The blog of In My Footsteps Podcast host and author Christopher Setterlund. It contains a buffet of topics. The wackiness of daily life with Initial Impressions 2.0. There is a link to the weekly In My Footsteps Podcast. Poetry collections, life topics, some history, and more. There is something for everyone here much like with the podcast.
The debut of The Muppet Show. Some of the music fails of the 1970s. A school bus that acts like a dog?
Summer is ending, but the Gen-X nostalgia continues with Episode 260.
We start off with a look back to the debut of the original Muppet Show, which occurred 50 years ago this month. Kermit, Miss Piggy, Fozzie, Gonzo, and so many more classic characters burst onto television sets and became cultural icons. This segment gives an overview and is only the beginning of the Muppet content.
A school bus that acts like a dog? What sort of acid trip created that idea? Who knows. What we do know is that this is the main plot behind the odd 1970s educational short film The Big Yellow Fellow. We will review this insanity and see if there are any valuable lessons to be learned.
The 1970s had some amazing music. From Led Zeppelin to Pink Floyd, all four Beatles' solo work, and more. This week's Top 5 will have none of them. Instead, we will look at some of the biggest musical fails of the 1970s. Lots of bad music and bad choices abound.
There is also a brand new This Week In History and Time Capsule looking back at the life and career of iconic rapper Tupac Shakur 30 years after his death.
To support me and the show, become a member on Patreon.
1. This was my third day in rural North-Central Pennsylvania for the shooting of my feature film debut, The Cabin. It was also the first official day of filming. I had arrived during the late afternoon on Tuesday after driving 450 miles from Cape Cod. The next day was mostly spent laying low and exploring a little. By the time Thursday arrived, it was all systems go. Unlike a typical ‘vacation,’ I had to be awake and out the door as if I was going to work. Mark, the director, wanted all of the necessary cast to be at his house by 8:15am. For me, driving from Mansfield to Wellsboro, the next town over, took roughly 15 minutes. Luckily, it was pretty much a straight shot on Route 6. The drive ended up being a regular occurrence, so I got used to the amazing hills. You really could fly down some of the hills. I know I got up to over 60mph at times. I have no idea how people drive up them during the winter months. The hardest part for me, besides just waking up at 6:30am on my vacation, was fighting the urge to pull over and get photos of the beautiful countryside scenery. It was literally all around me. It was especially hard when I passed a beautiful fountain on the green near Mark’s house. It took me until my last day in Pennsylvania before I finally got my photos and videos of that location.
2. I arrived thinking I’d be late, but I was actually earlier than most. Those of us who were there exchanged some small talk. I might do a lot of public speaking for my books and record weekly podcasts, but still deep down I am an introvert. Initiating conversations is not my strong suit. This is exacerbated when I am surrounded by people I don’t know. Mark, I had met a few times, so I was at least comfortable around him, but most of the other cast was new to me. As the shoot went on, I got more comfortable with everyone, but that first day I spent a lot of time being quiet, listening, and speaking when spoken to.
3. This shoot was a full-circle life moment for me. When I was in high school, I spent my savings on a Sears camcorder. I wanted to be a filmmaker. In those days, though, it was a lot of very loosely developed skits that I performed with my friends. There were no scripts. It was ideas like I thought I was a dog, and my friends took advantage of that with hilarious results. As a writer, I am all about symbolism. My plan for the first day, and more specifically the first shot, of The Cabin was to have something that tied it back to those camcorder days of the 1990s. A few years ago I found the red flannel shirt I used to wear all of the time in high school. It still fit, and didn’t disintegrate when I washed it, so I brought it along. I did get a smirk or two when I put it on, as it was humid and in the 80s when we were filming, but I didn’t care. I didn’t even take a photo of myself in the shirt on the set. The moment was only for me to symbolize that I had not given up on that high school dream, and in a small way, I had done right by my teenage self. I sat on the stairs in my red flannel as Mark yelled ‘action’ to begin filming The Cabin. It was a simple scene of the lead character coming home. Cody, the actor who played Will (the lead character), walked through the front door and past the camera. Nothing explosive, but I made sure I was rolling with my own camera as this scene played out. It was a seminal moment in my life. I did, however, take the flannel off not too long after since it was still a hot and humid summer day.
