Monday Meanderings - 4.11.2011

Sign seen in the crowd, behind the TV guys talking ad naseum about the upcoming Final Four basketball game: "Rice Owls. We didn't get to the Final Four, but neither did Texas!"

March Madness and college basketball is over. Now if we can just get caught up on our taped TV programs before NBA playoffs begin. You walk a fine line to maximize your TV time.

I might as well confess - our marriage is up and down right now. First Barb is up to go to the bathroom and then back down to bed then I am up to go to the bathroom and back down to bed. Repeat as needed.

I mentioned that our very most favoritest gumbo place is - through tragic circumstance - no longer open. So we have been searching for an alternative source. You can get okay gumbo lots of places (Red Lobster for example) but great gumbo seems to be elusive. Thought we were on to something when we checked out Pappadoux Seafood Kitchen's Salad and Gumbo lunch special. Pappadoux always has great (and expensive) seafood - maybe this would be the holy grill.
    Service - great
    Portions - generous
    Bread and salad - excellent
    Gumbo - disappointing

Our next attempt may, or may not be, a little hole-in-the wall that gets rave reviews, but has failed health inspections twice in the last two years. Maybe right after the inspector comes back for the revisit and improvements have been made.

Our annual contribution to living green is underway. Barb set out our tomato plants the other day. Now we begin the very satisfying ritual of checking each day for new blooms and fruit that has set; also the pleasant pastime of sitting on the patio with a good cup of coffee and watching the tomato plants grow.
 
Latest art project for Austin - "Play me, I'm yours." Fourteen pianos on the streets of Austin (literally) as part of Art Week Austin. Located throughout downtown in public parks, streets and squares, the pianos are for any member of the public to play and to decorate and personalize.

Confessions of a Rock and Roll Disk Jockey - the big city - Stories for my Grandchildren

I'm documenting my illustrious career in broadcasting. You know, sort of rehearsing for the official biography. The first part is here.

When I left for college, Mr. McB. wrote a letter of recommendation (in spite of all the shenanigans) and told me to go see his friend, the owner of KRBC Radio and TV in Abilene. It must have been a strong friendship because he put me to work immediately in the 8pm to midnight slot seven days a week, plus Saturday mornings! Compared to "On the spot with 1/2 a watt!" KRBC was the big time. I had arrived... and the audience response was immediate and huge. Previously, that time period was uninterrupted easy listening. To make room for me, they dumped that and continued with the Rock and Roll format and this made a LOT of people unhappy, it seems. I was largely oblivious to the furor, and fortunately it was not until later that I learned about all the complaints!

Two events from that first semester really stand out. The  first was a remote broadcast at a sock-hop at the Dyess AFB Youth Center. KRBC was well-equipped for remote broadcasts with a variety of portable set-ups, ranging from a small DJ desk to the mobile trailer (I wrote about the trailer at the West Texas Fair here). I had the DJ desk, and the deal was to play records all evening and in between chat with the kids and the sponsors on the air. I alternated with a live band that was there, and naturally I thought I would interview the band members too. It went something like this:

Me, to the band leader - "And let's talk with the guys in the band. Your name is..."
Band leader to me - "John Jones."
Me, to the drummer - "And you are..."
Drummer - "John Jones."
Me to the guitar player - "Uhh, and your name is..."
Guitar player - "John Jones."
Me to the bass player - "Let me guess..."
Bass player - "Yep. John Jones."

I thought that went pretty well, and when I started up the next record, the leader said, "You idiot! We all go to ACU and we'll get kicked out for playing a dance!" Actually I found out later that the leader didn't attend ACU - he was on the faculty! It was at that point that I realized, Hmm. I'm using my real name, and I'm out here playing for a dance. Is this going to be a really short semester?

The second event was the station's Christmas Party. Folks, here I was fresh from Podunk high, and believe me, I never imagined... I thought about crawling under the table, but there were already people under there. Let me just summarize by saying that was the last station Christmas Party at Abilene Country Club. I managed to leave before the cops got there and an announcer on the TV side and two women from traffic were fired the next morning! The story made the front page of the Reporter News! It was April before I quit worrying about a call from the Dean's office! "No sir, Dean Faulkner. I had no idea what to expect! Honest!" Okay, maybe the grandchildren don't need to know this story.

There were four or five guys (and one gal) from ACU working in radio and TV in Abilene at the time I was in school. Naturally we knew each other, and we would hang out together some, especially during school breaks when everyone else went home and we stayed behind to work. Back then - perhaps they still do - the dorms closed during the Christmas break, and we all scrambled for a place to stay. One Christmas, there were a bunch of us guys crashing in an 8x8 one-bed hutment normally occupied by a married couple (she went home for the holidays, he had to stay and work).

