Because I Can… the random thoughts of Marc Scott

I was doing some math yesterday.  For anybody that may have known me in High School, where I once scored less, yes, less than 1% on a math test, this may strike you as a bit of a surprise.  Truth is, I don’t know if I did the math right, but I think I did.  Basic skills really.  A little division.  I needed to figure something out.  Something about worth.

Worth is a funny thing isn’t it?  I mean, how we define it, I suppose is what is funny.  There tends to be a direct correlation between it and stuff.  Money.  Possessions.  Cars and trucks and big screen TV’s and side by side stainless steel refrigerators filled with name brand groceries because the no name stuff doesn’t taste as good.  That’s funny too.  I bet half of that stuff is made in the exact same factory, they just slap a different label on it and charge 50% more.

It would take me 2,900 years of doing what I’m doing right now… Afternoon Drive at FM 92.1, to make the same amount of money as Beyonce made in 2008.  When they give the figure of her income, it doesn’t seem so ridiculous.  Millions.  Billions.  Trillions.  It’s all normal now.  We toss those kind of numbers around every single day.  Worth.  Profit.  Debt.  That is why I did the math.  I wanted to try and gain a little perspective on it.  After I got it, then I mostly just wanted to curl up in a corner and cry.

I hope that Beyonce appreciates what I do for her.  After all, if it weren’t for the lowly radio guys like me, nowhere near as many people would hear her music and in turn, buy her records or go to her concerts.  It seems a little backwards to me.  Beyonce needs me more than I need her.  Still, I’d have to work 2,900 years to match her income last year.

Ryan Seacrest and I are a little bit alike.  We’re both broadcasters.  He does radio and TV.  I’ve done radio and TV.  Granted, he is better looking than I am.  He’s probably better at TV than I am too.  But outside of that, we’re about the same.  I would like to think my voice is a little less annoying, but I suppose I am biased on that front.

Seacrest signed his new Idol contract this week.  Keep in mind, this is only for Idol.  It doesn’t count the work he does for E! or KIIS FM.  I did a little math on that one as well.  Again, it’s all about bringing perspective.  What I determined, though I admit it’s not an exact science, is that 12.5 minutes into the first episode of American Idol Season 9, Ryan will have made what I make in a year.  Is he really that much better than I am?

The whole idea of celebrity is stupid to me, if I’m being honest.  I don’t necessarily blame the celebrities though.  Mostly, it’s us that made them what they are.  It is you and I whom have elevated these people to a higher level.  Why?  I’m not entirely sure.  But for some reason it’s as though we have convinced ourselves that these people are worth more than us.  That they are more intelligent, better at what they do, stronger, smarter, more athletic, take your pick.  The list is endless.

The higher that we elevate these people, the more out of control things get.  So while our country faces an economic crisis, and people are losing their jobs daily, a handful of people are making more money in 12 minutes than what most of us try and live off in a year.  While families struggle to pay rent or buy groceries, the celebrities are spending more money on a single dinner for two than we would spend to feed our family for a month.

There are all kinds of ways to try and justify the salaries, contracts and bonuses, but you’ll never convince me that it’s necessary.  And to that person reading this who is right now saying “if somebody offered you Seacrest’s contract you wouldn’t say no” I’d say you’re probably right.  I could do a lot of good with that kind of money.  Much more good than I am able to do with my kind of money.

I don’t mean to sound like I’m picking on Beyonce or Ryan Seacrest.  I’m not.  Understand that they are just the two that I read news stories about this week, so they are the two that got me thinking about all of this.

It just bothers me how we so easily elevate others above us, and then allow them to define our worth simply because they are famous or they make more money or they have a 100 bedroom mansion with 87 bathrooms.  We scream and swoon and suffer chest pains when we get a chance to meet them.  We ask them to sign pictures and t-shirts and body parts.  We go see their movies, buy their records, hang up their posters and follow their Twitter feeds.  In the midst of it all, we slowly devalue ourselves by over-valuing them.

