X-Pod #009: The Great Transition-A Prologue

Two in a week! Rejoice! Todd talks about Britany Maynard, mirroring, the importance of sharing your struggle, then offers up some of his own in detailing his 4-year battle against fear before hitting the road.

8/14/10: Massena, NY-Cracks

It took some time to understand, but Saturday morning’s frustration was less about Ahab, Ginger, or Bill than myself. Somehow that perfect Friday soured, and although I meant no harm other than being my oft-obnoxious self, something sinister and familiar crashed my little party via the radio conversation: what Chris likes to refer to as my negativity and judgment. Guilty: I have a track record as one aggressive, direct, cold, bitter son-of-a-bitch-- especially when someone tries to sell me on the value of conservatism or that shell-of-a-medium called radio! I suppose that’s because on some level, it still matters to me. The conversation ended, but I lugged the negative energy with me.

Setting off Saturday morning, I was motivated to put Alex Bay’s now-putrid energy behind me! But, with the heel it would clearly be impossible to walk in my boots. It was time to put the Crocs (an idea borrowed from Ray) to the test, and I was shocked to learn that they were fucking comfy, and sturdy! Even with the pack! There was nothing  rubbing on the heel, it could breathe, and while they took some getting used to the lone problem I saw was the holes in the front, and the rubber potentially rubbing parts of my feet raw. Socks solved that.

I hoped to catch a quick ride as far as Ogdensburg or all the way to Massena as I walked east, but nothing came-- giving me the time, atmosphere, and exercise to think optimally and over-analyze the night before! 

In my infinite idiocy, I hadn’t connected why I was so sensitive to the topic of radio with where I was going: Massena! I had done a night show there for a summer--recorded in my bedroom and sent via the Internet from Michigan. I’d never even glimpsed pictures of the place, and needed regular coaching from my program director to be sure I pronounced cities, streets, and area landmarks correctly! When I learned I was passing thru New York on my way to northern New England, I knew this was my chance to at least see, talk to, and pay respects to the little town I’d deceived way back then. I never felt completely right about that, although I was good at it. Still, I don’t think I realized how much it bothered me until that morning, waddling like a blistered duck down this tiny two-lane road next to the St. Lawrence. 

There’s more to this story. Most of it is a lingering, persistent idealism and perfect rant material. Maybe I’ll share it sometime, but today suffice it to say that my experience deceiving Massena subconsciously helps trigger an intense, adverse reaction when people profess radio’s nobility of purpose and its benefit to society-- as Bill did the night before. Horseshit. It’s surviving “purpose” is playing songs between commercials and providing thinly veiled, pathetically executed illusion of local, community involvement. Remember that the next time you hear “live and local!” Anyone telling you different is lying or selling something to you. Buy Sirius. Seriously.

There’s one final setup that will be helpful for the impending posts. My time at Brian’s over the summer wasn’t what I’d term a chapter in a new Heroic Epic, but is was quietly and deceptively productive even though the “product” will not resemble what I expected!

Eventually, I'll write things that will seem radically out of character, and this moment is these painful realizations nexus. August 14th was the birth and a baby step toward an overdue, month-long reconciliation of a year-long mental and emotional logic-induced stagnation. What was begun at Andre’s, followed me to Port Townsend, then Slab City, Cambria, Monterey, and Michigan; what’s haunted, anchored, and confounded me for the past year had finally begun breaking loose. 

However, all I knew then was that I was tired and pissed off that I was walking Route12 in Crocs! Profound. Inspiring. 

Six miles later, I was disturbed that my central New York luck had not appeared to follow me north when I needed it. Exhausted as much from thinking as walking, I squatted down on my pack across the road from a hair salon in the middle of nowhere. An hour later things started happening. Another single woman, Sue, took me to Chippewa Bay where I watched nearly every emergency vehicle in northern New York drive past on their way to a fire. My version of reality TV!

Ninety minutes later, I was picked up by a guy in his 30’s driving a pickup and offering to take me just a few miles, to Morristown. When I told him why I was going to Massena (radio), his face lit up as he claimed to recognize my voice from the station! I’m not sure I believe him, but after he heard that, he suddenly had free time and wanted to take me the rest of the way to Ogdensburg. 

Ogdensburg is the largest city in the immediate area-- not huge, but sizeable. It’s 30-miles southwest of Massena, and decrepit. It metaphorically reeked of drugs. It’s hard to articulate, but there is next to nothing there, despite it’s decent size. Houses are falling apart and many buildings stand abandoned and empty. Sadly, it reminded me of a whitebread Detroit..

My new ride/old fan said he would have taken me the final 30-miles to Massena, but didn’t have that much time. Unbelievably, he offered to do the next best thing: pay far the cab the rest of the way. He was concerned about me camping along the road in the impending rain and, despite my meager protests, insisted I call the taxi for an estimate. When Kermit quoted me $30 to Massena, he pounced on it. 

