The news arrived yesterday kind of like the Spring winds that have been blowing around here for the last many weeks, sudden, and out of the clear blue. Dick Clark had passed away at the age of 82. He was a product of the WWII generation having lived his teen-years when America was at war and in his youth he knew the depression and rationing and doing without. I've long believed that his childhood contributed greatly to his love of life and the joy he always seemed to get from sharing the musical acts he invited to his Bandstand each week. It felt personal, like, "Hey Rick, listen to this, I've got the Supremes at the house!" And beginning in the 70's it seemed right that Dick Clark should be the one welcoming each New Year as if it would soon be a record we'd rate. Some of those New Years were easier to dance to than others but they all started with a good beat.
I can't imagine anyone of my baby-boom generation that hasn't been touched in some way by the work Dick Clark did in his life. The musical acts he introduced us to on Bandstand became some of the greatest artists of my generation. He changed the music we listened to. I fondly remember turning the dial by hand and then fine tuning the station to watch American Bandstand on Saturdays. Some watched the show to see the kids dancing and learn the latest steps. Others watched the musicians that performed on the show and copied their clothes and style with their own high school band. I watched Dick Clark. I watched how he interviewed people, how he conducted the show and thought how cool it would be to host a program like that!
Today lots of people are saying "I'll Miss Dick Clark.", and it's true they will. But I've learned as I've aged that what we're really saying is "I'll miss another piece of who I am." With the passing of each family member and celebrity, with the loss of each childhood hangout we realize we're closing chapters of our own life story. That doesn't mean we have to stop living though. Now's the time to become the greatest story teller ever. Now's the time to move the living room furniture, and dance to old American Bandstand shows. they must be on cable somewhere. It's time to teach the kids about the things you grew up with, the people who entertained you and how it made a difference in your life. Let Dick Clarks passing be a reminder to all baby-boomers that we have been witnesses to some of the greatest advances in history. We've got tons to celebrate..and remember. Mae West once said, "You only live life once, but if you do it right, once is enough." Dick Clark did it right. That's why we miss him…and the part of us he represented. Rest well dear friend.
This is a love story that begins and ends with sadness, but had a whole lot of joy in between.
In April of 1998 I got a call from Dr. Paul Oberbroeckling at the radio station telling me he needed a favor. That weekend a puppy had been brought into the emergency clinic by a woman who just wanted him put to sleep. She said he had "fallen down some stairs and hurt himself" and was just too much trouble. His injuries included broken ribs and he had to be put on oxygen. The injuries suggested much more than just a fall. The clinic staff had the woman sign a release and they administered emergency care. Now Dr. O was calling to see if I could help him find a home. I told him I'd call Diane and be right back in touch with him and when I reached her she simply said, "When can I go get him?" The next day we saw Max for the first time and it was love at first sight…for all of us!!
Max was without question the most loving creature I have ever known in my life. He loved life, and he loved everyone he met. He seemed to know that every day was a gift he almost missed out on and his love knew no good day or bad day, he just always loved. When Diane had her stroke Max would sit and listen as I told him how worried I was about her and what we needed to do to make her better. I snuck him into the hospital one day and I'm convinced when Diane saw how happy he was to see her she started improving on the spot!! When she came home he was always there with her. Always. He was Diane's companion in the garden during the day where he'd lay for hours while she planted and weeded. He was on the mat next to the tub whenever she took a hot bath and every night he slept at her feet on the bed. When the grandkids were over he'd make a point of licking them all and letting them hug him. When we had parties at the house he'd always be in the middle of it, eyes on the floor waiting for someone to drop something, which they always managed to do!! When I napped, he napped with me. All I had to do is pretend to yawn, and he would beat me to the bed! And more times than not when I sat at this desk in my office at home he'd be on his pillow beside me, when he wasn't with Diane. Unending love for those that had given him a second chance.
Today, the week of his 14th birthday, Max suffered a seizure that blinded and paralyzed him and we lost him. It would be bad enough if we had just lost our dog, but we lost so much more than that. We lost what was good in life. Let's face it, times are tough. There's not much on the news to cheer about. It's hard at work, it's hard making ends meet, it's hard getting older. People seem more interested in yelling at each other and criticizing each other than they do helping each other and loving each other. Max was that in our lives. He was the constant reminder that just being alive and loving those around you mattered more than all the nonsense. What you did and what you made paled in comparison to how you loved. I will, for a long time, desperately miss that. But I will forever be grateful for the love story we shared with Max. God Bless you old bear.
