Christopher Setterlund, In My Footsteps

Wednesday, July 15, 2026

In My Footsteps Podcast Episode 252: 60 Years of Doritos, Live Aid Concert Event, Family Feud, Rebranded Sports Teams(7-15-2026)

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The tasty history of Doritos. The historic Live Aid concert event. Sports teams that were rebranded as others.

Episode 252 is chock full of GenX nostalgia to try to keep you cool in the July heat.

It starts with one of the most historic music events ever. Live Aid was a one-day event featuring many legends of the day. Taking place in 1985 and on two separate continents, it raised money for famine relief while also creating some enduring musical memories.

Six decades of snacking. We celebrate Doritos, which burst onto the scene in 1966. From simple toasted corn tortilla chips to more than 100 flavors worldwide, Doritos have been a staple of after school, sporting event gatherings, teenage parties, and more for most of many of our lives.

Countless sports franchises have been in the same city for decades. Some have left their original cities but kept their name. For this Top 5, we are looking at teams that not only left their original city but also were rebranded. Growing up in New England, the Hartford Whalers hockey team was front and center on this list. Do you have any favorite rebranded sports teams?

Survey says we have a brand-new This Week In History and Time Capsule, looking at the 50-year legacy of the game show Family Feud.

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Helpful Links from this Episode

Listen to Episode 251 here

Monday, July 13, 2026

Initial Impressions 2.0 Blog #129: New England Weather, Bike Trail Radar, Suddenly Salad, etc.

1. The famous saying around here is ‘if you don’t like the weather, just wait 5 minutes.’ Last week, we had three straight days of temperatures well into the 90s with a heat index in the high 100s. It was no fun and left me looking forward to fall already. It was as if the weather gods said, ‘ok if you don’t like sweltering heat, we’ve got something different.’ To start the new week, it was the total opposite side of the weather. It was raining, and buckets of it. We went from a heat advisory to a flood watch in a matter of days. I’m not sure if I have to choose which of those types of weather I’d rather have, extreme heat or oceans of rain. My ideal weather is partly cloudy, mid-70s, and low humidity. Why some clouds? Easy, to make for a perfect sunset.

2. I finished and enjoyed all three seasons of Travelers on Netflix. It was on from 2016 to 2018. The show is about time travelers who come back to their past to try to change events to make the future a better place. After liking Dark, it was fitting that the next show I watched was another time travel show. With 34 total episodes, the show does a good job of expanding and solving all of its storylines. Even though it’s been finished for eight years, it still felt like there was room for a 4th season, but it is probably way too late for that. The travelers come back to the past by their consciousness entering the body of a living person in the present who historically dies at a certain time. That means the original person was going to die, and sort of still does, but their body remains and becomes inhabited by a totally new person. That’s a big part of the plot: the traveler trying to keep up the charade of being the person who they replaced. As usual, I am trying not to spoil much but give you enough info to entice you to check it out. Who knows what my next show choice will be? So far, I’ve liked every show I’ve chosen, so I have to keep my streak alive.

3. Perfect summer days need to be appreciated. Your definition of ‘perfect’ might vary. Mine is temperatures in the low to mid 70s, sunny to partly sunny, and low humidity. We had one such day this week, and oh boy, did I enjoy it. I finished work and headed to the local bike trail. I did some walking and a lot more running over the span of close to 3 ½ miles. It felt great to put more running miles on my legs than I have in a long time this week. I’m not saying that a return to racing is in my future, but if I can slowly increase my stamina, I won’t rule it out. Overall, my route on this perfect day was filled with sweet breezes, river views, quiet neighborhoods, and loads of other people enjoying the day. Yes, fall is my favorite season. However, when you get a perfect summer day, at least weather-wise, there are few things better.

4. Some investments are just stupid. One such investment is a radar speed detector on a bike trail. Yes, you read that right. I have seen two pairs of speed detectors so far, like you’d see on any road, located on a bike trail. I don’t know how much each one costs, but whatever it costs, it is a waste of money. Seriously, what the hell are you going to do if someone speeds? Are there cops somewhere to pull them over? It is mind-numbingly stupid. A better idea from these towns would be to put cameras up on the trails to catch the large number of motorized vehicles on the trail. I always see dirt bikes on the trail when signs are everywhere saying ‘no motorized vehicles.’ I say that, but even if someone got caught riding a dirt bike on the trail, nothing would happen. But seriously, speed detectors on a bike trail? Good lord, how dumb.

