It’s an “off year” for voting. No big names at the top of the ticket. No president to elect. Ho-hum.
In Cincinnati, today’s election will only determine the new mayor. And the new members of City Council. And the school board. Oh, and there are a couple of proposed tax levies, and one charter amendment. NBD.
Actually, it’s a very big deal. The new mayor and City Council members will help determine the direction of our city. The school board will have a huge influence on the education of our children. The tax levies will come out of our pockets. The amendment proposal would make eight (count ’em) major changes to the city charter.
Voting may not be as exciting this year, but it’s just as important.
I’m really torn about the recent spate of billionaire rocket rides.
I do think there’s a need for space exploration.
But it feels like it’s turned into a “willie waving contest” as a Brit former co-worker put it. It’s about ego, and conquest… and commerce. (Get your tickets now!)
Our space icons are now the powerful owners of private companies, who have infused space travel with their own personal narratives and idiosyncratic ambitions. During the Apollo era, the most visible participants in the moon effort were the astronauts—Neil Armstrong, Buzz Aldrin, Michael Collins—men who were certainly venerated but who approached their task with the duty of soldiers. At this moment, the most visible participants are eccentric billionaires having rocket-measuring contests in public.
They’ve certainly got the cash to burn. Perversely, the pandemic was like a booster rocket for their personal fortunes:
But it seems like such a waste of resources. I know some will counter that we have to look at the bigger picture, and that the know-how needed to put those flights into space will benefit all of us down the line.
But I don’t know how willing these titans of industry will be to share the secrets of their interstellar success. They’re more likely to try to corner the Milky Way market.
I’m actually aligned with another rich guy:
We need some of the world’s greatest brains and minds fixed on trying to repair this planet, not trying to find the next place to go and live.
Prince William, the Duke of Cambridge
Can’t Musk, Bezos and Branson focus their billions on the 8 billion people on the single planet we all share, instead of taking Captain Kirk on a joy ride?
Dave Whamond | Copyright 2021 Cagle Cartoons
The “moon shot” we all need is a bit more down-to-earth.
Geez, it’s mid-October already? I can’t believe more than a month has passed and I’ve yet to encourage you to feast your eyeballs upon the glorious wonderment of my stellar writing in the September issue of Cincinnati Magazine. (Ouch! I just broke my arm trying to pat myself on the back.)
OK, I know I need to pump the brakes on the “glorious” and the “stellar” and any other sort of superlatives. But as a wannabe writer, it’s pretty darn cool to get a byline.
The assignment (courtesy of my old friend John Fox, the editor of Cincinnati Magazine) was a fun one: walk a new hike/bike path and share some observations and pointers.
My piece was part of their September issue cover package on “Walking” (a timely topic during yet another pandemic wave).
The full article is online here. If you like it, let me know. If you don’t like it… take a hike!
The NFL team based in the Washington, D.C. area shed their old (and pejorative/racist) nickname prior to last season.
But they’ve yet to come up with a new moniker. They’ve been known as the “Washington Football Team” for nearly a season and a half.
Quite a few teams in the NFL have names that are linked to their city, whether by geography or history. Baltimore, where Edgar Allan Poe launched his literary career, chose the name “Ravens” as a nod to Poe’s most famous poem. Miami has dolphins, so they also have the Dolphins. The Saints go marching in down in New Orleans, and Cowboys live in Dallas.
So, here are some name suggestions that seem fitting for a team based in the seat of our federal government:
The Washington Gridlocks – instead of playing other NFL teams, they’ll just battle to a standstill against their own teammates.
The D.C. Lobbyists – each player will be funded by a large corporation, and will rewrite the game’s rules to benefit themselves.
The Filibusters – if you think NFL games take too long now, just you wait…
The Beltway Bubbles – they’ll only play home games, and won’t care what happens outside their stadium.
The Checks ‘n Balances – scores will only count if approved by a 2/3 majority of the team and signed into law by the coach.
The Pork Barrels – the field will feature two four-lane highways, situated just beyond each end zone. Each highway, built at a cost of $329 billion, will only be 53 yards long, and will be named after the head of the House Ways & Means Committee and the Senate Budget Committee, respectively.
Actually that’s Doctor Kevin Carrico to you and me.
I work with Kevin’s older brother, Michael (a.k.a. “Rico”… but he’s not suave) and Kevin’s sister-in-law Ashley. And although I’ve never met Dr. Kevin, I know he’s a good dude. How so? Well, when Kevin was a teenager, he overcame Hodgkin’s Lymphoma, and was so inspired by the healthcare professionals who helped him beat cancer that he made it his life’s goal to help other kids who had cancer. He went to med school at the University of Louisville, with the goal of becoming a pediatric oncologist. His peers celebrated his persistent positive attitude by choosing him to receive an award which recognizes a senior student who reflects the characteristics of a good physician: competence, ethical behavior, leadership, compassion, and humor. Kevin was awarded his M.D. in 2020. How friggin’ kind, caring and cool is that?
