Knock Knock!

You'd think that someone who does what I do for a living, would have no trouble walking up to people's doors and talking to them about important social issues.

You'd think.

For most of my life, I've spoken out of turn, been asked to "keep it down," said inappropriate things at even less appropriate times, and generally not really concerned myself with the consequences.

I've also been able to do a job where I get to speak out and speak up every day. Issues and events that are important to me and my friends and family get aired to a large audience, and I get to be the person delivering the message.

So when March of Dimes called a couple of months back to see if I'd be interested in canvassing our neighborhood for their annual fundraising drive, my first thought was "are you frickin' nuts?"

Going door, to door in the suburbs? These are people with names like: "Mr. Accurate," "The crazy chick who drives too fast," "Mr. Bi-polar," "Cellphone-guy," "Witness-protection-couple" and so on. Then there's "I should know her name because I talk to her quite a lot but I don't," and "woman who calls me by name and gets me to donate to the heart and stroke people every year."

I'm the worst neighbor in the world. It's taken me years to even start shovelling the other side of our shared driveway. It finally sunk in that it didn't matter why it wasn't shovelled, or that they never really did my side. What did matter was how much of an ass I looked like by only doing my side.

So after about ten seconds of dead air, I responded to the March of Dimes recruiter with a hearty "sure!" I almost barfed. I can't knock on these people's doors and ask for money. What the hell have I done?

So in a couple of days, I'll take my little kit around, wearing my MOD pin and my best smile. I'll knock on doors of people who know who I am, some of whom I'll be seeing for the first time ever. I'll cheerfully extol the virtues of this important organization for which I've spoken so eloquently on the air. I'll ask for donations, and happily answer questions. I may get turned down. I may get surprised by some people's generosity.

This is so far out of my comfort zone, you can't even imagine how stressed out I'm getting.

And yet...

There are so many decisions we make every day based on how we feel we could benefit. Life is a competition. Whomever ends up with the best and most, wins.

Too bad life doesn't work like that.

We can only grow by trying new and scary things. That which doesn't kill us, makes us stronger (that was my dad's best line).

No, door to door canvassing will be a big, scary, learn-as-you-go challenge. Which is what makes it worth so much.

Because the challenge, is the reward.

Work-life Balance

Being a radio guy can be pretty exciting. I for example, get up at a crazy time of day to come in here, play some awesome songs, talk to listeners about stuff, and make wisecracks about whatever I feel.

I get to go to great shows. I meet people who I'd normally never get to know. I get news releases from people and organizations that normally wouldn't give me the time of day.

My workday isn't quite as long as most.

Like most folks in my business, I seek out things to feel that I'm earning my keep. I'm on two or three boards of local community groups. The Kingston Half Marathon and Beat Beethoven put up with me as one of their co-directors, and I'm always ready to take on whatever community challenge comes my way. That stuff's easy. I'd do it anyway.

Back before I had kids, I decided that I needed to play hockey, baseball, golf, Frisbee golf, ski...whatever else I could find to keep moving. I got pulled into running by a couple of bad friends of mine, which lead to more bad friends who pulled me even further off the couch and into triathlon. After much failed protest, I'm now training to race in an Ironman triathlon, which is only exciting and interesting to the other fools who do this sport, so I won't bore you any more with details.

I read books. Lots of books. Always have, and always will.

There are some great TV shows that need to be watched, and not just the NHL, NFL, Olympics, World Cup Soccer and occasional F1 race, and every minute of the Tour de France.

Anyone who knows me knows that I eat. I eat a lot.

And there's sleep, commuting to and from work, and my freelance voice and pr work.

Leaving me with, what?

Sleep.

But last night, I was vegging on the couch with my son and daughter. We were mocking Access Hollywood or some other lame waste of TV...referencing our favorite out-there TV shows and movies and talking about music. There was no format, structure, expectation, deadline, cause, politics, demanding client or any of the other things I deal with all day. Just the three of us, together, having a laugh, and using our brains.

One quality hour with the family makes all the rest seem like I'm just filling time.

