The Even Greater Generation

Tom Brokaw wrote about my parent’s generation and called them, “The Greatest.”

You have to fully dive into what it might have been like to be alive back then and, at a time when it would have been so easy to get overwhelmed and just give up, they fought a crazed dictator in Germany and a cult-like leader in Japan (they considered him a god) and won on both fronts.  Most of them had survived our country’s greatest depression only to roll into a World friggin’ War. While growing up, I never would have guessed it. Maybe it was because my parents–like so many others of their generation–just dealt with it, learned from it, and grew to appreciate all they had.

There was a time I was quite proud of my peers and how we changed the world. I’m still amazed at how much life has improved and progressed during my generation. The evolution of technology, equal rights for races, genders and more, a high value on education, questioning our government, striving to make things better for all Americans, etc. Hey, we are FAR from perfect, but we’re making serious strides and have really come a long way during the course of my lifetime.

As much distain as the younger generation has for the boomers, it’s no secret that older people don’t think very much of the Millennials or whatever the generation is after that one is called. The common thinking is that they feel entitled, spoiled, they don’t know the hardship of having to dial a phone number with a rotary phone and their toughest day is the result of Siri not providing them with the answer to a take-home test.

But, as my brother-in-law Kris likes to say, “Here’s the deal.” Those teens and 20-somethings running around today that will some day rule the world–they’re the ones who will finally figure out the gun thing.

Yes, the gun thing. This endless cycle of “It’s our right” versus “Oh-oh, someone just shot up a school full of kids again.” Seriously, how long has this back and forth been going on?  Someone mows down a bunch of people with a gun, there’s outrage, a call for banning assault weapons and then, it just fades away. A few months later, we go through it all over again.

I see this “We have a right to have any guns we want” equal to “We have a right to hate people of any color we want.” It’s a generational thing that has been passed along. Good, well-meaning people, drink the Kool-Aid that is Gun Rights and feel that any control, any restriction is the first step towards the government coming to our homes and confiscating our weapons. A very serious threat–in 1775.

This is where the memorized mantra comes out on both sides, as it always does. But that’s not the point of this writing.

What I’m saying is that my generation has failed to solve the gun thing. But it’s become quite clear that this younger generation coming in, the ones who were in the schools when the shootings broke out, the ones who have seen classmates gunned down and schools go into lock down: they see the insanity.

They don’t know that they should be thinking “There’s nothing we can do about it” and will eventually do something about it.

It won’t be tomorrow or the next day, but there is a legion of future voters who are going to see the value of having their voice heard, of making the change that is long overdue. The blanket gun rights people will end up being their own worst enemies. Their “I have a right to own a semi-automatic weapons so that crazy person over there does, too” attitude has to come to an end.

To today’s students, I would like to apologize for my generation not solving the plague of gun violence. We know what to do, we’re just not doing it. You, on the other hand, will finally figure this out. I can only hope to be around long enough to see it come to fruition.

Remember, be great. In fact, be greater.

Tim Hunter

Crap, I’m Doing It Again

Well, add this to my continuing series of blogs written and inspired by the latest mass shooting.

Look–I’m no genius. (please, the line to chime in forms down the street) For the sake of my comedy-writing skills, my observation muscle is really in good shape. I see things, process them, look for similarities and connections to other topics and create amusing quips and comments.

There is nothing cute or funny about the Florida shootings. But part of the routine response process (“More gun laws!”/”Stricter mental health regulations!”) kind of stands out to me this time.

The true solution is going to be a compromise that’s strictly enforced on both sides.

THE GUN ISSUE–Yes, 200 years ago, our forefathers made sure there was an amendment guaranteeing the right to own weapons and protect ourselves. The majority of people who own guns do so for for target practice, hunting and home security. But, like everything else these days, guns have become a political commodity–are you FOR guns or AGAINST them? Say the phrase “gun control” and the die-hards immediately respond with “that’s the first step towards the government taking all of our guns away!” And, there we are, back at that Second Amendment.

THE MENTAL HEALTH ISSUE–Between all the social media bombardment, where our media has evolved, and let’s throw in drug abuse while we’re at it, there are a lot of unstable people out there. Some are out-right dangerous. And not just at the homeless camps, but the bullied teenager who, in this case, lost both of his parents and was living with a family that took him in out of the kindness of their hearts, not knowing the complete mental damage that had happened. Someone with a history of violence, that had been kicked out of school, who had posted on YouTube that he wants to be a “professional school shooter”…I think it’s safe to say he has mental health issues. He needed help and wasn’t getting what he needed. It seems like a pretty simple concept that someone in that state of mind should have a tag on them, somewhere, that prevents them from buying an automatic weapon that can mow people down. But in this ever-so-PC world, we can’t label someone like that because it would be violating their rights.

I probably need to re-read the Constitution again, but I don’t believe there’s a right to shoot dozens of people with an automatic weapon.

Calling on the Republicans or the Democrats to fix this falls right into the camp that there are two teams playing. We’re one nation. The NRA has politicians in their pockets: shame on them. Then again, they’re doing what the pharmaceutical, insurance and other industries do. That’s how the political game is played.

But it’s time to call a time-out in this game and take positive steps so that people aren’t sending their kids off to school and not being really sure if they’ll ever come back.

GUN PEOPLE–Yes, you have the right to an AR-15, based on that second amendment. You’ll most likely treat it with respect and only shoot it at a firing range. But here’s the deal–there’s a disgruntled ex-co-worker or an abused or battered teen planning to lash out like all those shootings he keeps hearing about.  First off, is owning that kind of weapon really that important to you?  If so, shouldn’t a special license and training be required?  You need that to drive a car.  You can’t just hop behind the wheel of a semi and start driving. You also need special training and a special license.  Notice a pattern here?  There’s also a high accountability that comes with owning a gun. Having one that suddenly disappears and is used in a crime or killing spree–that’s on you.  Perhaps if your weapon is used in a crime, you’re charged as an accomplice or face a $100,000 fine.  Maybe if you knew that could happen, that semi-automatic would be treated like gold and locked up instead of being a quick grab away.

MENTAL HEALTH PEOPLE–When people go off the deep end, it’s not them. Their minds aren’t right. In the case of this Florida shooter, dear God, how many signs do you need?  If you have parents of teenagers, ask them if they have kids at their school “most likely to go off.” I pretty much guarantee they do. They always have. A snoopy grandmother in Everett this past week opened her grandson’s guitar case and found a rifle, along with his journal plotting a school shooting. She reported it. Yes, it’s family, and it could drive a wedge in your relationship, but God knows how many lives were saved by that action.  Dropping all the concern about being PC for a moment, if you’re mentally ill, you should NOT have the right to buy a gun. Is that really so difficult? Get help. Get therapy. Eventually, prove you deserve to be able to own a gun. We don’t allow 10-year-olds to buy weapons. We have laws that try to prevent ex-cons for owning them. The thing is, we’re at least trying in those areas. We are way overdue to identify those who are struggling and even just temporarily prevent them from owning weapons.

In summary, this is a Gun Control AND Mental Health issue. Did you ever think you’d live in a world where a dozen or two innocent people being gunned down became a common event?  The frustrating part is that political parties have become packages. If you vote in this party, you’ll get this, this and this.  If you vote in the other party, they represent that, that and that.  But what if I’m for this but also want that? Get my point?  I think we’ve reached the time that Gun Control for Mentally Disturbed People has become THE issue. The one that will determine who gets my vote.

Because those who already got our votes just don’t seem to care.

Tim Hunter

It’s All How It’s Dished Out

I’ve had this long-standing theory and perhaps I’ve written about it before. But this has been one of those weeks that I remind myself that life is all about balance.

Basically, we’re born and we die. Now, that period between those two monumental events of our life is filled with good stuff and bad stuff. It’s how the world works. It’s not perfect, it’s not evil. Here, let me show you this chart.

The Tim Hunter Hypothesis is that we are all given the same amount of good and bad in our lifetime. If you sat down, created two columns and started listing every good thing that’s happened to you on one side and all the bad stuff on the other, by the time you’d reach the end, you’d see that we get equal amounts of both.

Here’s the challenge. During your life, it comes in random amounts. Like, say, this week, I easily had a much larger dose of bad stuff happen than good. Oh, and there was good. I got to hold my new granddaughter and play with the grandkids. I was able to direct a video shoot for some new commercials for a client. I enjoyed a romantic dinner with my wife at Picolino’s on Valentine’s Day. I’m having lunch today with a long-time friend who beat cancer last year.  I continue to be able to write and play and create in this career-like-job I’ve crafted over the past several years.

But there was a ton of things you could consider bad stuff. Outside of my world, there was that horrific school shooting down in Florida. (see my previous blogs on that topic–I’m tapped out)  My main computer decided to wig out. The one on which most of my writing and producing is done. Things that should have taken seconds crawled along. I had to research, experiment, delete and install, all eating up the time I would normally do each week’s regular projects.  On top of that, my cell phone has been acting up and while not mentioning the company by name because they’ve been nice, a supposed fix to the port has resulted in a half-dozen visits to their store. They’ve had to install a second new screen, have gone through two ports and today, I have to drop it off and be phoneless the bulk of the day. Doable, but it just adds to the challenge.

I found out that a $1,000 check I had deposited a month ago never made it in. It was that “depositing by phone” thing that failed, but I just assumed it went in. As you can imagine, funds went short a couple of times.

Clients needed things yesterday. Extra projects came up.  Precious time disappeared so that I would get up even earlier than 4am just to get it all done.

Its weeks like this one that I remember the chart. So, I had a few challenges and, if I were keeping a weekly score, the bad probably won out over the good this week. No matter. I just take it all in stride and remember that it must mean a bunch of good is coming my way. If not next week, the week after. Eventually, it all balances out.

When life gets tough, just remember that there’s good on the way. Remember the chart. It’s all about balance. It’s all about how it’s dished out.

It really is.

Tim Hunter

Be A Tourist

When you feel like time is blurring by…when you find yourself saying, “Wow, it’s already February!”…when you have to stop and think, “Uh, what day is this again?”: be a tourist.

It dawned on me the other day at Universal Studios Hollywood. While my wife and I have a strong affection for Disneyland, Universal is the place we just don’t go to that often. But when we do, we have a blast and I turn into a kid again.

Norman Bates loading something in his trunk. He must be spring cleaning.

During that four-hour visit, despite the world-famous Los Angeles traffic to and from our destination, I had a non-stop smile on my face. We went on fantasy rides in the Harry Potter area, enjoyed that Simpsons adventure (which is just hilarious) and even made it through the “Walking Dead” zombie house. I was grinning from ear-to-ear the entire time and when I took so many pictures and video that my phone died, I became detached from the outside world.  No emails, no text messages, no news updates. I didn’t know what the stock market was doing or what the president had said or anything happening outside the park. I was present, enjoying the California sun and just having fun.

The experience reminded me that, being a tourist is probably something we should incorporate more into our day-to-day lives. That care-free, forget-about-the-problems-of-the-world outlook that I’m sure does my mental health a world of good.

I was being a tourist in southern California, but thousands of people do the same thing in Seattle where I now live. You can be a tourist anywhere. It’s more of a mental than physical thing and I have a feeling there are some rewards there that we all should be tapping into.

So, some friendly advice, as you navigate your way through another busy, crazy hectic work week: when you can, set aside a couple of hours for yourself, go some place fun and treat yourself to an escape.

Be a tourist.

Tim Hunter

It’s Going To Be Big!!

Something huge is coming to the Pacific Northwest and you may not have even known about it.

Due to the fact I was swallowed up in the Nordic community as a result of my marriage to a girl from Ballard, I know that there’s a lot of excitement about the first weekend in May. Yes, this year, Cinco de Mayo falls on a Saturday. And, if I may digress just a bit further, did you know that whatever day St. Patrick’s Day falls on is the same day as Cinco de Mayo?  And in 2018, BOTH are on Saturdays!

