Life Is Such A Sweet Insanity.

I have mentioned before that one of my preferred ways home from work takes me through Amish country. The drive brings me through several Amish communities, each marked by their own little one room school house and cooperative work on a barn or something similar. One of these communities sells cedar chests, another sells quilts. Today I noticed that one of the houses had opened their normally vacant baked goods stand so I decided to stop.

I picked up a blueberry pie as a treat for tonight.

If memory serves correctly, Grandma Country baked pies on Friday back when I was a kid so for some reason I always think of Friday night as pie night. I have never had an Amish made pie before, but it was quite impressive looking and I imagined it would be just as delicious. The young girl working the stand wasn’t particularly chatty; she handed me my change in a shy way that seemed slightly peculiar as she tried to avoid touching me. She seemed startled when I wished her a good day but I smiled anyways. She didn’t smile back.

And I was right, the pie was delicious. I’m looking forward to another piece tomorrow night. I think I’ll stop by that stand again the next time it’s open as there was a considerable number of goodies to choose from.

Shortly after starting my new job here in the Jtown I brought a radio to work so I could softly listen to some tunes in my cubicle. Even though I have a prime location in the cube farm next to the windows, there isn’t much in the way of radio reception in my little world of technology. Aside from a smattering of religious-oriented stations that sounded like a lot of people yelling in a peculiar cadence, the only other scan stop on the dial was 94.1. On my first stop on the station they were playing “The Main Event” by Barbra Streisand. This was followed by the theme from “Hart to Hart” and then one of the Supremes’ early hits.

Groovy.

I had never listened to 94.1 in this area before and it turns out that the station is fairly new as it’s a simulcast of the much older 1440 AM. WFNY is a locally owned station and touts it’s “Variety Format”. It’s slogan is the Glove Cities Favorite.

I’m listening in the car as I type this entry. They are currently playing “Everything Is Beautiful”, which was preceded by Sheila E.’s “The Glamorous Life”. Now this is variety. I love it.

Since the specialty of my radio days was the imaging of the station (I picked the jingles and the “Mr. Voice” as well as a bunch of other things), I always pay very close attention to how a station sounds between the songs. It sounds like WFNY has chosen a local singer to sing their jingles, which are a cross between 40s jazz, a bit of a skee-bop thing and melodies that remind one of the introduction to “The Jetsons”. I. LOVE. IT.

In these bland, generic times where every Main Street is faltering, only to be replaced by a Wal*Mart, Lowe’s and nation wide Burger Bomb joint and augmented by corporate owned radio where the tracks are picked by a computer and the air “personality” is on five stations in five states simultaneously, it is a refreshing change of pace to listen to “the little guy” do the local radio thing and just play what the hell he wants. It’s a reminder of what once was.

And it makes me smile.

Here’s one of the jingles I just captured in the car. You can’t hear me say “That’s awesome”. Sorry the video is out of sync. I need to figure that out.

http://www.jpnearl.com/blog/wp-content/uploads/2010/06/wfny.wmv

I have a hard time speaking in front of people. Even if it’s just one person. I guess it could be a sort of lack of confidence that causes this because I occasionally don’t trust what comes out of my mouth. You see, I stammer. I stutter. And occasionally I just freeze up and say nothing while the words churn in my head, blocked by some invisible barrier in my brain that prevents them from flowing from thought to mouth. Occasionally words jump into the thought stream and pretend that they’re what I wanted to say, when in reality they aren’t related at all. There is occasionally uncomfortable silence when the words are blocked; there is a slight awkwardness when the same word comes out repeatedly and honestly, there’s downright confusion when my forehead should have a big “?SYNTAX ERROR” sign plastered across it.

All of this surprises people when they find out that I used to be in radio. I had a hard time with it, except when I was completely alone in the studio and building. Then it was just me talking to a microphone, and as long as I used a hip Ted Baxter voice and concentrated really hard on mimicking what a radio DJ was suppose to sound like, I was okay. The confusing part of my speech was kept relatively at bay. Then I’d put on a long song and walk across the street to grab a pop or something and ask a co-worker in my ‘normal’ voice, “Want something to drunk from Thruways?” Translated, that meant “Want something to drink from Kinney’s?” (the store across the street).

A startled glance.

I listen back to some of my aircheck tapes and I wasn’t really fooling anyone, I mixed up my words more than most. I would stop midsentence. Growing up I remember my Mom having a hard time trying to get a word out here and there; perhaps it’s hereditary.

I rarely address people by their name, though I know their name, because I’m afraid the wrong name will come out when I’m fully aware of the correct name. This makes for a social gaff and some get offended. Especially when they are a vice president of the company or something. So I smile and make with the pleasantries anonymously.

Do I dislike this part of this whole experience of mine? Not really, though I do wish that I could speak like the best of them in front of an audience. I wish I sounded suave, articulate and eloquent like Alec Baldwin or President Obama.

But that’s not who I am. A friend reminded me that my friend Jeff and I have something in common (Jeff stutters and stammers from time to time like I do). I’m content to be me: the one in the corner silently smiling, remembering every word, every name, every detail and not saying a thing about it.

I guess I have my own brand of eloquence.