The last one, for a while. The explanation is included but yeah, I need to focus on the new radio thing on KRKO, which will include a lot of the WACKY you got with these. I hope you’ll tune in. I’m on from 6a-9a, Monday through Friday, at krko.com
Four years ago, I rolled the dice big-time, gave up a nice-paying but not rewarding job to pursue my professional dreams. I could have easily crashed and burned and found myself working with former Cosby cast members at Trader Joe’s, but the crazy plan actually worked.
My goal was to create a working situation where–
- I was doing what I wanted to be doing with people I liked
- Earning enough to cover the bills, with a little left over
- Create a balance of all the things I love, so I’d be able to keep doing it until I retired
Later this month, I crack the 63-year-old mark, so retirement is within sight. However, my definition of retirement is probably different than most. That will probably just mean thinning out the list of the many things I do, eliminating the less-rewarding and focusing my efforts on just the fun stuff.
Right now, I have my own creative services company, work for Create Impulse as their Chief Creative Officer, emcee events like this week’s Lutefisk Eating Contest at the Fishermen’s Fall Festival (I believe this is the 15th Lutefisk eating competition I’ve emceed), write for Radio-Online every morning, aim jokes at my various comedy clients and produce videos. I churn out a weekly Ima Norwegian cartoon, a podcast, write a blog and consult several clients. Then pile on top of all those things the duties and activities that come with being involved with ten or so clubs and organizations, and you could say I’m one busy person. But I like busy and when my schedule is mostly made up of things I love, what else would I rather be doing?
But underneath it all, I’ve had this need to do one thing that has been missing from my life for 15 years. Radio.
Seriously, I was thinking that one day, we’d move to a smaller town somewhere and I would latch on to the local small-town station just to satisfy my craving. Remember, I spent over 30 years of my life in the biz, and when it decided to push me away, I embraced developing new skills and pursuing other goals. That I have done.
I can now direct, shoot and edit videos and commercials, thus adding a nice collection of abilities to my skillset. But here’s the crossroads I came to: Radio is and has always been fairly unstable. Formats change, program directors love you or hate you, it’s entirely possible to come off a great show and be told that you’re done. I know. It’s happened.
Which begs the question, “Why would I risk all that I’ve developed to plunge back into the unstable world of radio?” I’d welcome the return, but not by risking everything I’ve built up. After all, been there, done that. So if I were to venture back on the airwaves, it would have to be a perfect fit and be able to be piled on to everything else I’m already doing. Are there enough hours in the day? I believe so, for the right situation.
Over the years, I’ve reached out and talked with Andy Skotdal who own’s Everett’s KRKO. He knew me from my Seattle work and was always interested in connecting. But I didn’t want to start something there, only to realize a month or two later, this isn’t what I really wanted to do. At one time, he was thinking a news station with me doing mornings. Not really my thing. I’m a goofball, you know that. Then, they went into the Sports Radio arena and, again, not for me.
Then, earlier this summer, they flipped to a music station. And not just a regular music station, but what they call “Everett’s Greatest Hits” which amounted to the songs I used to play on the radio. A few 60s, mostly 70s and some 80s. Billy Joel, Fleetwood Mac, Elton John. And, with an up-tempo feel.
Chuck Maylin, formerly of KBSG (the great Seattle oldies station that is no more) and veteran consultant Terry Patrick have created one fine-sounding station that, for now, didn’t have a morning personality.
Today, that changes.
I initially reached out to them to maybe track out an afternoon shift or weekend, just to satisfy my radio Jones. (not to be confused with Jones radio) They were interested, but had someone internally for mornings and if they were to add an afternoon voice, it would be a “down the line” thing.
Then, the guy who was to host mornings parted ways with the station. So they had a need.
We talked and agreed to make this happen, but not until after my recent Norway trip. It just wouldn’t make sense to start on the air, and then disappear for a couple of weeks.
So, today, Monday, September 10th, I begin a new chapter in my broadcasting career. I’ll be hanging out at 1380-AM and 95.3-FM from 6-9am Monday through Friday. I would highly recommend streaming the station, which you can do easily with one click at KRKO.com.
I am incredibly blessed, because I’m going to get to enjoy playing radio again, on a small-town, local-owner radio station, while continuing to live my big-city life. Here are a few of my fellow KRKO-kateers, excited to hear I was joining the team.
OK, well, mildly intrigued might be a better description.
Everett’s Greatest Hits, here I come.
I just came back from a whirlwind tour of Norway from Bergen to places I can’t pronounce, to more places I can’t pronounce, then Oslo and over to Tau near Stavanger.
Now, anyone can take you on a normal tour of that beautiful country. I thought I’d offer up some of the more unusual sights I enjoyed during our trip.
One the places we passed on our walk through Bergen.
What I say, but I took along my 12th Man flag. Go Hawks!