The real ending isn’t quite that neat and tidy. You see, while he was in med school, Kevin was diagnosed with Ewing’s Sarcoma. Yep, more cancer, but this time a more aggressive and fatal form. Life gave Kevin lemons when he was a teenager, and he made lemonade. But then life gave Kevin a truckload of rotten lemons. It’s both cruel and unusual… and no one was less deserving of such punishment.
Kevin fought bravely, but eventually succumbed and passed away in June of 2019. He was awarded his M.D. posthumously, leaving behind a grieving family and fiancée.
I know I promised you a heartwarming story, and this one is heartbreaking instead. Worst bait-and-switch ever!
Well, the story’s not over yet. Kevin’s family has somehow been able to look beyond their own inconceivable grief at Kevin’s incomprehensible fate, and they’ve started a memorial scholarship fund in Kevin’s name through the National Collegiate Cancer Foundation (NCCF).
NCCF is committed to providing need-based financial support to young adult survivors who are pursuing higher education throughout their treatment and beyond. Furthermore, the Foundation promotes awareness and prevention of cancer within the young adult community.
Basically the NCCF supports hundreds of other young adults just like Kevin. Fighters. Brave souls. Kids with courageous hearts. And maybe one of them will become a pediatric oncologist, and will help your kid or grandkid beat cancer. That’d be pretty heartwarming, wouldn’t it?
YOU can help write a happy ending. And all you have to do is donate right here.
I’ve been working from home (mostly) for the past 18 months. When we first were sent packing by the pandemic, back in March of 2020, I couldn’t wait to get back to the normalcy of an office, and the collegiality of a shared space.
Now I’m a bit more ambivalent. It’s kinda nice to be able to walk 10 steps and take 30 seconds to start another load of laundry. It’s great to be able to start dinner a bit sooner, instead of feeling like I’m participating in a “Chopped” TV show “quick fire” challenge. The hour-plus I used to spend on the bus is an hour I can spend in the comfort of my own home. And now I can listen to music all day without having to wear headphones.
Yes, I miss my work pals. And Zoom is a poor substitute for face-to-face. But the work-from-home genie is out of the bottle, and companies need to realize that, instead of clinging to the old ways.
Last week I dropped my only daughter off at college… in Scotland!
She’s studying psychology at the University of Glasgow. One of the “four ancients” in Scotland.
Parts of campus feel like Hogwarts.
Leah’s staying in a flat (don’t call it a dorm!) about 10 minutes from campus, with 11 other kids.
In hers, the WCs and showers are at either end, not in the middle.
Her building has 9 flats, and the student “village” has nearly a dozen buildings. So there are probably 1,000 kids (all students at the University of Glasgow) in her area. They hail from all over the globe, which can be a bit daunting, but also is pretty darn cool. It’s like a mini-United Nations.
Leah took no time at all to get into college mode. It was “freshers” week so there were a lot of planned activities for the incoming students.
She’d much rather hang out with her new friends than with her old man, and that’s as it should be for an 18-year-old. But it didn’t make any easier on her dear old “da” (as they say in Scotland). I wasn’t expecting the shift to be so swift. In theory, I’m all for the wee lassie leaving the nest… but in reality, it was really tough to let go.
I can vaguely remember my college days (too many years + too many beers) but I know the friends I met there are my besties for life. I really hope Leah has the same sort of experience.
In my heart, I know this is where she’s meant to be. But there’s also a big hole in my heart now. How many days until Christmas break?
My buddy Dave and I have been doing a podcast for nearly three years. It’s called “97X Rumblings from the Big Bush,” and it’s about a dearly departed modern rock/alternative/college rock/indie (pick any of those) radio station. Dave and I both worked there in the 90s. The station never made a scratch in the Cincinnati market ratings, much less a dent. But the few folks who did tune in weren’t just casual listeners, they were truly passionate about the music. And 97X was their tribe, the place where they belonged.
The terrestrial station (97.7 FM in Oxford, Ohio) gave up the ghost in 2004. The online version (woxy.com) was lost to the ether in 2010. But it still holds a very special place in the hearts of those who remember it. And that’s the target audience for our podcast. It’s too small to even be a niche, but we don’t mind.
We publish a new episode roughly every two weeks, and we probably average around 160 downloads.
Joe Rogan is not in danger of losing his podcasting crown, that’s for sure.
