had briefly looked for last week.

Yep, sometimes I get too busy.  Too many things are on my mind at one time.  It’s probably the leading reason why you won’t see me identifying the three departments of goverment I’ll eliminate when I’m elected president.  However, if you’re looking for a way-too-busy guy with a Husky umbrella, I’m your guy.

Tim Hunter

I am an ‘Occupy” protestor.

I am a member of the 99% of Americans who are being victimized by the remaining 1%.  These evil, evil people are fueled by greed and controlling as much of our country’s wealth as possible.

That is why I have chosen to join others in an area of downtown and sit around for weeks.  Doing nothing sends a strong message to those heartless bastards that have ruined our country. I’m sure that by not working, not doing anything to make the situation better will make the situation better.  Oh, shoot, there it goes again–I hate it when logic gets in the way of making my point.

I mean, without us, America wouldn’t know they’re in a recession, right?  Or they wouldn’t feel like the whole Wall Street bailout was wrong, or even know that the housing market crumbled because of blatant greed.  I’m helping Americans realize just how bad things are in this country by camping out on a sidewalk in the downtown area.

When we get restless or someone thinks it’s a good idea, we’ll go out and block major streets and intersections, ideally during rush hour, so we can make people more aware of the problem.  I’m sure working long hours, trying to raise a family and struggling to pay bills in a recession isn’t enough of a reality check.  People need to know we really have a serious problem.  Apparently a great way to make that point is to tie up traffic so that working moms can’t pick up their kids at daycare on time and have to pay time and a half to their caregiver. 

When our demands are met, I’ll return to whatever it was I was doing before.  Actually, I wasn’t really doing that much, all because of the greedy 1%.  From what I’ve seen, the biggest hurdle Occupy protestors have to overcome is the fact that no one really knows what our demands are.  I mean, like when we have wars, there’s something everyone’s against.  That’s a no-brainer.  But protesting corporate greed is a lot harder.  I don’t know how long this will take and I guess what we’re hoping for is for all those rich cats to give back all the money they made by exploiting the American consumer.

Remember, our right to free speech and protesting is protected by the 1st amendment.  We have the complete right to protest, even if we don’t know what we’re trying to achieve.  We’re going to continue exercising that right no matter how much American tax payers have to dish out to cover the overtime of police departments in cities across the countries.  Hey, that’s the price of freedom.  In a way, it’s a good thing I don’t have a job because then all this doesn’t cost me a thing.

Some people just don’t get it.  It makes me mad when the police use pepper spray to make us get off of streets after one of us started being a cop with a stick as the Occupy crowd chanted “F#*K the police!”  Remember that free speech thing?  Under the 1st amendment, we have the right to antagonize police until we get them to react in a way that gives us a nice photo-op to promote our agenda.

Oh yeah, an agenda.  One of these days we’ve gotta come up with one of those.

Whenever I didn’t get my way at home, I’d just whine and complain until mom and dad gave in.  An entire country is a little more challenging, but I’ve got the support of an entire generation of really good whiners and complainers that are entitled to much better than we’re getting. I’m sure we’re going to get our way.

I am an “Occupy” protestor and I am a moron.

 

So, it had been a long yet successful week.  To cap off this Friday, I went straight from work to the Country Village Shopping Center in Bothell, to co-host the annual Bothell Chamber of Commerce auction.

I made announcements, read descriptions of auction items, told a few jokes, but when the night wrapped up, I was crispy. Victoria and I made our way through the parking lot, climbed into the car and I pushed the button that turns it on.  Delilah was on the radio, when all of a sudden she stopped talking…and a voice on the phone started saying, “Hello?   Hello?”

I assumed she was having technical problems so I continued putting on my seat belt and getting ready to back out, when the voice continued, “Hello!   Hel-lo!”  I decided to play along and say, “Hello” back to it….and it responded.  “Who is this?”   OK, this was weird.  I’ll play along.  “This is Tim…who’s this?”

“This is Janet…I think you just butt-dialed me!”

