There’s something about a nap that a local radio station doesn’t make.
I was trying to snooze for a bit before going to watch a Clark vs. Munster baseball game, but I keep getting calls and texts. So instead of waking up every ten minutes, I’ll just blog for the three or four of you about My Radio Life.
3:57pm. One of the calls came from a frantic Lt. Ed Strbjak of the Munster police department – “JED, sorry to wake you, but there’s a utility pole down on Calumet Avenue and traffic’s all messed up. I’m trying to call the station but nobody’s answering.”
“They start the afternoon show in a couple minutes. Hang tight and I’ll have them call your phone and you can go directly on the air.”
Nowhere in that conversation did Lt. Strbjak mention how he knew that I would be sleeping at 3:57 in the afternoon.
4:10 pm. Another call came in from Lori Polgar of the North Township trustee’s office to confirm that I’ll be meeting with trustee Frank Mrvan and some other folks tomorrow in East Chicago. Life goes on. Napping doesn’t.
4:19pm. Then my daughter Jeanie called from New York, and my daughter Jackie called (4:28pm) and next thing you know I’m blogging to the three or four of you.
Alexis must not be answering her phone. If she was, then the daughters would have spoken with her instead. I guarantee the daughters called Alexis, and when she didn’t answer, they called me. I’m always second fiddle.
Verlie Suggs joined me on the show this morning, as she always does on Tuesdays. We argued. A real argument, the kind where it gets tense and you can’t tell if it’s gonna blow up or not.
Then, after the break, I came back on the air.
“I’m sorry to tell you, folks, but Verlie Suggs has left the premises. You heard the discussion before the break and Verlie was not in a mood to continue the show.”
And then I paused.
“April Fools, people. April fools.” And Verlie and I went on and did the next hour and a half of the show. A weird thing happened, too. All six lines lit up soon after we argued. Most people sided with Verlie. I don’t remember what the whole disagreement was about, but it had to do with how here in Lake County all of the 20 or so municipalities just don’t get along… and why. Verlie blames a lot of bad that happens in Lake County on Hammond mayor Tom McDermott. I do too sometimes, but there are others to bring into the mix. Verlie, in my mind, can’t escape her visceral non-acceptance of the Hammond mayor.
It’s not that I don’t have experience with folks who short circuit on a topic. Almost daily I’ll be talking about some economic development issue or Lake County politics, and Mac Mac or MX or Chuck or others will call in to somehow make whatever I’m talking about be about the train.
Now the train is a big issue right now in northwest Indiana. There’s this project that’s been on the drawing board for like ten years. It’s a 600-million dollar expansion of the South Shore train from Hammond to Dyer. That’s eight miles for a ton of money and a lot of people are for it and a lot are against. Either way, no matter what I’m talking about, callers Mad Mac and MX can make it about the train. They short circuit on that issue. It’s my job as the once and future king of local media to direct them down another, more interesting path.
You can just see in your imaginations, the three or four of you, Verlie and Mad Mac and MX just seething as they join our sanctum and read this blog. They won’t. Don’t worry. It’s just us five.
…. And how ironic is this. As I’m writing this to the three or four of you, my wife just texted me (4:49pm) – “Call me if you are not napping.” I must be a known napper, an afternoon sleeper of magnanimous proportions.
That’s about it for this evening for the three or four of you, except that I must mention plumber’s butt and my underwear.
I’ll take the latter first. I was walking on the treadmill at Planet Fitness this morning, and John Panek of the Roxana section of East Chicago came up to me and said – “Hey, I’m one of the faithful three or four who read your blog. And I gotta say, you write your best stuff in your underwear.”
And I thought about it. Maybe I do write my best stuff in my underwear. I’m sitting on the bed in my underwear right now. Black underwear and no socks. That must mean that this stuff I’m writing to you now is okay.
What else does it mean?
Perhaps I should extrapolate the data of one to a larger pool. In other words, if I produce my best writing in my underwear, is it possible that I would produce my best radio in my underwear? I’ve never tried it. It might get a little awkward if I wore a button down dress shirt, a sweater, and then just underwear to the studio tomorrow along Indianapolis Boulevard. After a while, the producers like Christina, Ryan, Tony, Sam, Mullaney and the others would probably get used to my hairy legs and my fungus toe… but I’m not sure how casual observers driving down the boulevard and looking in the windows would handle it... not to mention the guests who have to sit right next to me.
That should be enough for now. We’re almost to a thousand words and I really don’t like to go much past that. Verlie and I talked about plumbers butt. Yes we did. And that was a good bit except that a lot of kids went to school and moms and dads went to work with the mental image of me leaning over to pick up a garbage bag from under the sink and my jeans sliding down to provide open viewing of the beginning of my…. Oops. A thousand words. See ya.