So Sorry Goodbye

So Sorry Goodbye

After a few days of trying, frustration is winning out. I have written to many people but nothing has developed. I'm talking about helping my guy Mike. I fear I have failed.

Mike Randall is my favorite weatherman. He works for WKBW Channel 7 (ABC) in Buffalo, New York. Mike has had his work hours reduced... cut down to almost nothing... all because he grew a few grey hairs (at least he has hair), clocked in a few too many years and generally made the newly hired staff of the morning show look like what they are... youngsters.

The morning show crew are all fresh faced and bushy tailed journalists eagerly seeking careers in broadcast television. Yeah, yeah... this is fine an dandy, the kids have to learn someplace and at sometime, but not at the expense of seasoned professionals like Mike.

Seasoned professional is a cover word... what it really means is someone who has been around the block a few times and hopefully by all that travel, has learned a few things. Mike has been there and done that but it is of no value in WKBW's world of today.

I supposed Mike could take advantage of some of the services that WKBW promotes. He might get a discount on a "Quick Lift"... to hide the fact that he wasn't just out of the womb. He might try "Just For Men" to disguise his silver tresses. He might ever get substantial discounts by doing so AND become a spokesperson for these products. He could... but then he wouldn't be who he really is... a professional, a journalist and a weatherman.

Funny how the station has all this advertising on products to stay young... but just who exactly are they marketing too. Does a 20 something need wrinkle cream? Do they need to hide their grey? Do they need to have a face lift? Come on... 

The people these products are being marketed to are those same people that WKBW is laying off because of age. So why are 50 somethings supporting this? Would be nice if all those this pertains too would stop buying and start being who they really are... but give me a minute... I'm coloring my hair.

I thought I could somehow make a difference and help my guy Mike. I won't stop trying but I feel that I am a failure... sorry Mike. No one is listening, maybe the batteries are dead... or maybe I need to get it on You Tube! (Mike do you have a video of you with cats?)

Mike, I did have some thoughts for when you are doing all those things that WKBW says you are eager to do, but having a job prevented you... things that probably won't bring in much money (who needs to eat anyway) but lots of satisfaction. 

Over the years I've noticed just how great you are with kids... and thought why not make that strength something to build upon.

My thought was to start a new educational (site, feature, account) on social media. A place... where you can teach, especially kids, all about weather. You are a gifted actor and educated weatherman so are perfect for this.

Imagine a You Tube network, going into the schools... segments to teach the kids and anyone else too... all about weather. You could call it "Weather ED... from Mike." (Of course if you changed your name to Ed it would have a ring to it.) You could even make in person visits to area schools. I did a quick look on You Tube and no one has thought of this as yet.

Who knows... WKBW might even be interested in a roving weather ambassador such as you. (But get it in writing first.) AND really... isn't Buffalo the weather capital of the US?

My favorite phase is this, "change the way you look at things and things you look at change" from Wayne Dyer. Mike look at this change ahead in a new way, who knows you might become the Mr. Robert's of generations to come.

Heck yeah... Welcome to the Weather Neighborhood! Mike Randall's weather neighborhood.

LMC

 

More About Mike

More About Mike

Well 24 hours have passed since I wrote about my guy Mike. To refresh memory, Mike is Mike Randall of WKBW Channel 7 (ABC) in Buffalo, New York. My recent post was about how Mike had his work hours reduced and his being pushed out of the station.

I talked with Mike, or rather chatted via Facebook. He was flattered that I cared but basically said he was hurt to be shoved aside as he had been, but that it was a fact of life. He was gracious and never once said a negative thing about his employer. In fact he was completely and totally loyal to his employer even though that employer wasn't loyal to him.

Mike Randall is a consummate professional to the very end.

Me on the other hand, well I'm not so generous. I began some research and it appears that I am late to the game. I guess I must have had my head in a hole because all this began in August. From what I am reading, from the various newspaper articles online, various media posts and then the various comments from people it is a case of "so sad goodbye".

Why is it not being screamed that this is blatant discrimination? Why is every person in the area over the age of 50 just letting this happen? Mike Randall is not old, he is in his late 50's, and is a very good weatherman. The main comment from the station management is that the NEW chief meteorologist is better with the weather computers... Mike was working the weather computers before this guy was born!