4. Nature was everywhere in Pennsylvania, even in the backyards of a typical neighborhood. I mentioned in the last blog about the deer that enjoyed sleeping in Mark’s backyard. On this day it was time for the groundhogs to shine. I mean, it is the home state of Punxsutawney Phil, the world’s most famous groundhog, so of course they’d be everywhere. There was one that was hanging around a shed that we would end up using as another cabin for the film. I wanted a photo of it, and doing so through a window wasn’t going to do. I gently turned the back doorknob. It clicked ever so faintly. That was enough for the groundhog to scurry under the shed. Damn survival instincts kicking in. I eventually did get a photo of it, through a closed window.
It didn't want to stick around for a close-up.
5. The first morning of shooting was exclusively at Mark’s house. It was easy to have it double as the main character’s house. We took care of a lot of miscellaneous scenes that required me to do a lot of reading lines. Before leaving Cape Cod, I had recorded a series of scenes for the film with friends acting in the film. They’d all have been interacting with the main character, Will. Little did I realize while recording those scenes, where I did the lines Will would say, that I’d in turn have to do the same thing on the opposite side once I was in Pennsylvania. I had to read dozens of lines for Cody to keep time as Will. My voice started getting hoarse, which was pretty funny. I said to Mark after that there was a reality where we could layer my voice as Will speaking to my voice as each of the four characters that I recorded while on Cape Cod. I guess if our budget had been that small, it probably would have been close to that situation. Me as every character, just with different clothes and wigs. I found myself apologizing to Cody many times during the shoot for the long strands of dialogue he had to read. The joke I made was that The Cabin was just a remake of Cast Away, except instead of Wilson the volleyball, the sidekick was a pocket recorder. Cody really was 75% of the film, and he killed it in every scene he did.
6. The highlight of the first shooting day was our journey out to the Grand Canyon Regional Airport. It was a 10-minute drive from Mark’s house. We were lucky enough that a man who worked there was allowing us access to his Cessna plane for some scenes. It was a hot midday when we arrived. The scenery was amazing with the elevation. I was smart and put on some sunscreen, figuring that with my luck I’d get burned and then be miserable for the rest of the time there. We waited probably 15 minutes, wondering where our man was. We had knocked on doors and looked in windows, but it felt like we had been forgotten. Then, from a distance, we heard a motor. It got closer, and we spotted a red motorcycle. It pulled right up to us, and slowly the driver pulled his helmet off. It was a man in probably his mid-70s, definitely a surprise. His name was Skip, and he was the one who was gracious enough to allow us access to his plane. Not knowing how long we had, I was a madman, shooting as much video and photos as possible. I made sure to chat with Skip so that he could be included in the behind-the-scenes extras on the eventual DVD. It was another surreal moment as he pulled the Cessna out onto the airstrip and allowed us to begin shooting our scenes. I hung back and let Mark direct and Cody and Jeff act. It was weird at times because we were all there because of something I’d written, yet I’d often stay in the background and let the people with experience do their thing. Not everyone at the airport knew what was going on. Some guy in a pickup truck came barreling over to where Skip was standing and asked what was going on. They seemed to be fine with it, and we were allowed to keep filming, but momentarily there was a bit of panic as we thought we might have our time cut short. In all, everything went off without a hitch. We got all of the shots we needed. I got to get photographed inside the Cessna. There was even a plane that landed while we were there. I got that video and have sent it to Mark for possible inclusion in the film. We left the airport feeling enthused about the project, and it had only been a few hours of shooting. There was a lot of daylight left, though, and we had another location we needed to get to.
In between takes at the airport.
