My dad liked to play dress-up. There, the not-so-secret secret is out! Now, before you finish dialing up Dr. Phil, let me explain. When I was growing up, my dad was on the radio in our little town. In fact, he and a couple of friends, founded the very first and only radio station in the Sauk-Prairie Wisconsin area, WVLR...Wisconsin's Very Live Radio! The other guys were the technical folks and my dad, Ron, was everything else: station manager, news director, sportscaster, salesman, public affairs director, janitor, on-air host and, local icon, Ole Hanson! Yes, Ron was leading a double life. Most days he was Ron Nichols, your average mid-western guy...dry wit...serious-minded much of the time...hard-worker. Then, every Saturday morning, he would become a Norwegian Party Animal...an oxymoronic image if there ever was one. If you are Scandinavian, don't be offended as I am a lefse and lutefisk guy, too.

Ole would play polkas, waltzes and schottisches (that's another kind of music to dance to...usually going round in circles to 2/4 time and, the scariest part is, to this day, I still know how to spell it without consulting the dictionary) on his Old-Time Party Program. He would highlight wedding anniversaries and birthdays. It was a point of pride to have Ole mention your name on the air. There was a recording artist by the name of Yogi Yorgesson at the time who sang songs with a similar accent to Ole. Around the holidays you still hear Yogi's I Yust Go Nuts at Christmas every now and then. I mention Yogi just to make it clear that doing a Scandinavian dialect does require a good ear and true talent. For example, you need to know that the "ch" sound is more like "sh" if you are Ole Hanson. So, "chair" becomes "shair"...like Sonny's former partner. Well, my grandma, Ole's mom, knew that was the case so, being a little devilish, she would call the show to request the movie song Chitty Chitty Bang Bang. Just how is Ole supposed to introduce that song? Obviously, my own behavior problems have some genetic basis.

Ole was a big star in my neck of the woods. There was a cartoon version of him on the side of the radio station's Mobile Unit # 1. (There was only one vehicle in the fleet...an International Harvestor truck/SUV kind of deal. But, Ole was there!) Eventually, Ole had to start making personal appearances. Ron found a wig full of white, bushy hair and wire-rimmed glasses. He wore suspenders which were covered with sequins...the kind of thing Liberace wore to change the oil in his Rolls-Royce. Ole would have been happy to wear the lederhosen and show a little leg but Ron did draw the line on that fashion point. He was a skinny guy from the north. In Wisconsin, especially when I was growing up, men did not wear shorts. Your legs were private. If your body parts were inmates in a jail and your clothes were the cells, then your legs spent all their time in the hole...solitary confinement. The first time I saw my dad in a swim trunks...that's what dads wore, not "suits" but "trunks"...I was terrified. I thought he was being eaten alive by two giant, pale sturgeons. Anyway, Ron told Ole "no way" on the bare legs and hitched his sparkly suspenders to an old pair of baggy pants. All dressed up, with a corn-cob pipe in his mouth, Ole would appear at car dealerships, butcher shops, hardware stores...you name it. He would play the records and do live reports back to the radio station...making jokes appropriate to the situation. Like from the local car place "You know, Tina and I love our Norwegian car...it's a fjord."

Even after my dad got out of the business end of the radio station, he still had his Ole Hanson Old Time Party on the air for a long time. I used to go with him to the station and help pull the actual record albums out of th stacks. No cds...no digital programs...just big old pizza-pie size discs filled with happy music. I will always remember the musty smell of the record room. You could have provided penicillin for most of this hemisphere with all the mold that had to have been growing under the carpet and in the walls.

That's one of the memories I think about often, even when it's not Father's Day weekend. Like most people, I guess, there are times when you hear your parent's voice coming out of your mouth...especially when you're talking to your own kids. That's happened to me a lot over the years. Interestingly, where I used to hear Ron's serious, common-sense voice in my head all the time...now, more and more, I hear the sillier, more mellow Ole Hanson. I think my dad would approve of that shift. Just add a polka and it's showtime!