WKMS and I am a Poop Head

There are things worth supporting in this life. Top of my list is National Public Radio. If you've been deprived of shows like Prairie Home Companion, Talk of the Nation, Fresh Air, This American Life, and NPR news, for heaven's sake, end your deprivation!!!

Our local NPR affiliate is WKMS. They do a fantastic job. One of my requirements for moving to this charming neck of the global woods was that there be an NPR station. As we were driving on our very first trip to Western Kentucky, and I was fiddling with the radio dial, I found one. What with the static and the accent, I thought they were saying, "WPMS". It had been my dream to write commentary - little stories - for NPR and how Bill and I laughed at the notion that my big break would come on a radio station called WPMS. But we were hearing wrong. WKMS. WKMS. Got it.

(And in a fun twist, I had not yet had the nerve to contact the station about writing little stories for them. I had written a post to the small artist's email group about living in this neighborhood. That was forwarded (unbeknown to me) to the editor of Paducah Life, where it was printed. The folks at WKMS read it there and asked me if I would record it for them. Well, yes I would! Jumping jacks, high fives, and cartwheels ensued. That's what happens when little dreams come true all by themselves.)

Fund raising this year is t.i.g.h.t. Budgets are slashed. Charitable giving is down. But here's what I figure. I figure unbiased news coverage is more important than ever. I figure I want to hear my programs and not have them sacrificed to hard times. I figure that's worth my financial support, and my time and effort.

So, when Program Director Mark Welsh emailed me last week and asked if I would be willing to record a piece for the fundraiser, I said sure. Maybe I should have declined. You, Dear Readers, know this has been a challenging time for me. My head is not screwed on tight. I am hanging by my stubby little fingernails to Real Life, as it spins with all the calamitous energy of a very angry bucking bull.

But I wrote my piece and I drove down and recorded it. I called myself a Poop Head twice, and I sang Linda Ronstadt. A capella. OH DEAR!!! I forgot I can't sing. I mean I can sing with the best of them, just not particularly well. You can hear it HERE. Oh please be kind.

If you feel compelled to make a donation to WKMS after listening, or just out of embarrassment for me or pity, (obviously I have no pride) be sure to mention that you are no longer a Poop Head, either. That will bolster my self esteem times a million. Misery loving company and all that.

And if you are a local Dear Reader, WKMS would love if you could take five minutes on this survey:

Simply click on the image. It's fun and you get to tell them what you want to have on the radio. Cool.

hug your hounds - mine are listening to WKMS!

Sammy's Very Long Day

I've plain old run out of adjectives. Stellar - used. Superstar - used. Sweet - used, used, used. OK, let's try this one: Sam I Am is spectacular.



Tracy Ross and Sam I Am at WKMS

On Monday, I was scheduled to do on-air fundraising for our local National Public Radio station, WKMS. Sam I Am was also scheduled to do his Therapy Dog visits at the hospital. You may have caught on by now, dear readers, that I have a propensity to over schedule myself just a bit. I thought we could start our visits at two, and be at the radio station by four. Sounds perfectly reasonable, I say.



Only everyone on the floor, including most of the staff, was eager for a dog visit and we didn't finish until 3:03 and it takes an hour to drive to the station. And park. Oh brother. And Sam I Am had been fantastic. He had done a couple of bed visits, one of which was rather intense, and he works so hard with every patient, but most of all during the bed visits. If the patient requests, and can't reach Sam any other way, I'll lift him up and lie him next to the patient on the bed. He is an angel. He lies absolutely still, in sphinx position, but still totally engages with his patient. One of his bed visits that day was a large man covered with scary tattoos, whose arms didn't work so well. But he was so happy to see the dog. His attempts at patting Sam's gentle head were clumsy and slightly off target, but Sam beamed enthusiastically and nudged his hand when he stopped.



"I love dogs," the big tattooed man said. That was all he said, but he kept on patting Sam, getting a little better at his aim. Sam I Am didn't move a muscle, except to use his pointy schnoz to nudge his encouragement.



After telling Sam how proud I was of him all the way out to the van, and giving him five of his very favorite biscuits, off we zoomed heading south and west. There was no way I could take Sammy home, drop him off, and get to the radio station anywhere near on time. As I drove, peeking at him already sound asleep in his crate, I sure didn't want to reward his efforts by leaving him alone in the van for two and a half hours. If I had brought some of his buddies along, he wouldn't have minded at all, but alone... That just didn't seem right.



"Hi, oh, no I'm not calling in a pledge. This is Patience Renzulli and I'm on my way to help with fund raising. Is Kate or Ronda there? No? Oh hi, Stephanie, I'm on my way, um, could I bring my dog in? He's a Therapy Dog and he was just at the hospital and he had a shower this morning and he's very good, and I ran out of time and I don't want to leave him in the van for two hours. Yes? Oh thank you so much! He won't be any trouble, I promise. Thank you!"



I stopped and got a bucket of chicken and three sides for the hard working staff and students at WKMS, and schlepped Sam, the food, a bag of biscuits, and a sheepskin up to the eighth floor of the Price Doyle Fine Arts Building. Everyone was very kind. Most people were delighted to meet him. I set the people food on the break area counter and plopped the sheepskin down next to "my" chair. I asked Sam to "down" and gave him three more biscuits, and put my headphones on just as All Things Considered host Tracy Ross said, "I'm joined in the studio by Ronda Gibson and Patience Renzulli and we have just over $9000 left in our Spring fundraising goal of $100,000."



We begged and pleaded with the listeners to contribute, and during the times when the National feed was on air folks came and visited with Sam. Or I'd take him around and sneak him a french fry or a bite of Extra Crispy skin. He and I shared a cup of water. And then it was time to go back into the studio, back on the sheepskin, back on the air.



We were keeping Sam's presence a secret, and then Tracy played a commentary of mine, Dream on, Old Dog and we got some generous callers, and then Ronda blew our cover. She admitted that she'd been enjoying the company of a sweet Therapy Dog named Sam I Am right there in the studio. Well then the phones started to ring.



We did pretty well. I don't know that I'll ever be asked back to fund raise. But I have an idea that Sam I Am surely will be.



He is such a good dog. Such a gift.






hug your hounds