Sure enough, while in my pants pocket, somehow my cell phone had dialed up Janet’s phone number.  When we got into the car, it took a second, but my hands-free system eventually cut in…which is why we heard Delilah first, then Janet trying to get our attention.  Now, there she was, on the phone….letting me know that we had accidentally called her…while she was in New York….and HAD been asleep.

Oops.

I believe everything in life is a lesson waiting to be learned.  In this case, whenever your car radio talks to you, alwyas answer back.

Tim Hunter

What’s not to like about Thanksgiving?  A food-based holiday, where the big event is centered around a meal, no gifts are exchanged and the NFL gives us two games to watch as we smell the turkey cooking to perfection.  Add to that, the holiday always starts on a Thursday, making going into work rather pointless, so we end up getting a 4-day weekend out of it.

I’m proud of the fact that I live in a country that actually sets aside a day of national thanks.  It still surprises me that Canada and the U.S. didn’t talk things over and have Thanksgiving at the same time.  Instead, Canadians have their version in early October.  That does break it apart from Christmas, as right now in the U.S., Thanksgiving is just a speed bump in the road of the holiday season.  Of course, if we truly didn’t want Christmas to interfere with Thanksgiving, we’d probably have to move it to July, before Costco starts putting out the decorations.

The bulk of us will sit down to dinner on Thursday with family and friends, bow our heads and for an entire 30-seconds, give thanks for all that we have.  I suppose that’s better than nothing, but just imagine if we were to actually embrace our thankfulness, realize all that we have on a daily basis and give thanks for it.  Watch the news and our world today seems to be obsessed with what we don’t have–the Occupy protestors, taking a stand by doing nothing as a group, to point out all the things they don’t have. Watch TV and you’ll see commercial after commercial pointing out how much happier we’d be if we had a new video game, or go out to eat at this restaurant or drive this new car.

There was a time I lived a “keeping up with the Jones’ life” and eventually I realized that it never ends.  When you live on the idea you’ll be happy when you get __________, your happiness is temporary…because just on the other side of that want is another one….and another…and another.

To quote Sheryl Crow, which I believe I’ve done more than once on Thanksgivings over the years, “It’s not getting what you want, it’s wanting what you’ve got!”   We DO have a lot, each of us, in our own way.  Sure, a winning lottery ticket would solve some problems, but it would create others.  The world is not perfect and neither are we, but damn…if you just take a hard look at where you are and see how much you’ve actually received over the years, you can only do one thing–and that’s being extremely thankful.  Maybe, even this year, for more than just one day.

I have to look up and say thanks for the family that raised me and that surrounds me now, a vast wealth of friends and acquaintances and toi live in a land that the bulk of the world can only dream of living.  For all of our issues, our problems and our challenges, when it comes down to it, we are all truly blessed.

It would be silly to wrap this up without saying, “Thanks for reading this.”

Tim Hunter

It was the perfect start to a 4-day weekend.  I had made the appointment over a month ago, on a day that just sounded like a date in the month of November.  It turned out, I had booked a massage appointment on the Wednesday before Thanksgiving, otherwise known as “Thanksgiving Eve.”

Sure, the plus side is the relaxation, the nice sendoff into the holiday weekend.  The drawback is that, if the boss did decide to let us all go home early, I wouldn’t be able to take advantage of the offer.

So, at 5:13, I left the office and went downstairs to my appointment.  An hour later, I was this relaxed tub of goo.  I went out to the desk to say goodbye until the next time, when a guy behind the counter looked like he wanted to say something…held back…and then, let it fly.  I’ve got to say, I’ve always appreciated an honest and candid thought and so when he offered up his message, while not what I expected to hear, it was very much appreciated.

I stood there in my post-massage stupor as he uttered the words: “Excuse me, but I think you have your shirt on inside out!”

Uh, yeah.  I excused myself, reversed it and came out for a quick “Thanks very much” before going on my way.

And since I was planning to stop at the store on the way home to pick up some milk, I will always be extremely grateful.