I thought about stopping by and saying hi for a spell, but we kept moving.
Actually, a mom and her son.
Some Norwegian forest wisdom.
I got your fruit display right here.
No matter how hard you try, you can’t make dried cod eye-appealing.
I believe this was an ad for a Norwegian rapper, Snoop Lass.
If you want to know how to pronounce it correctly, consider it a question: Who’s Fleeden?
I don’t know how you can get more Norwegian than Omar’s Pizza.
Yes, there’s a ski jumper there. They were landing on soaked-down grass.
If you go with color codes, you can ignore the labels.
Yes, they have their own version of “Idol.”
This is to warn drivers to be careful because some Norwegian kid could be walking their toy slug and not notice you.
Nothing says freshness like a duck.
Get out of the city and you’ll see that Norwegians are seriously into rock stacking.
I was asked to sit down here so both ends of the horse could be represented. Uh, wait….
By the way, for those of you wondering, this trip paled in comparison when it came to taking photos. My first visit to Norway, I took over 4800 pictures using three different cameras. This time, using my main camera and my phone, I only snapped 2,341 pictures. I’m making progress.
I hate to get too political in my little corner of the Internet, but something happened during our vacation that violated my rights and which forces me to speak up.
It’s time for all airlines to protect our rights as passengers to be able to put a piece of carry-on luggage over our own seats.
Yes, I know it’s a pretty strong statement, but here’s what happened. Our little five person travel group took up five of the six seats on a row of our Iceland Air flight back home to Seattle. By the time we were allowed to board, we walked down the aisle only to find that both sides of the overhead space above row 13 was already full. I mean jammed packed! The other person that completed our row hadn’t even shown up yet! But the greedy passengers surrounding us had already grabbed our space.
That’s just wrong. We ended up having to wedge in our packages and coats into the space behind us, which made exiting the jet that much more challenging when the flight was over.
C’mon! At today’s prices, you should be guaranteed at least a little of the space over your own aisle. I didn’t pay a discounted price. Oh, sure, I could have tossed out the bags over our aisle, but I didn’t to cause an International incident. We’ve got enough people doing that these days.
Am I asking too much? Am I over-reacting due to jet lag? Probably. I’m tired.
This one will be short and sweet. We celebrated my mom’s 90th birthday last weekend and for the occasion, I put together this silly video. Yes, a lot of home movies of my much younger years. Enjoy.
Well, these days, bullets pretty much fly everywhere, so let me rephrase that. I just went through an experience where there were a lot of red flags, but I just kept going and it all worked out. Let’s see if you would do the same.
Let me begin by saying I’m frugal. “Cheap” is such a harsh word. Frugal sounds more wise, that you’re being Ben Franklin-ish. “A penny saved is a penny earned”, that sort of thing.
So, when I was shopping the Internet recently to find the best rate on a rental car, I came across a lot of deals. One company I had rented from before and their pickup location was in the back of a hotel. A bit weird. And the last time I rented from this other one, the car smelled smokey. We get enough of that in Seattle.
It’s why this company I had never heard of before sounded like a new low-cost winner–Right Car. I looked ’em up online and they existed (it wasn’t an online scam), they were world-wide and headquartered in Canada. Canadians are trustworthy, right? So, off I wandered down the path of renting from them. The reservation was made, I printed out the paperwork and we were set.
The big day came to fly to Los Angeles to celebrate mom’s 90th birthday. RIght Car was to have a Volkswagen Jetta waiting for us and we’d be off to mom’s. Our jet landed at 10:30am, taxied until around 11am, we grabbed our bags and headed to the waiting area as described on the paperwork. And waited. And waited. Now, in Right Car’s defense, how were they to know that a moron would park his car at the airport with a bunch of movie prop grenades and guns which caused police to shut down Terminal One and put the airport into gridlock? Needless to say, 45 minutes passed before the Green Line Bus arrived. Oh, yes, lots of other companies drove by (and several times) during that time, but Right Car didn’t have their own pickup shuttle. At least that came to the airport. We were told to take a city bus which delivered us to a parking lot around a half-mile away.
Apparently, this is a new thing. Rental car companies are popping up left and right, to cash in on all the people coming and going from a major airport. At this parking lot, there was a sign that said, “Right Car”, so we waited by it. One of the drivers who worked for another one of these pop-up rental places told us we had just missed their van.
So, we waited again. And waited. And waited. One of the other people waiting with us decided to walk it, since it was under a mile away. We gave it 45 minutes until I summoned a Lyft, which took us to the car rental facilities in around 10 minutes for $7.
And this is where we arrived.
The building looked like something that Steve Martin would use to operate a movie production company, like in “Bowfinger.” Inside, a make-shift office with employees that seemed to know what they were doing. We did the paperwork and then headed out to the car. Everything seemed fine. Some nicks and scratches were noted. Nice trunk space. Then I closed the trunk and saw the license plate.