What I am about to say is probably a little crude.  It may offend some people.  I apologize.  But I’ve been racking my brain all day trying to figure out the most effective, most blunt way to bring about perspective again.  How do I remind you that nobody has more worth, in the purest sense of the word, than you?  How do I remind you that true value is defined not by status or wealth, but by God who loves us all equally.  How do I make the celebrities we turn into idols, human beings the same as you and I.  The best I could come up with is this…no matter how you view them, what you think of them, or how high the pedestal is they are placed upon, at the end of the day their farts stink just as bad as mine.

Since I announced my “BIG PLAN” on Friday, I’ve been getting a lot of messages from people wanting to know how they can help.  People have been getting in touch with me by email, Twitter and by calling into the station.  If you missed the “BIG PLAN” announcement, you can listen here.

Here are a couple of suggestions on how you can join me, Melissa, and FM92.1 in supporting the Brantford Food Bank.  At the end of the day, that’s what this whole “Twar” is about… supporting a great cause that needs our help!

One great challenge was put down by a Twitter follower @crazzie_cabbie.  They showed up at the radio station and dropped off a gift certificate for a local grocery store.  I will present that certificate to Heather from the Brantford Food Bank when I give her my cheque on Wednesday.  That would be an excellent way for you to do something.  The amount doesn’t matter.  Think about it, if 100 people just gave $5 that would go a long, long way!  Every little bit helps!  If you don’t have the time to go and get a gift certificate, or would just prefer to donate cash, that works to!

If you want to drop it off at CKPC so I can present it to Heather live on the air, that would be sweet!  Drop off your donations at 571 West Street in Brantford Monday, Tuesday or Wednesday.  Office hours are 9a-5p.  But remember, the deadline, and cheque presentation to the Food Bank will take place live on my show Wednesday July 15 at 3p.

Another one of my Twitter followers told me she was going to start an office challenge.  That’s an awesome idea!  She was going to put a bin in her office and start collecting donations from all her co-workers.  Brilliant!  If you work in an office setting, check with the boss and make it happen!  If you do it, let me know and I’ll make sure to give you a shout out on my show!  Tweet me!

Remember to follow me, and to tell your friends and family to follow me too.  The pledge is $1 for every new follower up to $1000.  http://twitter.com/MarcScott.  You should follow Melissa too!  http://twitter.com/DJMelissa.

If you have another idea or want to make a different challenge, let me know and I’ll post it on this blog, promote it on my show, and post it on the FM 92.1 web site at http://ckpcfm.com.  Everybody can do something, so lets get together and do something awesome for our community!

I bought a new truck this week.  I needed one.  Well, that’s what I tell myself, and anybody else that asks as well.  My old truck was, well, old.  It was a great truck.  A faithful truck.  But it was ready for retirement.  It had definitely earned it.  I didn’t mean to buy a new truck so fast, but I tend to be a little spontaneous about my vehicle purchases.  It’s a bit of a disorder.  Nowhere near as bad as it used to be, but a disorder nevertheless.

I love my new truck.  I love it so much that I’m going to pay for it for the next 5 years.  That’s a pretty serious commitment.  Not to make light, but truth be told, that commitment will last longer than my marriage.  I suppose I shouldn’t joke about things like that, but, what else am I going to do?  I didn’t take to kindly to the idea of being divorced with little to no say in the matter.  So I suppose I use humor as my defense mechanism.  This is, however, not the point of the blog.

As I drove my new truck home I felt blessed.  I was reminded how, despite all the trials I have lived through, and trust me, there have been trials, overall, I am exceedingly blessed.  Am I wealthy?  In the financial sense, certainly not.  Does God meet my needs daily?  Indeed he does!  I am blessed.

I’ve got this competition going on with one of the girls at work.  It’s silly really.  But it’s fun.  And if you can’t have fun at work, then maybe you need to find a new job!  We’re competing for Twitter followers.  Like I said, silly.  The deal she put on the table was that if she could surpass me in the number of followers by next Wednesday, July 15, then I would go to her house and clean her bathrooms in my firefighter gear.  She would then take pictures and post them on the radio station web site.  Personally, I don’t get it.  Who wants to see pictures of me in my firefighter gear, cleaning?  As I am slowly coming to learn, however, there are many things I apparently do not understand about women!