For the past 20-years Iâve had the pleasure of welcoming KEZW listeners to a new day each morning, and in the beginning it was just that, a pleasure. But lately itâs become a bit more of a challenge for everyone. Letâs face it, the news hasnât been a lot of fun to listen to lately. For anyone 10 or younger America has always been at war. Weâve been living with a recession that has caused many of our family and friends to lose jobs, or give up careers theyâd worked a lifetime towards. And yesterday came the news that 1 in 6 Americans is living in poverty. Hard to wake up with a smile when thatâs the world you wake up to. Well, I have an idea how we might be able to dust ourselves off and get a bounce back in our step. Weâve waited quite a while for someone else to right the ship so maybe we should try to tackle this ourselves. Seems to me thereâs a group among us who have already made this journey and we need to sit down and listen to how they got through it, and grew prosperous from it.
When I started at KEZW in 1991 I was spellbound by the stories of my grandparents, and the WWII generation that made up most of the listening audience of AM 1430. The first 10-years I was host of this show America was living in pretty tall cotton and we couldnât imagine a world where people chose between dinner or a new pair of shoes. How could anyone possibly have lived without a three-car garage? Walk to schoolâ¦are you kidding me? And wear the clothes my brother wore the year before? Right! But every older person I had on the air told the same stories which meant they were true, or there was one heck of an old person conspiracy going on! We heard our parents and grandparents talk about growing their own vegetables and stretching out meals by adding water. Kids played games in back-yards, rode bikes for hours and read stories of the far-away places kids today see on TV, and their laptops. Children of the 40âs slipped notes to each other in school, and their fathers wrote letters from the battlefield. Todayâs kids text, and soldiers Skype or call on cell phones.
Iâm not suggesting we give up all the new inventions that have shaped our lives and made them largely more enjoyable. I am saying until lately itâs been easier for us then it was for our grandparents. Baby boomers were beneficiaries of the great American post-war spirit of the late 40âs and 50âs. We loved the world we were born into and helped ourselves freely to the things our parents created for us. And we passed that love of things along to our children and wanted nothing more than for them to have the best we could afford, and many times even more than we could afford. But we forgot one thing. We never shared the lessons that were supposed to go with the gifts. We ignored the words of our elders who enjoyed the TVâs, microwaves and other new gadgets of their day, but didnât buy them until they had the money in the bank. They didnât wait at the store beginning at midnight to be the first to buy anything, unless it was a war bond. Many WWII vets tell of getting the first pair of new shoes they ever owned when they enlisted. When I was young we had Christmas Clubs at the bank and saved all year to buy one gift for Mom and Dad and siblings. And we were so proud of that.
If we want to fix the problems of today I think we need to have a long talk with the people who survived the Great Depression and WWII while theyâre still here to share the lessons they learned. In fact, I think we need to create a Department of Life Lessons. Staff it with people who put on potluck suppers at church to raise money for the community. Weâll need someone who remembers baking pies for the neighborhood, or sharing leftovers when you had them. Heck, weâll need to start by actually meeting our neighbors. Weâve got to add the guy who can make an overnight sleepover in the backyard seem like a trip to a foreign land and throw in a storyteller who can take us anywhereâ¦with his words. And weâll need people to remind us to put money away for a rainy day. And we need to hear that when one of us hurts it only gets better when all of us helps. Thereâs plenty of help all around usâ¦just waiting to be asked. The Department of Life Lessons. Ready to start
Saturday morning at 8:30a I am going to be on my back deck enjoying a beautiful Colorado morning, much as I was five-years ago. I'll have my coffee, and my paper, and Diane will be nearby. I suspect we'll both have tears in our eyes as we look at each other for that will mark the exact moment five-years ago that Diane had her stroke, in that very spot. In a split second we went from enjoying a rare moment of time alone to having our world turned upside down and our lives changed forever. From the frantic ride to the hospital, to the zillions of questions and tests and then finally a bed in the critical care wing of Aurora South Medical Center we were, for a time, no longer in control of our own lives and that ended up being a good thing because we were placed in the loving and caring hands of people who knew better than us at that moment. I know without hesitation that we would be living much more difficult lives if it were not for the amazing people at Aurora South Medical Center who responded immediately upon our arrival and seemed to always be there right before we needed them. They didn't just treat Diane, they cared for her and one special angel on their staff, Dawn, was always there to make the dark moments brighter. And then there's Cindy's amazing team at Spalding Rehabilitation Hospital. I'm only half kidding when I say they not only restored Diane's speech, they made it better than before the stroke. It was at Spalding one day that Diane realized she had been blessed with a second chance. I'll never forget that moment. I'll also never forget the moment in her hospital room when she recited the Lords Prayer word for word. They were the first complete sentences she spoke. Father Steve still talks about it being one of the most powerful moments of prayer he's ever experienced.