7. The Cabin is not Mark’s first rodeo. He has directed more than 100 films in his life, many of them shot around the Wellsboro and Mansfield areas of Pennsylvania. He knows where to go and what to look for as far as locations go. It was my first rodeo, but I was lucky to have Mark. I put my total trust in him as far as bringing much of my original vision for The Cabin to life. So when we left his house in the mid-afternoon to go shoot at Hills Creek State Park, I knew nothing of where we were going except that Mark said it was perfect. The spot he chose was the Beaverhut Boat Ramp, about a ten-minute drive from his house. Naturally, being a rural area of Pennsylvania anyway, this location was deserted. It was meant to be a stand-in for a secluded lake in Northern Canada, as was in the script. This was one of a few areas where the echoes when the actors would yell were mesmerizing. The sun was dancing in and out of thickening clouds, and I hoped that my sunscreen would hold on. It ended up being an eventful shooting location.
A perfect setting.
8. Cody, being the main character, was in nearly all of the scenes. With the film taking place over nearly two weeks, there were a bunch of wardrobe changes. We also tried to shoot all scenes in the same area at once, even if they took place on different days in the film. This meant that Cody had to change clothes repeatedly. At Mark’s house, or even later at the cabin, he had a clean and sanitary place to change. At Hills Creek, it was either change out in the open or hide out in a pretty putrid outhouse. I know how nasty it was because I had to use it at one point. I am sure it was checked on every now and then, but it felt like if I dropped anything on the ground in there, I’d have just left it behind rather than pick it up. It wasn’t as bad as some porta-potties I’ve seen in my life, but it was not a place I’d wanted to have needed to sit down in.
9. Just a friendly reminder, if you’re going to turn over something in the woods, be it a rock, log, or a canoe, be prepared that there might be something living underneath. For one scene in the movie, we needed Cody to act like he had just canoed across the lake. Luckily, there were a few overturned canoes on the shore. Unfortunately, the one that we chose had occupants. When Cody flipped it right side up, he immediately recoiled. Slithering around under the canoe was a pair of garter snakes. Now, honestly, these are small. The pair were probably only between 2 and 3 feet long. Cody doesn’t like snakes, so he was not happy. I, on the other hand, was practically falling over myself to get photos and videos. I knew they were harmless, and I didn’t intend to hurt them, so it was a win-win. In an interesting twist, one of the snakes had milky blue eyes. I thought maybe it was blind. After researching, I found out that it was because it was getting ready to shed its skin, and fluid builds up around the eyes to allow easier shedding. I didn’t try to pick the snakes up or anything. I have done that in the past to freak out other hikers. This time it was just filming them and being surprised that they stayed around the canoe despite there being a bunch of people around. Maybe they had eggs buried under there?
Ol' Blue Eyes
10. Our time at Hills Creek was almost finished when we got an unexpected guest. A few vehicles had passed by on the nearby road, but none had ventured into the parking lot. That was until a park ranger came rolling down in his white SUV. I knew enough to keep my mouth shut and let Mark do the talking. The guy was friendly and curious. He even said we didn’t have to tell him what we were doing. Mark was open about us shooting a movie. The ranger said he was new to the job but thought it would be wise to reach out to someone in charge to make sure it was okay. Mark said he would, but that was just to make the ranger feel like he’d done his job. When he mentioned that the film was a script I had written, the ranger started asking me questions about my work. I was surprised that I still had a few old business cards in my wallet. I gave him one, but as of this writing haven’t heard anything from him. The other funny part of this interaction was Mark explaining that we were going to be shooting much of the movie up at a remote cabin. He even gave the ranger the road it was on, inviting him to come on out and see. For the entire time we were at the cabin, a running joke we had was whether the ranger would end up showing up. He never did, unless it was long after we left. I mean, we didn’t say how long we’d be there. Sorry to him if he showed up later and the place was deserted.
11. It was getting close to 5pm on the first day of filming, but we still had another location to go to. This time it was the university in Mansfield where Mark worked. He was able to set up an abandoned laboratory to look like a hospital room. This was necessary for a few scenes near the end of the movie. The irony of this location was how close it was to the motel where I was staying. It was literally a 3-minute drive away. This would have been amazing for me when we wrapped shooting for the day, if not for the fact that we carpooled. After we got done, I had to be driven all the way back to Mark’s house to get my rental car and drive back basically to where I had just been. The scenes in the abandoned lab were fun. It was a battle finding outlets for the lighting, but everything seemed to work out for us during the shoot. As producer, I spent a lot of time managing the script. This meant that as the actors were going along, if they needed a line, I’d provide it. A lot of the shoot consisted of me asking Mark what I could do to help. This was all new to me, so I needed to be coached. For one scene, an actor, Michael, was playing an investigator. He had a lot of dialogue explaining some in-depth plot points. He had some trouble remembering all of the lines, which was understandable with how long the speech was. In order to put him at ease, we set me up in his line of sight with the script so he could just read the lines without it looking awkward on camera. This university location was another where I didn’t really have time to stop and soak it in. Luckily, I got a few shot videos of the laboratory, but those were interviews for the DVD extras.