I wanted to win this little “Twar” (that’s what you get when you take Twitter and start a war).  Yesterday afternoon I started thinking about ways I could win.  Then I thought about ways somebody else could win.  Then I had a brainstorm.  There was no rain.  No thunder.  No lightning.  But it was a storm nevertheless.  In the end, I came up with, what I thought, was a brilliant plan.  I was beyond blessed this week when I brought my new truck home.  I decided I needed to pay it forward.

On my show today I made an annoucement.  I hyped my “BIG PLAN” all night last night, and all morning today on Twitter.  At 3:09p I revealed it live on the air.  With a representative from the Brantford Food Bank on the air with me, I pledged to donate $1 for every new follower I added on Twitter, up to a total of 1000 followers, or, $1000.  The deadline for the bet between Melissa and I is Wednesday afternoon.  Follow me!

It’s so easy for us to get caught up in our stuff.  Our cars and trucks and boats and motorcycles.  Our full fridges and our overloaded pantries.  Our flatscreen TV’s and surround sound systems and our computers and cell phones.  We busy ourselves so much with all our stuff that we can forget about the real, honest need that is out there.  The need doesn’t exist only in Africa!  It exists in our own backyards!  Times are tough all over the place.

The Brantford Food Bank has seen an overwhelming increase in use in the past couple of months.  Just in June alone 1200 families came to them looking for a helping hand.  Appeals have been put out for help.  They need it.  It’s so easy to do to.  What’s a couple cans of tuna, some soup, a couple of boxes of Kraft Dinner and a loaf of bread going to cost you?  $10?  Do you know how much something so little can mean to a family with unemployed parents due to the recession?

Jesus said whatever you did for the least of these, you did for me.  He doesn’t suggest we help.  He commands we help.  We need to be reminded how blessed we are.  Sometimes, we need a little perspective brought into our lives.  I got it when I bought my new truck.  How can I enjoy something like that, knowing full well that a family in my town won’t eat dinner tonight?

I sound like a World Vision commercial, and you know what.  That’s fine.  I don’t care.  Truth is truth, and that’s all there is to it.  Do with it what you will.  I just hope you’ll help.  And if you don’t live in Brantford, find your own local food bank.  All it takes is one or two extra items the next time you’re in the grocery store.  Every little bit adds up!  Maybe you can’t do $1000 over a silly little bet.  But everybody can do something!

For 14 years in radio, I’ve avoided the artist interview.  It’s nothing personal against the artists.  I love them all.  I think they’re great.  Mostly, it just has to do with me and my inability to converse easily with people whom I’ve never before met.  Today though, I was set up.  My boss dropped an interview on me and gave me no say in the matter.  “Don’t embarrass the family name” is what I kept repeating to myself over and over and over.

Naomi Striemer is a lovely young lady, simply lovely.  She has a beautiful voice and a great laugh, and my interview with her was a joy.  It ended up being 60 minutes of the most fun radio I’ve done in years.  If you were listening live to FM 92.1, I hope you enjoyed it.  If you missed it, I posted it here for you.

Naomi will be performing at Brantford’s Canada Day event.  She’ll take the stage at 6p.  For more on that check brantfordcanadaday.com.  I encourage you to check out the show and her album – which, by the way, she wants everybody to know will be available at her booth after her performance.  She wants you all to come and say hi!

Naomi Striemer Online
Official Site – http://www.naomistriemermusic.com/
Twitter – http://twitter.com/NaomiStriemer
MySpace – http://www.myspace.com/naomi

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So much of my life is routine; like I’m living on autopilot.  The crazy thing is, because I live so many minutes of each passing day without thinking, I don’t even realize how routine and mundane much of it is.

I wake up everyday, well, nearly everyday, at the exact same time.  I roll out of bed, throw some clothes on, come to the computer, turn it on, and then go get something to eat.  I eat cereal for breakfast.  Not so much because I’m a huge cereal fan.  More because it requires little effort, and therefore, doesn’t mess up my morning routine.  By the time my cereal is poured, my computer is on.  I sit and eat, and check my email.