We met the taxi-van at Walmart, I said goodbye to He-Who-Shall-Remain-Nameless, and over the next hour watched as some amusing vocational drama played out. Kermit, the semi-elderly driver/ co-owner I'd spoken with on the phone, had overextended and needed another driver. But, the other co-owner refused to answer his phone! Driving me to Massena on a busy Saturday was a hassle!

Over the next hour, Kermit went off-duty, Mark took over, picked up & dropped off several people so  consequently I saw much more of Ogdensburg, literally AND figuratively, than I ever expected! When the other owner finally called back, I learned that the $30 fare Kermit quoted was in fact HALF; it was $30 each way. To their immense credit they were each adamant about honoring Kermit's quote. 

Eventually, we were finishing my final leg to Massena and Mark dropped me off at a gas station on the far-west end of town. I chatted with a some gas station customers while I ate, and had another of the “I thought I recognized your voice” moments. My hungry, piggly little ego loved it-- even if they were full of shit! Then again, maybe they weren't. In this case, I choose to believe the best in folks!

I was three miles south of town, it was late in the day, and the sky looked as though Hell were about to bust loose. I spied a woods directly behind the gas station that appeared to be on public land, found a perfect spot to nest completely concealed in-and-beneath thick vegetation, and finally sprawled out, exhausted, just before the rain began.

Before I dozed off, I got a text from my brother about his sudden, impulsive fact-finding mission via I-80 to Oregon. He’d be going past Lynette’s and offered me a ride. Caveat: needed to be near Michigan by the following Saturday!

Perfect Nest. 

There was no way I could process any of it effectively then, but it made for an interesting Sunday!

10/29/08: Michael Corbin: Loss of a Friend and an Inspiration

Michael Corbin
1955-2008

Late last week I learned that a friend, Michael Corbin, died earlier this year in Denver. Michael was the host of Paranet, a syndicated radio show in the same genre as Coast to Coast, which was very successful nationwide in the 90’s and hosted A Closer Look for the last several years.

I met him at that infamous Colorado Libertarian Party meeting in January ‘06. We hit it off and when he learned of my radio background he invited me to stop by the studio to hang out while he did his show and we quickly became good friends.

Michael was one of the most brilliant people I ever got to know. Corbin was also easily the best radio personality I ever personally worked with. His ability to personalize information, recall of facts, and reservoir of knowledge was phenomenal. I would sit in his guest chair during his show and this "jaded little prick" (me) was in awe watching and listening to him. Smooth. Concise. Informative. Smart.

Most importantly, he is to this day my ultimate example of living one’s own ideals. He had an insatiable authentic desire to find, then speak, TRUTH no matter its target. So much so, it bordered on self- destructive. He did HIS show, HIS way. HE chose HIS topics, guests, and was always willing to do his own investigative work rather than rely solely on someone else's presentation.

Michael was one of the few people whose personal example inspired ma and he almost re-sold me on the relevance of radio! We were lightly discussing the possibility of grooming me as a fill-in host by putting me on the air weekends to cut my talk radio teeth. But, I went back to work for the Rockies and the bike tour I was planning for the fall quickly consumed me. I forgot all about radio again.

We abruptly lost touch until late in 2006 or early 2007 when I called to say hello. He phoned back a couple of days later, said he would get with me soon, but I never heard from him again.

Michael was always suspicious of power and because he was outspoken made many enemies--some quite powerful. Someone firebombed his studio; that "someone" was never found. He also spoke regularly about people ransacking his house, tapping his phone, disappearing communications, strangers threatening and following him. I was skeptical at first but it was not the sort of brazen claim of a person who was ‘touting’ it. He was concerned. Michael had just gotten his CCW permit and the last few times I saw him was always carrying a gun.

There are people who believe that his stroke is a cover story and I’ll be honest: after what I saw firsthand I can understand why. However, Michael chain-smoked, was overweight, and had extremely high blood pressure. He missed several shows due to health reasons in the short 2+ months we hung out. He was NEVER going to quit smoking, but expressed concerns to me personally about his health; and this was 2 ½ years ago.

Our friendship was short but one of my most influential. Michael Corbin was one of the few people I've ever admired. He was not rich and, by “radio’s” definition, struggled to repeat the “success” he had achieved early in his career. Nevertheless, this was the special aspect Michael Corbin; what drew people to him and his show: He put his ideals and truth far ahead of commercial reward. He believed in something. That’s what drove him. When I learned of his death online last week a wave of disgust and shame came over me. It forced me to reflect on his example and, of course, made me look in the mirror. That “wave” is lingering.

One of the last things Michael said to me was that if you have a message, it should be spoken “out of love.” I had no idea what he meant at the time and it honestly annoyed me. I have realized what he meant was that real truth and a genuine sense of purpose does not have its nexus in ego and self-interest. It springs from authentic concern, "love", for others. The world is full of whores. People solely concerned with presenting their "product" marketed as truth™; a “worldview” contrived to make a buck, or in an effort to impose their will on others by putting on a dramatic, thunderous display of intellectual wit; rhetorically bullwhipping people into a compliant state. I finally understand what he was getting at.

