Jeff’s Dark and Early Blog

I had to laugh.  Really, there was nothing else to do but chuckle.  The mystery of Pat Mohi had been solved.

When I first started working for KMBZ, I received the cell phone of a retired co-worker.  It had a full list of news contacts, many of which I utilized to this day.  One contact, however, was someone I was not familiar with.  His name was Pat Mohi.

While I never had the courage to call him and ask who he was, over time, I developed a vision of Pat Mohi.  I imagined a wise man, perhaps of asian descent, who would, from time to time, impart news wisdom to those who called him.  I imagined his humble home, surrounded by beautiful plants and flowers, and how he might serve me tea as we talked.

Then, today, my vision of Pat Mohi was taken away.

At around 7:30 this morning, I called Cooper at our front desk to get a dispatch number for the Missouri Highway Patrol.  When I punched it into my phone, I realized the number had already been saved.  Pat Mohi.  (Patrol MO Highway)  Pat Mohi.

I felt silly.  I felt sad.  I laughed hysterically.  The legend of Pat Mohi was only in my mind.

It could be today, it could be two weeks from today.  Whenever it happens, I’m proud to share that I’m about to become a father for the second time.  It also means I’ll be away from Kansas City’s Morning News for awhile, as my wife and I adjust to being the parents of two.

As with the last time around, I will find time to join E.J. and Ellen on the air after Connor David (after his grandfather) has found his way into the world.  I appreciate the kind words we received from listeners the last time around, and thank you in advance for the well-wishes this time.

Above all, keep us in your thoughts as we welcome what will hopefully be another happy, healthly, giggling little baby boy.

Car seats for Cruiser 980!

During the early days of my career in radio, my general manager called me into the office one day.

“How are you adjusting to waking up at 4 in the morning?” he asked.

“I don’t think I’m quite used to it yet,” I replied.

He smiled.

“You never will be.”

More than eight years later, those words still ring true.  Back then, I was a single guy getting up at 4.  Today, I’m married with children getting up at 3.

It seems that no matter how early you go to bed, when you get up at that early hour of the day, your body never quite seems to catch up.  I’m fine during my shift, due mostly, I suppose, from hard work and coffee.  But once I get home, the exhaustion always seems to catch up with me.

When I find myself getting tired, however, I always remind myself of several facts.  I was once a young man who had no idea what he wanted to do with his life.  Since finding my way into radio, I’ve had a chance to interview a former president.  I’ve been involved in a heart pumping tornado chase that put me within inches of the storm.  I’ve shared hugs and tears with victims of tragedy.  I’ve covered everything from politics to police work and developed friendships along the way that will last a lifetime.  And the list goes on.

The bottom line is this.

I love what I do much more than I love a few extra hours of sleep.  And besides, how could anyone sleep when a smiling, giggling one-year-old boy has been waiting all morning to see his daddy?

As E.J. Becker so appropriately put it, I may well have witnessed the first documented case of scraper rage.

It was last Thursday, the morning after the latest big snow.  I was at the stop light at the intersection of Johnson Drive and Antioch.  Directly in front of me was an SUV.  To the right of it, a smaller car, let’s call it a Taurus.

The driver of the Taurus, God love him, had apparently decided that scraping his windshield was not necessary.  So there he sat, snow packed winshield, hanging his head out the window like a dog in order to see.

Then, suddenly, the driver of the SUV got out, scraper in hand, and walked up to the Taurus as it sat waiting on the light to turn green.  The man proceeded to scrape the windshield of the unsuspecting motorist, gave him a look as if to say, “You’re Welcome”, and proceeded back to his car, pulling through the intersection as the light turned green.

Both the Taurus driver and I just sat there for a moment, clearly shocked by what had occurred.

To the driver of the SUV….sir, you are truly a man with no fear.

To the driver of the Taurus….here’s hoping you scrape next time.

Dear Dog,

I get up to go to work at three in the morning.  I understand that this is very early, and that you miss me very much when I’m gone.  I miss you too.

However….

When you become so excited to see me when I get home that you 1) bark uncontrollably, 2) urinate everywhere, and 3) poop on the couch, the bonding experience just isn’t what it used to be.

Perhaps you could bring me slippers and some cocoa.  Just a thought.