After email is checked I usually spend an hour or two submitting voice-over auditions.  Then I spend an hour or two looking for things to talk about on my radio show.  At 12:30p I make a sandwich.  Either that, or I drink a glass of milk.  It depends on whether or not I remembered to by bread.  At 1p, I hit the shower and get ready for work.

I drive the same way to work most days.  I’ve discovered several routes over the past year I’ve been working at FM 92.1, but mostly I travel one route now.  It seems to be the quickest.  My work day is all routine too.  Weather at the same time.  Traffic at the same time.  News at the same time.  Features at the same time.  It’s all routine.  I could do much of my show with little, to no effort.

There is a comfort in the routine I suppose.  A familiarity.  It’s my calendar.  Ask me what day of the week it is, I can tell you only based on what I did that day.  It’s invaded every area of my life even.  For example, when I’m in the shower, I wash my right arm first… I’m left handed, so I assume that is why.  Without thought, without purpose or intention, I always wash my right arm first.

I’ve been in a funk for a week or two.  Like a bit of a daze or something.  Not that I’ve been sad or depressed or anything like that.  It’s just been a funk.  We all go through them from time to time.  I blame it on the fact that I’ve now started counting down the days until my vacation.  That’s just never a good idea!  Suddenly, the days get longer, the routine feels even more mundane, and it seems like no matter how far I outstretch my hand, my vacation still isn’t quite within it’s grasp.  That’s enough to throw anybody into a funk.

Today I decided to break the routine.  It seemed the best way to break the funk.  So I jumped in my truck about 10 or 15 minutes early and I decided I was going to find a new way to work.  I had no idea where I was going, I just figured if I kept heading west, eventually I’d end up in Brantford, or somewhere close to it.

Have you ever just set out somewhere with no plan?  It’s one of the most freeing, exciting things you can do.  It’s a little like reliving your childhood, when everything was new.  Everything was an adventure.  Each place, each object, each person was a new discovery waiting to be made.  Life was filled with mystery, anticipation and new car smell.  That was how I felt today.

I traveled roads whose crests and curves I did not know.  They made me take notice.  I saw fields of fresh cut hay, whose smells took me back to my grandpa’s farm where I practically lived as a child.  I drove one stretch of long country road that was lined so thick and tall with trees it felt as though I was journeying through a tunnel.  There were big houses and small houses, old houses and new.

At one point, I road along side a young man on a dirt bike.  He on a field trail, and I on the road.  The dust kicked up behind him like a cloud.  I flashed back to my days on a dirt bike speeding down the lane to the back field on the farm.  He traveled much faster on his bike than I ever did on mine; I clocked him at 85km/h.

A group of cyclists pedaled one of the roads.  It was fitting.  Back-roads, peaceful and undisturbed provide a solitude and safety one can’t find on busy streets and highways.  They seemed to be in some kind of race.  Each of them wearing bright colored clothing, sweat dripping from their brows as they leaned forward on their bikes with a focused determination in their eyes.  Cars lined the side of the road further down the way.  People stood waiting with cameras.  It was the finish line for the race, and it was the perfect metaphor for my own ride today.  As they crossed the line to end their race, I too was hoping to cross a line and bring about an end of my own.

My final destination was 30 minutes from my home.  Yet, I traveled down roads today that I didn’t even know existed.  I saw parts of the county I had never heard of, nor, was I even aware of.  I saw beauty all around me.  Beauty that I’ve driven around 5 days a week for a full year on my way to work.  Not that I was trying to miss it on purpose, just that I had never bothered to try and find it.  I let my routine rob me, until today.  The day I took a road not traveled.

When I was younger I had more money than brains.  Or maybe I just had no brains?  I suppose an argument could be made either way.  In my frivilous and carefree days of living at home I bought cars.  A different one every 6 months, or so it seemed!

In about a 3 year span I owned a 1985 Pontiac Fiero (still my favorite), a 1989 Pontiac Formula Firebird (which I miss terribly), a 1999 Pontiac Grand Am (which I was glad to part with), a 2000 Monte Carlo SS (which was a dream car), a 2002 Pontiac Grand Prix GT (which could corner like no other car I’ve driven), another 2000 Monte Carlo SS (which never lived up the standards set by the first one) and finally, a 2001 Ford Explorer Sport Trac.