Sure technology changes but it surely doesn't mean older people can't master it... I get that all the time. Little smirks from younger folk about working the computer... I happen to be great at it, better than most in fact. Yet I didn't attend schools, I did it all the hard way... I worked my way up to what I can do today. I learned by doing... making mistakes, fixing them and going on.

I am a graphic artist, a computer designer and superb typesetter. In the early days I apprenticed and learned my trade (Graphic Arts International Union) when it meant something. When my field began turning to computers, I learned each one as it appeared. When the desktops showed up, I bought one and spent every evening after working a full day, learning this new skill.

I got many different programs and learned each one. I spent hundreds of hours teaching myself the art of drawing on computers, of working with photos, video, flip books and so much more. I taught myself Mac's and PC's. I can work data bases with ease and I am one of the best researchers around. Yet I still get the smirks when I apply for a job...

The... 'how can an old person like you possibly do this kind of work'... smirk.

Well world, guess what... I can, I do and I'm great at it!

Same goes with the likes of Mike Randall. He has been a weatherman for years and he has been a feature reporter for years. He learned his craft by doing, just as I learned mine. He is good at it and he is loved for it. So it comes down to the age... 

Well world age is only a number. Tell me would you prefer your president/prime minister to be 61 or 16??? How comfortable would be be if your surgeon was 25 not 52??? 

Age brings life wisdom... you see things totally differently, from a place of experience. You have learned to balance enthusiasm with measured paces, to balance raw youthful power with careful strategy, to balance the good for one against the greater good for many. 

To willfully discard this life wisdom, this essence of what creates human history... just for youth is wrong, totally wrong.

Why are we so afraid of aging? Is it that we are just afraid of dying and if we put it out of our minds, it won't happen? Well I have news for you world... it happens and will happen to each and every one of us.

Mike Randall is just a weatherman on TV, he is not a super hero or a rock star. What he is, is a person who is being discarded for growing older, yet we all are growing older and we can't stop that fact. What we can do is say enough of taking a segment of our society and pretending they don't exist anymore. I for one will not willing go find an ice flow and disappear and you world... shouldn't let that happen to anyone.

It is wrong to discriminate for race, religion, sex, preference, nationality and yes, it is wrong to discriminate for age.

Mike may want to spend more time doing those "things" he always wanted to do... but I'm sure that was in his retirement plan. He is not retired though, he is still trying to earn a living and caring for his family. Mike has paid his dues, he gave for 30 years. As long as he does his job well Mike deserves to be allowed to continue working. I wonder just how well WKBW management are doing their own jobs?

The Mike Randall's of this world deserve more... as do all who have made it through life to reach this point in time. WKBW is wrong to remove an employee because of how old they are and we need to tell them so. Let them know...
https://www.facebook.com/pages/WKBW-TV/60388086891

Maybe together we can save my guy Mike's job... and maybe our own jobs too!

If you have the time, please let Mike know we are rooting for him! https://www.facebook.com/MikeRandallwkbwtv7

SAVE my guy Mike

My Guy Mike

Today I received some bad news... I hate getting bad news. Today I learned that my favorite weatherman was on the way out. Goodbye, adios, see ya around. My guy Mike was having his hours reduced at the station where he worked.

Lately I have been living in southern Ontario, Canada. This was a big change for me coming from Arizona. I was miserable with this change, ever so homesick, and for the life of me I could never figure out Canadian measurements. Canada is metric.

The worst was weather... I never knew if I should dig out sweaters, boots or shorts until I actually went outside. Just how hot is 29 degrees Celsius anyway?

But God is good and He sent me to Buffalo... not physically but through the wonders of the universe I could access Buffalo TV stations on my TV. Yeah!!!

I was always an early riser and happily watched the ABC affiliate Channel 7 WKBW station. I loved Ginger Geoffrey and my guy Mike... my wonderful weatherman Mike Randall.

One day this past summer, Ginger moved on. Shortly after that the station announced a "whole new morning show redesign"... so instead of replacing Ginger with seasoned pros they brought in kids from school. Oh I know kids have to start some place and I was willing to let them settle in, learn the ropes and grow... but little things began to irk me. I hate irks.

The irks were minor at first but grew until I actively began to dislike the juveniles hired as morning anchors. The final straw came one morning when the kids were discussing birthdays... that particular day it was Kelly Rippa's birthday. Kelly of the Live With Kelly Rippa and Michael Streahan show.

"Gosh... she really, really looks good for her age," said the teenybopper anchor.
"I hope I look as good when I get to that age."