Happy Thanksgiving.

Tim Hunter

I remember, a while back when my wife Victoria told me she had gone gold. I said, “Huh?”  Apparently, when you use a Starbucks card all the time instead of debiting or cash, then you rack up points…and when you get enough, they mail you a gold card to use and you enjoy benefits like 50-cents off every drink.

OK, that’s nice.

I mean, Victoria is a serious Starbucks customer.  Why do I say that?  The other day, she pulled up for her morning Americano and the person at the drive-through window handed her a card….a Christmas card, signed by the gang at Starbucks, thanking her for being such a good customer.  Name, handwritten on the outside, the works.

I’ll admit, I get into a Starbucks once or twice a week.  Nothing fancy, occasionally just a drip…but apparently that’s enough to make you gold, eventually.  I got the notice in an email today, the gold card will take 6-8 weeks to arrive.  But then I’ll be a fully vested member of the Seattle over-caffeinated club.

No foam.

Tim Hunter

 

Linda Thomas, a news anchor at KIRO radio here in Seattle, has done a great job of following my adventure.

Here’s her first post– http://mynorthwest.com/646/576509/Homeowner-told-to-start-missing-payments

And the follow-up http://mynorthwest.com/646/581996/Bank-dumps-moron-trying-to-refinance-mortgage?page=2

A real estate friend asked me, “So who’s the company that got your mortgage?”  I told him who I thought it was and his reply was, “Oh-Oh”….and sent me a link of a bad review of the company.  So, we’ll see where this all goes.  President Obama was supposed to make some changes that, starting today, might help a fellow out.  Keep your eyes here or on Linda’s MyNorthwest blog and we’ll keep you posted.

Ugh.

Tim Hunter

I ventured into the world of Costco the other day.  You know, that place where you go in planning to buy a couple of things and leave with a cart full of stuff, wondering “What just happened?”

As is true of most things at Costco, you usually can’t buy just one of anything.  Most of the items in their stores come in a 2-pack or multi-pack, encouraging you to buy more than you had originally planned.

This particular day, on my list of things to get was…deodorant.  I admit it, I sweat, and at the end of a long day, I’ll smell like the end of a long day if I don’t swipe a stick of deodorant under my armpits.  They basically had two deodorant packs to choose from–a pink colored assortment, obviously targeting for women and a “manly-looking” 5-pack of Degree.

Sorry Proctor & Gamble, but to me, deodorant is deodorant.  No one walks up and says to you, “(sniff, sniff) Hey, is that Ban you’ve got on?”  For that reason, it was even more surprising how the 5-pack of Degree was being marketed: it was a “Collector’s Edition”.

Do people really collect deodorants?  Wouldn’t coins or stamps be a bit more interesting?  I can’t imagine being at a friend’s house and having him say, “Wanna see my ’97 Speed Stick?”

Degree deodorant–the collector’s edition.  Somewhere there’s a private collector who’s going to get upset, but I just broke into my “Collector’s Edition” deodorant and started using it. Just remember–it makes your un-opened box set just that much more valuable.

Tim Hunter

Santa & Me

There’s a new Santa in town.

For most of the past 11 years, when the first weekend of December rolled around, you’d find me out at the Country Village Shopping Center in Bothell, dressed up in a Dickens-era top hat and cape and ringing a bell as the “Official Town Crier”.

After an hour of crying around the shopping center, I take to the stage and tell the crowd to keep an eye open for Santa Claus.  Sure enough, like clockwork (some run faster, some run slow), Santa would descend from the sky on a lighted sleigh, come out and address the crowd and then hand out candy canes to all the kids.

When I first arrived, I would always chat with Bob Sweet, an older gentlemen who was like the handy man of Country Village.  Year ’round, he’d fix things and do whatever was needed.  But this one night every year, he’d put on the red suit, act all jolly and be transformed into Santa Claus.  It was a role he loved.

