It’s Not Big It’s Large (Photo credit: Wikipedia)
Most of my last year working for United Engineers and Constructors was spent in Syracuse, NY. And Oswego. I enjoyed some things about that phase, which was the tail-end of my nuclear engineering career — the Syracuse Speed Skating Club and living on an expense account, mostly — but I didn’t love being on the road 8-10 months of each year, which is why it was the tail-end.
Not that I loved living in Philadelphia all that much, either. It’s a great town, but I just wasn’t a big city person any more. Visiting is excellent…I spent most of a day in Chicago a couple of weeks ago just walking around and looking at buildings and imagining eating at all the hole-in-the wall restaurants I passed. But the density of cars and people (too high) and trees (too low) always makes me glad I live in a small city in Michigan, minutes away from farms and forests.
Philadelphia did have WXPN, though…88.5 on your FM dial. That and WRTI (90.1) were the first public radio stations I consciously listened to. WXPN in particular introduced me to Bob Edwards, Sylvia Poggioli, Carl Kassell, and a metric ton of great music, and it’s the first NPR affiliate I volunteered at. This was back when stations stuck volunteers in a small room with actual telephones with actual twisty cords and handsets dials and allowed strangers to take Visa and Mastercard numbers from other strangers so they could make next year’s budget.
Because United Engineers wanted me at work at 8 every morning, I volunteered for the early phone shift during Michaela Majoun’s morning show. It was her first year at XPN, and she was fantastic. (She’s still there; she’s probably still fantastic.) So I got up well before dawn and went to the University of Pennsylvania’s campus and didn’t commit any credit card fraud and had a great time inside an actual radio station.
As I left, I stopped at the water fountain to get a drink and while leaning over and slurping I saw a pair of pointy and heavily tooled leather cowboy boots out of the corner of my eye. They weren’t mine — I wore very plain brown ones when I was working at the Nine Mile Point nuke plant, and none at all with my three piece suit at the home office in Philly — so they caught my attention. I lifted my head from the fountain and looked up and then further up and still further up and there was Lyle Lovett’s unmistakeable face and further up still was Lyle Lovett’s unmistakeable hair. So I did what comes naturally: I stammered. “I-I really really liked your latest album.” He smiled, said thank you, got a drink of water himself (from th-th-the same fountain!) and then went into the studio to be charming with Michaela Majoun.
You were expecting more, right? Sorry. But I was expecting much less from that day, so it was 100% worth getting up at 5am for.
All this because we saw Lyle Lovett in concert a few days back, an anniversary present to ourselves. Almost three hours of great music, and as we left the Michigan Theater via a rarely-used exit we found ourselves in the loading area backstage. There, just past the bass player putting away his standup, and after thanking him and the cellist (yes, really, a cellist) for the great performance and picking up a discarded set list which I’ve used to recreate the concert as a playlist for Kat…there Lyle Lovett was, again, taking a photo and chatting with Jeff Daniels.
Nowhere near as close as public radio got me. But close enough.
He’s still really tall.