OK, now back to the subject at hand–that first weekend in May, Seattle is going to be celebrating the opening of the brand-new Nordic Museum right there on Market Street in Ballard.  Let me try to help you realize just how big of a deal this is:

  1. This has a been a dream for years, with some convinced it would never actually happen. In the early days, there were two factions–one that wanted the museum at it’s new site and another group that wanted it to be where the Museum of History & Industry ended up on Lake Union.  The ones who wanted it closer to Seattle thought it would be best for the sake of tourism, but the long Scandinavian history of the Ballard area seemed to make the Market Street location more appropriate. Market Street eventually won out.
  2. The new museum was designed by Mithun. Among their more famous works, the National Holocaust Memorial in Washington, D.C..  They also designed the Seattle Aquarium and the Januik/Novelty Hill Winery over in Woodinville, among many other projects.
  3. That opening weekend could bring quite a few Scandinavian celebs to town, and even heads of state. We’ll see how the guest list shakes out.
  4. The New York Friggin’ Times even named the yet-to-open museum as one of the Top 52 Places in the World to visit in 2018!

The new Nordic Museum is going to have a larger performance hall with better acoustics, more room for exhibits that they couldn’t bring in to the previous location at that abandoned Seattle elementary school. (which is being refurbished and put back to work as a school in the near future)

Sadly, one of the things not making the move is the “Dream of America” Exhibit. As I understand it, the exhibit was given on loan to the museum by Denmark and apparently, it is going to head back there now. A lot of the things that “Dream” demonstrated will now be done electronically, as the move is made into a high-tech environment. I was fortunate enough to video-tape the final docent tour of the Dream of America and by watching the video below, you’ll be able to enjoy the full experience of what that exhibit offered, thanks to the expert commentary by one of the long-time supporters of the museum, Mari-Ann Kind Jackson.

I’m a big fan of everyone living their dream. The new Nordic Museum has been a long-time dream for so many Seattle people who have dedicated hundreds of hours to making it happen.

And in just a couple of months that dream becomes reality. The celebration is set for that first weekend in May. Hope to see you there.

Tim Hunter

A Picture Perfect Life

I’d like to introduce you to a friend of mine, Bruce Johnson. Or, as he was known for years on KOMO radio when Larry Nelson did commercials for his photography studio, Bruce Rowland– “65th Street’s slickest shutter snapper!”

Back in the 1950s, Bruce’s dad launched Rowland Studios just east of Greenlake, in the Ravenna area. I can’t tell you how many years he was in that same studio, but he was there more than not, right on 65th street, just off Roosevelt. That’s where Bruce learned the craft of taking amazing, beautiful, well-thought-out pictures, eventually taking over his father’s business. Bruce continues to take phenomenal pictures, using both cameras and his cellphone. He’s just got that eye, that vision, and always will.

I met Bruce back in the day when I was Larry Nelson’s producer on KOMO and Bruce and Ballard attorney Tom Treece were pretty much part of Lar’s Three Amigos. They weren’t always together as a trio, but usually when I’d see one and he would leave, the other would soon show up.  Bruce operated Rowland Studios, where practically everyone who worked at KOMO had their portraits done. Yes, that was back in the day of a studio and portraits and packages that cost hundreds of dollars, all shot on film. On top of that, Rowland Studios was pretty much THE school photographer. Anyone who went to school in Seattle has at least school photo tucked away in a book with the word “Rowland” down at the bottom or on the back.
Here’s a video I put together for him, when he was trying to shore up his Senior Picture business.

I knew Bruce as a crazy Swede. He loved to party. On St. Patrick’s Day one year, I remember he came by KOMO radio and visited Larry in the control room with some female friend of his painted green and in a bikini. When I first started at KOMO, he would call up Larry’s office number (an office we shared) and when I answered, he identified himself as Arnie Schmatz, a pseudonym that he liked to use. As I became involved with Larry’s extended family, I would get to know and hear stories about some of Bruce’s hunting buddies. Yes, part of his fall routine was going to Chehalis and returning with lots of stories and a winter’s supply of venison.

At his recent retirement party, there were lots of his pictures on display from over the years, including this one of our buddy, Larry Nelson.

Bruce also took Larry’s last portrait that remains on display in my office to this day. Lar’s quick departure a decade ago from lung cancer really hit Bruce hard. In fact, I believe it was a year later that he gave up drinking and has been dry ever since. He proudly announced he had passed his 9th year of sobriety when I arrived at his party.

Even though I wasn’t close with his family or his three beautiful daughters, I watched them grow up because one of Bruce’s holiday traditions included sending out a photo card with a group shot featuring his three girls. Years ago by themselves, and these days, with their families.

Bruce’s retirement party was held at his oldest daughter’s house, and the second I saw her, I remembered a Christmas card gag from longs ago. Larry Nelson had gone to her wedding and while he was there, had his picture taken with her in her wedding dress. The following Christmas, he sent out the photo with no explanation and of course, everyone on the receiving end immediately thought, “Oh, my God, he got married again. And look how young she is!”

This is the crowd I hung out with.

My KOMO radio days are 34 years behind me, but Bruce and I have stayed in touch and kept up with each other’s lives over the years. Bruce is a colorful part of the tapestry of my life.  As he steps into retirement after taking on cancer and defeating it last year, he continues to post on Facebook his photos of coffee and (insert location here). For all he’s been through, I believe now more than ever that he’s fully embracing the “make every day count” concept and I’m extremely happy for him. So many people say they’re going to start doing that and, like a New Year’s resolution, it’s not long until it was just a short-lived good intention. In the retirement card I gave him, I included a certificate good for one retirement lunch at Mike’s Chili in Ballard, one of his favorite haunts. I look very forward to sitting down and flashing back to the days of Lar and all the crazy times that were had. And I plan to make those happen a little bit more frequently because the good times we enjoy today are the ones we’ll be remembering tomorrow.

Life may not have been perfect for Bruce, but his pictures always are.

Congrats on your retirement, Mr. Johnson-Rowland- Schmatz. A very well-deserved new beginning and I know you’re going to really make this count.

Tim Hunter

Bruce is the one on the right

We’re Way Past Time’s Up

 

I’ve always figured there’s most likely just as much bad in the world as there is good.  Life is about balance and it’s long been my philosophy to focus on what’s positive and build on that. It doesn’t mean I ignore the negative, but I acknowledge it, learn from it and move on.

As far as the whole “metoo movement, we’re still very much in the ‘acknowledge it’ stage and, sadly, we’re going to be there for a while. The problem is as old as time and, in a way, it’s really hard to believe that it took this many years to finally say enough is enough. But we’re here.

The following is a Facebook post published last weekend by “that little girl in the movie True Lies”, which is one of my personal favorites. Frankly, I don’t know if I’ll be able to watch that movie again without thinking about her story.

When I was 12 years old, while filming “True Lies”, I was sexually molested by Joel Kramer, one of Hollywood’s leading stunt coordinators.

Ever since, I have struggled with how and when to disclose this, if ever. At the time, I shared what happened to me with my parents, two adult friends and one of my older brothers. No one seemed ready to confront this taboo subject then, nor was I.

I am grateful to the women and men who have gone before me in recent months. The ever-growing list of sexual abuse and harassment victims who have spoken out with their truths have finally given me the ability to speak out. It has been indescribably exhausting, bottling this up inside me for all of these years.

I remember, so clearly 25 years later, how Joel Kramer made me feel special, how he methodically built my and my parents’ trust, for months grooming me; exactly how he lured me to his Miami hotel room with a promise to my parent that he would take me for a swim at the stunt crew’s hotel pool and for my first sushi meal thereafter. I remember vividly how he methodically drew the shades and turned down the lights; how he cranked up the air-conditioning to what felt like freezing levels, where exactly he placed me on one of the two hotel room beds, what movie he put on the television (Coneheads); how he disappeared in the bathroom and emerged, naked, bearing nothing but a small hand towel held flimsy at his mid-section. I remember what I was wearing (my favorite white denim shorts, thankfully, secured enough for me to keep on). I remember how he laid me down on the bed, wrapped me with his gigantic writhing body, and rubbed all over me. He spoke these words: “You’re not going to sleep on me now sweetie, stop pretending you’re sleeping,” as he rubbed harder and faster against my catatonic body. When he was ‘finished’, he suggested, “I think we should be careful…,” [about telling anyone] he meant. I was 12, he was 36.

I remember how afterwards, the taxi driver stared at me in the rear view mirror when Joel Kramer put me on his lap in the backseat and clutched me and grew aroused again; and how my eyes never left the driver’s eyes during that long ride over a Miami bridge, back to my hotel and parent. I remember how Joel Kramer grew cold with me in the ensuing weeks, how everything felt different on the set.

And I remember how soon-after, when my tough adult female friend (in whom I had confided my terrible secret on the condition of a trade that she let me drive her car around the Hollywood Hills) came out to the set to visit and face him, later that very same day, by no small coincidence, I was injured from a stunt-gone-wrong on the Harrier jet. With broken ribs, I spent the evening in the hospital. To be clear, over the course of those months rehearsing and filming True Lies, it was Joel Kramer who was responsible for my safety on a film that at the time broke new ground for action films. On a daily basis he rigged wires and harnesses on my 12-year-old body. My life was literally in his hands: he hung me in the open air, from a tower crane, atop an office tower, 25+ stories high. Whereas he was supposed to be my protector, he was my abuser.

Why speak out now? I was 12, he was 36. It is incomprehensible. Why didn’t an adult on the set find his predatory advances strange — that over-the-top special attention he gave me. Fairly early on he nicknamed me “Jailbait” and brazenly called me by this name in a sick flirty way in front of others (at the time, I remember asking one of my older brothers what it meant). Sure, I’ve come to understand the terrible power dynamics that play into whistle-blowing by “subordinates” against persons in power, how difficult it can be for someone to speak up. But I was a child. Over the years I’ve really struggled as I’ve wondered how my life might have been different if someone, any one grown-up who witnessed his sick ways, had spoken up before he lured me to that hotel room.

Years ago, I had heard second-hand that Joel Kramer was “found out” and forced to leave the business. I learned recently that in fact he still works at the top of the industry. And a few weeks ago, I found an internet photo of Joel Kramer hugging a young girl. That image has haunted me near nonstop since. I can no longer hide what happened.

Hollywood has been very good to me in many ways. Nevertheless, Hollywood also failed to protect me, a child actress. I like to think of myself as a tough Boston chick, in many ways I suppose not unlike Faith, Missy, or Echo. Through the years, brave fans have regularly shared with me how some of my characters have given them the conviction to stand up to their abusers. Now it is you who give me strength and conviction. I hope that speaking out will help other victims and protect against future abuse.

With every person that speaks out, every banner that drops down onto my iPhone screen disclosing similar stories/truths, my resolve strengthens. Sharing these words, finally calling my abuser out publicly by name, brings the start of a new calm.

Eliza Dushku

Not much else needs to be said. There are rules. There’s common sense and decency. It’s up to all of us now to seize this moment, to crack down on the abuse and make the world as safe as possible for our mothers, daughters, sisters and friends.

Because we’re way past Time’s Up.

Tim Hunter

Wacky Week Podcast EPISODE 144

Hang on, we’re going back to my early radio days. First, you’ll hear a comedy demo tape I sent to Ross Schafer with the hope of getting involved with “Almost Live” and, as you know, I didn’t. Then, we’ll go back even further to the first episode of my college radio comedy program, “Tim Hunter’s Return to Normalcy.” Damn, seems like just a few years ago….

Cleaning Out My Mental Closet

Every now and then, I like to rummage through the dusty corners of my mind for long-lost stories that, most likely, some day I will forget. I mean, for Pete’s sake (whoever Pete may be) our personal hard-drives can only contain so much data, so I understand that some of the lesser significant incidents in my life will one day disappear.

However, for the next 800 words or so, I’ll make a quick dash through my mind and see what little nuggets I can pluck from over the years.

When I was five, I attended kindergarten at Meadowpark  Elementary. This was back in the days when it was OK for your kids to walk 10 blocks to school without fear of being kidnapped. I’m sure I was escorted at first and the odds are that, most days, I got a ride from my mom. But I do remember walking home occasionally and, there was a time, I developed an infatuation with a rosy-cheeked girl named Susan. There was just something about those cheeks of hers.  Then one day, I wanted to see if they really tasted like peaches and decided to bite her on the cheek.  To my disappointment, they tasted pretty human. The following day, her older brother threatened me that if I ever did that again, he would pound me. I didn’t. Pounding avoided. This might also explain my lack of interest in peaches.