Bob had been doing this for something like two decades.  Naturally, there were some adventures in there, like the year someone parked in the flight path of the sleigh and we were delayed half an hour while we had the car towed.  One year, there was even a video of Bob–uh, Santa–falling out of the sleigh that supposedly was featured on “America’s Funniest Home Videos”.

This year when I arrived for the big tradition, I was informed that we were going to be doing a few things differently.  For example, before Santa flew in from the building in the rear of the complex, he would wave his magic candy cane and light the big Christmas tree, THEN come flying in.  OK, fine.  Next came the bombshell: “We have a different Santa this year.  Bob passed away earlier this year.”

I have to say that he was getting a little more sentimental in recent years.  So much that there was one frosty Santa arrival night where Santa started reflecting on his days back in the Navy.   And last year, I’m fairly sure I heard Santa talking about “not being sure he’d be back next year”.

I didn’t know Bob that well outside of one night a year when we’d work together, but he was a likeable fellow that loved creating that stare of wonder in the eyes of children. He knew of the importance of keeping that legend alive and making it real.  The Santa arrival was different this year.  Well done, a wonderful new, jovial Santa who really did shake when he laughed like a bowl full of jelly.

But for the record, Bob, you were missed.  Thanks for all those years of making Christmas magic and letting me be a part of it.

Here’s an actual video of Santa’s big arrival that I put together a couple of years ago.

Merry Christmas.

Tim Hunter

Bob, out of uniform

I do way too much during the holiday season, I admit it.  The problem is, I LOVE doing things and much in the way I’m living my life, I’m trying to squeeze as much out of the time available as possible.

That’s how I ended up doing a music video this year when as recently as a month ago, I had absolutely no intentions of doing one.

One of my annual holiday traditions is creating a Christmas CD.  Some great songs, some silliness, a few inspiring tidbits–whatever it takes to launch people into the Christmas spirit. For 11 years now, these CD’s have featured everything from Larry Nelson’s reading of “A cup of Christmas Tea” to one of the fun radio parody commercials I did on the radio years ago, “Baby Cost-a-lot” to this year’s “Live coverage of the 1st Christmas with Keith Jackson.”  Something old, something new…

Recently, I met a young lady named Alana Baxter.  She had taken voice training lessons from my buddy, Scott Burns, and it was during that time Scott learned about her singing ability.  When I heard she was coming in to do some recording one week, I thought, “What song could we also have her record while she was in?”

Wedged into this time of year is another big project–the annual company video, a collection of skits and bits that we show at the Destination Marketing Awards Dinner.  One of the things I do is a photo montage of the past year’s events and so, to go along with that, I wrote lyrics for, “Have yourself a Destination Christmas.”

But, heck…while she was in our studio with those headphones on, I might as well try to get her to sing a little something for my Christmas CD. So, I began to think about possibilities–Christmas….Christmas Eve…Christmas Night….uh….wait.  What’s that Katy Perry song that I liked….oh yeah, “Last Friday Night.”   We could make it “O Holy Night”.  Naw…..wait–”It’s Silent Night”.  A little more like the original title. Yeah.

Then, seriously, the lyrics flowed.  My Lutheran upbringing and being such a huge fan of Christmas helped me fill in the blanks, rhyme the words and next thing you know, I had the lyrics for the song. I checked with Alana and she was game, although she was not familiar with the song.  So, I sent her a copy to make her aware of how it was sung and the melody and when she came into the studio that day, it just clicked.

So, under the careful recording ear of Scott Burns, I got the pieces, took them home and mixed down a song.  It really clicked.  But songs these days need videos.  It’s a very visual world.  However, we had seven things on the calendar that first weekend in December and Alana’s scheduled was pretty tight.  So, we agreed to see if there was any possibility the following weekend to shoot some video.