A creepy vibe
12. When I am on road trips, one thing I enjoy is visiting stores that we don’t have near me on Cape Cod. I find them as exciting as attractions you’d find on TripAdvisor. I’ve already mentioned Sheetz. Another such place was Weis supermarket. There was one right on Route 6 on my drive back to Mansfield from Wellsboro. Needing something for breakfast the next morning, I stopped in. No, it wasn’t anything game-changing as far as a grocery store. I actually ended up stopping in a few times. Their flavored seltzers were good. I looked through their à la carte section, energy drinks, and barbecue sauces. Why the last one? Because many years ago my all-time favorite barbecue sauce, Cattlemen’s, was discontinued at every local store near me. I hold out hope that maybe some obscure market still carries it. Thus far, I haven’t found it anywhere. Now, to be honest, I can order it off Amazon, and I have several times. But I like the potential excitement of finding it in the wild. Much like with Sheetz, I got myself a few plastic bags with the store logo on them. Yes, I don’t spend loads of money on souvenirs; I just get plastic bags.
Yes it was an exciting visit
13. The first day of shooting ended with me returning to my home base motel well after 9pm. I had my Weis seltzer and stopped by McDonald’s, which was only a few minutes from where I was staying. No, it wasn’t the healthiest eating habits while on this movie shoot. Then again, it wasn’t the point. My entire reason for being in rural Pennsylvania was to film The Cabin. It wasn’t to hike, or run, or sightsee; it was for the movie. It kind of took the pressure off me as far as extracurriculars went. I didn’t have to feel bad about eating terrible, or needing energy drinks to get me in gear early in the morning. None of that mattered. If I ended the day feeling good about the work we all got done, then the day was a success. I could always amp up my diet and exercise heading into the fall. I wasn’t always going to have an opportunity to produce a feature film based on a story I wrote.
I remember where I was on Tuesday morning, September 11, 2001. It is hard to believe that we are looking at it as being 25 years ago. I lived through it, and those memories have remained clear and present ever since.
Manhattan is more than 250 miles from where I lived on Cape Cod. There are times when it feels like the other side of the world. On 9/11, it felt like everything I was seeing was happening right outside my door.
I was 23 years old, living with my family in a small house on a small road that ended in a cul-de-sac. It was a mundane morning. I had the day off from work and was sitting in the living room at our big, boxy dial-up internet-connected computer.
The morning consisted of writing an unremarkable email to my friend Barry. Back then I didn’t have a cell phone, so the best way to stay in touch with people was either through a landline phone or via email. I remember I was going to tell him I was going to visit Nickerson State Park in Brewster on my day off.
Despite never finishing that email, I still remember its contents. It was so blissfully ordinary. It was my last memory of the time before. I wish I had kept writing that email and sent it instead of turning off the computer. However, everything happened in a flash.
I remember my mother's frantic screams when she heard the first radio reports in her car. She was in the driveway. I don’t remember if she had just gotten home, or was getting ready to leave. Her screams for us to put on the television inside, I can hear today as I close my eyes.
From those early morning moments, I remained seated on the couch watching. I watched as the towers fell. It felt like watching a big-budget Hollywood film that was playing, but this was real. Everything from the television itself, to the layout of the living room, to the feeling of being hungry yet being frozen where I sat; it’s all still with me today.
I remembered the memories of visiting the Twin Towers when I was in 7th Grade. They all came flooding back as smoke and ash filled the view of Lower Manhattan on 9/11. That had been 10 years earlier, 35 years ago now, on a field trip from Mattacheese Middle School. Ironically, a lot of that trip is burned into my memory as well, but in a far more positive light.