An incredible waste of money on the bike trail.

5. This week I wrote an article about a fascinating psychological phenomenon known as the ‘music reminiscence bump.’ It is how music from our adolescence registers with us more deeply than anything that comes after. It’s why we all say music was better when we were younger, no matter what our ages are now. For me, music from 1991 to 1994 falls into this category. I was aged 14 to 17. As a capper on my article, I decided to put my money where my mouth was and create a Spotify playlist featuring my favorite music from that era. It is still not finished, and already it is nearly 200 songs and over 13 hours of music. I was not shocked at just how many songs I loved and that needed to be on the playlist. I recommend everyone try it on their own. Find the year or years you feel music was best in your life, and then go craft a playlist. I am betting it will be much longer than you anticipate.

6. I’m sorry, but based on my age, I find the product Suddenly Salad to be one of the funniest names out there. Why? Little Shop of Horrors. In the 1986 version with Rick Moranis, there is a song that he sings with Ellen Greene called Suddenly Seymour. I have needed to write this down to get it out of my head because every time I see the box in the supermarket, I just want to sing the name Suddenly Salad. I can’t be the only one in their 40s who grew up watching Little Shop of Horrors to make that connection. Or maybe I am a special kind of crazy who will sing a random song because a pasta salad shortcut product by Betty Crocker has a similar name?

Cue the music

7. In an event that should surprise no one, this week I saw my first ‘back to school’ ads. Mind you, on Cape Cod, school got out less than 3 weeks ago. These greedy corporations are so geared up on squeezing every last cent out of their customers that they start promoting going back to school right after the last school year ends. I remember hating that so much as a kid. It’s like, just give us some time to enjoy summer before reminding us that it has to end and we have to go back to school. There must be a mandate with a lot of these companies, certain dates that mark when to begin promoting the next holiday or event. Before kids get back to school, you will see Halloween candy laid out. Time moves fast enough as it is without greedy bloodsucking corporations speeding it up by promoting things that are months away like they’re happening now. Oh, and by the way, it was Old Navy promoting back-to-school clothes for kids.

8. Every summer, we have throngs of tourists on Cape Cod. Most of them are fine. They come down, enjoy themselves safely and responsibly, contribute to our economy, and leave. Of course, when so many people come down, there are bound to be a small percentage of stupid people among them. That’s just life. What I don’t get is how some of these tourists seem to have no idea of how to navigate through life once they get over one of the canal bridges. For example, one-way streets. Are there no street signs where you come from? Unless you live in the most rural of small towns in the middle of nowhere, I’m figuring people have seen one-way street signs. Still there it was during a run this week, some idiot with their New York plate driving down a one-way street. Thankfully, nobody was going the other way. Like, I get the people who can’t seem to understand that dogs aren’t allowed on the beaches during the summer. There are signs, but they are smaller, and you could lie and say you didn’t see them and didn’t know. One-way streets have big signs at each end telling you to not go a certain way. So these people from New York were either totally illiterate or just smug, entitled jerks. I’ll let you decide which they were.

Yeah man that's really hard to understand

9. Something that means well but is pretty dumb is the sign that is seen in a lot of places on Cape Cod, and I’m sure everywhere. It says ‘walk left, ride right.’ Simple enough. If you’re walking or running, you stay on the left to face oncoming traffic. You ride on the opposite side. It makes sense, except for one major issue. If I am headed north on a road and running on the left side of the road, then when I am headed back south down that road, I would now be running on the right side. Left or right is all relative depending on which way you’re going. So, in reality, the well-meaning sign makes literally no sense. It should just say ‘walk wherever, ride wherever, just stay the hell out of the middle of the road.’ When I’m running on a road or bike trail, people just go wherever they want, so obviously the sign is pretty pointless.