By third grade, I had found myself in a private school at Emmanuel Lutheran Church in Redondo Beach, California. We’re talking really small church school, as in two classrooms: first through fourth grades in one, fifth through eighth grade in the other. Among the memories I can pluck from those years: the time we were playing Hide-n-Seek and rather than being called out by Laurel Scherer, I pushed her face first into a flag pole which chipped her tooth. (I don’t know why) When other church schools came to play us in basketball, there were games when the fog rolled in (we played on the asphalt court outdoors) and you couldn’t see the other end of the court. Terry Smith, you get credit for telling me the first dirty joke I ever heard (and having to explain each step of it to me) and because there was a Greek Orthodox Church next door to our church school, whenever they had a funeral next door, we lost out on recess because, otherwise, the kids would all hang on the fence to get a look at a casket.

In 7th grade, I found myself back in public school and was trying to fit in. One day, during recess, I broke my collar-bone but so I wouldn’t get in trouble, I didn’t say a thing and just went back to class. The teacher eventually sent me to the nurse’s office, where the principal asked if me and the other kids had been playing Chicken Fights (where one kid carries the other piggy-back style and they try to knock over other kids doing that). I vehemently denied that it happened during Chicken Fights and I remember moaning more when pressed. The principal eventually gave up, no names had to be given up, so our secret was safe. But I officially retired that day from the Chicken Fight Club.

My sophomore year of high school, I was falling in love with the girl across the street. But she was a year older and I wasn’t even on her radar at the time. When it came time for my school’s “Sweethearts Ball” (where the girl asks the guy to the dance) a nice young lady named Eileen Matsuda asked me to go and I said, “Yes.”  Not because I wanted to go with her, but rather because I was hoping it would make the neighbor girl jealous. She never did, I was a complete dud of a date for Eileen who deserved much better and a lousy night was had by all. Not sure she ever spoke to me again after that night.

Now, I came to the college years. I swear, one day that era of my life will be captured in a screenplay because so much happened during those years and I’m pretty sure the statute of limitations has expired on most of those incidents.  I made some life-long friends at Terry Hall, one of the dorms at the University of Washington campus, where so many of my adventures took place. The biggest life-changing one came one morning when that neighbor girl I had eventually wooed and won over called and left a message with my roommate, saying I needed to call her back. I had worked that morning at the dorm cafeteria, so when I got off, I headed upstairs and dialed her up. In a tear-filled explanation, she described how she had a “sign from God” the night before to break up with me. Coming out of the blue like that, I tried to reason with her and asked her to wait until I could fly home and we could talk things over. She said no and we were done. Several months later, she married the Baptist minister that helped her realize that sign from God. Yeah.

A pretty random collection of stories, but all with a purpose. You see, each of us have these highs and lows lurking in our past. There are moments we recall fondly and others we wonder what the heck we were thinking. That unique collection of experiences helped shape our thinking, our attitudes, our beliefs, to create the unique being we are at this very moment.

It’s easy to say things like, “If only we had…” but stop right there. Things happen for a reason and in time, you become aware of why, or how they fit into the big picture. Sure, it’s fun to think about do-overs and if you could have a couple of them, how differently life would be for you today. But it wouldn’t just change just  the parts you want to alter, but your entire world as you know it today. And frankly, we live in a pretty awesome world. Far from perfect, but as you’ve read above, I’ve had my share of non-perfect.

Life is awesome. Setbacks happen, problems arise, but if you have the will and the means to just keep going, it all balances out.

I’m counting this as my spring cleaning. Thanks for the read.

Tim Hunter

 

 

The View From My Desk

I sit here, looking out at a New Year before us. What will we do with the opportunities? How will we handle the challenges?  Will things break us, or will we emerge stronger than ever?

Awful heady stuff for a sunny, Wednesday afternoon in the Pacific Northwest, but I’m reminded that I owe endless thanks to God above for being in my current situation. As my brain keeps slinging the concepts, I continue to get my biggest rewards from grabbing those passing thoughts and converting them into tangibles–jokes, comedy bits, blogs, you name it. And I would not be living this dream if things hadn’t fallen into place exactly as they did.

But it’s one thing to have the pieces fall into place–are you going to take advantage of it?  I believe I am doing exactly that, doing creative projects on a daily basis in the 10-ring circus I call my career. I spoke with Bill Wright this week, producer of those Wizard of Oz audio books I voiced back in the 1990s. He’s got a new TV project that he’s asked me to join in, that would put a spotlight on some unsung heroes of World War II. Cool stuff. Tomorrow, I have meetings with two of our Create Impulse clients, Sole Perfection Shoes and NW Plus Credit Union, with new radio and TV spots, and coming up with other marketing concepts a part of those sessions. Next Monday, I shoot video for the Northshore Schools Foundation, to help them tell their story.  Oh, and this day also included this blog, my latest edition of the Wacky Week podcast and my daily contribution to Radio-Online, a show prep service for disc jockeys.  A steady, busy flow of projects that some people would call work, but for me, they’re outlets. And by getting those ideas out of my head and into some exterior form, I can begin brainstorming about whatever comes next.

The corporate headquarters for Tim Hunter Creative Services is right here in the corner of my little man cave downstairs at my home. This room has been a green screen studio, an audio recording studio and is the home of the Logitech keyboard from which everything originates. It’s my space, my creative setting. To my left, a collection of CD’s and DVD’s that contain radio bits, sound effects, background music and more. Just above them is a collection of celebrity photos I’ve gathered over the years from people I’ve interviewed, including David Hasselhoff and Katey Sagal. Go further up and you’ll bump into Seahawk photos and memorabilia. To the right, at eye level, is a collection of the people that inspire me and keep me going. My kids, the grandkids, my wife and the picture of my dad from his memorial. Up from there, my Husky Hall of Fame, with lots of pictures of me with players. There’s a JP Patches Nutcracker, a photo of my radio mentor Larry Nelson, autographed pictures of Kathi Goertzen and Stan Boreson and a bunch of odds and ends that demonstrate I’m pretty much a freak. I mean, how many people have their own St. Tim candle?

It gets drilled into me more and more as we lose people over the years, we watch stores close that we thought would be around forever and everything we know is turned into trivia for the next generation, we don’t need to make every day count–we need to cherish the seconds. If you’re starving for a resolution, get in the habit of hitting the brakes routinely, look around and realize as much as humanly possible, just how fortunate we truly are.

Take a breath, enjoy what surrounds you and savor this gift while you’re able to fully embrace it. That’s my plan for the New Year and beyond.

2018, come over here and give me a big hug!

Tim Hunter

My Predictions for 2018

Right before the start of the New Year, I like to polish the old crystal ball (no really, I polish it. That’s not an euphemism) and create a collection of bold predictions of things I feel will happen in the year to come. I make them with 100% accuracy. Oh, they’re rarely correct, but it’s accurate to say that I always make them.

Nostradamus actually predicted the world would end in 2018. Then again, he also had the Mariners winning the World Series last year.

So, bet the house–here’s what I predict will happen in 2018:

  • President Donald Trump will post something offensive and awkward on Twitter. (OK, that’s my one softball)
  • A small girl from Kansas will throw a bucket of water on Hillary Clinton, causing her to melt.
  • Disney expands their Star Wars franchise by launching a new TV series, “Dancing with the Ewoks!”
  • Meryl Streep admits she knew it all along. Then reveals she meant that “She Devil” was her worst movie ever.
  • Bernie Sanders gives a riveting, 20-minute speech about the unfairness of our society. No one in the bathroom is impressed.
  • Al Franken announces that he’ll run for president as the candidate of the newly-formed “Honky-Honky” Party.
  • In an incident that causes Jeff Bezos to give up drinking, he gets so stewed one night that he actually buys Amazon from himself.
  • Speaking of Amazon, they introduce 30-minute deliveries of all beef products. Their new service is called Amazon Prime Rib.
  • The Seattle Times announces they are replacing all newspaper delivery boys with drones. Both of the remaining subscribers express concern.
  • YouTube introduces a new channel for video selfies, called MeTube.
  • Russia Vladimir Putin wins re-election by a landslide, two months before the actual election.
  • France bans Smartphones from elementary schools starting in September. In a popular move, congress votes to ban all cell phones from the oval office. Thank you.
  • After fighting bankruptcy for years, Sears finally closes all of their stores. However, no one notices until 2019.
  • Prince Harry and Meghan Markle exchange vows in a ceremony performed by Mr. Bean. Meghan honors the memory of Benny Hill by tying a piece of elastic to her bouquet for the toss.
  • In December, Mommy accuses Santa Claus of forcibly kissing her, underneath the mistletoe last night.
  • In North Korea, Kim John-un is finally forced out and replaced by Christopher Plummer.
  • Melania Trump records a song to raise money for charity. The way it works is, if you make a donation, she won’t release it.
  • Garrison Keillor attempts a comeback, changing the name of his fictional town of Lake Wobegon, to Lake Whoa-is-Me!
  • Finally, TaylorMade announces the first ever self-driving golf ball, allowing golfers to focus on what’s really important–tracking down the beer cart.

I had to hurry up and get this list out before they all come true. Thanks for stopping by throughout the year and letting me take you on a tour of what’s running through my mind.

Have a very Happy New Year and all the best in 2018.

Notice I didn’t include my prediction about you and that…well, enough said.

Tim Hunter

 

The Hardest Christmas Tradition

Look, for starters, I love Christmas. I’m a bit of a Christmas nut. Love the songs, the love traditions, feel it’s not Christmas if I haven’t over-done the house. You know, that kind of a Christmas guy.

I write up a family Christmas letter with an assist from my wife, mail out cards to over a hundred people, and put together a Christmas CD that has become a tradition. This year, I produced the 17th annual edition of “Ho Ho Brother” and, if I may say, it was my best version yet.  I’m already working on the 2018 version.

But something I also took on several years ago was doing a Christmas parody song about the holiday season. Through my Destination Marketing buddy Scott Burns (actually, radio brothers who never had the chance to work together on the air), I met a local singer named Alana Baxter.  I would write the lyrics, Scott helped me record and mix her songs, I experimented and learned about shooting video and while they were rough, we still managed to pull off some pretty good holiday tunes, including “It’s Silent Night”,  “He rides a sleigh”, (yes, that’s me in the cow costume), “I won’t hate you very much tonight (It’s Christmas)”, and the salute to the Starbucks holiday cup debacle, “Where are you Christmas?” .

But lately, the project has gotten pretty challenging. Alana got a medical degree and moved to Hawaii. Last year, while she was in town for the holidays, I managed to write and record a song with her, called “All I need for Christmas (is booze)”. Fun concept, but we hurried through it. I wrote it quickly, she came over and recorded it with the idea of releasing it this year. However, when it came to put it all together, while listening to the tracks, it just wasn’t up to par. So, I called in some Hawaii radio favors and connections (thanks, Chip Begay and Dan Deeb), Alana slipped into a studio and I got some in-tune, fresh vocal tracks. I had already put in 5 hours mixing down a preemptive video, but when the vocal tracks didn’t match the old version, I had to start from scratch.

12+ hours of remixing and re-editing of video later, we have a song. I hope you enjoy it. “All I need for Christmas (is booze)” is too late for this year’s Christmas CD, but it has inspired me to already begin working on the 2018 edition, which will include this.

It wasn’t easy, but totally worth the effort to keep the tradition alive–here is Alana Baxter and “All I want for Christmas (is booze)”.

 

Merry Christmas to all!

Tim Hunter

THAT Matt Riedy

A couple of decades ago, a typical morning for me started with an alarm that went off at 2:17am. A random time I had embraced as the official starting point of my day, if I wanted to get in everything I hoped to accomplish. I’d shower, grab something to eat, sit down at the computer and do a little show prep for the next Murdock, Hunter & Alice Show on 92.5-KLSY and then climb in the car and head to the Bellevue Studios.  More often than not, I’d arrive in the garage and there, having his morning cigar, was Matt Riedy. (pronounced REE-dee)

Matt was the morning guy on Smooth Jazz, one of the five stations that lived inside the Sandusky cluster. Once you walked in the lobby, you’d head down a different hallway to each station, so most days, you didn’t really see the other folks. Then again, we were there from 4am-noon, spending the bulk of our time in a studio or our office, so most of our encounters with people from the other stations were just in passing.

