People often say that smell is the strongest memory trigger in terms of the senses. I’d argue that, for me, hearing — and particularly music — is a more dramatic way to transport my thoughts back in time.
I was driving home from the grocery store on Saturday afternoon when an annoying commercial prompted me to scan my radio presets. At that time, one of the country stations was featuring Alan Jackson’s “Little Bitty.” This song was fitting for the vibrantly sunny and upbeat weather we experienced last weekend, but my thoughts were not in Georgia.
For the rest of my life, “Little Bitty” will remind me of the first week I interned at KARE 11 in Minneapolis. I shadowed reporters and videographers most workdays and enjoyed getting to know the real people behind the sport jackets, microphones and broadcast voices. I gradually began to see the anchors and reporters as real, “normal” people, but I was timid and awed at the beginning of my summer internship.
So, as you might imagine, I was taken aback when I found myself sitting in one of KARE’s white SUVs headed to a rough area of North Minneapolis to cover a new school lunch program with a sprightly female photog and a hip, Uptown reporter who decided to blare this tune and let her arms flail out the windows.
These ladies had created a mix CD with the oddest concoction of music to span decades and genres that I’d ever heard. One moment we were listening to folk-inspired hipster music and the next minute Mr. Jackson was telling us about a little bitty dish and little bitty spoon.
Just a moment ago I watched the music video because I like to verify that I’m not accidentally posting something on this blog that will make my mother blush when she reads the post. I have a question for you: What is going on with that weird-o scare crow?
In the end, it doesn’t matter how strange I think this song/video is, because Mr. Jackson managed to make a gazillion dollars all the while wearing a henley and blue jeans to work. Consider me jealous, but I’ll get over it. After all, “might as well smile, life goes on for a little bitty while.”
This morning Lena turned the key in her little Civic and, for the last time, pulled out of the Georgia driveway that for nearly two years has threatened to rip off her bumper with the slightest angle miscalculation. If she had left during the evening, she would have used the North Star as her guide. Well, either Polaris or the unruly GPS that’s duck taped to her dashboard.
My roommie former roommie is moving in pursuit of new career opportunities and a whole lot of happiness.
I know she’ll find it.
Last night we went to a lovely going away dinner with old friends and brand new (to this world) friends.
Lena jokes that years from now she wants to live in an apartment above my garage and be known as “Crazy Aunt Lena.” You know what? I think this is a fantastic idea. She held a two-week-old infant last night and, while she was reluctant at first, turns out to have an elbow built for baby cradling.
In my mind, she will be the aunt of my 2.5 children, serve as a surrogate mother in baby yoga classes, and teach them to eat and love vegetables at a much younger age than she managed to convince their mother of the same notion.
Lena and I have been pals for a very long time. If you read this blog frequently, you’ve probably noticed that she’s one of its main features.
Every once in a while I’m reminded just how long we’ve been friends. We’re not exactly on par with married couples who celebrate their 40th, 50th or 60th wedding anniversaries, but we’ve had a few milestones.
For instance, I was clicking around in my Twitter app the other day and came upon the very first direct message I sent through what was then a fairly new social media platform. In April 2009, I was living in London and wrote to Lena who was living in New York saying, “I miss your face…and I think this Twitter thing could get addicting!”
Well, Twitter has since been incorporated into nearly every media outlet in existence, drives commerce, highlights trends and is all around influential. I’d say my prediction was correct. I hope that my ability to forecast is as good tonight as it was three years ago. That’s because this is my message for this evening:
“I miss your face…and I think we’ll live in the same ZIP code again, someday!”
David has been overseeing the installation of new equipment at a lactose processing plant in Norfolk, Nebraska, for the past few months. Lately he’s been making trips to the plant to manage the project in person. As you can tell, he’s enthusiastic about the nightlife options in Norfolk. The No. 1 tourist attraction in the community is the county history museum, so he knew he was in for a wild evening!
Wild evening = sedated-looking conversation on video chat
When I spoke to him this morning I asked if he had plans to go out for a nice breakfast to make up for his boring Saturday night. He’d already eaten and then went on to explain how much he detests french toast sticks at the Hampton Inn’s breakfast buffet.
“You know it’s bad when you know all the menu items for the continental breakfast, you know one of the receptionists by name, and she gives you free cookies when you come in,” he said.
My former classmate Lu is a staff writer for the The Good Men Project and just posted a piece on why some men know how to groove while others just get boos. Click the link above to read her witty article and make sure you watch the Bud Light video at the end, I know it made me chuckle.
Yesterday I was driving up to a job interview in St. Paul when my friend Mike sent me a text saying, “I’m watching Family Feud at work and its the show we were at. You’re visible between the host and contestant when they talk during fast money…”
His comment made me immediately nostalgic for California and I kind of chuckled to myself thinking about our taping experience. A big group of kids from the LA program went to the taping the first or second week of our semester in the entertainment capital. We were amazed that the show’s producers could be such dictators. They rearranged our order in the seats, demanded we clap to excess, laugh at corny jokes, and shout out some of the show’s catch phrases.
After sitting through two show tapings, our palms were raw from fanatical fake clapping and I felt particularly disillusioned with how Americans responded to some surveys.
I can’t remember an exact question nor its moronic answers but I feel like this anecdote with suffice: “We polled 100 people and the top four answers are on the board. Who was the United States’ first president?”
Top Four answers:
1. George Washington
2. Abraham Lincoln
3. George Bush
4. Colonel Sanders
Well done, America. Sheesh. I should feel fortunate that I went to the taping, though, because my face will be on TV as long as that episode remains in syndication. While I was in my job interview I chatted about all of the TV stations I’ve interned for and my Newswatch days. Every once in a while I second-guess my decision to abandon broadcasting for a hopeful career in academia and my foolhardy desire to have nights and weekends off.
When I was walking around the U of M yesterday I had on of those “this feels right” feelings, which may have been just enough to jinx me into not getting the position. Then again, I didn’t walk away from the interview empty-handed no matter what. While I was doing my pre-interview pace through the halls of the academic building, two complete strangers complemented my dress on different occasions. Of course this is the dress that my mom told me I just had to buy for my interviews. I’ve been treating this whole job search process as a learning experience and on Day 1 I found out:
1. Mom still gives the best advice
2. A little confidence goes a long way, and
3. Even if I never venture back into broadcasting, I may be on game show channel until I’m old and gray.
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Forbes.com has an interesting interactive map: “Where Americans Are Moving [in 2008].” This screengrab is for Hennepin County, Minnesota. Black lines are people moving to Hennepin County and red lines are people moving from Hennepin County.
This raises important questions like, why isn’t anyone moving to Minnesota from Hawaii?
Wait, don’t answer that.
(via)](http://25.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_lgqrs3yKlk1qzdjk0o1_1280.png)