10. There is something so soothing and refreshing about getting up early in the morning and sitting next to an open window as the summer air floods your senses. I’m not a fan of 90 degrees and humidity, but when you are sitting on a day off in a comfy chair, and it’s mid 60s with a sweet breeze trickling in all around you, it is magical. I am trying harder to take one day to fully relax and recharge. That means little to no content work. That means sitting outside and enjoying the weather (if it’s not boiling hot). After going all-out with my content work for over 5 years, it can be easy to feel burned out if not given a chance to actually recover. It was hard at first as I’d feel like there was work I could be doing and I was falling behind. Sitting in the early morning summer breeze, though, gives such a sense of peace that any sort of worry about work just falls away.

11. I am my own harshest critic. Most of the time, I feel as though I am not good enough. I believe that it goes back to my childhood when I had a neglectful biological father and an abusive stepfather. My mother did the best she could, but one ray of sunshine through the storm cannot keep you dry. Today I am chasing validation. I pursue success in creative fields on one hand because I enjoy creating things, but on the other hand, to show those who tried to snuff out my passion for life that they failed. Dreams of becoming an undeniable success in some sort of creative field kept me going through my darkest times growing up. I owe it to that younger version of myself who struggled with self-esteem and self-worth to not give up on the dreams he chased. That being said, there has never been any guarantee that success comes from chasing dreams. It’s where my criticism of myself comes in. I wonder if I should not have been stubbornly bushwhacking my way through the forest when there was a highway beside me. I chose the more difficult road long ago. It is a road where the successes could be great, but the failures could be more likely. So I keep working hard. Books, podcasts, videos, filmmaking, any sort of creative venture, I push myself to do more and more in the hope that the next thing is the thing that changes everything. I might be my own harshest critic, but I also know that I am at this point in my life for a reason. Dreams only expire when you stop pursuing them.

Thursday, July 9, 2026

A Forgotten Story From A Favorite Place

It’s amazing, as you get older, the number of memories that grow fuzzier or get lost to time altogether. It’s a big reason why I have chosen over the years to write various journals as well as blogs like this. I want to hold on to as many stories from my life, even if they end up being only in written or typed form.

That is the setup for this story here. It is one that I had totally forgotten about for many years. I wish I could tell you what brought it back to mind, but I can’t. It’s like one minute there was a dark room, and suddenly the light switch turned on and revealed the full contents therein.

This is a story where I was hailed as a hero. Despite that, I don’t think I talked about it much at the time. Bear with me, as even though I remember the majority of this story, there are still details that remain locked away in the past.

Bass Hole, or Gray’s Beach as it’s known to those not familiar with Cape Cod, has been my favorite place for a long time. My visits there number in the several hundreds over my life. It is a small beach in the town of Yarmouth Port.

For those wondering why it is called ‘Bass Hole’ by the locals, I will open the pages of my copy of the book Names of the Land. It was written by Eugene Green and William Sachse in 1983. Actually, it was my Nana’s book, but that’s beside the point. In the early 17th century, the Colonists marveled at the number of striped bass that were drawn to the deep creek mouth, aka the ‘hole.’

The Bass Hole grounds include a grassy area with a pavilion, grills, and a playground. Nature trails lead you to overlooks of a marsh and nearby Chapin Beach in the town of Dennis.

The major attraction at Bass Hole is a several-hundred-foot-long boardwalk that extends out over the marsh. It is the type of place where people flock to in the hopes of capturing the perfect sunset photo.

I visited regularly growing up. Once I was in high school and able to go out on my own with friends, it became a haven for most of our activities. John and Barry, two of my oldest and dearest friends, were my partners in crime.

We were never into doing things like underage drinking and all-night partying. We enjoyed grabbing some snacks and hanging out in the parking lot at Bass Hole after dark. Either we’d get tired, or we’d start seeing police cars on patrol, and that would cause us to call it a night. Those wacky chats, either in the dark or under the dome light of a car, are some of my favorite memories of growing up.

The pavilion and playground at Bass Hole.

After we all graduated from high school, John and Barry left for college and moved away to start the next chapters of their lives. When they returned, we would make it a point to visit Bass Hole together for old times' sake.

Still living on Cape Cod, I frequented my favorite spot for a sense of normalcy as I began delving into what I learned was a Quarter-Life Crisis in my early 20s.