Over the three years, we’ve published 66 episodes. Each one requires scheduling a call, doing the interview, editing each episode down to roughly 20 minutes, uploading and posting it. (We probably should promote it too, but we stink at that!). So it’s easily two hours of work per episode. We’ve made the princely sum of zero dollars and zero cents for our efforts. (Actually it’s a loss leader – we have to pay for podcast hosting.) But as Dave and I like to say, “we’ve made 150 people very happy” because we’re helping them reconnect with a station that meant a lot to them, and reconnect with the people who made it so special.
Here’s an email we got about a month ago — I think it sums up why Dave and I continue to do the podcast:
Hey Dave and Damian!
I discovered 97X: Rumblings from the Big Bush on Spotify, and have been binge listening for weeks to get caught up! This past weekend I listened all the way down to Nashville and again all the way back, and you made the trip go by so fast.
I love this podcast so much. Hearing your voices and your guests take me right back. This is going to be a long email.
I grew up in Crosby Township, just south of Ross Ohio, surrounded by cornfields, with a view of the Fernald uranium plant in the distance.
My family wasn’t really into music. As a kid their idea of good entertainment was “Hee Haw”. My older siblings listened to 70s lite rock and country music. I knew none of this was for me, but I didn’t know what was.
I was in middle school in 1983 when my brother came home from college one weekend and played some new music he’d heard from friends. When I heard The Go-Gos for the first time, I thought it was the weirdest thing I ever heard — and I LOVED IT. Around that time too my just older sister and her high school friends were listening to British pop. I went to a friend’s house for a sleepover, and they had cable tv. We watched the U2 Red Rocks concert on MTV, and I was amazed. I was getting closer, but I still couldn’t find anything in any steady stream that was for me. All I heard was Q102.
Then one day about 1985, I was in my room flipping through my collection of Star Hits magazines, looking at photos of Depeche Mode and other British bands, wondering what they sounded like, and scrolling through the radio dial…when all of a sudden I heard the most outrageous sounds coming from the speakers. I found 97X!
That was about the only good thing about where I lived: 97X came in crystal clear and was like an oasis among the fields of corn. The music you played opened my mind and heart to soundscapes so different than anything I’d ever known. You took me to places I was sure I’d never get to go. How lucky was I!
I remember the summers in high school listening to 97X. I always had leftover notebooks at the end of the school year. So I ripped out all my biology and algebra notes, and used up the remaining pages keeping lists of songs I heard and liked on the radio. I filled pages and pages. I hung on every note, counted each song, waiting for you to backsell what you just played so I could write it down. (Gosh I wish I still had those lists!)
Whenever I could, I kept a Memorex 90 minute cassette in the player so I could spring from my bed in time to hit record/play and catch those songs and make mix tapes. And I waited all week for Saturday overnights when you’d play an album in its entirety. I struggled to stay awake til midnight just to hit record, then turned the volume low so I could sleep. In the morning I rewound to listen back, and was either happy or bummed to find out if the entire album fit on one side. I remember getting XTC “Apples and Oranges” that way, and The Indigo Girls and The Smithereens. Then later I would make my own album covers from a collage of pictures and patterns I’d find in magazines.
I didn’t have an allowance or a job, so I’d save my lunch money up to buy used albums whenever I could. In anticipation of The Smiths’ “Louder Than Bombs” I saved and rolled coins for weeks and weeks til I had enough plus tax to buy it brand new at Camelot Music in Northgate Mall. (I think the clerk hated me for my rolls of taped up coins, but I was too excited to care.)
I also didn’t get to go to shows, but did manage two unforgettable ones I heard about on 97X. I got to see Echo & the Bunnymen at Millett Hall, and Gene Loves Jezebel at Bogart’s (I think RedMath opened for them there?)
After I graduated high school in 1989, I went to a little Christian college in Kentucky. The kids there tried to get me into their Christian music, but most of it stunk, bad. Then someone suggested I give the band The Choir a try, and finally I was like, “These are my people!” Bands like The Choir, The Prayer Chain, The Seventy Sevens, and anything by Michael Knott would have fit so well with 97X’s format! I’m still a fan of them and all the music from 97X to this day.
I wish I could say you inspired me to pursue a creative career in music or art or something that would have made me an interesting adult. I’m just a music fan, is all, but can’t play or sing or anything. I got married and became a stay at home mom. But a freaking cool one. (My kids have turned out cool too, they dig all my music and introduce me to theirs.)
Really I just wanted to let you know how much 97X meant to me in my teen years. You truly saved me. I can’t fully express how much you did. But I am Here in large part because of this station. You gave me hope and an outlet. I heard you, and my spirit felt heard in return.