I don't know how to describe the hutments - army surplus, shoddily-built shacks used for married housing back then. You had to see them to understand about the hutments. Suffice it to say that there was barely room for two in a hutment; there is no way six can live there, unless they slept in shifts, which is exactly what we did. It was wall-to-wall mattress (two of them) and often the bed would still be warm from the all-night guys who had just gone to work when I got there about 12:30am. Another time several us stayed with an upper classman who had an off-campus apartment. He was the night director on the TV side and we both happened to be dating the night receptionist at the station. Awkward.

The jobs kept us there year round, of course. One summer I roomed with a guy who had a midnight to dawn shift at another station - we only saw each other weekends. We were in Edwards - the only air conditioned men's dorm and there was a block of white acoustic tiles on the ceiling for sound deadening purposes. The block was 8 tiles by 8 tiles, so we put dark construction paper on every other tile and pinned paper chess pieces on the ceiling. Before I left for work I would make a move, and when he came in he would counter.  We never finished the game - he married a local girl before the summer was over.

I had a part in his wedding. My role was to sit by his mother, who was NOT happy about the marriage, and when the priest (it was in an Episcopal church) came to the part about "If any here have cause..." I was to make sure Momma did not stand up and shout, "Me! I have objections!" Seriously, that was my job! This guy stayed in broadcasting and became a well-respected news director, retiring recently after a 38 year run at a station in northern Nevada. His current wife is not the girl he married that summer, so maybe Momma was right.

Next: the benefits of being a famous DJ; Girls, Gifts and Payola

In need of marriage counseling

I'm appealing to you, my fewer than thousands of loyal followers to help me with what just might be a critical issue in my marriage. I notice that bloggers feel free to give advice on important stuff like marriages and child-raising and which detergent to use, so I'm assuming those who read blogs are equally quick to put your two cents in, so here goes. Take a look at this picture:

This is a cute little Christmas card holder, complete with Christmas cards. We put it out in December and gather all the greetings of the season and wishes for a joyous holiday, etc. Works well. However, do you see the date stamp in the lower right-hand corner? That's the problem. Our cute little card holder is still sitting on the table.

Now, here's the part that concerns me and possibly affects my marriage. I have this uneasy feeling that this little card holder and all the cards therein are a silent message to me. Each year, when we take down the Christmas stuff, the stack of cards appears on my desk so that I can check for changes of address and check off who sent us cards so that we can reciprocate, if we ever get through addressing the cards that we meant to send in 2004 and somehow never finished.

This year the stack of cards is still sitting in the holder. Am I to assume by that that I'm not pulling my weight around here, and I should not only record address changes and who sent us cards, I'm supposed to pick them up and carry them to my desk. Is this a message like when my socks just stay on the floor and don't make it to the laundry? Inquiring minds want to know.

So here's my question? What am I supposed to do about this? Continue ignoring the cardholder and its contents, giving our children something to talk about when they come to clean out the house? "Look, here are Christmas cards from 2010 still on display. I hope I never get that dotty."

Or should I sneak the cards out some evening after Barb has gone to bed. Should I put up the cardholder and pretend I haven't noticed that it has disappeared? See, this counseling stuff is hard. So many ways to go wrong, here.

Well, that's the issue. I'm standing by for your answers. No pressure here - just remember that you just might have the insight that might SAVE OUR MARRIAGE.

Monday Meandering - 4.4.2011

Saw a sign outside a local tavern promoting "Beer and Bible Brunch." They may be onto something.

I was wrong about my prediction about accidents involving the Metro Rail. When service started last March I thought there would be daily accidents. It took a year for the first train/car collision; it was minor and  it involved a teen playing chicken with the train.

If you follow women's basketball you know that Pat Summit, coach of the Tennessee Lady Vols,  is a scary woman. If the team is doing poorly in the 1st half of the game, it is assured that they will do better in the 2nd half because they have to go into the locker room with that woman. Pat said in an interview the other day, "I don't know what I would do without halftime."

I think we have a problem. Friday we discovered that you could now buy Magnum ice cream bars at Wal Mart. Mom became very fond of Magnums on trips abroad, but we couldn't find them in the States. I've accused her of traveling to Latin America just for Magnums. Now she only has to go a couple of miles.

The other morning during COTP (Coffee-On-The-Patio) I saw a couple of possums wandering through the neighbors yard. Pretty sure they live under some outbuildings in another yard, and we've encountered them on our patio in the middle of the night. This was, however, mid-morning and these normally nocturnal marsupials were still out and about. Must have been late getting home from work or the all-night Tupperware party.