I went by myself and sat in the parking lot. Typically, I’d bring lunch or dinner, something fast food to pair with my super healthy lifestyle at the time. Then I’d wander the grounds as if I were searching for a part of me that I’d never find again. Bass Hole was my happy place, whether alone or with others.

For this particular story, I believe we go back to 2003. I was living with my family in a small place in Dennis Port. It was early fall, probably October. I was wearing jeans and a long-sleeved shirt that was more like thermal underwear. I know that’s hard to picture. I got it from Old Navy. It was off-white. I am describing it in depth because it’s important to the story.

It was later in the afternoon on this day that I visited Bass Hole. I had something for dinner. Because it was 2003, I’d guess McDonald’s. When I finished, I threw my trash away and went for a walk.

When I am there, I typically don’t pay much attention to the goings-on in the parking lot. It’s a public place and a beloved place, but for me, the fewer cars, the better. For this October afternoon, there might have been a handful of other vehicles there at most, and I hadn’t noticed any other people.

The walks I’d take tended to last anywhere from 15 to 30 minutes. For as many nice things as there are to see at Bass Hole, it is, in general, a small area. I walked the nature trails and got lost in thought for a spell.

Upon returning from the woods, I crossed the grassy area, passed the playground, and stepped onto the asphalt parking lot. My car was straight ahead, and my mind probably drifted to what mundane tasks I’d be having to do at work the next morning. Then I heard it.

The eastern side of the square parking lot is bordered by reeds, thorns, and various other bushes. From among them, I heard a weak voice.

“Help!”

I stopped and looked over but didn’t see anything. Was it in my mind?

“Please help me!”

This was not my imagination. I might have been thirty feet from the end of the asphalt. Slowly, I walked toward where the frail voice had been coming from. Only when I got within a few feet did I find the source.

Lying on her side, three or four feet back from the pavement, was a woman. She had to have been in her early to mid 70s. Apparently, she had crossed into the overgrowth looking for something. I can’t remember exactly now, but I thought she had said something about berries.

The various branches and thorns had gotten hold of her legs and tripped her up. Once down among them, she struggled to escape, but in the process, she was tangled up even worse.

My only experience with that particular section of Bass Hole had come years earlier. John, Barry, and I had purchased a cheap kite. I believe it was some sort of bird emblazoned on it; we called it our ‘falcon kite.’

We likely had a kite similar to one of these

As we flew it poorly, it ended up crashing into those reeds and thorns. We knew it was more trouble than it was worth to try to maneuver through even a few feet of heavy overgrowth to retrieve a kite that cost us a few dollars. We left it in there. Who knows how long it took until it had disintegrated? Now, there was a person stuck in those same thorns and brush.

I didn’t think twice. I stepped into the thorns, trying to push the branches down with my sneakers, and grabbed hold of her. I lifted her gently but with enough force to detach the thorns from around her legs. I felt some of them release their grip on her, and on me as well. Once I had her up on her feet, I saw how badly things had been.

Her hands and arms were sliced up and bleeding pretty badly. It looked like she had been struggling for at least a few minutes. That long-sleeved shirt I was wearing was now covered in her blood. It was all surreal.

I guided her out of the brush and onto the pavement. By this time, a few people had rushed over. The woman was grateful but visibly shaking. I believe she had fallen in the brush within minutes of my walking off to the nature trails.

The people who came over only did so because they saw the two of us walking out of the brush with me holding the woman up. It could have been possible that if I hadn’t been there, she wouldn’t have been seen or heard for a while. She could have possibly even been there into the night.

The woman thanked me profusely. One of the people who came over to help called me a hero. I guess I was a little shaken, and maybe a little oblivious to the seriousness of the situation. It was that same person who painted the picture of what could have happened to the woman if I hadn’t been there. Then it sank in.

In what must have seemed like a scene out of a superhero movie, I waited until I knew that rescue had been called for the woman and then quietly took my leave. It was a true Irish goodbye.

I find it interesting that when presented with the chance to soak in the adulation of people for saving a helpless woman, I chose to slip away. Nobody there ever got my name, not even the woman I helped. I was gone so quickly out of the parking lot that I didn’t even pass the ambulance that had been called.