But I do remember those cigar chats with Matt fondly. He was curious how we did things over on KLSY with our contracts and how our morning show worked. (people still wonder about that)  You could tell that Matt had a restlessness and that being a Smooth Jazz morning guy was just a stop on his way to something bigger. But it would involve risk. To make it happen, Matt would have to abandon the comfort of a secure job and head down to Los Angeles to pursue a dream along with thousands of others. Eventually, when he felt the time was right, Matt gave up his radio job in Seattle and headed south. He grabbed a part-time radio gig, went on countless auditions and eventually, the career he had envisioned began to happen. The acting opportunities, the voice-over work, the video game gigs. As I’ve watched him succeed, I’m proud to say I knew him back in the days when he was wondering, “What if?”

Twenty years later, we’re both living our dreams. He’s an actor and I’m emceeing Lutefisk Eating Contests.  OK, that wasn’t my dream, but I am. Congrats to Matt for showing everyone how to not only dare to dream but also that you can achieve it. I’d like to also pass along a huge thanks to him, as it was Matt who hooked me up with one of his stand-up comedy friends, Frank King. Frank, in turn, connected me with Jay Leno, which allowed me the opportunity to write one-liners for his monologues for 8 years.

Matt just shared his Theatrical Reel of just some of his work. I thought I’d share it with you, so the next time he pops up on the screen in front of you, you’ll be able to say, “Hey, look. It’s THAT Matt Riedy!” (which is what he called himself back in his KJR Radio Days)

I’ve sent a note to the Internet, apologizing for posting such a positive story. These days, they’re pretty rare.

Congrats, Matt!

Tim Hunter

Copy and Paster’s Guide To The Holidays

I’ve been noticing that more and more people are posting pictures on Instagram instead of Facebook. My current theory is that all the politics that have permeated the Facebook platform have driven some people out, or at least, limited their interest in friends trying to persuade them to a political point of view.

Over the past year, I’ve become very serious about blocking and hiding posts, which has made Facebook all that much more enjoyable.  I usually start with blocking the source, even if it’s a reputable one, because if I figure if I ever want to view that source again, I can do so on my own. Not surprising, you can actually live without seeing a lot of those posts.  Step 2 is hiding someone’s bitter, caustic rant, because I don’t want that energy in my feed.  Then, if the person just won’t give it a rest, they’re unfriended. It’s that easy.

However, somewhere during my generation, people have decided to tie their political awareness to their real-life happiness. The result is that they’re simply not happy. Watching the day-to-day antics of the political arena and allowing that to determine if it’s a good day or not is a ticking time bomb.  Plus, that causes you to ignore all the good things happening around you (and, they are) all because of what’s going on in Washington, D.C..

Well, even though that’s an insane way to live, you’re entitled to exist that way. It’s an unhappy, stress-filled, depressing existence, but that’s all you, baby.

So, it is at this most festive time of year that I would like to offer a Copy & Paster’s Guide to the Holidays.  A convenient way to continue your discontent by simply copying and pasting these responses to some of the more commonly-used holiday and seasonal expressions. You’ll be the hit of Facebook!

 

When someone says…

Copy & Paste This

“Merry Christmas”

Oh, for you! #45 is still president and there is so much injustice in this world. We’re killing the planet and fires are burning up California. You call that merry?

“Happy New Year”

How is it going to be ‘happy’? Unless they impeach #45, the tax cut will give more money to the rich, the planet is dying and we’re at the brink of nuclear war. How dare you be happy!

“Look at this picture of my new niece”

And look at the world she’s going to grow up in. With #45 as a president, she’s not going to have much of a world left. I feel sorry for her. Put that away!

“What a beautiful sunset!”

Yes, but we’ll wake up to another day of #45 as our so-called president. God knows what he’ll do to our country tomorrow, if he doesn’t begin a war and there is no tomorrow. How do you live with yourself?

“Excuse me”

Oh, you’d like that, wouldn’t you?  That was intentional, just like #45 said those awful things on Entertainment Tonight. Excusing yourself is just asking for permission for something you meant to do. You monster.

“The snow is beautiful”

You sick bastard. It’s just earth’s way of covering up, just like #45 is doing with the Russia investigation.

Think of all the time you’ll save and the people you’ll convince!

Or, you could prioritize your life to the positive realities around you. Yes, there is a lot of fixing to do in our world. This just in–there always has been. You think the 1960s and the decades that followed were perfect? However, positive changes occurred, influenced by people who cared and that you must always do. But funnel your energy to methods that will actually cause change. Donate to a group, volunteer hours, believe in positive evolution of our world.

Whining, living a bitter life, those kind of things don’t inspire people to adopt your point of view and you’re better than that. And while all that is going on, you’re missing out on some beautiful sunsets, snowy winter mornings and the sweet cooing sounds of a newborn baby.

Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year.

Tim Hunter

HO HO BROTHER 2017

Somehow, I managed to pull off another one.

At a time of year when commitments and gatherings and parties consume my calendar, I decided to add on traditions that are incredibly time-consuming, but oh, so rewarding.

One of them is an annual Christmas CD, that I gave the name Ho Ho Brother.  In the late 1990s, I was working with an I.T. guy named Rick Taylor at KLSY.  Rick was my ambassador to the techie world, which I had a fascination with, but limited time to explore. I believe it was in 1998, he gave me a Christmas collection of songs that he had rounded up and burned to a CD. Some odd ones, some funny ones and some sentimental favorites. The following year, he burned a Christmas CD complete with fancy label that featured all Jewish singers that sang Christmas songs. Bottom line, the technology existed that we could collect songs or anything pre-recorded, put it together and then give to family and friends to spread Christmas cheer.

I loved the concept, so in 2000, I produced my very first collection, Ho Ho Brother. This year (for those of you lousy at math), I’ve put the finishing touches on Ho Ho Brother 17.  The secret formula isn’t that secret–it’s a blend of comedy bits, new and old, holiday classics, fresh new songs you may not even know existed and with a personal goal of not repeating any of the recordings I’ve used before. I think a couple of repeats have slipped in during the past 17 years, but I’m of the opinion if I don’t remember, why should you?

I know that the days of CD’s are waning, but I’m still burning them for those who have CD players. Reality hit me this year when I bought a new Hyundai Ioniq that didn’t have a CD player in it. The move is to digital, but since everyone is not there yet, I still hand out these CD’s to friends and family as a holiday spiff. Something festive and to a few, unexpected. It’s fun to watch the first-timers get a puzzled look and say, “So, what is this?”  But I love giving it to the people who have been looking forward to the latest edition and comment that they were just listening to a previous year’s Ho Ho Brother while decorating their home.

One of the regular contributions I love to include in this mix is an original song and, this year, I’m sorry to say, that didn’t happen. Well, it did, but it didn’t. My regular singer, Alana Baxter, got her medical degree and headed off to Hawaii.  We managed to record her voice last year while she was home and I had all the intentions of including our new song, “All I want for Christmas is booze.” But, after carefully listening to it, we weren’t pleased with the voice.  So, thanks to connections over on the islands, I was able to sneak her into a studio last week to re-record the voice.  I will have that song and matching video for you in next week’s blog, but it was just too late for this year’s CD if I wanted it to reach distant relatives by Christmas.

That’s how it was meant to be, I guess. I’m already working on next year’s CD and song in an attempt to be even more ready for 2018. And, of course, that is when I’ll include Alana’s latest holiday hit.  I’ll get more into that next week.

For now, here’s this year’s Ho Ho Brother collection for you to download, put on your phone or computer and enjoy.

Click to play or right click here to “Save As” audio to your Mac or PC

Right click here to download the playlist

Apply generously and enjoy.

Merry Christmas to all!

Tim Hunter

‘Tis The Season For Format Changes

Fi-Fi-Fi-Fi-Fire, Fi-Fi-Fi-Fire!

We’ll come back to that.

A quick flashback to my college days for just a moment. The year was 1975 and I had been at the University of Washington for a couple of years by now and still hadn’t figured out what my major was going to be. Probably needed to make that decision fairly soon.

Then one day, I was talking with a guy from the end of the fifth floor of Terry Hall who mentioned the campus radio station. The what?  You could do radio and call it a major? So, off I wandered off into the world of communications, with an emphasis on Radio & TV.  Ask me for the long form of the story next time you see me, but for the time being, I decided that radio was the way to go.

It was my career for the next 30+ years. I consider myself very fortunate in that I was only let go twice during those three decades. Radio is pretty much like golf–the lower the score, the better you did.

This past week, we saw two Seattle radio stations get flipped. For the outsiders, that means a personality was saying a slogan for a station one minute and a few moments later, there were new call letters. KMPS, which has survived as a country station since Gerald Ford was president, fell as part of the CBS Radio/Entercom merger.  Across the lake, 98.9, which had been some kind of rock station for a couple of years, flipped over to country to keep the Wolf honest. I still think of 98.9 as Smooth Jazz, much like I keep calling Macy’s The Bon.

These events brought back memories of my second radio retirement. December 19th, 2003, at the Village Theater in Issaquah.  It was the Murdock, Hunter & Alice annual Christmas spectacular. I believe it was our 3rd one, as each year we kept getting bigger and bigger. This particular morning, Bryon the Producer had pulled out all the stops.  We had Brenda White, the original singer of “Christmas in the Northwest” performing live. Channel 5’s Dennis Bounds read, “Twice The Night Before Christmas.”  There were kids singing, story-telling, it was some pretty great radio, despite the fact that all three of us knew this was probably going to be it.

And so, at 9am, after introducing our final act and thanking everyone for listening, our general manager came backstage and asked if we were done on the air. We said, “Yes” and he said, “We’ve decided not to renew your contract. See ya. Take your time cleaning out your desk and well throw you a big party next month to say thanks for all those years.” (I had been in the building 19 of them)

Six days before Christmas. I suppose he could have come down the chimney Christmas morning and had more impact, but maybe this was his way of being kind. Oh, and that party? Never happened.

Once you’ve been in radio, it’s a hard demon to shake. It’s an addiction. Maybe the city of Seattle, once day, will set up Safe Broadcasting Sites. I have to admit, even though I find myself in a dream situation for work, if the right situation were to come up, I would be seriously tempted to give it one more round.  All this while watching several members of my extended radio family being kicked to the curb and can’t for the life of them get back up on that horse.  One was even kicking butt in the ratings and was still let go. Radio is just that kind of master.

So, to all of those hard-working folks who found themselves on the street this week, just know you’re in one heck of a club. It’s a badge of honor in this biz and also a powerful reminder that, hey, it’s just a job. You’ll survive. You’ll grow from the experience and eventually, realize that you’re better off in whatever you take on next. The industry has been changing for a long time and not for the better. I’ve told friends more than once that I truly do believe I was lucky to have taken part in radio’s last big hurrah.  In these days of satellite and having your own personal format on your phone or multiple streaming options, all without commercials, it really is just a matter of time.

But damn, it was sure fun while we had it.

Tim Hunter

I got ’em. Might as well post ’em!

 

Friends

Of the billions of people on this earth, we’ve chosen a few along the way to label as “friends.”

Friends come in many forms. Facebook Friends. Best Friends. Close Friends. Great Friends. Sorta Friends. Casual Friends (some with benefits). There are Childhood Friends, High School Friends, College Friends, Work Friends. Think of any of those categories and I’m sure names and faces pop up in your mind. As many as there are different types of people, there are varying degrees of friendship. I put an extremely high value on my friends. Over my six decades, I’ve made a lot of them and stayed in touch with as many as possible along the way.

There are some people who limit the amount of friends, keeping it a core group.  The group of friends they stay in touch with are pretty much it. In my case, I’ve got a ton of really good friends that I see sporadically. It could be several months, it could be years. But those are the people who know, when we get together, it’s as if it had just been moments before and we just pick up where we left off. None of that, “You never called” stuff.

There were the elementary school friends, who I lost track of. The high school friends, which I’ve reconnected with thanks to Facebook. I hit the jackpot with my college friends. I’m hoping at some point, I can do justice to that story and write a screenplay about those crazy days at Terry Hall.  And of course, my incredible collection of radio friends that I have made along the way. There’s a lifetime supply of stories right there.

The one term I have a really hard time with is, “Best Friend.” To single out one person out of all the people I know, I’d probably have to default to the cliché answer, “My wife.”  I don’t really have one person I would call a best friend but that’s because I want it that way. If forced to identify someone outside of my marriage as a Best Friend, I’d probably say, “It’s whichever friend I’m with at the time you ask.”

There are people-watchers. I’m a people-listener. The bottom-line is that everyone has a great story.  Last weekend while chatting with Victoria, somehow I got on the topic of a certain person and suddenly, details started spilling out about their life and their story.  All stuff that could easily end up on the Hallmark Channel. Maybe it’s the writer in me, the story-teller, but it’s the details of people’s lives that simply fascinates me.