I will also never forget the incredible outpouring of support we received from KEZW listeners. When I first went on the air I never said where Diane was hospitalized and I asked my staff not to release that information. And yet somehow people found out and soon Diane's room had more flowers than the Rose Garden. And the cards came by the hundreds. Please know she draws strength to this day from your kindness.
I must say that I don't know anyone stronger on this Earth than my wife. Five-years after she couldn't put two words together in a sentence she's managing the Colorado Freedom Memorial project, acting as part time room mother for Larissa, babysitting all three grandkids a couple days a week, taking care of me and being the best friend a person could have. I am inspired by her strength, her generosity for others and the determination she showed to recover. There was a bit of luck in it as well, but it was love from family and friends, faith and sheer willpower that helped her recover.
And so this Saturday morning we'll hold hands a little longer, smile a little wider, and have the peace that comes in knowing each day is a gift. Happy Anniversary Di.
I will admit from the very beginning that I was one of those very excited about IKEA coming to Denver. Not in the mass hysteria way that many of my fellow Coloradoans were consumed by. I didnât have a desire to wait in line 4-days, but in a curious way. Iâve driven past many IKEAâs on trips to Europe and friends of mine from around the world have told me how cool the store was. So, when it came time for IKEA to open in Denver, I wanted to be there. I even had Diane talked into going on opening day until the bat flew into our house and we got a bit sidetracked. Finally, at 3:45p on Friday, we pulled off I-25 and County Line Road and began our adventure.
Now I must say the site of police cars spaced every 100-yeards or so for about a mile made me wonder what I was getting in to, but we followed their directions and were led to the street going to the IKEA parking garage. Dozens and dozens of vested traffic directors guided us first along side IKEA, then to the front of IKEA, then under IKEA into the parking garage, then past lots of empty parking spaces and out the other side of the parking garage and back onto the street leaving IKEA. After all this time I had just be sent beside, in front of, under, back in front of and out IKEA without stopping. I felt like Moses seeing the Promised Land from afar, but never entering. What the heck just happened?? So, back into line we went, past a few more vested traffic directors and finally, we were granted a parking space. Finally, we were on the path to see the wizard, and I have to admit I was a little excited!
I wish I could think of something more poetic to describe my first impression entering the store, but OMG is all I can think of. This place is HUGE, but it doesnât seem like it when youâre in it at first. You start walking through rows and rows of themed merchandise. Kitchens, Bathrooms, Bedrooms, Living Rooms, Home Offices and thereâs even room after decorated room for each area. You also find bins of merchandise that are very reasonably priced. Odds and Ends that youâll find useful and probably a lot of stuff you donât need, but who can pass up the price. It was obvious to me that many in the herd have never been to Europe and some of the styles of items puzzled them. One lady standing next to me said âItâs about time Denver had authentic European furnishings available.â I didnât have the heart to show her the made in China label on the back of the lamp she was holding. Iâm also hoping they found assistance for the person who said âIs this Heaven?â, to be answered by his spouse who said âNo, itâs IKEA.â Thatâs just wrong.
My advice to you on your first visit is to not load up your cart at first. Walk all the way through the store. Go to the restaurant and enjoy some Swedish Meatballs, then go back through with a better understanding of what there is. Itâs so HUGE youâll be changing your mind a couple of times about things. What did we end up buying? The lovely new office chair Iâm sitting in while writing this; a new comforter set for our bed and a few odds and ends. It was two-hours of window shopping, planning for our next visit and seeing things you donât usually see around here. It was obvious many were there just to say they were there. Some wondered around in a daze looking for a place to lie down, mostly husbands. But I LOVE THE PLACE!!! I canât wait to go back, but Diane says itâll be a couple weeks. Sheâs afraid Iâll ask if this is Heaven again!