Well that was it... I had had enough. Kelly Rippa just turned 42.

I was disgusted but held on for there was still my guy Mike... Mike told me things about the weather I never knew I wanted to know, he told me when to wear shorts and when to wear boots. He told me the real temperature not this Celsius stuff. He was funny, charming and I surely did wish he had a single brother. I was a happy clam when he was on.

Last month WKBW celebrated my guy Mike's 30 years at that station. Hooray... he needed to be honored. He was "chief meteorologist" so let the world know... but then something changed. 

I first noticed one morning when the teenyboppers signed over to him saying "senior meteorologist" instead of "chief"... hey what's up here... hmmmm

Next a new meteorologist appeared... another "baby" to break in.

Then he began disappearing from broadcasts... missing out reporting at noon, missing days. Ohhhhh something was up for sure. I became suspicious.

Today I saw a posting from the Buffalo News... a print newspaper with an online service. A long story told the grim tale... my guy Mike was having his hours cut... his pay too probably... my guy Mike after giving his all for 30 years was being officially relieved of duty... whether he wanted it or not.

Now this hits home on another front for I am the victim of age discrimination. I have been struggling to live in this "youth obsessed" world since my hubbies passing. I was forced into the work force after watching my official retirement disappear in a sea of wall street greed and corruption.

Now my guy Mike was facing it too. 

Well I have had enough... I am tired of the world thinking because you have a little age that you are useless. I can do more now than I could as a kid. I am better in every way. I survived the long road to get to this age, survived great loss, great disasters and great suffering and yet here... I... am. I am strong, intelligent and ever so creative.

OK I admit a few things changed... maybe I'm not as fast but I use my noggin and make up for it. Maybe I'm not as nimble... but here is a use for those teenyboppers so let them be nimble. I'm great on the computer so who cares if I have 2 million friends on Facebook... the ones I have actually mean something, they are "real" friends.

STOP trying to put me out to pasture... I don't like grass! Stop trying to put my guy Mike out there too!

It is time the world stopped glorifying youth. It is time that business stopped chasing them and the superficial lives they are now leading. Yeah kids may have a little more spending money these days... ours is tied up in mortgages, college funds and caring for the family. We don't waste what we have, we worked too hard to get it. We don't glorify violence, we fought the wars and know it first hand. We don't ignore people, we talk face to face. WE ARE THE REAL WORLD.

So ABC WKBW Channel 7... wake up and stop the age discrimination. Look at who your real viewers are and what we stand for. Give my guy Mike back his slot on morning/noon weather and remember greytoppers outnumber teenyboppers AND remember who really puts the bucks in your and your advertisers pockets?

WKBW bring back my guy Mike!

Rituals...

Rituals

Have you even wondered just how much rituals control our lives?

My life certainly is. I awoke this morning and was snuggling in my bed. It was warm and pleasant and I was just luxuriating in the moment. Suddenly I sat upright.

"Crap!!!!" I shouted as I bolted out of bed, grabbing my robe and a pair of shoes.

It was garbage day!

As I ran, I tried to put the shoes on, hopping on one foot and crashing into walls and furniture.

I made it to the garage and pressed the door opener. My rushing dramatically stopped. Cautiously I peered out... looking one way and then the other. I had to get the garbage out before anyone SAW me. An extra week with stinking garbage a lessor threat than being seen without make-up.

In my community refuse pick up comes once a week but although it is a necessity of life, it must always be discrete. It is a fact of life that must never be discussed or worse, seen. Garbage must "appear" on the morning of pickup.

In the old days, it was just garbage. It was relatively easy, everything went into one big can. No problem. It was a weekly chore that I was up to, that I could handle. Now, as if lives are not complicated enough, it must be sorted. We recycle.

As a recycle novice I had much to learn. As in all things there are rules.

The first day I put out styrofoam... a faux pax! Styrofoam is never recycled. There is no technology to do so and probably never will be. It is one of those great human creations which has come back to bite us. Styrofoam has a half shelf life of a billion years... that and cockroaches will be around long after humans are forgotten.

My refuse engineer (formerly garbage man) carefully removed the styrofoam packing material that I had placed into the recycle container, placing it on the ground. And then left it.

There are more rules... recycles can't be dirty. Tin cans, bottles need to be clean... washed of all residue. I now spend much of my time washing garbage. Oh I do miss the old days!