If you’re a friend and you’d like to sit around some day and compare life stories, just say when & where. There are actually two people from my past that I would love to have that conversation with and hear how life has gone since the last time we saw each other.  I think we all have people like that. For no other purpose, just for the curiosity of it. Here’s what happened to me, how about you? How was your life? I really doubt these two particular conversations will ever happen, but I’d like to believe they will.

Or maybe, just maybe, that’s what heaven is. Just sitting there, with a friend from long ago, swapping stories, getting answers to your questions, remembering old times. Having their stories trigger more of those long-lost adventures from your memory bank.

For yours truly, that would work. A lot. Yeah, that sounds like heaven to me.

Family is assigned to you. Your friends are those wonderful bonuses that add so much to our crazy story of life.

To all of my friends, thank you for being a part of my story.

Cheers!

Tim Hunter

Wacky Week Podcast EPISODE 137

Got a star-studded Apple Cup version of the Wacky Week Podcast for you this week, including guest appearances from Larry Nelson, Bob Rondeau, Kathi Goertzen, Steve Pool and Ray Ramsey, just to name a few. Just a little of the radio madness I helped contribute to over the years.

Keeping The Thanks Coming

Well, here comes one of my favorite holidays, Thanksgiving. Minimum decorating, no gifts to buy and its centered around eating. Bob Thanksgiving or whoever it was that invented that holiday, we thank you.

I’m grabbing a few minutes and doing a quick parade through my brain of all the people and events I have to be thankful for, knowing darn well I’ll probably miss an important one along the way, but here goes:

Mom & Dad–How do you skip past them? Having done the great parent experiment myself, I look back and admire what they did for us. Not so much for the”things.” God knows as kids my sisters and I would complain that we never got to experience real Kellogg’s Frosted Flakes, we got the Springfield brand. Springfield soda, Springfield popcorn. It was the lesser-cost version of all the popular foods. But like I said, it wasn’t about  the things, it was the environment. They gave us an abundance of guidance, stability, faith, and allowed us to be kids while growing up during those turbulent 1960s. Even when dad was out of work because of a strike or we were dangerously close to nuclear war with Cuba, my world was made up of school friends, Cub Scouts, Little League, Dodger baseball and the kids in the neighborhood.

Mr. Ray and Mr. Maxwell–two of the teachers I had along the way, both with clever, dry senses of humor. I credit them for helping shape my comical thinking.

Gary Owens–This Los Angeles radio legend and eventually, the announcer on “Laugh In” was nothing short of brilliant. While other kids were listening to Boss Radio KHJ (and that’s where I went after Gary was on the air) I couldn’t wait to tune in KMPC, wade through another Ray Conniff song, only to hear his witty banter and bits like The Story Lady. Blame him for me heading into a 30-year radio career.

Getting Fired–Yes, it wasn’t just people, it was events. Having your career pulled out from under you either destroys you or makes you stronger.  Twice, my life plans were thrown into chaos and uncertainty, but each time I emerged better off than I was before. This helped brand in my brain to keep focused on what’s really important–your life. Lose a job? You’ll be fine.  Getting honorary mention is deciding to quit a job and go out on my own 3 years ago.  A step I never would have taken if I hadn’t been fired. I basically fired myself, which put me into the dream situation I enjoy now.

Family–My incredible wife who showed me that people can be kind and caring as a way of life. My mom & sisters, my kids and step-kids, the grandkids, the assorted nieces and nephews. Oh and all those aunts and cousins throughout the greater United States. Quite the collection of characters. Love you all!

My Radio Brothers & Sisters–I made some life-long friends during that 30-year stretch of my life, most of whom I still stay in touch with today. It’s not a constant-contact kind of thing, but put us together anywhere and we can pick up right where we last left off.

My Memories–In the amusement park that is my mind, there’s a wonderful place called Yesterday. It’s where I go and reflect on my dad, my radio mentor Larry Nelson and my former morning show co-host Alice Porter. One of my high school classmates Dr. Jon Lemler is there, too. The class of ’73 will remember him playing “Suwanne River” with his hands at the senior talent show. I’ll be forever grateful to him for talking with my wife at one of our reunions where she told him about her kidney disease. Jon helped us with some alternative medicine that we are convinced helped Victoria’s disease go into remission. A couple of years ago, Jon was walking in Las Vegas when he collapsed and died from a massive heart attack.

You see, I’ve had the incredible fortune of meeting some amazing people along the way.

Star Boreson–I had incredible timing and, even though I didn’t grow up with him here in Seattle, during my days at KOMO, he came in as the revered former TV show host and I got to know him. Enough that he invited me over to his and Barbara’s house for a couple of afternoons, where we wrote parody songs for his next Christmas album. Read the fine print on the cover, there I am. Buried in our basement are the original hand-written lyrics to a lot of those songs on the album.  It was a college-level course on how to create a comedy, which I used many, many times throughout my career. And still do, to this day.

Matt Riedy & Frank King–It’s all about opportunity. Back when radio brother-turned-actor Matt was working over at Smooth Jazz, he connected me to a comedian he had worked with, Frank King. Frank used to do stand-up comedy with Jay Leno and had remained connected to him, faxing him jokes each day. Frank invited me to join his White Collar Comedy submission sheet and for most of a decade, I was lucky enough to be able to sell jokes to Jay. The thrill of having him tell a joke that I wrote, word for word, was about the biggest high a comedy writer could experience.

Dwight Perry–This Seattle Times’ lighter side of sports writer has dropped in some of my Wacky Week lines over the years and given me exposure that I wouldn’t otherwise receive, being off the air. As recently as last Sunday, a friend said, “Hey, I saw you in the sports page again today!” Thanks for the plugs, Dwight!

Jean Godden & Sherry Grindeland–When both were back in their day writing newspaper columns, they gave me quite a few mentions and let me show off my comedy writing skills to their readership.

You–A writer is nothing without readers. If no one bothers reading it, then I would be just entertaining myself. (which I do anyway. I’m a great audience) I’ve managed to write over 800 blogs these past 15 years, with 42,543 views the last time I checked. I am humbled.

I’m just a guy going along for the ride who believes everyone should be doing what they love to do. It truly makes all the difference in the world. I wish you peace, hope and happiness as we gather again to give thanks for all we’ve got.

It’s a shame we really only do this once a year. If nothing else, the holiday serves as that annual reminder that we truly are blessed.

Happy Thanksgiving!

Tim Hunter

An Early Thanksgiving

Give Lincoln full credit. He was the guy who made Thanksgiving an actual holiday.

You gotta love it: the government mandating the obvious–for God’s sake, don’t think about what you don’t have, but instead, be grateful for all the blessings you DO have!

While I try to live that way day-to-day, it’s easy to get caught up in the busy pace of life and one of the first things that goes away is gratitude.

Everyone should hear the word Thanksgiving and begin thinking of all the blessings in their life. As I do that in 2017, I marvel at everything around me and just can’t believe this is all really happening to me.

First off, I have my health. As you get older, you realize more and more what a valuable commodity that can be. Seriously, if you don’t have good health, pretty much everything else gets thrown out the window.

Now, let’s take it a step further. Your health, and everybody else in your life that matters to you–their health. Oh, screw the minor aches and pains or the stuff that comes with getting older. The fact that 100% of the people you care about are doing OK? Just sign the Thankful Certificate and call it a day.

However, this year, I have another really big thing to be thankful for.

A couple of weeks ago, while putting together one of my Wacky Week Podcasts, I was listening to a tape from my KCMU days. That was the college radio station at the University of Washington that has since been sold to Paul Allen, who moved it over to KEXP at his MoPop Museum. But back in my U.W. days, it was where I cut my radio teeth. And one night, while I was showing off the radio station to a nursing student I was dating, I recorded a phone call she made to her mom.

The moment I heard it, I strongly felt she should be able to hear this recording. As I listened to it, the memory of that girl from 40 years ago came rushing back. Her laugh, her voice, the voice of her mom–it took me back to the mid-1970’s, when a 21-year-old version of myself was about to head out into the world.

But the way I remember leaving it with her was not good. I recall being a jerk, a legitimate asshole. However, because I felt she should have access to that recording, I searched for her on Facebook and reached out, really expecting the worst. Maybe she would lash out or just block me from contacting her on Facebook.

Instead, she couldn’t have been more kind and said she didn’t remember the caustic ending that I had attached to the last time I saw her. While I could question or contest that, I’m going with the flow and if she really has no resentment towards me, then I am beyond blessed.

I clocked in at 62 years in September. Dear God, that’s old. In my brain, I had done this girl a tremendous wrong as I headed out from the U.W. and into the working world. Four decades later, I find out it must not have been as awful as I remember. That truly was the only thing that, at some point in my life, I wanted to rectify, to apologize for, to amend for my behavior.

This girl was a part of my last year in college. She was a serious student. She introduced me to Fleetwood Mac. I remember she threw me a going-away party when I took my first radio job in Yakima. She was very, very kind. She LOL’d before it was popular. She was simply a very nice person. They really do exist in the world. And now I found out, after thinking otherwise for 40 years, she didn’t hate me after all!

And now, adding that to my 2017 list of things to be grateful for.

Happy Thanksgiving.

Tim Hunter

 

The Calm Before The Holiday Storm

My wife made the comment just this morning: “Can you believe it’s just a little over two weeks until Thanksgiving?”

After decades of going through this ritualistic season, you’d think we’d be better at it. But like clockwork, you’ll hear the same things, year after year:

  • “It’s too early to decorate for Christmas”
  • “I’m waiting until after Thanksgiving.”
  • “Your holiday party is that night, too?’
  • “Outside decorations are up. That’s all you’re getting this year.”
  • “When are we getting the tree?”
  • “Are we doing cards this year?”
  • “When’s the mail deadline?”
  • “I haven’t had time to shop!”
  • “I’m so stressed out!
  • “How am I ever going to get all those presents wrapped?”
  • “I can’t believe it’s over.”

Seriously, you’ve heard ’em all before. But I do have to say, in spite of our really busy personal schedules with work tossed in, I think I’m doing a decent job of actually enjoying the holiday season. I do have over-achieving as a goal, but somehow each year I pull it off and it’s just about time to fire up the engines again.

Here’s my collection of annual holiday “duties” I thrust upon myself. (because I know that one day, I’ll look back and remember when I used to do all this)

The N.A.C.C. Julebord–I began attending this when I married Victoria, the uber-Norwegian. It’s an annual lunchtime gala at the Seattle Golf Club that is decadent and extremely fun. Within a couple of years, the elderly emcee had to give up the microphone and I was called into service. I think this is my 6th Julebord (pronounced YULE-uh-BOARD). It’s actually a pretty cushy gig and let’s me get being a goofball out of my system. I do a brief monologue at the beginning which evolves into me doing a parody song about something. Then it’s just keeping the event moving along, with songs, door prizes and a tad bit of drinking.

SANTA CLAUS ARRIVAL AT BOTHELL’S COUNTRY VILLAGE SHOPPING CENTER–I believe I’m in my 14th year (at least) of hosting this event. My evening duties begin at 6pm when I stroll the village dressed up like a town crier, “Hear ye! Hear ye!” bell and all, announcing that Santa Claus arrives at 7pm.  Back when I started, Santa’s sleigh actually flew in on a wire, but eventually, the liability became too much. I’ll never forget the year that someone parked right in the flight path and I led the crowd in a “Tow that car!” chant until they eventually did. Longest 25 minutes of my life. The event means even more to me because we’re down to the final two Christmas’s where I’ll be doing this. The village has been sold and after the 2018 Santa arrival, the place will become history.

THE NORWEGIAN LADIES CHORUS OF SEATTLE HOLIDAY CONCERT–What I love most about this is I just have to show up. I usually go up in the rafters and videotape the concert and, much like country village, this could be a limited-time tradition. Our Redeemer’s Lutheran Church in Ballard–where we were married–is going to be undergoing a massive renovation in the near future, which includes taking down the choir loft.

Those first three events happen in order on the first weekend of December–Friday, Saturday and Sunday. I also take on–

MY ANNUAL CHRISTMAS CD–The days of it actually being a CD are limited as well. In fact, only a select few will be burned this year, as the world moves towards digital music. This will be my 17th edition of “HO HO BROTHER”, which features fun, festive and funny Christmas songs, along with some original comedy bits from either my radio past, or new ones. If you’d be interested in getting this year’s collection, just let me know and I’ll put you on the naughty list.