This last week I took vacation and for the first time in my adult life, didn't leave town. Counting weekends it was 9-days of doing nothing but work around the house and we worked ever single one of those 9 days. Diane and I had a plan going in. We wanted to clean up some gardens, work a bit on the yard and maybe have a little free time left over for a day trip to the mountains or something fun like that. The fun part never happened. For 216-hours we never got any further than the yard. Oh we visited the hardware store, the landscape supply store. 8 times, and went to the grocery store twice for medical supplies and ice cream, but that was it. For nine-days we worked side-by-side in the heat, then the downpours, and in a miracle not known since old testiment days, we remained married...and friendly! But during these days of unwavering dedication to reclaiming our fertile soil, we lost a dear friend. My back. It seems the 5 ton of rock moved, 2 ton of gravel laid, 200' of landscape timbers installed, 5 truckloads of Washington Cedar mulch spread, lawn fertilized, new shower head installed, outdoor canvas gazebo put up, 300' of backyard fence line garden weeded and trees trimmed was enough for my back to say, that's it. I've done your dirty work for almost 55-years and this has got to stop. And with that, a new era began. One filled with ice packs, pain relievers and a new 15-minute dance that looks like wild animals mating but is only me trying to put socks on. I believe this was glorys last shot. No longer will I be able to say, "Oh, I'll climb that large Maple tree and get the cat." Never again will I speak out loud, "Let me put in the new concrete driveway." O.K., I never said those things before, but they were on my bucket list!!! It seems my 9-days of vacation and non-stop yard work taught me something new. Damn I'm getting close to old!!! Through shear determination and good old hard-headedness we finished our list...just before it finished us. We got the house with the big yard so the kids and grandkids would have room to play. We never saw them once in 9-days. Amazing how that happens even when they're older when there's work to be done. Anyway, it's on to the Yardwork Senior Tour for me now. I'll be the guy on the porch with an ice cold beer supervising younger people. That's the life for me. Except Diane said we're not paying someone to do what we're still capable of doing. Sure hope the neighbors like weeds!
Have you ever wondered what you were really like as a kid? We all have memories of random things from our childhood. I remember my very first girlfriend. Her name was Patty and we were nine-years old and living in Germany where our fathers were stationed in the Air Force. I donât remember lots about Patty other than she had curly brown hair, and she visited me often when I had my tonsils out. I also remember the Cactus Bowling Alley in Tucson where I hung out many days after school with the janitor, Jessie, who would let me bowl free if I helped him clean the place up. Jessie was the first black man I befriended and it was in 1968 when most of America was still trying to figure out race relations. A 13-year old white boy and a 60-year old black man didnât have a problem with it and we often shared French fries and a coke. Sometimes I bought with my allowance, but not often. I do remember things, but I donât remember me. What was I like, and I mean really like? Not the memories your Grandma shared about how much you talked, or how you couldnât sit still in church. What worried me? What did I want to be when I grew up? What was I really like? Well, yesterday I found out. On a pile of rocks, 5-ton to be exact, in the front yard of my house in the middle of the afternoon, I met me. Itâs true. Sitting right on top of that mountain was six-year old me and for 30-minutes we talked about all the things I must have been captured by 49-years ago. As 6-year old me and 54-year old me tossed the rocks from the pile into the garden we talked about baseball. I told me that when I was six we didnât have T-Ball like they do today, we started with the real game. Then 6-year old me said he thought T-Ball was ok and we must have been brave to start with a real baseball. Our visit moved to spiders and we took turns holding a daddy long-legs or two then moved on to how you would never long-kiss your Mom and in fact you would never long-kiss anyone until youâre 30! Then we shared how we both had seen with our own eyes how Moms can hear things all the way across the yard even when youâre whispering. And itâs usually when you say bad things. I asked 6-year old me what he wanted to be when he grew up and he said, âLike when Iâm in 5th grade?â On and on we went, never quiet for long, and then it was time to finish and head our separate ways. âPoppiâ, Ethan said as we climbed off the rocks, both covered with dust and dirt, âthat was fun.â Yes it was little me, it was great fun. Thanks for sitting on the rocks with your Poppi and reminding me what it was like to be me when I was six. And please donât let me go so long with coming back for a visit. Who knew there was much wisdom in a pile of rocks, and in a six-year old.
In the coming month I'll be hitting two career milestones that I can't quite get my arms around, and I have long arms!! The first happens on Wednesday, May 17th, when we broadcast the 5000th edition of the Breakfast Club. Think about that. 5000 times I've sat behind the microphone in the KEZW Studio and shared the morning with you. Over those 5000 sunrises I've interviewed countless celebrities and hundreds of hometown heroes. One of those shows was broadcast from the American Cemetery above Omaha Beach in Normandy, France. Another came from aboard the USS Missouri in Pearl Harbor on the 60th anniversary of the December 7th attack. Each show had its own special moments and both contributed to my ongoing effort to honor all our fallen heroes with the construction of the Colorado Freedom Memorial.