Clearly, I had issues.  That, however, is another blog for another day.  When I got my truck, I seemed to put my vehicular indecisiveness behind me.  I had one to keep.  I got my truck in 2003 or 2004 I think.  I forget exactly.  I’ve been driving it ever since.

My truck has been a faithful companion.  Loyal to a fault.  In fact, my relationship with my truck outlasted my marriage.  I suppose that shouldn’t be funny.  But, it kind of is just a little.  I’ve had 2 years to get over the brokenness of a divorce I never desired.  I think it’s OK for me to see a lighter side of it now.  My truck has also nearly lasted longer than my last 4 jobs!  It’s seen me through 2 radio stations, 1 radio show, 1 TV show, and a stint in patient transfer.  It’s been there through it all.

In all those years, across all those miles, my truck has run like a dream.  It’s never left me stranded.  It’s never stuck me with a huge repair bill.  It’s been a perfect truck.  A perfect friend.  When I think back on it now, I have a little guilt.  Like maybe I should have waxed it more or something?

Yesterday on my way to work, my brakes fell off.  All of them.  Front and rear.  Drivers side and passenger side.  They fell off.  If I’m being perfectly honest, I am mostly ignorant in the ways of all things mechanical.  I confess, I had no idea such a feat was even possible.  That said, if you’re looking for the improbable, unthinkable, unheard of to happen, take my mug shot and slap me on the poster.  You’ve got yourself a spokesman!

Thankfully, though I was not thinking this at the time, it happened less than half a block from Canadian Tire.  I managed to limp my truck down the street and find a parking spot right in front of the service centre.  Then I started preparing for the worst.  I knew my brakes were bad.  There are a lot of things on my truck that are bad.  That’s why I’m looking for a new truck, and have been for 2 months.  I was just hoping the new one would come before the old one packed it in.

I dropped off my keys and walked to the radio station which is, thank the Lord, not far away.  The trek across town gave me some time to decompress and prepare myself for the phone call with the mechanics assessment.  I have already spoke with God about this, I needed forgiveness for some of the thoughts in my head during that walk!  They were less than stellar thoughts.

When the mechanic called me and told me the cost, I think I might have almost wept a little.  Keep in mind, this is taking place while I’m live on the air.  I actually had to put the mechanic on hold at one point during the conversation so I could do a break.  When you’re doing a live radio show and you’re driving people home on a sunny Friday afternoon, it’s not a great time to be told your truck repair bill is going to hit $700!

I, of course, talked about my adventures on my show.  That’s what I do.  I talk about life, about my life.  People seem to enjoy it.  I honestly didn’t think my existence was overly thrilling, but I guess it makes me a real.  People can relate to real.  I also shared some of my adventures on Twitter.

I won’t lie to you and tell you I was entirely positive about the experience.  In fact, despite my best efforts, I was mostly having a bit of a pity party thinking about the $700 repair bill.  Leave it to my listeners, and my tweeps, to help me check myself though!  What a blessing they are.  I’m grateful for the way God can tap you on the shoulder on bring about a change of perspective through the most unexpected ways.

The overwhelming response to my cries of brakes falling off and $700 repair bills was, “I’m glad you’re OK” or “Thank God it didn’t happen on the 403″ (which I drive to work) or “Thankfully nobody was hurt.”

I was convicted big time as I read those responses, and took some listener calls.  I’m normally a pretty upbeat kind of guy, but I was definitely looking out the wrong coloured glasses on this one.  While I was questioning God, in my mind, about why this had to happen when He knows I’m trying to get rid of the truck, or where am I supposed to get $700 from, I needed a reality check.  I got it.  I’m grateful for it.