A week later, we checked back in with each other and sure enough, her Saturday morning was open. So was mine.  During the week, I went to a couple of festive places around the area, Molbak’s and Wight’s, two nurseries that also decked out during the holiday season, and shot video of everything Christmas I could find, especially nativity scenes.  We had also gone to my brother-in-law Kris’ annual party at a house where they always have up over a dozen Christmas trees.  Another party which was German-themed and featured a Christmas tree with lit candles on it, filmed there.  Went to a Luciafest service and video’d a girl wearing a candle headpiece.  Where ever there was Christmas to be found–outdoor displays, my company Christmas party–I had the camera.

The Saturday morning we gathered at Swanson’s, Alana had the song on her phone and would cue it up to a section, hit play and lip-sync away.  In less than an hour, we roamed all over the nursery, which not only had the beautiful plants and decorations, but also reindeer, a donkey and an actual camel.  Alana was even brave enough to lip-sync while petting the camel.  I was sweating bullets with her being that close and her fingers looking like carrots, but it was an incredible piece of footage.

So now, I had all the pieces.  The only trick was finding the time to edit.  With all the holiday happenings, work on steroids the weeks before Christmas and all of the other holiday pressures, it was just a matter of going for it.  Early rises on Saturday and Sunday, mixing the video down, noticing glitches, repeating pictures, etc and mixing it again.  We even had people over last Sunday and I spent the bulk of the time downstairs editing while they made lefse upstairs.

All that being said, I’m incredibly proud of how the video has turned out. With Alana’s voice delivering and her cuteness playing so well on camera, I hope you’ll take a couple of minutes out of your crazy holiday schedule to just sit and watch the fun and the festiveness of this little piece.  You’ll see me briefly as the town crier up at Country Village in Bothell, hanging with Santa at Molbak’s, some of the holiday lights we’ve enjoyed over the years….

I hope this song gives you a kick in the Christmas pants and let these days before the holiday get as festive as possible.  Getting this thing done, especially this year, was nothing short of a miracle.

Here’s the video.

Special thanks to Alana Baxter, Scott Burns and my wife Victoria for supporting the madness.

Merry Christmas,

Tim Hunter

 

We made it.

We’ve finally reached the end of 2011, a hell of a year.  As years goes, I have to say it was a very forgettable one and it seems as though there are a large number of folks who will chime in “Amen!”

I’m completely done with it.  It came, it went.  It was a year that saw our main home and my Bothell rental home drop even more in value.  I finally looked at my paycheck carefully and realized that, over the past four years, I was getting paid less than I thought I was getting.  Ugh.   For those keeping score at home, my wife Victoria suffered a broken rib, a broken foot, a painful tooth thing that has gone on over a month and bouts of sciatica rearing’s ugly head. After getting the annual physical, I got “the call” that informed me I was Type-2 diabetic.  On the plus side of that, it inspired me to drop 20 pounds and completely revamp my eating habits, all for the better.

The economy continued to drag on, and with the slow-down in work, my company had to let some very good people go. Linda Thomas did a couple of pieces about me on KIRO radio and my mortgage plight.  Google it if you missed it.  I wasn’t unique, but I wanted to let others know out there that were playing the game honestly and getting screwed that they were not alone.  The Husky football team had some inspiring moments, but you always knew they had limits.  Their appearance in the Alamo Bowl reminded us that we’re not there yet, but we’re getting there.

But as I said, 2011 wasn’t completely without merit.  It was the year that daughter Christina and her husband Ryan brought the first grandchild, Lillybeth, to the family. What a doll!  Victoria and I had a great road trip to California this summer, which included stops in Bend, Oregon, the Redwoods, Santa Barbara and eventually to LA where we celebrated my parents 60th wedding anniversary.  Osama bin Laden and Moammar Khadafi finally went to their just rewards, complete with central heating.  We talked about withdrawing troops from the Middle East and finally brought the troops home.

After a couple of hospital stays, my dad is back at home again, working on jigsaw puzzles.  I made a music video that earned some respectable viewing numbers online, produced my best Christmas CD to date, sold a bunch of jokes to several performers I work with and am about to launch a cartoon on MyBallard.com, something I’ve been wanting to do for years.