MY ANNUAL CHRISTMAS MUSIC VIDEO–This is probably the most ambitious thing I do and I need to get going on it. I hooked up with a young singer named Alana Baxter some years ago and we have done a series of silly Christmas songs, complete with video. Now, since she has relocated to Hawaii, it’s made the task even more challenging. So what we did last year was to record this year’s song. I’ve got her voice track.  I’ll just have to round up some video and be creative and then we’ll have another one to add to the collection. Her song is also usually included with my Christmas CD collection. If you’d like to enjoy some of our previous works, here you go!

“It’s Silent Night”           “He Rides a Sleigh”            “I Won’t Hate You Very Much Tonight (It’s Christmas)”           “Where are You Christmas?”

Add to all that the holiday shopping, the annual parties, a Bothell Wine Walk, watching some favorite Christmas movies, getting out the Christmas cards (we’re STILL doing that) and everything else that crops up and yes, we are heading into one, busy, festive season.

But as I said, there will come a time when I’ll be reflecting back on these days and all of this will be nothing more than my ghosts of Christmas past.

So, I’m just going to enjoy the heck out of them while it’s all a part of my present.

Ho, friggin’, Ho!

Tim Hunter

Don James And Me

That would be my fantasy headline. You’d see it and say, “Oh, wow, Tim knew Don James, the legendary football coach of the University of Washington Huskies! The guy they just unveiled a statue of, out in front of Husky Stadium.”

I actually DID know Coach Don James, on a professional level.  Our paths crossed dozens of times, as I’m sure it did with so many other people who wanted to have a couple of minutes with the coach. Let’s face it, he was not only a nice guy, but a very talented football coach that left Kent State–a school more famous for its ’60s student shooting than its football program–to head for the University of Washington. There, he rescued a floundering program, taking it to unprecedented heights and even a national championship.

I worked at KOMO AM-1000 back in the early 1980s. I had gotten a low-voiced call from Seattle while I worked at KMWX in Yakima, went over for a job interview, accepted it and two weeks later, headed to the wet side of the mountains to be Larry Nelson’s morning show producer.

Going from a small market to Market 13 in the U.S. meant a lot of learning and growing was yet to come. That was back in the time when KOMO embraced their history as being one of the first radio stations in Seattle. The wall in front of the office I shared with Larry had cartoon drawings of the radio greats from the ’30s and ’40s.  W.C. Fields, Edgar Bergen and Charlie McCarthy, Jack Benny, Fred Allen and more.

That was a different era at KOMO. During my tenure there, they were a Full-Service AM station with music, news and up to 30 minutes of commercials per hour. Years prior, Fisher Broadcasting gave away the frequency that KUOW now occupies because, in the words of one general manager, “FM radio will never amount to anything.”  KOMO had also let the Sonics slip away, but that allowed them to seriously go after the University of Washington sports broadcasts.

At that time, if you had the broadcast rights to a school, you got it all. What did you want to cover? Football, basketball, maybe some crew races? KOMO had access to everything purple and gold. Bob Rondeau, the voice of the Huskies, was the radio station sports director and did the morning sports reports during the week. On the weekends, he climbed into the broadcast booth. Because of that, it wasn’t unusual for the likes of Mike Lude (the Athletic Director) or even Don James to be seen around the building.

Between those occasions, a Rose Bowl trip in ’81, and even being involved somewhat in “The Don James Show” on KLSY years later, I can’t tell you how many conversations I had with the coach. Mostly chit-chat, but enough I could tell this was a seriously good guy. Oh, I heard he could be really intense on the football field. That’s what great coaches do. But off the field and one-on-one, he could turn it off and be just a guy named Don.

One year after I had moved on to KLSY and the Huskies were in Pasadena for the Rose Bowl, I remembered that New Year’s Eve was the coach’s birthday. So, we called the hotel where he was staying and had breakfast delivered to his room. Of course, we gave our studio backline number with the order and sure enough, Coach James called up to say thanks. That was awesome. That was Don James.

The last time I was fortunate enough to see him was at one of the Husky Spring Football games.  He was in the Tyee section (the hoity-toity reserved section) and he was near the edge talking to someone and so I figured when that conversation was over, I’d sneak over and grab a selfie with him. For all the years I was around him, I had never bothered to get a picture taken with him.  What a hallowed spot I would have on my Husky wall if I had only taken the time to get up there and say hi one more time.  I looked away to watch the spring game, but when I turned around, he was gone.

We lost Don James way too early. Not only as a head coach, but also in this world. He was just 80 years old when he passed in 2014. It’s been 25 years since he last coached the Huskies. But when I look back, it’s not with sadness, but instead, with massive appreciation for being able to be alive during his era. I was there in the stands as a student when he first took over and not too much later, be fortunate enough to actually get to know the guy a little bit. I really wanted to be at Husky Stadium last week for the dedication of his statue out front, but work prevented it.

However, that statue is not going anywhere and eventually, I’ll get back to Husky Stadium for that long overdue photo with the coach.

Go Dawgs!

Tim Hunter

My New Voting Technique

My Voter’s Guide

Yeah, it’s been a year since we threw our federal government into complete chaos.  It finally caught up to our Seattle City government, which has been dysfunctional, inept, non-achieving and over-taxing for years.

I don’t know if I’m a conservative progressive or a liberal conservative. I have opinions and thoughts on everything, but it seems to be my own brand of politics that is sometimes Democrat, while other times Republican.

Most Seattle voters pride themselves on being progressive–formerly known as liberal, left wing or socialist. Take a look at most of the council races and you get to choose between uber-progressive and really-uber-progressive.  I’m waiting for the day that the city council changes all the streets to left-turns only.

I want to truly help homeless people and all those in need, but I don’t want to enable them. I don’t believe allowing camping on sidewalks and city parks, and dumbing-down heroin addiction to the point Seattle is trying to make it a lifestyle is demonstrating compassion. You’re addict?  Here, let us set up a safe injection site. That way you’ll be healthy enough to hit those neighborhoods and steal more to fuel your habit. And now we feel better about ourselves and didn’t have to make any hard decisions.

Yeah, that’s helping.

So, the other day, I found myself at a place where you could pick up the copy of The Stranger, which I did. (after all, it’s free)  I didn’t even realize at the time, in spite of the cover, that it was the Election Issue with their recommendations for our off-year election. Coincidentally, my ballot showed up in the mail around the same time. I had started to fill it out based on some of the main races, but then I hit a point where it was going to take some digging through the voter’s pamphlet to figure out the rest of the candidates.

As I skimmed through The Stranger and came across their endorsements, I realized that they were 6-for-6 in endorsing the opposite candidate I supported. That gave me an idea.

For the first time ever, I used The Stranger’s recommendations to choose who I was voting for.  They recommended A, I voted for B. They said Yes, I said No. Since they pride themselves on extremism to the radical left, I figure the candidate they didn’t support might at least be a little towards the middle.

That was it. I finished the rest of my ballot in less than a minute, put on the stamp and ran it out to the mailbox.

And a new way to vote was born.

Election Day, as of this writing, is still two weeks ago. So lots of time left to get your copy of The Stranger.

Tim Hunter

No More Secrets

What happened?

What finally happened that it was suddenly OK to out a powerful person like Harvey Weinstein and expose his abuse of power and the sexual depravity that so many women have to endure silence?

It doesn’t matter. This is a great thing.

Unbelievable behavior has been going on for decades. There have been payoffs. There were threats. Careers were ruined. Others, spared for favors.

But that’s Hollywood, right? The home of the casting couch. Where sexual harassment and assault are “just part of the process.”

No more.

It’s with heartbreak I read story after story of what actresses and models have endured for the sake of not having their careers crushed by powerful men. But now, they’re finally fighting back and I’m cheering them on.

The current “let’s put an end to sexual harassment and abuse” campaign has spread outside of Hollywood and has become a powerful wake-up call to me and hopefully millions of men.

Last Sunday, the #metoo campaign was given a boost by Alyssa Milano and it spread like wildfire. Sadly, for good reason. If a woman had been victims of sexual harassment or abuse in their lifetimes, they were encouraged to post #metoo. Practically every woman I have as a friend on Facebook joined in. Some hesitated, because they didn’t want people to know or didn’t want to relive it. Others have used it as a light to show us it’s far from OK. In fact, it hasn’t been for a long time. Hopefully, this is where we finally start to change things.

If you know me, you know I’m a goofball. I keep it light and have a hard time being serious. (apparently, except when I blog) I have this deep-rooted need to make people smile or laugh. Looking back over the years, I never, ever intentionally sexually harassed anyone. At least, in my mind.  I’m playful, flirty at times, but only with people I felt close to.

The #metoo campaign has me re-thinking and that’s when change begins. It has shed light on something that wasn’t said before to the masses–that being sexually harassed or assaulted has been more the rule, than the exception.

My hat is off to the women who have bravely stepped forward to tell their story with the hope that things will change and that, hopefully, others won’t have to go through it.

KING 5 News Anchor Amity Addrissi bravely told her story.

A Facebook post by a former co-worker was the real tipping point for me. I mean, for God’s sake, I never knew that had happened to her. I felt incredible sadness and anger as I read her story while realizing that she had been living with this all the time I’ve known her. She is one of the brightest, nicest, just deep-down people I know. Here’s her story:

#Metoo.

When I was in high school, I was held down and raped by two drunk/high boys from school. To complicate matters, one of them was actually my boyfriend. For YEARS afterwards, I was in denial that this was even rape — that’s how brainwashed our culture is. Since I didn’t scream at the top of my lungs, since I didn’t bite and punch and kick, since I didn’t physically fight back with ALL MY FORCE, this was clearly my fault, right?

I did try to shove them off, I repeatedly asked them to stop, I cried, I tried to squirm out of their grip as the pinned me down. But, again, I didn’t fight back with all my force, so it wasn’t REALLY rape, right? (SMH)

I kept dating that boy for a long time afterward, mainly due to feelings of low self-worth. This incident had a long-lasting impact on my life. An impact that is still very much felt. It kicked off a long-lasting bout of depression, decreased my belief in my value as anything more than an object, fostered an ambivalence toward life, and worst of all, gave me intimacy issues that continue to this day.

Now I wonder, how I ever could have thought this wasn’t even rape. I was A CHILD. I was raped. I never said anything. What is WRONG with this world?

I’m not glad to have had this experience, but I am happy to add to the growing #metoo lexicon.

And one last thing. Don’t feel sorry for me. I’ve grown past it. But do join me in my outrage.

Story after story, #metoo after #metoo, from friends and relatives, knocked the wind out of me. That we’ve been silent as a society as long as we have been seems inconceivable. How could we have side-stepped this issue all the way until 2017?

The New York Post put a brighter spotlight on Hollywood’s past, which was notorious. Give this a read and you’ll see what I mean. Harassment and assault were not publicly accepted, but even worse: they were privately ignored. Power corrupts and Harvey Weinstein used his power in the most corrupt way. His attacks on women were widely known, but remained a poorly kept secret.

As for the impact on my ground zero, this forced me to come to the realization that there were most likely several times in my life when I inadvertently harassed someone. Something I viewed as playful might have been very disturbing to a victim of previous harassment or assault. They had been wronged in their life and I was reminding them of that incident or incidents. For that, I hope they will accept my apology.

I have many, many female friends and acquaintances and to you, I’d like to humbly ask that if I ever do anything that goes beyond your comfort zone, you tell me, “Tim, you’re crossing a line.” Your friendship means too much to me. And it’s long, long overdue to establish a no toleration policy.

My wife and I have talked about her #metoo story. I know it still hurts because we tried watching “Mad Men” and the sexual harassment that was part of that era and part of that show still made her uncomfortable. She had lived it.

I have my own #metoo stories. There was the bar manager in Yakima who groped me one night out of the blue. I’m talking full-out grabbing-my-crotch, claiming he accidentally tripped into me.  Yeah, right. Close friends have heard me tell the tale of the famous singer who invited me to his hotel room, gave me wine and then asked if I would take a bath with him.  Now, I am NOT bringing this up to say, “I understand.” I don’t.  I really don’t know what you went through  and I don’t know how people can use power to harass or assault people and then sleep at night. What kind of human beings are they?