Now its a Wally and Joe Show

A few years ago, I was managing two radio stations here in Kingston. Every day, people would just drop in for whatever reason. Some were looking for jobs. Others were trying to sell us stuff. There were people who just kind of showed up to make complaints about our stations, city council or the state of the youth of our nation.

But one day, a friend of mine showed up carrying a pair of signed drum sticks. He was obviously upset, and needed to talk to someone immediately.

It was Wally High.

Wally has helped promote live music in Kingston since forever. He was the energy and effort behind A Joe Show, which raised money for the local Music Lending Library in memory of the great Joe Chithalen.

One of his biggest Joe Shows ever featured the Doobie Brothers, and the day Wally came in, he'd just got news that their long time drummer Keith Knudsen had died of pneumonia. Wally, it seems, knew everyone in the music business. And they knew Wally.

After I talked to him for awhile, he handed me the drum sticks, and asked that I do something with them in Keith's memory.

That's what I remember most about Wally High. Not the Ackroyd-Stones-Bill Murray connections. Not the third-hand stories about him. Just a guy who felt so badly about losing someone dear to him that he had to find a way to get the rest of us to remember that person.

Wally was a poet. He was a musician. A biker.

He was Wally.

I saw him last October at the Brew Pub. It was one of those oh no-Wally-wants-an-interview moments. We talked for a few short minutes, and I invited him to come on the air at FLY FM with me to promote his new cd release. Then days, weeks and months passed, with not a word from him. There was also no Wally High CD to be seen or heard anywhere.

A few weeks ago I heard that he was having that long-awaited party. I came up with the usual excuses, blaming the fact that I have no car, can't stay up late and/or have something "family" to do that night. Then to my shock, found out that I may have missed my last opportunity to see the guy. Wally was dying of inoperable cancer. Crap!

A very good friend of mine was there. She said it was an amazing night. Wally performed with some of Kingston's best musicians, and the mood of the night was light. There was even talk that he was looking better than anyone expected.

Two days ago, the show was over. Wally died.

Kingston is not limestone. It's not just Queen's and RMC. It's more than the prisons, the lake and the quirky little stores downtown. Kingston is a collection of some of the most interesting characters outside of a novel by Dickens or Irving. Wally was one of the last of that bunch.

I'm sure he and Joe are putting a band together, wherever they are.

Just Don't Wake Me Up!

Have you heard it yet?

There's something new and very very different in Kingston. I know, I know, Kingston has a built-in resistance to "very very different," and "new" is anything that's been here for less than 50 years.

I was skeptical too. When my bosses at FLY FM approached me last fall to see if I was interested in having a show on their new station, my first thought was "wow, a job! My family will not starve...my kids can go to University some day...I can order new bike gear!" But, when they described this new station, I wasn't so sure.

They drew a picture of an alternative music station, aimed solely at Kingston. This station would do things quite unlike anything else on the air. The music. The news. The people talking. All would be as un-radio (if it's not a word, put in in Wiki for me). As I sat listening, all thoughts of the groceries, the tuition and the hot new bike clothing faded away.

I was obviously no longer able to distinguish reality from my vivid fantasy world. The hallucination was so strong, that actual people were now speaking words I'd imagined.

After asking the right questions like: "are you kidding me?", and "who are you people?", I started to believe that this was really going to happen.

By mid-December, the station was on the air and there I was getting to play awesome music, spout off about whatever and get paid for doing it!

By late December, we had callers...real, living, job-holding callers who wanted to help us build this into something special.

Now here it is January 2008. We've made it one month without the parent company so much as making a peep about what we play, what we say or anything else we do.

If you haven't heard it yet, please try it. 98.9 The Drive. Our signal is pretty small, but our techies will have us up loud and strong in a few weeks. Meanwhile, we're live on the web too at 989.fm.

Listen to it. Do what you do best, think. Then let us know what's right, what's wrong and what needs to be done. We've got an anonymous line for you to call at 613 433 1380 ext. 320, or you can call us on the air at 5440 98 9.

I think this just might work!