Yes. A paper license plate, printed out on someone’s computer. My theories were either the car was stolen, or the license plate had been. I went with the lesser and assumed this poor rental company had a license plate stolen from the car and they needed to keep it out there to make money.
What added a nice layer of “What’s going to happen next?” was that I lost my driver’s license at Sea Tac airport somewhere between the TSA check point and the gate of our flight. Fortunately, I had my passport with me, so I could get to where I needed to go. Then again, I drove around L.A. all weekend without a driver’s license in a car that had a paper license on it. Yeah, I was pushing it.
When we went to the rental place to return the car on Monday, we discovered they didn’t open until 8am. And that was a slow process. We were finally able to turn the car in by 8:15. However, the driver apparently overslept and their van was not yet available. I got out the Lyft app, just in case. But she eventually arrived, we made it to the airport in time for a flight and there was a happy ending.
In the end, I have to admit, I dodged a bullet. There were so many things that could have gone wrong, and I ignored quite a few red flags. After arriving at SeaTac we headed straight to their wonderful Lost & Found department, where they had my driver’s license. It either fell when I was at TSA or someone turned it into them.
What have I learned? Stick to the reputable companies. It’s taken three such misadventures, but this one cured me. Yes, it’ll cost a little more, but the extra money you pay will reduce the stress of the experience which I believe will give you a couple of extra minutes on this earth in the long run.
And besides, when you stick to one of the major companies, they throw in real license plates on your rental at no extra charge.
Last Sunday, I got to enjoy a wonderful stroll down Memory Lane. I gathered with friends from my college days, when I was living in a dorm named Terry Hall that no longer exists at the University of Washington.
You’re saying, “Oh, Tim, they still have a Terry Hall at the University of Washington.” Different one. They tore down the building I lived in for three amazing years back in 2014. When the last of the students moved out in December of 2013, the Seattle Police actually used the building for SWAT Team training before the wrecking ball showed up to do its work.
Taking me back to my time at the original Terry Hall means going back over 40 years ago. That’s weird. Growing up, when my parents talked about 40 years ago, that would have been referring to the Great Depression and pre-World War II. But here I am now, in this 60-year-old body with a mind that thinks he’s still 35, reminiscing about those days in the 1970s like they were yesterday.
Terry Hall was my first experience at living away from home. It’s where I learned that if you spend too much time being lovesick over a girl from your home town, you could end up with a $112 phone bill. Yes, kids, there was a time where long-distance calls actually cost money. I was attending school at the UW, but my social world was this building full of other kids who had left the nest and were reinventing themselves into the people they wanted to become. I arrived in Seattle as a black-belt in goofball (no surprise to my high school friends) but being away at college allowed me to be a goofball on steroids. A few examples? Oh, sure.
Like I said, no surprises there.
These were the transition years. Going from a kid whose parents provided a safety net to being a semi-adult with full adult responsibility. There was so much learning going on, both in and out of school. The three years I lived in Terry Hall pretty much shaped my future. The high school girlfriend I was supposed to marry decided to set a new course. A guy down the hall, Bob Carey, gets full credit for telling me about the broadcasting program at the U-Dub. I remember thinking, “You could play on the radio and learn about television and call that a major? Done deal!”
Each of the people at the reunion triggered different memories. There was Erika, the girl from Germany, who once tried to teach me skiing. Jen and Abdoul, who both ended up working for a local city. My long-time pal, Steve, who knows more incriminating things about me than anyone should. Even my old roommate, Les showed up. That was a treat. Les and I ventured away from the dorms my senior year of college, to a funky house in the Fremont district of Seattle. That house still stands and is now actually a barbecue place. Seriously, this was our home.
We remembered classmates who weren’t there and wondered what they were up to. Who was still around? Who is about to retire? Who has already retired?
I got to meet spouses and hear about their kids. It was a small group, but with all the value of a big fancy class reunion. These were people I saw every day, that became a part of my life. They were the folks I would look for, when sitting down in the cafeteria and with whom I worked with in the kitchen. That picture of me up above in the white hat? That was taken when I had the dorm kitchen job of milk runner, where it was my responsibility to make sure none of the milks ever ran out. I was also a fry cook and on egg days, I would cook around 1200 eggs or flip 1500 pancakes in the morning for breakfasts.
Get me going and there’s a movie’s worth of stories that, maybe, someday I’ll write down. In the meantime and for now, they’re alive and well up in my brain. A few of the forgotten ones were knocked loose again last weekend. We all agreed, we HAVE to do this again sometime soon. Those really were some good old days.
The hardest part about pulling off one of these mini-reunions? Yes, all those various schedules make it a challenge. But the most difficult part is admitting that everything we talk about happened over 40 years ago.