I had not talked to him in almost two years and he has been gone since March. I am sick that it took me seven months to learn of his death. It seems odd, but I feel the loss. A loss not just for me; there is a void “out there” now. The world is a less authentic place. I have thought over and over again that now, Michael, you have the answers. You know the ultimate truth! 

Rest well my friend.

6/10/07: Santa Fe-Marketed Mirage of an Idea

*Journal*

I'm really fighting some doubt right now. It's centered on the radio station, and considering I haven't even started, I'm annoyed. I can't shake the feeling that I've bound myself into something that's different than what I expected and wanted. I've been exposed to too many business-minded people; talking about "sales & revenue" like they're running a fucking 7-11.

I haven't really looked that hard at why I avoided the [optional, uncompensated] airshift last week. It felt completely foreign... like I wasn't prepared for it. I'm not part of that team yet. I'm still "on-deck"; don't quite feel like I belong there. This is NOT how I envisioned this going! Where's the excitement? Where's the passion? Enthusiasm? Energy? I don't understand why I'm still in such a state of limbo. Am I that far off course? Have I been kidding myself? What exactly will it take for me to engage? Have I been out of radio too long? Am I beyond jaded? Jaded to the point where I can no longer function? "Functioning" is not an option. I must pull myself up and get busy. For better or worse.

I had not expected this. I figured that when I got here I 'd be raging to get going.

Yes, I'm frustrated. Intimidated. Doubting myself...and wondering if I've gotten lost. I have changed a lot since we were in New Mexico before. I see the city [Santa Fe] as a money trap. The marketed mirage of an idea. A mirage that evaporates upon examination into nothing more noble than image-driven commerce. A lack of authenticity. A city of contradictions all concealed beneath a veil of contrived "culture" and "mystique." The energy [I've felt] is still here, but it doesn't emanate from the plaza [or Canyon Rd.]. It's elsewhere, which is why, I think, I wanted to live out here [in Pojoaque].

So, Todd, what is it that's not quite right? I've had the recurring dream: cracking the mic and not being able to finish a sentence. Not being able to communicate effectively. Having no control of my voice, both literally and figuratively. I have to honestly evaluate what it is I hope to "be" here, then decide how to get there. I came to Santa Fe, ultimately, to be part of something authentic. That word again! To integrate with whatever it was that I perceived was organic; a significant step toward singularity. I feel as though whenever I get close to hitting on something, I get yanked back... like I have a intermittent or bad connection.

What's my voice become over the last few years? Dissent is an obvious choice, but my politics and sociology have become muddled over the... months. And, what if I don't mesh with this "community?" I'm not a business person; I'm barely a capitalist anymore!

Let's be realistic: no one there is REALLY doing ANYTHING! I don't need to blow anyone away. I don't know to what preconceived standard I'm holding myself, but it shouldn't be so daunting...

5/11/07: Denver-Red Flags in Santa Fe

2 1/2 months since I've written... on hold waiting for K*** (radio station) to come through. Mentally, I've checked out. I've also started smoking again. Cigars were my undoing. They got to be more and more until I realized that I might as well just smoke. A few mental earthquakes sealed their fate, and I essentially became a regular smoker again about three weeks ago.

Life at [with the Rockies at] Coors Field is stable. I chatted with them about [the move to] Santa Fe right off the bat, and they have no problem with me working all the way up until we leave. The Giants are in town w/ Barry Bonds. He's 10 away from Hank Aaron, and hitting well! Clint Hurdle [won't] pitch to him. How annoying! Two more after tonight [Tim Lincecum's first ML win], then Arizona's in next week. I finally get to see Randy Johnson. I've really enjoyed the ballpark again this year. I attribute it to the fact that I'm not emotionally attached to the job. I know I'm leaving and just want to enjoy it.

... For the next three weeks, my focus is Santa Fe. The ownership plan has changed and the station will now be part of a group rather than a stand-alone. I'm rather disappointed with that. The challenge is trying to figure out how things will go with the new owner [Skippy]. Supposedly, "nothing's going to change" [from the original plan] but we need to begin getting specifics. [The program director] has been strangely ambiguous about how things will shake out. In our discussions, I think I've theoretically held every shift on K***; his preference for me appears to be, of all things, mornings. Apparently they're letting the current host go. I have no idea...it seems a bit odd that he has no clear plan for his station after the purchase.

I don't know what to think or to expect. The initial "high" of moving back to New Mexico is wearing off... The long process [since February] has sapped most of the excitement, but I'm still looking forward to it. I need to begin to get mentally prepared to do radio again...to MOVE again. I'm getting a bit nostalgic about Denver. We've really enjoyed it here. Colorado's a nice place to live!