Thank you so much for doing this podcast. Also excited to find playlists on Spotify, and I tuned-in to Inhailer radio for the first time today. And I just ordered a 97X t-shirt from Unsung Salvage Design in Hamilton that I will proudly wear wherever I go.
Please let me know if you are on Facebook. An episode I heard this weekend mentioned “WOXY Forever” but I couldn’t find it. I found the 97X WOXY Alums closed group, but I wasn’t an employee so… The only other page I could find is WOXY.COM The Future of Rock and Roll, which hasn’t been posted to since 2011.
Thanks! Jen
See? I told you it was more than just a radio station. And it was more than a home for independent music… it was a refuge for whole bunch of folks like Jen who felt like they didn’t fit in anywhere else…. and 97X became their home.
Really I just wanted to let you know how much 97X meant to me in my teen years. You truly saved me. I can’t fully express how much you did. But I am here in large part because of this station. You gave me hope and an outlet. I heard you, and my spirit felt heard in return.
(We got Jen’s permission to print her email, in case you were wondering.)
The station and its programming was driven by the idea that true independence is possible only when practiced with and for other people. The book argues that this idea of independence is what we need to fight the 21st century corporate mainstream, which is driven by the false idea that real independence is being left to fend for yourself.
Robin James, describing the book she’s writing about 97X. Read more here.
My “listening room” is the Little Miami River. I paddle downstream and listen to some new tunes on a $20 waterproof speaker that attaches to my kayak via a suction cup — with a carabiner clip as a backup.
The river is peaceful, and it’s a great place to really focus on the lyrics. This past weekend, I put my ears on a couple of albums that hit the high water mark (see what we did there?) for eloquence and poignance.
James McMurtry’s new release The Horses and the Hounds is brilliant from start to finish. James is the son of novelist Larry McMurtry, and clearly the apple didn’t fall too far from the storytelling tree. Check out “Canola Fields” or “Operation Never Mind” or “Ft. Walton Wake-Up Call” for fine examples of a good yarn.
Next up on my not-so-rockin’ river excursion was Home Video, the third album from 26-year-old singer/songwriter Lucy Dacus. She really knows how to capture a sense of time and place with her attention to detail and her emotionally moving lyrics. Listen to “VBS” or “Thumbs” or “Brando” and try not to get goose bumps.
Yes, sometimes I don’t play any music and enjoy the natural symphony. But when I want to spend some quality time with an album, the river is my favorite spot for streaming (see what we did there?).
Charlie Watts passed away Tuesday, at the age of 80. For nearly 59 years, he was the drummer for the Rolling Stones… “the greatest rock and roll band in the world” according to none other than Bob Dylan.
On stage, while Mick was strutting around like a peacock and Keith was firing off those classic guitar riffs — usually while a cigarette dangled from his mouth — Charlie was the quiet guy in the back, just doing his job, keeping time.
Off stage, while Mick was hanging out with Andy Warhol at Studio 54, and impregnating Brazilian models… while Keith was ingesting every drug under the sun, Charlie was hanging out with his wife Shirley. They got married in 1964 and remained married until the day he died.
Picture: Getty/ SWNS
In Robert Greenfield’s STP: A Journey Through America with The Rolling Stones, a documentary of their 1972 American Tour, it is noted that when the group was invited to the Playboy Mansion, Watts took advantage of Hugh Hefner’s game room instead of frolicking with the women.
From this article about Charlie Watts in the Independent
Rock and roll drummers are supposed to be the crazy ones. Keith Moon of The Who practically invented the port of trashing hotel rooms. John “Bonzo” Bonham played 20 minute drum solos during Led Zeppelin concerts, and rode a motorcycle through the lobby of a Hollywood hotel. Actually, he rode one through the lobby of three different hotels.
(It’s also worth noting that Keith Moon died of a drug overdose at age 32, and John Bonham also was 32 when he drank so heavily (the equivalent of 40 shots of vodka in a 24-hour period) that he choked on his own vomit and died.)
At some point in our lives, most of us want to be the rock star or the the guitar hero. But maybe it’s better to be in the background, keep a steady rhythm, and stay true to the beat of your own heart.
Kevin Sullivan on Life advice from a man who lived it: “A good one Damian. Bring our lens into focus after the long weekend or our long life journey.” Jul 7, 09:38
Thomas Kuhl on We’re alive, because nothing happened.: “That is why we should celebrate every day when our feet hit the floor. Another to enjoy and share with…” Jun 25, 04:33
Thomas Kuhl on We’re alive, because nothing happened.: “This simply explains why we should celebrate every day our feet hit the floor. Another day to enjoy and share…” Jun 25, 04:31
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