The holiday season was very nice, everyone gave me very thoughtful gifts that really showed effort and I’m sitting here with the woman I love, doing one more blog in this fast-fading year.  It’s been eventful, it’s been beyond challenging while equally frustrating, but it’s all about keeping perspective. Focus on the negative, and that’s all you’ll see.  Keep your outlook positive and the results will pleasantly surprise you.

But that doesn’t mean we have to take 2011 along with us.  The year served it’s purpose and the second I can toss that calendar into the recycle bin, it’s there! Great things are on the way in the New Year, I sincerely feel it. A year from now, I’m already planning on writing at great lengths about how 2012 was the best year ever.

Hope you’ll join me.

Happy New Year!

Tim Hunter

I’ve long been a fan of politics, but never passionate about it.

I would go as far as feeling sorry for those people who got too wrapped in it, only to have their candidate lose or their initiative fall short and then feeling like the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse were saddling up.

After all, if you review history, no matter which major election you look at, the passionate people on the losing side always feel like all is lost, the world will come to an end or threaten to leave the country.  Yet, somehow, we always manage to survive.

I remember being very young, when someone at my parent’s house was overheard saying about John Kennedy, “If he’s elected, we’ll all have to pray to Mary” because of his being a Roman Catholic.  The election after that, there was a powerful commercial the democrats played about Barry Goldwater that simply planted the idea if he was elected president, nuclear war would break out.  Lyndon Johnson won easily.

Yet time after time, worry after worry, we’ve somehow managed to survive. No one candidate is that much worse than another candidate.  Once in office, they really don’t have that much power.  We’re not electing a Czar, just a figurehead who has to play the game.  In the case of the President of the United States, he can have all the grandiose ideas he wants, but unless congress goes along with him, those ideas will never see the light of day.

For a while, I’ve been following the Republican candidate shakedown.  First, I watched Bachman, Perry and Cain whither away or self-destruct.  It pretty much seemed like Romney was their guy and, at least, a reasonable alternative to President Obama.  I believe that Barrack, much like Jimmy Carter, is a good man, but his learning on the job has resulted in a nice guy surrounded by the wrong people giving him advice, leaving him in something over his head.  While Obama has been learning on the job, to this point he hasn’t demonstrated to me that he definitely can fix this country.  He’ll try, but another four years of trying isn’t good enough.

However, if Gingrich wins the Republican nomination, I’m going to become so pro-Obama, it’ll be annoying.  OK, maybe it’s more anti-Gingrich, but for the first time in my many, many years of life, I actually feel sickened by the thought of Newt becoming our next president.  His arrogance, his attitude, his desire to be seen as ”the new Reagan”…only to find out later that there are several clips on film of him dissing Reagan and how he did things.  He divorced his first wife to marry his mistress whom he divorced to marry the next mistress….and this is the far right’s version of a moral leader?

I started this collection of thoughts a week ago and in that time, the Republican race has gotten meaner and nastier.  What they don’t realize is that, instead of convincing me that one candidate is better than the other, I’m starting to feel like none of them are fit for the job.

Then, the president gave his State of the Union address Tuesday night and I sat through the whole thing.  He said everything I wanted to hear and while that doesn’t mean it will happen, he’s at least given me his intentions of how the United States could be if he stays in office over the next four years.  Am I in complete agreement?  Hardly.  But the majority of his goals and aspirations for the country really resonated with me. After surviving his three plus years of on-the-job training, I’m started to feel like we’ve turned the corner and the worst is over.  Remember, this financial disaster did not start on his watch and  don’t know that replacing him for the sake of replacing him would be such a good idea.

I do know how I feel about Mr. Gingrich, how his popularity completely baffles me and if America chooses to ignore the many, many warning signs about this guy, for the first time in my life, I’m going to become “one of them.”  But I have faith in the system.  So, bring on the relentless, negative campaign ads.  I’ll hit the mute button for six months every time one comes and just ride it out until the day after election day.

I’m holding out that hope that maybe, just maybe, I can completely avoid turning into “one of them.”

Tim Hunter