The second milestone comes June 17th when we celebrate the 20th anniversary of the Breakfast Club with a special broadcast from the Wellshire Inn. The Wellshire was home for our Friday morning broadcasts for over 7-years and the site of some incredible shows. It was there that Captain Rober Morgan, pilot of the Memphis Belle during WWII joined us. So did countless other actors, singers, war heroes, athletes and authors who shared their stories and talents. The Wellshire was also where our daughter Sara had her wedding sendoff and granddaughter Larissa had her coming out party at age 4-weeks!! I'm often asked what my favorite memories are of the last 20-years at KEZW and I don't really know how to answer that. It has seemed to me, for the most part, to have actually been like watching someone elses life. Who gets to interview the likes of Julie Andrews and Tony Bennett and Mel Torme and Perry Como and Maureen O'Sullivan and John Glenn and Buzz Aldrin and John Denver and so many others? Who gets to mingle with Medal of Honor recipients and travel the world with listeners? I have stood at Pearl Harbor with 9-11 first responders and WWII veterans as they embraced one another. I have been in the American Cemetery at Omaha Beach, with only one other living person there after it had closed for the day. I have been at my best friends bedside and watched as she spoke her first complete sentence's after her stroke, reciting the Lords Prayer, and knowing she would recover. I have known so many blessings in my 20-years at KEZW and there are not enough days left in my life to repay everyone who has made this journey possible. It has been more enjoyable because I had my buddy Diane at my side, and you close at hand. Thanks for sharing these last 5000 mornings, that add up to 20-years. It has been an incredible adventure, and we still have lots more to do!! Thanks.
In 1989 Ann Landers had an idea. She had been approached by the Veterans Administration to mention in her newspaper column that National Hospitalized Veterans Week was coming up. Not many of these veterans ever receive a visit during their hospitalization so Ann asked her readers to send Valentines Cards to patients at VA Hospitals as a way of supporting them, and send cards they did. Advance to 2003, the year after Ann passed away, and we decided to carry on her tradition at KEZW. This year the 9th annual Breakfast Club Valentines For Veterans program is bigger than ever!! We've been joined by Black-Eyed Pea Restaurants in metro Denver and the three Stacey's Hallmark stores who are official drop off locations for cards. You can also mail them to the station like always. All the details can be found on the main page of our website. Thanks to Stacey's Hallmark, The Black-Eyed Pea and all of you for not forgetting our veterans. I've seen the look on their faces as they've received your cards and it means so much to them. Kind of nice to know something so simple can mean so much!!!
Earlier this week I received several emails and phone calls from friends asking if I had heard the news that Major Dick Winters had passed away. He was the person whose service in WWII the original Band of Brothers was based on. Major Winters passed away January 2nd at the age of 92 and had requested that no word of his death be announced until after his funeral. His way of protecting his family in their time of grief. Then a day later the notes arrived from Boulder asking if I had heard that Col. Bill Bowers had passed. Bill was the pilot of B-25 #12 that left the deck of the USS Hornet on April 18, 1942 and joined 15 other Doolittle Raiders on the first air strike of Japan after the attack at Pearl Harbor. I had the pleasure of spending an hour one afternoon with just me, Bill and a cameraman and he shared his story from start to finish. Later we went to meet a group of students and he was the swashbuckling aviator we all remember from the movies. Good Looking, full of confidence to a point of cockiness and sharing tales that were AWESOME!!
Major Winters and Colonel Bowers are the latest of a grand generation that's leaving us. It underscores the importance of capturing as much of their history as possible. In as short a time as a decade we will lose all of our first- person knowledge of the WWII era. If you were a 17-year old serviceman in 1945 when the war ended, you're 83 today. We should all have some urgency to gather up recordings, printed materials, photos and other items that document that era before it ends up in the hands of children or others who don't understand the value and simply throw it away. I'm afraid that already happens more than we care to know. It has fallen on our generations to carry the torch and tell their tales. They are not gone until they are forgotten and I don't want to be the one to let that light extinguish. This December 7th marks the 70th anniversary of the attack on Pearl Harbor, and the first time the Pearl Harbor Survivors Association will not conduct an official reunion. A couple years ago the 10th Mountain Division WWII veterans held their last reunion. Time is doing what the enemy couldn't, taking our WWII living history from us. I can see day soon where we take their seats at the bar and continue the tradition of storytelling. But instead of telling war stories, we'd tell war hero stories and recall their exploits as if they were our own. I think they'd be happy to know we had been listening. God Bless You Dick Winters and Bill Bowers. May we never forget you were here.