It was my first real trip to New York City. My classmates and I saw the Empire State Building, the Statue of Liberty, and I even bought a bogus ‘gold’ chain off of a street vendor. One of the places we visited was the World Trade Center complex.
Looking up from the ground, the Twin Towers appeared to pierce the sky. I believe time was running short during that field trip, and so we were not able to go all the way up the 110 stories to the observation deck. We got to go inside to the lobby of one of the towers. I was able to go up to the first concourse level and look down. Maybe it was 20-30 feet up; I don’t remember that, but I can see the bustling energy of the people coming in and out still clear as day.
I remember the surreal feeling on 9/11 watching the towers fall, contrasted with the memories of being there years earlier. It was a struggle, knowing they were now only a memory. Things like that don’t happen, at least not on such a scale. It was like I was floating, or falling down an elevator shaft. I remember having that feeling for the next few days.
Being so far away was no comfort. Everything was on the table after watching the towers fall. Sure, in all honesty, I didn’t feel as though a plane was going to come crashing into any place near me, but that was of no comfort. On 9/11, especially in those early hours, you truly had no idea of what might happen next.
I remember my sister Kate, pregnant with my niece Emma (now 24), frantically calling my then-brother-in-law Peter. He was out on a job landscaping, and she told him what was happening and also wanted to make sure he was alright. She told him in so many words that the world as we knew it was coming to an end. It was hard to imagine such a bold and audacious thought being true, but it was.
I remember my niece Kaleigh, all of 2 ½ years old(now 27), staring at us with a mix of concern and curiosity at what was on the television that was causing all of our fear and angst. How do you explain what was happening to a child? I was in my 20s and couldn’t figure out how to explain it to anyone who might ask. My mother eventually brought Kaleigh into her bedroom and even put Barney on for her to watch, a show my mom really didn’t like. I often wonder if she has any memory from that day. Maybe it is more of an underlying feeling that she can’t explain?
Hours wore on, and I sat on that couch. The towers fell, the Pentagon was hit, and a mystery fourth plane had gone down in rural Pennsylvania. Even when all air travel was suspended, it felt as though some new threat was going to begin. I remember feeling physically on edge but mentally tired watching things unfold.
I am an empath; it’s always been a blessing and a curse. On 9/11, my heart and soul ached for the thousands of people in New York, Washington, and Pennsylvania affected directly by the attacks. Then I’d think of the families and friends of those lost in the attacks. It was a scale of sadness and loss I’d never imagined.
It was a push and pull between wanting to close my eyes and forcing them to watch. There were a few moments where I wanted to retreat into my bedroom, or take off in my car to try to escape it. There was no escaping it. This was real. This was serious. This was a line of demarcation between one timeline and another.
I remember fearing that if I stopped watching, something else would happen. It was as if I was waiting for a cut scene, like it was a docudrama where they would say, 'that's what the end of days would look like.' Then life would go back to normal, but it didn't. It really never has.
That day on Cape Cod was perfect weather-wise. It was sunny, low humidity, temperatures in the mid-70s. I had planned to visit Nickerson State Park. It would have been a simple day. My Fuji FinePix digital camera, some sort of fast food for lunch which I’d have eaten in the car, and maybe a magazine to read while I sat in the quiet companionship of nature.
Staring out of the living room window at that beautiful late summer day in front of me and contrasting it with the scene of utter horror on the television left me feeling both detached and attached to the situation at the same time. I hoped I would have another day like the one I was meant to have on 9/11 before the towers fell.
By late afternoon it appeared as though the attacks were over. It was an attempt to try to figure out the scope of the damage and also who did it and why. I had skipped lunch but didn’t feel hungry. I still felt the need to venture out to make certain that my world close by was still standing.
The most surreal thing for me was driving around the town of Dennis. Everything in my little corner of the world looked the same, yet I knew everything was different. All of the houses were standing, all of the businesses were open, and there were some cars on the road. It was quieter than expected. Now things do slow down on Cape Cod when Labor Day passes, but I knew that people were glued to their televisions like I had been all day.