Dear brothers and sisters, when troubles come your way, consider it an opportunity for great joy. For you know that when your faith is tested, your endurance has a chance to grow. So let it grow, for when your endurance is fully developed, you will be perfect and complete, needing nothing. James 1:2-4 NLT

That passage from James is a favorite of mine.  It’s a reminder that nobody said life is going to be easy.  We are going to have bad days, and bad things are going to happen.  I don’t think this passage is about rejoicing over $700 repair bills as much as it’s about finding something in the midst of difficult circumstances to rejoice in!

If my brakes had fallen off 10 minutes earlier, I would have been going 100km/h down the 403 westbound heading to Brantford.  Instead, my brakes fell off in the parking lot of the Petro Canada Gas Station.  I am blessed!  So blessed.  In that, I find I can find joy, even though my brakes did fall off.

I don’t consider myself to suffer from O.C.D. though, admittedly, I may have a couple of OCD like tendencies.  For example, whenever I eat at Subway, I have to fold the wrapping that my sub comes in, in a very specific manner.  I have no idea why.  I have no idea what started it.  I just know that it’s one of my quirks, and I can’t seem to help myself.

One of my other OCD habits has to do with radio.  Since the very first time I did a break at (then) 1470 C-HOW, I have had a pen in my hand.  14 years of radio, and never once have I cracked a mic without a pen in my hand.  I can’t do it.  Truth be told, I’ve actually had to skip breaks in the past when I didn’t have my pen readily available.

I’m not exactly sure what I think will happen.  Perhaps the sky will fall?  Perhaps I’ll open my mouth and the voice of a female will come out?  Perhaps electric pulses will shoot from the end of the microphone and fry my brain?  Honestly, I’ve never really given it much thought as to the consequences.  I just know that I’ve never allowed it to happen in 14 years and I don’t intend to start now!

Not only do I need to have a pen in my hand, but I’m also very loyal to my pens.  Like a dog or something.  When I used to work at OPT my partners would make fun of me because I had the same pen from the day I started until the day I left there!  I worked there for a year and a half.  Some of them would steal my pen and watch me panic as I chased them to try and get it back.  Again, not sure what started this.  All I know is, it is what it is.

The pen I use at work (FM 92.1) is the pen I started with on my first shift there.  It’s been a couple weeks shy of a year.  It’s my good and faithful pen, and I’ve held it for every word I’ve ever spoken over the air.  This afternoon, however, something unthinkable happened.  In the second half of the 3p hour… my first hour on the air, my pen died!

If I told you I was unphased, I’d be lying.  If I told you my voice didn’t get a little shakey during my first break after realizing it was dead, I’d be lying.  I mean, I wasn’t going to break down and start crying.  But I was definitely concerned about whether or not I could pull off the rest of my show.  It totally messed with my head!  Ridiculous, but true!

I continued to hold the pen while I told the sad story of it’s demise on my show.  Anybody listening must have thought I was some kind of fruit loop.  I confess, I questioned this myself!  I even took a picture of my dear pen and posted it on the stations web site (http://bit.ly/r0rqo).

After sharing the story something happened that made everything OK again.  A couple of girls listening to my show, Jessica and Laura, showed up at the station to drop off a new pen for me.  I am not entirely sure of their motives.  Perhaps they were just hoping I’d shut up about my pen.  Or maybe they were genuinely concerned and trying to do a good deed.  I will choose to assume the latter.  All I know is, it made my day!

I didn’t throw out my old pen.  In fact, I tucked it safely in my binder where it will likely remain for the rest of my broadcasting career.  Now it will just have a friend to keep it company.  A shiny new silver pen, from my two pen angels.

The funny thing about being on the radio is that you never really know who is out there.  You sit in a small studio alone, and, mostly, you just sort of talk to yourself.  I often wonder if anybody is listening.  Are there 5 people?  500 people?  5000 people?  50,000 people?  It’s all a mystery to me.

I do my best with each show to feel like a friend.  I want people to turn the radio on weekday afternoons and feel like I’m talking with them.  That’s key by the way.  With them.  Not to them.  I want it to be more conversational.  Like I’m standing beside them at the water cooler, or riding with them in the passenger seat, or handing them ingredients while they prepare the family dinner in the kitchen.  If I can accomplish that, if I can be their friend, then I believe I’ve done my job.  I’ve taken the 4 hours that I spend reaching out to people, and I’ve kept you company.  Maybe I’ve made you laugh, maybe smile, maybe think.  Hopefully, in some way, I’ve engaged you.