Sunset was closing in as I got home. I parked in the driveway and sat in my cranberry red Saturn. Ironically, my white shirt now matched my car’s paint job.

I looked down at the dried blood and still couldn’t fathom what had happened on what was just another visit to Bass Hole. I had helped someone in need, a total stranger, without thinking twice. I knew that was the right thing to do.

I walked inside. My mother was in the kitchen with her back to me. I remember walking up to her, and when she turned around, the absolute shock and horror at what she saw.

Imagine the scene of your son walking into the house covered in someone else’s blood. It’s like the beginning of so many true crime dramas that you see on television. Lucky for me, I was never a troublemaker, so my explanation was believed.

It made me so glad that John and Barry and I had been (relatively) good kids growing up. If I had been a problem child, it would have been different. Do you think my mother would have believed the story that you just read? Especially considering that I chose anonymity? Nobody had my name, so where would the proof have been? She’d have probably sneaked into her bedroom and called 911.

Although I liked that shirt, I didn’t even bother trying to wash it. It was wrapped in a plastic bag and thrown into the trash. Boy, that makes it sound even more like I was covering up a murder. I did, however, buy a replacement for it.

Me wearing the replacement shirt, fittingly at Bass Hole in 2004.

Looking back, I wish I had gotten the name of the woman I helped. Or at least maybe stuck around until rescue got there. I had done the most important part, though, by helping her. I didn’t need the pat on the back.

What’s interesting is that this was in the days before social media. I think I had only recently gotten a cell phone at the time. If I had social media, would I have shared my experience? Probably.

I could have seen myself sitting in my car explaining what had happened. Of course, if I were wearing my blood-soaked shirt, the video would have been pulled, and the authorities would have probably been called on me. So all things considered, it was probably for the best that Facebook and Myspace didn’t exist then.

That’s the story of probably my most interesting trip to Bass Hole. The time that I happened to be there to help someone in their time of need. It was pure luck and nothing I sought out. It did make me feel good about myself as a person, though.

It makes me think of how many situations happen or don’t happen due to a matter of seconds and inches. If I had gone to Bass Hole a little earlier, what would have happened to that lady? I’d like to think somebody else would have heard her cries for help, but you never know.

I have been in situations where I could use a hand. It’s never been as bad as being trapped among thorns and bleeding heavily, though. I’d like to think that if I were in need, there would be a good Samaritan there to help me out. I will never lose that faith in humanity.

I have returned to Bass Hole countless times in the years since. There has never been such an event again. I will say I did get to see some incredible Aurora Borealis there in 2024, which was very fitting.

Aurora Borealis at Bass Hole

I hope that the woman I helped never lost her sense of wonder and adventure that caused her to climb in among the thorns, trying to find whatever she was looking for. I never saw her again and probably wouldn’t have recognized her if I had.

She and I were in each other's lives for all of 15 minutes, but I’d like to think that we each left a positive mark on the other. I gave her a helping hand, and she revealed a part of me that I am proud of.

Wednesday, July 8, 2026

In My Footsteps Podcast Episode 251: Passing Fads of the 2000s, Terminator 2, Origins of CGI, Huey Lewis & the News(7-8-2026)

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Passing fads from the 2000s. Terminator 2, 35 years later. The origins of computer-generated imagery (CGI).

Episode 251 brings the cool breeze of GenX nostalgia to the hot July weather.

It all begins with a staple of today's entertainment. Computer-Generated Imagery, or CGI, is commonplace in the 2020s. So much so that it can be taken for granted. It had to begin somewhere, and we're going to look back at the origins of CGI, which go back further than you might realize.

Hasta la vista, baby! 35 years ago this week one of the greatest sci-fi films, and one of the greatest sequels ever, was released. Terminator 2: Judgment Day broke the mould of what a science-fiction film could do. Great characters, incredible effects, tremendous acting, and more. We will do a deep dive into this iconic 90s film.

The Top 5 heads way back to the bygone days of the early 21st century. We are going to look, laugh, and shake our heads at some of the passing fads of the 2000s. Were you guilty of partaking in any of them?

We have a brand new This Week In History and Time Capsule, of course, looking at the life and career of 80s rock legend Huey Lewis.