There are plastics and papers too. It gives a person a headache... and yes medicines are considered toxic waste and must be sent to special collection centers. Remember when you could happily flush toxic materials and dead goldfish down the toilet with no remorse.

Recycle bins now take up more room than do garbage bins. You need a "staff" and a "dayplanner" to manage it all. For me recycle pick-up comes at 6:30 am (5:30 in summer) and garbage at 9 am. If you are off by one minute you are out of luck.

I have been forced to write myself a note to remember garbage day. My memory was the second thing to go... the first was my waistline. It is a large note, one that can be seen from space. I put it on my kitchen counter in the hopes I can't miss it. Yet I can.

Since refuse containers are not permitted on our street curbs in daylight, we are forced to do so in the dark hours. In the dark hours, I am zombie like... a sleep deprived coma-like state I'm often in. Just ask my cats. So I must put the note out at a time when I can both see and remember it.

Fortunately  I can ignore anything. A quick look at my housekeeping would attest to this. I can walk by, cook a meal by and do dishes (ha, ha) by and never see it. Even if it jumped out and poked me... I could ignore it. I was married for years and learned from the best.

My cats are useless at helping... only if it involves food do they remind me of anything.

I am often forced to react as today, with shear terror at missing the week's pick-up. I am forced to perform this weekly ritual in my night gown and robe. I really do need to update my wardrobe.

It is said that man has come a long, long way... I just wish it was shorter to the curb.

Sleep... It's Over-rated...

Have you ever awakened in the morning with a cat on your head?

Two cats let me live with them, provided... I meet certain requirements. I must offer gourmet food, maid service and a valet service upon demand.

Sometimes I sleep in... sometimes I am late meeting my daily morning commitments. At those times my cats are required to go to extremes in dealing with me. Hence sitting on my head.

Mister is my male, a black and white feral cat who discovered me and knew a good thing when he saw it. Life in the desert is usually very short but life with me is never ending. Mister is going on 15. His life revolves around naps... with the odd meal and bathroom visits. Mostly he naps.

He likes to think that he's the big Kahuna... like all males he struts... but usually he passes the chore of training me to his partner in crime. 

Magic on the other hand almost never seems to nap. She was also a stray and upon checking the "sucker hotline", a cat listing of humans to tap for handouts, she decided I was the perfect mark.

Magic is a tiny, completely black female who has tolerated me for 12 years.

I am ashamed to say... Magic is smarter than I.

She doesn't have any degrees but few can match her intelligence and few can match her ability to eat.  Her day revolves around just how much she can pack into her petite body. She likes breakfast served around 6 am.

Me... I like to sleep until 7.

Big mistake.

Magic, my cat, begins her cat alarm clock around 5:30 am, she starts scratching on a chair near the bed. I have an instinctive reaction to this and usually respond with an unintelligible garbled shout. Should this not do the trick, Magic moves on to the bathroom nearby. She puts a paw under the cabinet door (which has  automatic closing) and pulls it out slightly, then lets it slam shut. The resulting "whump, whump" has me throwing something handy, shoe, pillow, clock it doesn't matter.

I know what you are thinking... get a weapon. I've tried.

I thought I'd outsmart her with a spray bottle of water by the bed. Yeah right! Try to find it in the dark and try not to spray yourself in the face in your sleep muddled mindset. I've thought of a gun... but I like my feet, my furniture and my pictures on the wall, besides the neighbor's would complain.

Sometimes none of this works and Magic must resort to mental telepathy. She should be a government weapon... she can send mind pictures to rival the best the CIA could ever muster.

She sits on the nightstand, next to my sleeping head... and stares.

Reacting is a primal response. My inherent Sixth Sense kicks in. There is the sense that a predator is staring at me and I bolt. It's a case of flight or fight and who wants to fight with a Sabre Toothed Tiger!

"Get up, get up," her mind is saying.

Usually when this tactic is used, I bolt out of bed.

"Ah-h... you're up!" she sends back.

Still... there are the very, very few times when it doesn't work. Like last night.

As a last resort... a final, cat desperate attempt to wake the dead... she sits on my head. It is both hard to sleep and to breathe with a cat on your head.

So I get up... stagger to the kitchen and put down, two artfully arranged bowls of gourmet tidbits with proper garnishing... and wait. All this before my first cup of coffee.

If all goes well, I get my coffee. If it doesn't,  I get to open another can.

I've often thought of getting a dog but really... do I want to sleep in?