Sometimes I get feedback.  Usually it comes in the form of a phone call.  I will say something that hits a chord with somebody, so they call the studio and we talk about it.  Other times I know people are out there because I’ll ask them to vote in a web poll or check out a link on our site (ckpcfm.com) and I’ll see a spike in our web traffic.  From to time to time a person will even catch me on the street and mention something I said during my show.  Outside of that, it’s a mystery… who is out there and how many there may be.

I came into work on Thursday and went to my bunk like I always do.  We have this wall of ancient filing cabinets in the building.  Each announcer has a drawer (bunk) to keep their stuff.  I have a lamp, a jacket, my binder of show prep and a headset.  Oh, and I keep a package of Halls in there too.  Only, Thursday when I opened my bunk I found something else.  A container and a card.

I opened the card and it said “Thank You” on the front.  Somebody had taken the time to send me a thank you card!  Just when you start to wonder if there are people out there, and if they are actually listening, somebody took the time to say thank you to me for what I do!  The container was filled with cupcakes and two of the best chocolate chip cookies I’ve ever experienced in my life, and I consider myself to be a connoisseur in this area!  It made my day!

I took those cupcakes and went on a quick tour of the station.  I offered them to a couple of the other announcers, my boss (scoring points) and the two people that were in the news department.  All of them immediately smiled.  All of them were thankful.  It’s amazing how something so simple can turn somebody’s day around.

There was a business card inside of the envelope that came with the cupcakes and cookies.  In big, bold letters it said, “R.A.K. Attack”  Random Act Of Kindness.  On the back side of it was a link to a local church, the Freedom House. (freedomhouse.ca)

We could all stand to be the recipient of a R.A.K. Attack from time to time I think.  More importantly, when is the last time you performed a R.A.K. Attack of your own?  Maybe it’s time you found your next victim!

I do the Afternoon Drive shift at FM92.1 in Brantford.  I’ve been in the time slot for a while now.  I started in radio back in 1995, and since then I’ve covered most dayparts.  I’ve done mornings, evenings, afternoons, weekends, holidays, you name it.  I think the only time slot I’ve never done is overnight.

The Afternoon Drive show works pretty well for me.  I’m definitely not a big fan of mornings, in fact, I’d be perfectly content to just skip them all together.  I just don’t believe it’s necessary to start the day before 10A.  I’m not lazy mind you.  I just don’t like to wake up.  In bed at 2A, and up at 10A.  This works quite well for me.  So doing the drive shift from 3p – 7p fits right in there.

I like my small town life.  I’m content where I’m at.  I get to be a Volunteer Firefighter. I get to sleep at night with mostly peace and quiet.  I’m not particularly worried about things like crime, traffic jams and smog.  I can breath fresh air, I can cross the street with ease, I don’t need to stress when I leave my place for a bit and forget to lock the door.

I fit here.  Where I’m at.  It doesn’t make sense to a lot of people, considering what I do for a living.  For most people, the goal in radio is to get to the big market and make the big money.  If you’re in Canada, you want to wind up in a market like Vancouver or Toronto.  That’s the goal.  The dream.  That is where you find your fame and fortune.

An opening came up for the Afternoon Drive shift at a Toronto radio station this week.  My boss asked me if I had applied.  When I told him no, he looked stunned.  He couldn’t believe it.  When he asked me why, I simply said, “I’m not a Toronto kind of guy.”

I must say, I was quite taken back by the encouragement I received from my boss.  Personally, I don’t consider myself to be an announcer the caliber of which you’d find in Toronto.  He felt quite differently.  He told me that I stood a very good chance and he still felt like I should apply.  He told me about the salary I’d make, and the exposure I’d get, and the windows of opportunity that could open for me.  It really did sound rather inviting.

Money isn’t everything.  Fame passes.  This is especially true in the cutthroat industry of radio!  One bad ratings book, one bad show, even one bad break, and you can be out the door before you even know what happened.  Then what?  Who will remember you when you haven’t been on the air for a week?  You’ll have long since been forgotten and all those people who adored you will now be adoring the new guy that took your time slot!