I remember feeling so small and insignificant. There was an overwhelming sense of pride, respect, and love for the firefighters and police who were walking into the battle zone when everyone else was running away. I wondered what it took to have that much courage. Perhaps when the situation arises, you just turn off the fear in your brain in the name of duty?
I stepped out for maybe a half-hour in the afternoon. I believe I went to a Subway to get dinner. I don’t remember any conversations I might have had with the people working there, although I am sure we spoke of the tragedy that was unfolding as we stood there.
Once back home, it was a return to sitting frozen still on the couch. I don’t think I left that spot for fourteen hours in total. I was just watching. I was trying to process something that couldn’t be processed. Part of me foolishly still hoped that there would be a disclaimer on the screen that said it was all a hoax. It would be like War of the Worlds on the radio; even as night fell, I clung to that belief.
I remember the next morning being back to business as usual. I returned to work cooking at The Marshside restaurant. It was a slower day since the busy season had ended. Still, I tried to occupy myself with as many tasks as I could.
At some point I found myself standing on the deck with Maui. He was the head chef, and I had known him for 8 years at that point. I remember still having that feeling of falling as we spoke. I don’t know how else to explain it. It was like my body’s empathy for the enormous loss.
The deep blue sky was untouched by the gentle exhaust of aircraft as all air travel was still suspended. I also remember the silence. It felt like there was an overwhelming and deafening silence that surrounded those days. It was as if all of us were quietly trying to wrap our heads around what this all meant.
I remember the names coming out over the next few days. I remember the photos, the interviews, the magazines, the newspapers; I still have them, so I will always remember. There is a box in my mother’s basement that is filled with these things I gathered over the coming weeks.
It became even more real when attending a candlelight vigil a week or so later. It was held in the parking lot of the Patriot Square shopping center in Dennis. I don’t remember how many people were there; it was probably a few hundred. We all needed to be around each other to collectively process and grieve, even though most of us didn’t know each other.
I remember there being a few people there who had come from Ground Zero and had helped in the massive recovery effort. Their words painted the picture of the scale of the devastation. I shook their hands, thanked them for their efforts, and said they were heroes for what they had done. Shaking their hands made me feel a direct connection to New York and Ground Zero.
I remember each anniversary of the day that changed our world. Over the years, many harrowing accounts of survival came out. There were stories of people having near misses. There were more magazines, books, and even movies about the events of 9/11. Amazingly, there were fleeting moments in some of the movies where I felt myself asking if it was all real.
In the 25 years since 9/11, I have never been to Manhattan. I have never been to One World Trade Center, which was opened in 2014 and stands an appropriate 1,776 feet tall. I have never been to the 9/11 Memorial, although many Cape Cod police and fire departments display pieces of debris from the Twin Towers.
As I write this, with the memories of that day filling my head, it’s hard to believe that it has been 25 years now. It's hard to believe some people have grown up not knowing about 9/11. If you're under 25, this event probably hits you like World War II did for my generation.
Please take a moment to remember. Even if you knew nobody involved, or have never even been to New York, just stop and remember for a moment.
Remember 9/11. Remember those who died in the attacks. Remember those who bravely fought on the hijacked planes. Remember those who ran toward the disaster knowing they might not make it out. Remember the families who lost fathers, mothers, sisters, brothers, spouses, and children.
We are all part of one family, the human family; above all else, always remember that. Peace and love.
Happy Labor Day! When this episode premieres, I will be on location producing my first feature film,The Cabin. Thank you to everyone who donated to the fundraiser and helped to get this project made!
Being on location means that in place of a new podcast episode, you get Mixtape #5
All of the Blink and You'll Miss It retro segments are here in chronological order.
They contain foods, toys, television shows, miscellaneous products, and more that were here and gone in a relative flash. If you weren't around when they came out, you might have no memory of them ever existing.
You will laugh. You will shake your head. Maybe you'll go scouring your basement to see if you have any of the items mentioned, as they might fetch a few bucks on eBay.
Enjoy some memories in mixtape form on the podcast. Happy Labor Day weekend, and thank you again for all of the support for the podcast and my other creative ventures!
To support me and the show, become a member on Patreon.
.png)