It’s my hope that all those who suffered in silence now feel empowered enough to either raise their voices or at least call out something when it happens. There can be no more Harvey Weinsteins. The problem isn’t anything new. But it’s time for it to go away.

We’ve hit the breaking point. We’ve had enough. We’re going to do something about it. All of us need to make this a priority, no exceptions, no excuses. This hidden tradition of sexual harassment and assault ends now.

It’s time to step up for our wives, our sisters, our daughters and generations to come.

No more secrets.

Tim Hunter

Wacky Week Podcast EPISODE 132

OK, still reeling from the UW Huskies loss last weekend in the desert to Arizona State University. I’m taking you back to the early 1980s, the last time we beat ASU down there, with Larry Nelson, Bob “the Voice of the Huskies” Rondeau and a cast of several. You’ll hear a KOMO Music promo and a couple of Halloween bits we did at 4th Avenue North.

Wacky Week Podcast EPISODE 131

Not afraid to bare my college soul on this week’s episode. Digging out some classic moments from my days at KCMU at the University of Washington. For a couple of quarters, I did a daily comedy bit called, “Return to Normalcy.”   Don’t remember why I called it that. Cameo’s from friends of long ago, including Gale Ensign and Steve Fimmel.  Basically, I’m putting this out there in the archives so that years from now, someone can ask the question, “Why didn’t they stop this?”

Hug ‘Em While You’ve Got ‘Em

You may have gotten up this morning and had a slightly stiff neck you’re going to have to deal with all day. Maybe later, you’ll accidentally spill coffee in your car, some jerk will open up his door into your car or your boss is in an uber-bad mood.

Life is loaded with ups and downs. We think things like the above-mentioned challenges are ‘downs’. Actually, they’re just part of life.

For every dropped glass there’s a beautiful sunset. For each time you do battle with a cold there’s the giggle of a baby that makes you smile. The key is to focus on the goods and just let the bads pass. At least, that’s always been my philosophy. Live is balance.

I look back on my high school days as jam-packed with lot of goods. I managed to win over the girl of my dreams (at the time, they were young dreams), played basketball, had some great friends, did the popularity thing–it was just all in all a great experience for me.

Among the good ones I met along the way was Mike Duarte. Mike was just a solid guy and while we didn’t hang around often, whenever he saw me, he’d say hi. We’d exchange pleasantries. He was a super-athlete. Mike was a 3-sport athlete, playing football, basketball and baseball with intensity. I still remember that husky voice and chiseled good looks. You could just tell this guy was going places and had a bright and beautiful future ahead.

So it didn’t surprise me when I heard later at a reunion that he had gone into law and was taking on the L.A. gangs. These days, he’s the Deputy District Attorney for Los Angeles County. I understand that he and his wife Barbara have a couple of kids: Mikey, who picked up dad’s athletic jeans and is now in the Chicago White Sox farm system, and a beautiful daughter, Christiana, who goes by the name Chrissy. She was a recent graduate of the University of Arizona and had just landed a job in the marketing department of the L.A. Kings.

Both kids, just like their father, seemed to have a tremendous future ahead. But Chrissy’s life will remain forever frozen in time. She will always be 22. Her incredible smile, the playful pictures she took, the singing voice some friends were lucky enough to hear was silenced. Chrissy was one of the 58 victims of the Las Vegas mass shooting.

I haven’t spoken to Mike in decades but it’s just heart-breaking to see something so tragic happen to a family of really good people. It just eats me up that this tragedy will become the latest high-water mark for a deranged mind in the future who will feel the need to randomly shoot even more innocent people. The gun debate will be revived for a short time, it will fade away and nothing will be done to make our world safer. We’ll all just wait for the next event, which continue to get progressively worse, praying we won’t lose a family member in the process.

There will come a tipping point when people feel enough is enough. The gun debate is a war of extremes.  As more and more people lose their children, their family members and their futures to senseless gun violence, there will be a solution. I just wish we’d get there sooner than later. I would think that if you have loved ones, you’d have a pressing desire to make simple things like going to a country music concert non-life threatening.

I can’t imagine the horror of what the Duarte family is going through, but it’s amazingly easy to think of how many ways that tragedy could have been prevented.

Last Thursday, the LA Kings honored Chrissy by having all the players wear CD helmet stickers.

There is a GoFundMe campaign to help the Duartes with all the expenses involved in burying a daughter that was taken from them way too soon.

Another senseless act serving as a reminder: hug ’em while you’ve got ’em.

Tim Hunter

                                                                     

 

 

The Greatest Concert Ever

Everyone’s going to have an opinion on this one. What’s the greatest concert you’ve ever attended? Which concert set the standard as the one to beat for all future experiences?

Going into last Saturday night, I’d have to say the Paul McCartney show I caught at Safeco Field a couple of years ago was the high-water mark. It’s still up there. The 70+-year-old McCartney put his heart and soul into his performance, playing songs that covered most of my lifetime. It sounded like he was having fun, that he “still had it” and then, bringing out the two surviving members of Nirvana for an encore of Helter Skelter was the cherry on top.

Last weekend, my wife and I went to catch The Classic, as it was billed. An evening with the Doobie Brothers and The Eagles. I have to admit, during the weeks prior to the concert, my enthusiasm was fading. I had always wanted to see the Eagles, but now that Glenn Frey was gone, were they still The Eagles? Or, like so many touring bands out there, a few original members augmented by a bunch of studio musicians.

It didn’t help that I started seeing Groupon offers of tickets for $35 for this event, after I had ponied up $125 plus screw-you fees for each of our seats. The weather was starting to get fall-like, so that meant we could be outside, being cold, a million miles away from the stage and we could spend an evening regretting we had committed to this night.  Besides, we had caught the Doobies a couple of summers back and while they were pleasantly surprising, energetic and fun, we probably were going to see just the same old thing.

Add to that, we had caught a Don Henley concert and a Joe Walsh concert at the winery in recent years. I like to say we saw the Eagles, just in pieces. All to say, my expectations were pretty low.

And then, the show began.

It ended up being one of the greatest concerts ever. From any standpoint. Now, to explain why they may have knocked Sir Paul out of my number one spot:

The Doobie Brothers–They came to play, they did the hits, had some fun with some deep album cuts and rocked us all down Memory Lane. They showed up on the music scene during my high school years and I played their music on the radio in the earlier years of my broadcast career.  Tom Johnston, founding member and one of the two main voices of the group, delivered big-time. The Doobie Brothers were pretty much with me throughout the 70s and 80s, and they were back tonight in great form. Yes, no Michael McDonald, but he was later-Doobies. They had other members cover his hit songs and it was just fine. The sing-along version of “Listen to the Music” at the end was a great way to wrap it up.  GRADE: A

The Eagles–There are so many ways this could have been disappointing. Like I said, with Glenn Frey gone, would some of the songs just be cover versions of his hits? That was the big question and it was answered right away, when Joe Walsh introduced Deacon Frey, Glenn’s son, to sing of those songs. You could see Glenn in his face and could hear him in his voice.

But the Eagles doubled-down and brought along country legend Vince Gill to tackle some of those Frey vocals and he nailed it. So now, I’m watching the friggin’ Eagles, but it’s like the Eagles on steroids. They played around with some of the songs, slightly tweaking the melody, keeping it fresh, not just regurgitating. But I noticed, after introducing the young Frey, Joe Walsh kind of laid back. He offered harmonizing vocals, but mostly hung out on the right side of the stage, and just blended in. Being a solo act, I was impressed he could be a team player like that.

It was all part of the plan, because at one point, the band started playing “Life’s been good.” That’s Joe’s song, not the Eagles. But like he was helping round out the Eagles, they returned the favor. Then another Joe Walsh song. And another. It was a concert, within a concert, with psychedelic video and all kinds of fun thrown in. The crowd was loving it.

They went back to Eagles songs, wrapped it up, came out and did an encore, wrapped it up again and gave us one more encore. Wow. From the time the music started (and, on time, at 7pm–when was the last time you remember that happening) the groups took us all the way until 11pm. Most of four hours of great music, great memories and feeling like I had shared a very special experience with a bunch of other fans. GRADE: A++

Those are my reasons for putting this event in serious contention for the Greatest Concert Ever. I’ve got a few more years of reviews to get in, but this one has already secured a spot in my Final Three.

Tim Hunter

Hey, look at that!

So, I’ve managed to eek out a living somewhere along the line by noticing things, and then twisting them around so that they smack of comedy.

For example, I recently saw a news story that told of a new study that claimed “playing tackle football before the age of 12 could lead to brain issues.”

I don’t know about that. I played before I was 12 and cheese.

You see what I did there? I took the existing story. Looked for how you could twist it–what’s a universal truth?–and I went with, well, duh, you’d get brain damage–and so I thought, since I’m telling the story and I claimed I played before the age of 12–if I HAD brain damage (and the jury’s still out) so I would say something non-sensical, like “cheese”. I could have said walnuts, beans or prunes, but the word, “cheese” stuck in my head. Thanks, Ken Carson.

So, while observing is a key tool in crafting comedy, it’s also true of life. I’m always watching for details and then, when I notice something, I like to take note and pass it along to whoever might benefit from it. If I had traveled down a road with a giant pothole and I knew you were going down that same road, why wouldn’t I warn you? You would enjoy the benefit of my experience and observation and I would hope, some day, you might return the favor.

In the past week, I’ve had three experiences/life lessons that, with the above rule being strictly enforced, I’d like to pass along to you.

The 90-4 Rule Way To Eat–I went in and saw my personal physician, Dr. Brad Shoup, for my annual physical. We were talking about my adopting the Whole30.com approach to eating and he was fine with that, but….he said he was doing the “90-4” eating plan. “What’s that?” I asked and he explained. With an average of 30 meals a month, take four of the meals (like once a week) and eat whatever you want! The rest of the time you’re eating well, which is the majority of the time and, that’s all that matters, right?

Every Day’s Saturday, Except Sunday-A friend of ours who I thought enjoyed the luxury of being retired explained to me one of the realities of being at that stage. Mark these words: “Every day’s Saturday, except Sunday.”  Yes, on paper, that sounds great. Saturday’s P.R. machine has you believing it’s a day of rest, play, something fun, etc.  Well, Ed…..oh, crap, I wasn’t going to mention Kloth’s name…..OH CRAP…..well, the secret’s out…..anyway, Saturdays for the working class is the day after the work week when you have the most ambition to take on the house projects.  Oh, yeah, WE decide what would be nice to do around the house, but a very small amount of the WE population is there when it’s time to tackle those projects.  The moral of this story–when you retire, every day is Saturday….a day when you SHOULD do that home project you’d normally reserve for Saturday. (and that brings us back to, “Doh!”)

Last, But Not Least–This is more of an experience than a lesson. Let’s call it a reminder. So, last Saturday, I emcee’d a Lutefisk Eating Contest at the Fishermen’s Fall Festival down at the Ballard fishing dock.  Before the competition began, I was handed a stack of cards identifying the Lutefisk eaters who would compete. I invited a ‘Staci’ to come up to the stage and next thing you know, I see a woman being carefully lifted up on the stage so she can compete from her wheelchair. Then, the woman who helps here and another woman hop on the stage as fellow contestants.  It turned out it was the woman in the wheelchair, her sister and the woman in the wheelchair’s daughter. The wheelchair bound woman’s daughter was named Grace and when all the slimy dust settled, Grace came in 2nd place. She was out visiting from Ohio, accompanying her mom, Staci, who had visiting Seattle as part of her bucket list. Her sister quietly leaned in towards me during the competition and told me that Staci had been given maybe a year to live. So, coming out to Seattle was a dream and she was living it. It was yet another reminder to savor every day that we’re given on this rock. Tim McGraw has a haunting song, “Live like you were dying” and Staci was doing that through no choice of her own.

So there you have it: a trio of experiences that made me just a little bit smarter that I thought I would share with you. Be in the moment as best you can. Observe things. Did you pick up some life knowledge today? Pass it along. We all do much better playing as a team.

Tim Hunter

It’s like the backyard….

….where the dog has been going out for several weeks and you never got around to picking up after him. I’m going to step into it, but I’ll probably regret it.

This is not an attempt to try and sway you one way or the other about the whole “not standing for the National Anthem” issue. But if I can help you understand the other side better, regardless of which side you’re on, maybe it will edge us closer to a resolution, or even a polite agreement. After all, we’re all Americans, we have inalienable rights and assorted other ‘givens’.

