Author: John Bollwitt

When I played pee-wee baseball, we had under-hand pitching from our coaches. Six strikes, no balls, and as many foul pops that you could hit. You got your t-shirts and cap with the corresponding logo of the team you played for, always named after a real major league team. That’s the only thing that hasn’t changed since my godson has started pee-wee. Now they’re pitched to by a machine that is fed by the coach. Seven pitches, and if you don’t get a hit after those seven balls, you’re called out. Maximum of five runs by the team up to bat if three outs are not reached before then. Amazing how things change, but more so, I want to go back and use that pitching machine!!

Other news coming out of Mt. Pleasant today that made me chuckle. KILJ-AM is missing from the airwaves as of this afternoon. As with all tower sites, there comes a time that you need to mow the grass around them. As the tractor made the rounds, he struck one of the guy wires. That’s bad. What’s worse, it snapped. The person driving the tractor is fine. The 150-foot tower isn’t. In fact, it’s lying on the ground somewhere just outside of town. It’s not something that happens often, but holy crap when it does. It will probably be a month or two before everything gets put back together right.

I’ve had bad days, but stories like that make those days not look so bad.

Couple things that I have noticed lately. “I love nerds” t-shirts. They seem to be popping up everywhere. It could just be simple sarcasm, but since when do chicks dig nerds? If this is true, I sure as hell missed the wagon. I’ve discussed this with my fellow nerds and have yet to come with any solid conclusions as to what these t-shirts really mean. They also report no “action” with the female species since their rise to popularity.

Also, Jesus is cool. I’m not sure how it has become hip to be down with the son of God, but apparently it is. Naturally, it starts with a celebrity and spreads like disease. A simply brilliant piece of marketing for the christian faith. Never thought I would see the day where walking past trendy clothing stores that scream out to youth of the nation stock t-shirts that say, “Jesus is my pal.” Once again, sarcasm for the masses? I’m not sure.

My dad takes a double hit on weekends like this. His birthday was yesterday, today is Father’s Day. I came home for the occasion, but some one failed to inform the youngest son that the parents were taking off to the Chicago-land for the weekend. They should be walking in the door soon for their return, but it still goes to show that I’m usually the last to know in this family. No hard feelings, it’s just one of those things.

You’re probably not going to like this, but I’m going to say it anyway. Wash your hands after you go to the bathroom. You don’t understand how disgusting it is for those of you who do not do such things. At work, people do this. It makes me shudder every time I have to think about the germs that are spread through this simple motion.

Sure, guys are more guilty of this, and I admit that I do such things when there are dire circumstances; I’ve been on my far share of road trips and visited enough restrooms that probably spread disease just by walking through the door. At that point, what’s the use? This is more applicable to those places that still have the towel that you roll and everyone, I mean everyone, shares.

At the grocery store, in the restroom, some guy, a fellow customer, leaves without washing his hands. The only thought in my head as I strolled through the produce section was what this guy could have possibly touched. The avacados didn’t look good this trip anyways, so I’ll live.

Exhausted would sum up how things are looking as the weekend approaches. Projects are being accomplished at the station, but for every two things that go right, about one goes wrong. Jim refers to it as “putting out the fires.” That’s a head on the nail analogy. Whatever the problem is, whoever it is, it’s important and must be solved at that moment. We try, and often we succeed. Also wears us out.

I have been running into a wide variety of people from my days of parking. Oh the parking ramps… How I do not miss thee. The people I do miss. Mindless conversations about baseball, blue music, places we have been to in the world, and the endless stories about customers who would come through the booths. Truly the perfect college job, but those customers were something you had to shake off at the end of every shift. I miss the folks. I do not miss the job.

I finally picked up new strings for my bass today. Spent a nice, happy time working the frets tonight. My fingers are going to have to readapt.

The animals are conspiring against me. As I drive, they jump out at me, left and right. The deer have always had it out for us. They could care less about your piece of metal traveling down the road at an average of sixty miles an hour, and I have always looked out for them the best that I can. Now it’s cats and squirrels joining the battle. Most of them have come out to a draw. At the last second, they appear in the street. At that point, you just keep rolling, hoping you see whatever it was in your rearview. So far, so good.

Renee will be spending the remaining days of her trip in Thailand, and I am insanely jealous. She is way ahead of me in the race of continents. After this, she’ll only have one more to go before she has been to all of them. I have four more left. I don’t think she counts Antarctica. I do.

I have an official job title at the station now. I had one before. “Professional & Scientific: Misc.” Legally, they could have made me do anything they wanted around here. “I.T. Support: Level One.” So basically, I’m a labeled computer nerd. This doesn’t get me out of the rest of this whole broadcast engineering fun we have going on here. I’m still doing my thing, not that many of you really understand or care to know what that means or is. The best way to say it is, “I fix broken things.”

Word from half way around the world is that Mike is doing well. This time, the theatre is not as hostile, and the job just became a bit more cushy for him. This eases much of our minds, but nothing will be better than having him come home. At the same time, my thought is that it will drive him a little nuts. Desk jobs sound easy, but it all depends on the task. At the same time, you’re just hanging out in one place versus flying around the countryside. We’ll see how he does.