Live Nude Fish Part III.  Here's part of a letter to the editor of the Austin Chronicle about the on-going sign drama:

Dear Editor,
    Amazonia Aquariums has had our second live nude fish sign stolen! The first one got swiped, [and a] local sign company ... kindly gave us a free new sign that was hanging for about two weeks. Then, this weekend it was stolen as well. Now exactly who needs all these live nude fish signs anyway? Pray tell, who else has nude fish that need advertising? ... Why are live nude fish signs so popular with thieves? ... In response Amazonia is going to make live nude fish shirts that say "steal this shirt" on the back. Our live nude fish are so popular that now we may have to paint a giant mural that says live nude fish on the side of the building. Let's see them steal that!

Owner,
Amazonia Aquariums

I love this town!

And here is the current financial crisis described in a single picture:

 "This financial crisis is forcing state and local agencies to make some tough decisions. If things continue for much longer, there's a real risk that we may have to lay off Eugene."

Confessions of a Rock and Roll Disk Jockey - the early days - Stories for my Grandchildren

My Senior year of high school I got a job at the local radio station. A man named Hugh McBeth owned the station, KSTB,  and for some reason he gave me a job working  week-ends and later on, after school. I don't remember the circumstances - I think maybe my father put in a good word for me at the Rotary club.

KSTB was a day-time only AM license. That meant it shared the same broadcast frequency as other stations; for some reason radio waves travel further at night than during the day, so to avoid interference with these other stations KSTB was strictly sun-up to sun down. Our broadcast mantra was "On the spot with 1/2 a watt!"

The station played mostly Country and Western when Hugh wasn't giving the farm reports, or when his wife was not conducting the "daily swap meet" where you called up and told people that you had a barely-used dinette set that you would like to sell or swap for a baby crib. They had a guy named Jay Spenser - who was pretty well known in C&W circles working for them - and he played all the latest by Johnny Horton, and Ray Price, and Johnny Cash.

I opened on Saturday mornings and played C&W  and sometimes some of Jay's buddies would stop by to see if he was around; I met several famous and not-so-famous folks that way. I closed on Sundays and apart from the "Gospel Hour" I mostly played transcriptions - huge, 16" inch recordings that lasted 30 minutes apiece. These were for the most part sponsored programs, like "Serenade in Blue,"  featuring standards by the Air Force band.

There were a couple of other "announcers" that worked there; one, a guy named Vern who once set fire to my news. News came to the station by way of a Teletype machine - a clunky  box that was in effect an electric typewriter. The station subscribed to the Associated Press news service, and AP sent stories down the "wire" that printed on long, continuous rolls of paper. There was a 5-minute newscast every hour, so when it came time for the news I would go out in the hall, where the teletype machine was, tear off whatever had been printed and run back in the studio, dragging a trail of paper behind me. I would scan through the printout and read news items until my 5 minutes was up. One time while doing this I smelled smoke and turned to see that Vern had set fire to the string of paper and flames were quickly climbing up to my reading point. I would like to think I finished with some clever remark, but I suspect what really happened was a period of "dead air" while I stomped out the fire.

The console faced a window into the adjacent studio, which was used only on Sundays by preachers who came to expound once a week or so; the rest of the time it was dark. High on the list of DJ humor was to sneak into the dark studio, wait until the guy on the console was turned away, then loom up in the window to startle the DJ. Sometimes this would take the form of a lunar eclipse. The object, always, was to make the DJ crack up and laugh on the air.

For a while we had a morning guy that was not too well liked around the station. He had a bad habit of rushing in at the last minute to get everything going, so one evening a couple of us took everything he needed - his chair, all the phonograph records, the tape cartridges of commercials, the traffic book that had all the promos and such, and hid them across the hall. We left him with a 45RPM record of the Star Spangled Banner, the opening. Sure enough, the next morning at about 6:05, the station came on with the SSB, then there was a long pause, then it played again. Another pause, then came Stars and Stripes Forever, the "B" side of the 45. Then a really long pause, then music from an album that the station didn't own. He had gone down to his car and got a personal album to play while he tracked down everything else. Turns out Mr. McB.was not happy about our stunt, but we survived.

After marching band and football season, I persuaded Mr. McB to let me play Rock and Roll on weekdays - one hour a day, after school was out. Problem was, the station didn't have all that many R&R records. Back then, radio stations didn't buy records, they depended on distribution companies to give them the latest albums and records. Usually the distributors were happy to do this. Air play made songs popular and people bought popular songs (records) from the record stores. Unfortunately the record store business was hit and miss in our little town. Sometimes we had a store and sometimes we didn't. So the distributors paid us little attention. Jay didn't have this problem with C&W songs - he was so well known that all the artists sent him records. By playing some songs twice, and talking a lot,  I could scrape together an hour's worth of music.

The talking a lot part might explain some things.

Next:  Rock and Roll DJ in the Big City - the glory days