Let’s start with the fact that people are raised differently. Some put ketchup on their eggs.  Others open their Christmas presents on Christmas Eve, rather than Christmas morning. There’s no right or wrong, it just is.

Boomers, for the most part, were raised at a time when we were taught certain things. We did the Pledge of Allegiance in school. We ducked and covered in the event of a nuclear attack (like that really would do a lot of good). We were taught things in Cub Scouts or Girl Scouts that the flag represented our country. If it touched the ground, you were supposed to burn it. You could fly it during the day, but it had to be taken down at sunset. And so on.

That brings us to the National Anthem.  Boomers had parents that fought for our freedom. They faced a World War, with a crazy German one way and suicidal Japanese warriors the other. To them, the threat of losing a war and singing someone else’s national anthem was unthinkable.  It made our clunky, barely rhyming Star Spangled Banner something very special. Almost sacred. So, a generation of kids were raised that, when the song was played, you removed your hats, placed your hand over your heart and stood at attention, facing the nearest flag.

OK, that’s how we were raised. So, to do anything to the contrary is wrong. Not legally, technically, morally, whatever. It’s just wrong.

So, when Colin Kaepernick or Michael Bennett or whoever decided to start sitting during the playing of our National Anthem, it bothered me.  I understand why they’re doing it. They want to use the occasion to point out social injustice. I got it. They have the right to do that. Speaking of rights, judges ruled a while back that burning a flag, while formerly an unthinkable thing to do, was a protected right.  Taking that and running with it, I suppose sitting down while the National Anthem plays is a lesser evil than burning an American flag before every Seahawks game.  But then again, if that’s a protect right, why not?  I mean, let’s keep pushing.  If you’re angry at how our country is doing right now (and there are a lot of legitimate reasons to be concerned), let’s see it. Sit down during the National Anthem. Burn a U.S. flag.  Or, how about this?—urinating on an American flag while the National Anthem is playing while you’re sitting down.  If you want to light it on fire first, then put it out while you’re peeing, that would be extra points. That way, it’s impossible to miss that you’re really upset about how things are going in America right now. Point made.

Now, how’s that going to change things? It won’t.  How could someone lucky enough to reach that level of skill, ability and matching paychecks do something to change the way things are?  Frankly, sitting down seems lazy. Pissing people off, counter-productive.  What about taking some of that money and donating it to groups or organizations actively working to change things for the better. The ALCU, Black Lives Matter, ANYONE!  That would probably have a bigger payoff, be less inflammatory and get us closer to moving on.

If sitting down during the National Anthem is such a great way to make your point, why don’t you see that happening in all the other sports?  The NFL has the blessing and the curse of being THE sport right now and so some are seizing the spotlight.  There was a time that baseball was America’s national pastime. Hey, for a while, professional wrestling actually made a ripple and packed stadiums.  Popularity comes and goes.  What one generation worships, the next ignores. It’s true of toys, it’s true of clothing styles, music, lifestyles, you name it.

And don’t look now, NFL, but your TV ratings are in a free-fall.

This is an 967-word way of saying I don’t know what the solution is to the whole “sitting down during the national anthem” thing. All I know is that it bothers me, but I tolerate it because I defend their right to do it. At a time when I’m happy and positive and excited about what’s to come out on the football field, I get this bad taste in my mouth. It makes me care less about the player involved and naturally following, less about his cause, whatever it is.

Logically, does it make sense to do something that offends people to try and sway their point-of-view? Let’s say you’re disgusted by the word, “Poop.”  I want you to realize that we need more free parking spots, so I’m going to say “Poop” over and over again until you agree with me. See much of a chance of that working?

Just know this–for every single one of these attention-getting athletes thinking they’re making a social difference by sitting down, kneeling , raising their fists in the air or turning their backs while the National Anthem is being played, there are tens of thousands of people who would love to stand for it if they could. But they can’t, because they died defending the right for people to sit on their ass.

There. I said it.

Tim Hunter

P.S. I truly meant the above piece to help the die-hards among the “everyone should kneel” crowd to try and understand that being disrespectful to our flag, our national anthem and our country doesn’t help your cause. This guy takes it much further and I think it’s worth posting here.

Wacky Week Podcasts EPISODE 127

You’ll remember Will Johnson as part of the KLSY family that moved over to WARM 106.9 for a bunch of years.  Where’s he at now?  He moved to Florida to get away from the rain.  It’s catch up time!!

 

It was around this time Will & I worked together. We were probably making Will take the picture.

Yeah, but….

I am extremely happy.

No, seriously, lately life has been one big huge reminder of how great it is to be alive.   My son’s wedding in Montana not only took me to a monumental family event, but also to the natural monuments of Yellowstone and all the beauty that life has to offer.

I’ve never been able to accept compliments very well. And so, when life goes well, I feel surprised. When life goes extremely well, I actually have a tough time handling it. Whether it’s an underlying feeling that I don’t deserve it, or a suspicion that I know it won’t last long, that doesn’t matter. I’m awkward at best when it comes to good times. I was even telling my step-daughter (and I hate that term) Kjersti at my acupuncture appointment the other day, when she asked, “How’s it going?”, I told her, “I’m really, really happy right now.”

So, while Monday didn’t ‘harsh my buzz’, it did provide a moment of concern. Now, don’t get me wrong. I’m a big believer about things happening for the reason they do, all things are meant to be, etc. but this past Monday, the 16th anniversary of the 9-11 attack on the U.S., I heard comments that bothered me.

That fateful morning, my radio co-hosts–Bruce Murdock and Alice Porter—and I were heading into just another day, with a pre-recorded interview to play in that 5:30-6am time slot. After all, most people weren’t up by then, so if we had an interview and played it during that early morning stretch, we could replay it later in the morning–say, in the 8am hour–and most of our audience wouldn’t have heard it. This particular interview was with the author of a book about 9-1-1- calls. Thus, the 9-11 theme.  We were within minutes of playing it when we noticed on the TV monitor in our studio that a plane had crashed into one of the Twin Towers in New York.  We assumed it was some small aircraft that had screwed up badly…but next thing you know, we were getting notices about a special ABC report.  That canned interview never aired. Life would never be the same.

Thousands of lives were lost. Our lives were changed forever. Remember going out to the airport and actually walking out to the gate to greet a passenger with a funny sign or flowers? Gone.

So, this past Monday, when I heard the things people were saying about 9-11, it bothered me. “C’mon, that was a long time ago!”, “Oh, just move on!” or “We don’t need another holiday!”, I just shook my head.

First off, those of use who remember that day will never be the same. It was our Pearl Harbor, our Alamo, our reminder that our perfect little land of America is just as susceptible as any place on the globe. This isn’t political rhetoric, this was people’s lives. People who weren’t planning to have it all end that day. In their honor, I cherish every day since then. What they wouldn’t give to be able to complain about politics or global warming or any of the other complaints we have about today.

I truthfully don’t know what to do about that date. Make a National Day of Remembrance….or, does that make it a target for terrorists to use for an attack?  Let it fade into history? (I’d have a hard time with that)

The bottom line is that it’s a decision that should be left to those who will be here 40 years from now. I doubt that includes me, but then again, I’m a stubborn bastard. I won’t go easily.

So, it is for that reason that I can’t get too caught up in the lack of enthusiasm about an event that seriously shaped my life 16 years ago. So, I’ll express concern and then go back to being extremely happy.

However: never forget!

Tim Hunter

 

Another One Bites The Buzz

So, I’m tapping away on my keyboard in the bowels of my house known as ‘my office’, writing away, when I hear the sound of a text or something coming in on my phone. I check–nothing.

It happens again. Not from the phone. I listen carefully and it seems to be coming somewhere down below me. I’m thinking, “Oh, great!  My computer is starting to go out and I’ll have to pony up a bunch of money and buy a new one.”  I go back to writing and some motion caught my eye. I looked down and crawling on the front of my shirt, a yellow jacket that I’m pretty sure was 30-feet long. I remained calm, reached over and grabbed my phone, lifted it off my shirt, shook it down to the ground (a Michael Jackson song is about to break out) and…..well, for you insect lovers, let’s just say “he stopped buzzing.”

How he got there, where he came from, God only knows.  All I know is the next time I hear that familiar buzzing sound again, my phone will be the second place I check.

Tim Hunter

The Time of My Life

I’m a writer. Well, technically speaking, anyone who can pick up a pen or keyboard and start tossing words down on a canvas is a writer. But even though I stumbled through a 30+ radio career, having the time to write and refine my thoughts is when I am most comfortable. I tend to be a perfectionist, so I love the idea of being able to carefully hone a line or a blog before casting it out into cyberspace for judgement.  When you’re on the radio, sometimes you stumble on a word or the music’s too loud or someone is talking at the same time. So yes, I’m a part-time control freak.

On paper, I should be able to convey how much this past week has meant to me. However, I’m struggling with the words. I could go with the standard collection of adjectives and adverbs, but they feel inadequate. Rather than being concerned about their deficiencies, I’ll simply tell you what happened and I’ll cheat a bit with photos.

There was a gathering this past week at a place near Bozeman, Montana, called Rainbow Ranch. That was the place chosen over a year ago to be the site of my son’s wedding to an absolutely incredible lady named Lacey. Technically, it was a destination wedding, but it didn’t feel like one. Those are usually small groups, on a beach somewhere. This was more like a family/college reunion, with a crowd of around 80 people setting up for an extended Labor Day weekend at one of nature’s greatest playgrounds.

It was everything I expected about Montana, but also so much more.  Outside of driving through the state on my way to South Dakota, this was my first time exploring it.  We arrived at the airport filled with bronze artwork of bears, bison and dinosaurs. We grabbed a van and hit the road and were instantly engulfed in mountains, fields and rolling plains. Over the next several days, we saw herds of elk and buffalo. We went to a rescue animal park for close-up looks of bear and wolves.  We hooked up with the bride and groom to be Thursday night at a barbecue place across the street from our Air BnB rental that had outstanding barbecue, micro-brews and people wearing cowboy hats & boots.

Friday was Yellowstone day. Heck, we were that close, so we drove for an hour, leaving Montana and sneaking into Wyoming. We decided to get an early jump because of the crowds and it was a good hunch. Our first stop was Old Faithful. These days, an app can tell you approximately when it’s going to erupt. That’s nature at it’s finest. From there, we went to Grand Prismatic Spring. I had never heard of it before, I will never forget it.

Saturday morning’s events included a hike up into the mountains followed by a river float.  The float was relaxing and fun, with a lot of the river being no more than a foot or two deep. We rounded up a crowd of around 40 and had a blast.

Saturday night was the ‘rehearsal dinner’ which was more like a happy hour with a bridal party. That was at another micro-brewery in town.  And then came Sunday, the big day. The weather, originally thought to be near 90, was more in the 70s. Smoke from the state fires was evident, but not obnoxious. The scene was a spot near the river and the day was just magical.

I’m sitting here, thinking about that day, and I have to pause and sigh.

To the 20 and 30-somethings starting out a family and beginning the kid thing, it seriously becomes a blur from the time you’re holding that little hand as you cross the street to the time you’re hugging your kid on their big day. Don’t be in a hurry. It was a fun, incredible stretch of my life, having that little person be so dependent on you, watching to learn how to act, what to do, the family way to handle problems. etc.   The child’s perspective eventually evolves from wanting information to knowledge of their own and then, they become experts on their parents.  They decide what they liked about the family way, and how they’ll do things differently when they get in charge. It’s a natural process, we all go through it.

What’s surprising is that, as the years go by, the ways mom and dad did things becomes comforting and eventually, the day rolls around when you find yourself doing something you never thought you would. Because they did it that way.

I cannot be any prouder or happier for Tyson and Lacey and I’m so excited for what lies ahead. They planned and executed one of the greatest gatherings of family & friends I’ve ever had the pleasure of attending. To meet their circle of friends, to see some of Tyson’s buddies from the high school and college days, to get to know Lacey’s closest friends, to go on adventures with my wife and family, including my sister Debbie and mom Fran, I could not possibly ask for a greater experience.

So thanks to the newlyweds, the Lowber family and all that made this event possible. I find myself replaying so many moments in my mind and I have a feeling I’m going to be doing that the rest of my life. Here are just a few of the images making their way through my head right now.

God bless you all!

Tim Hunter