Hung out with the B-kamp last night. Watched the Cubs while catching up on the last time I saw the guy. We’re collectively staying busy in these professions that we have spun off into since our days at KRUI. Talking about the days of old, but more so the people that have passed through the ranks. We all try to stay in touch, but it’s never easy. Still, it was a good time. Good game as well.

Lots going on this week at the station. In fact, more outside work that might affect the status of my improving tan. Big, honking generators for the transmitter sites, and we need to get them installed, preferably before the end of the month. This means manual labor. Digging and pouring concrete foundations, burying cable… For some reason, I’m excited about it, and I don’t know why.

Don’t get me wrong. I do have a mutual love and respect for the animals we share this earth with. However, at three this morning, all bets were off. As I came to, I heard something that made me suspicious. Then it hit the wall above the head of my bed, just a few feet higher than where my brain was trying to figure out what was gong on. Conditioning took over pretty quickly as my childhood fear of bats kicked in. Once I settled down to the reality of the situation, game on.

For two hours, we dueled. The more I tried to get it out the front door, the more it developed a dislike for me. When all else failed, I grabbed my pillow like a sack of potatoes and proceeded to swing away. A few foul balls and direct hits later, the thing was pretty tuckered out. In a motion of complete surrender, it came right at me. Fastball down the middle, it was down for the count. Slightly stunned, I threw a towel over it, scooped him up, ran out the front door of the building, and tossed both onto the front walk. The whole trip, the little guy got a second wind, squirming and squeaking louder than he did during our whole ordeal.

Lying on the front walk, there was no movement. To double check, I pulled the towel off with a quick step backwards. He was seriously confused. Last he remembered, he was confined to the walls of my tiny little apartment. Just like how I woke up confused, his wits kicked in. A few bounces, off he went, and I stumbled back inside. Last thing I remember was the alarm clock saying it was shortly past five, and the sky was somewhere in between blue and orange.

It’s no secret that I don’t like politics. I don’t claim to belong to any political ideology, nor do I claim to think that everything stored within the synapses of my brain are correct. Some claim me too liberal, others call me too conservative. I can’t even give you a label myself. I don’t like to spout off about political topics here, but I want to say this. When you die, do you hope to be remembered well or despised to the furtherest reaches of hell? I’ve heard both sides of the remembrance of a president from a time ago. Respect for the dead seems to be a thing of the past. He left office a long time ago. The hatred for the guy that is coming out now is simply amazing.

I’ve been obsessed with sunrises and sunsets lately. I go running in the morning and see some pretty good ones. Sunsets are more rare. I guess what has to be the best part of working here was being in the sun all yesterday afternoon. We had to fix an air conditioner on the roof of the FM transmitter site, but it was just a gorgeous day. It wasn’t as much work as I anticipated, but while standing up there, Jim just said to me, “And we get paid to do this!” That’s right. I got paid to work on my tan.

Got to see Ed and the mess known as his knee. It’s not good. Like most guys who are great at the types of things that he does, this is Ed’s personal hell. He’s a tinker. When he’s not fixing TV transmitters, he’s plotting his next project or in the middle of doing one. Last I heard, he is super close to having all the necessary parts to build a wind powered generator for his house. Of course, this is a house that is yet to be built. A one room, two level home, all sorts of intricacies that are too numerous for even my comprehension. However, Ed’s pushing himself with his leg. He stepped on it wrong while we were there, and combined with his diabetes, he nearly passed out. He still gave me a hefty, pirate’s welcome when I walked in. And what about surgery? Ed finds out tomorrow.

Summer is here, and I love it. It might be hot and humid in my apartment, but I’ll live. Only a month and a half to go until I’m out of this place. Life is going to change at that point, but things are starting to happen now. In your stereotypical, blog way, that’s all the detail that I can really give. For the sake of my career, I have to keep it that way right now. I can say that things are good, and they are bound to keep getting better. I’m doing my best to keep my frame of mind that the bottom can drop out at anytime. In this business, that’s rule number one. For now, I can’t wait to move out of this tiny little sauna. I have never felt that way about any place that I have lived in before.

Dare I say it… I just might be growing up. It’s a shame that I don’t act like it. Even my godson, Ben, told me I was “weird” last weekend. It’s good that he’s figuring this out early.

The arts festival invaded downtown this weekend. Deidre called me up, and we ventured out to see what all the hoo-hah was about. For the first time, I actually had the cash in my bank account to maybe purchase something. It would have been nice if there would have been something worth buying or not horribly high priced. That which I could not afford was pretty cool. I would love to have a painting the size of my bed hanging on the wall.

I find myself sucked in by the abundance of documentaries on TV today, today being D-Day. History has always fascinated me. More specific, WWII. My grandfather went through those beaches. At least, we think so. It was something he never really talked about, which was incredibly unfortunate now that he’s gone. On the other hand, my great uncle Richard has told bone chilling stories of the war that will make your bowels shiver. I guess it’s all about remembering the tragedies of the past in order to prevent repeating them.

The heat is starting to make its home here. My farmer’s tan is getting worse. Need to work on that.