Time for a shameless plug: Please, tune into KCMO Talk Radio 710 between 5 and 9 in the mornings for an entertaining and enlightening take on today's issues, local, national, international and, probably, even intergalactic. Chris Stigall is the new host and he's great. The only weak link in the whole show is the weather forecast, which I provide. The idea would be to set your radio alarm clock to 710 on your AM dial...then watch FirstNews while you are getting ready for the day...go back to 710 when you get in the car to get where you are going! What a great idea. This routine will accomplish three important things. First, you will be well-informed. Second, you will get your day started with a laugh and a smile. And, third, most vital, I will continue to be able to just barely pay my bills.

As I've mentioned before in this space, I actually had my first broadcasting job in radio when I was about three, doing "Stay tuned for my dad and the news" kind of announcements, on the station he'd started in our hometown. My dad felt I was perfect for the job, even at my young age, because I was highly intelligent, amazingly articulate and would accept a salary made up primarily of Milk Duds. All of my brothers were on the radio at one time or another through the years. One of them was not exactly a morning person, but got stuck doing the sign-on shift anyway. He'd rush into the studio with about thirty seconds to spare...mumble a "Good Morning....you're listening to....ahhhh....now here's some song about pastry." Then, he'd put on the Don McClean classic American Pie, which runs about four hours, and head for the back door of the station. A couple times he accidentally left the microphone on and studio door open. There is nothing like the sound of twenty year old man clearing his head and shaking the "night before" out of his body, coming over your radio at five in the morning. It was a festival of body sounds best kept private. There was at least one time when the song ended before my brother's anatomical symphony was finished. His career as a radio morning man was short-lived, but he was approached by several spelunkers hoping to explore what sounded like extraordinarily deep sinus cavities.

When I was about 18, a Madison Wisconsin radio personality named Alan Jon was kind enough to help me make an audition tape. He had a terrific voice, filled with friendly personality. He gave me plenty of tips along the lines of "okay, this time let's try to only mispronounce every other word" and "you know, they always need folks to look for cracks down at the egg factory." Looking back over my broadcast career, it is clear that Alan was absolutely correct in his apprehension.

While doing the weekend weather in Madison, I started to host a one hour show every Saturday on the Music of Your Life station. It was called The Great Singers and featured people like Sinatra, Bobby Darin, Ella Fitzgerald and Rosemary Clooney. I'd put together theme shows about specific holidays or the weather or various luncheon meats. (That was the hardest one to find songs for..."I've Got You Under My Pastrami," "Raindrops Keep Fallin' On My Salami," "Bologna Serenade," and the every popular "Olive Loaf Blues" with its haunting lyric "I don't mind that you feed me this old musty, moldy meat. But should those olives still be movin' when you put it before my seat?") After arriving in Kansas City, I approached the now-defunct Music of Your Life station about doing The Great Singers here. I was given a bumper sticker before security escorted me out of their building.

I've been lucky to work with some very funny, clever and patient radio stars like Just Plain Dave, Jason Whitlock, Steven St. John, Bryan Truta, Nycki Pace and, now, Chris Stigall. Along with other Channel Niners, I even hosted a talk show for awhile, too. I never had too many callers especially about serious issues. The one topic that really got people on the phone was "What Kansas City Personality Should Have a Sandwich Named in His or Her Honor and What Would Be In There?" See, my whole radio career comes back to luncheon meat. The old show didn't have many listeners but a couple days ago a woman told me she used to listen: "Yes, Joe, I have heard you on the radio. Yes, Joe, I've heard you." Two things about her comment: First, she was careful not to say what she thought of my radio work, just that she'd heard it...undoubtedly an act of kind restraint on her part and, second, she called me "Joe" instead of "Joel" throughout our conversation.

Let me say, I like the name Joe and know a lot of great, decent people named Joe. But, I was named Joel...Joe with an L. Like Liza with a Z except I can't dance, sing or act and I am allergic to feather boas. I've mentioned before that I was named after my dad's boss at the time who took one look at me as an infant and fired my dad. My mom was insistent that I be called Joel and not Joe, so that's why it still makes me a little uneasy to be called Joe. For a long time, I was hoping I'd get a nickname, like, well, Nick, for example. Short for Nichols...my Grandpa had a place called Nick's Canyon Resort...my dad had a place called Nick's Trading Post...so it made sense but nobody picked up on it. Then, I tried to go with J.B., using my middle initial but that, too, fell flat. Our next door neighbor would call me Jody for some reason and the kids at school called me Nichols Pickles sometimes. My brothers had a variety of pseudonyms for me that I can't print in this family-friendly blog. There is a director here that calls me Cheesy, in honor of my Wisconsin heritage and in description of my on-air presentation. Maybe a lack of a good strong alternative name is why my radio career has been spotty. I think my name, Joel Nichols, is kind of hard to say. When I get to the L of Joel, my tongue gets wrapped around my eye tooth and I can't see where I'm going until I'm approaching the "cho" of Nichols.

It is nice to be able to continue my family's checkered radio history by being part of The KCMO Morning Show with Chris Stigall and I hope you will be able to tune in. I imagine somewhere my dad is smiling about what has become of his formerly three-year-old DJ and, I am also sure, my dad is thinking, if I'm getting more than Milk Duds, I'm overpaid!