Would I like to make the money they are making in Toronto?  Sure I would.  In some stations it’s triple what I make now.  Of course, on the flip side of that, rent is probably triple what I’m paying too!  But, as cliche as it is, money isn’t everything and it certainly can’t buy you happiness!  It could buy me a new truck, but not happiness.

I know me well enough to know where I’d fit and where I wouldn’t.  A lot of people are questioning my decision to not even apply for the gig in Toronto.  I know that a fat salary and the facade of fame would only make me miserable.  So for now, I’ll stay put.  Sometimes incredible opportunities simply aren’t the best opportunities.

I’ve filled in on the Morning Show at work a couple of times in the past week. Actually, I did it Thursday, Friday and again today. There is a distinct possibility that I’ll be doing it Thursday as well.  

It was not an easy thing for me.  I am such a creature of habit.  I have routine.  Structure.  It’s not that I can’t function without them, but, they become old hat for you.  You don’t necessarily acknowledge them.  But there is certainly a comfort found in having them there.

The biggest challenge for me has been the complete schedule reversal.  Currently working evening shifts during the week, I find myself on the air from 7p – 12a.  So to all of the sudden flip and work from 5:30a – 10a has not been easy.  I have a sleeping disorder.  I need to have consistency in my sleep or I’m basically screwed.  So filling in on the Morning Show wasn’t easy.

I’ve learned over the past couple days that I am still able to perform on limited sleep.  I’ve also learned that the moment I turn the mic off after my last break, my body pretty much shuts down.  All unnecessary functions resign, and I’m left with limited capacity.  Basically… just enough to safely drive home.

Despite this experience virtually turning my world upside down for a few days, I must admit, I’ve enjoyed it.  I used to be a Morning Man a couple of years ago.  I had forgot what it felt like.  You are responsible for waking up a city.  That is no small task.  How you greet each person as they start their day could have a profound effect on how they greet their day.  After all, as the Morning Man, you could quite possibly be the first voice heard as the sun slowly appears over the horizon.

What an honor.  What a privilege.  With a word I can bring a laugh.  With a song I can bring a smile.  Like a friend I can bring them up to speed on the events of the day.  I can offer the promise of sunshine, the concerned warning of snow covered roads, and the highlights of all that has taken place in their slumber.  It’s like being a member of an extended family.  I’m there for breakfast, for that first coffee.  It’s a great feeling to be able to contribute to the day to day lives of so many.  My only prayer is that I’m able to do it well, and bring a positive start to each turning page of the calender.

I must admit, however, that 3:30a is not my favorite time.  In fact, as the hands pass the 24 hours of the clock, it ranks somewhere in the bottom of my most celebrated hours.  This is about the time I rise.  After all, if you’re going to wake up a city, you need to be up and in place yourself before them!

Just when I start to feel displeasure for that early morning wake up call though, something happens.  When I walk out the door of my building and head to my truck, I am greeted with a confidence that I suspect can only be found when breathing the pre-dawn air.  

The world in which I live, for the most part, is still nestled in their beds when I leave for work.  The sun itself hasn’t even begun to rise.  In that transition between the final twinkles of a night sky, and the bold glow that kisses the horizon with the commencement of a new day, there is a serenity.  It’s in that calm and peaceful twilight that I find the assurance I need to carry on with the task at hand.

As I drive to work on the lonely, black roads, I feel like I own all that I see.  This is my city, my county, my territory. Rarely do I even see another vehicle on my journey.  And why would I?  For I have not yet stirred them from their rest. When I arrive at work, take my seat in the studio, and crack that mic for the first time, I will bring it all to life.

The power of that drive in the sea of darkness is not about ego though.  In fact, it’s quite the contrary.  It’s about pride!  It’s about preparation.  It’s about building confidence for the great responsibility that awaits me.  This morning, even if it’s only temporary, I will help you begin your day.  That makes me feel great about being me.  When I bid you good morning, just know that I truly mean it!