Flathead Valley Beacon Blog: Kalispell, Montana News

For those of you unfamiliar with the Montana Radio Café at 101.9 FM, I’m sorry. I believe it’s the most unique radio station in the state, not to mention my favorite. I say, thanks, Scott Johnston for giving us the blues. We need them, just like we need the Café’s jazz, bluegrass, folk and global beats. The music flows 24 hours a day with no advertisements, though Johnston takes time to thank his sponsors. The playlist is vast. It’s just as, I believe, radio should be. And Johnston does it all by himself from his front porch in Creston.

Last month, I paid $8.99 (a month’s dues for Netflix) for the pleasure of having the DVD “Munich” sit on my coffee table for three-and-a-half weeks. When I put the film at the top of my Netflix queue, I had every intention of watching it, but could just never bring myself to do it. It turns out I'm not alone. Plenty of others make lofty movie choices, only to get home from work and realize they're never actually going to commit.

Former President Bill Clinton and Michelle Obama have already visited Kalispell. Now vice-presidential nominee Joe Biden is en route. Meanwhile, on the state level, GOP party officials are telling McCain that he needn’t worry about Montana since it’s not a battleground state. Really? That’s the party’s position? At least send back Mike Huckabee.

It’s not such a beautiful day in Mister Rogers’ Neighborhood. In many places around the country, PBS is now officially done with our gentle cardigan-wearing neighbor. Ratings are apparently declining. I wonder what Fred McFeely Rogers, the show’s deceased host, would have to say about this treatment if he was around? He’d probably say something nice and neighborly, but his hoards of fans, many who are embittered adults by now, might have something else to say. After all, the wildly successful show is the longest running in PBS history, even over Sesame Street. As Brian Linder, a Rogers crusader and founder of the Web site www.savemisterrogers.com, says: “It sucks, man.”

We’ve all heard wedding horror stories. The bride – once your kind and considerate friend – becomes an unrecognizable monster, armed with planning notebooks, bridal magazines and swatches of silk fabric. The best man details the groom’s past exploits in his speech or forgets his lines. Bridesmaids endure garish, ill-fitting dresses in Easter-egg colors and lacey, poofy fabrics. So it was with some trepidation that I agreed to act as a bridesmaid for my friends’ wedding this past weekend.

In my travels across this great state of Montana, I’ve visited many malls, and used many bathrooms. And I have noticed a peculiar phenomena I have never seen anywhere else. I don’t quite understand what it is about the odd relationship Montana cities have with their past that compels such places to hang the most fascinating, informative historical photographs along the hallways that lead to shopping mall restrooms.