Shaken, not stirred.

June 5, 2016
Jim Bond

Jim Bond

Today we begin a new weekly blog series titled “Shaken, Not Stirred” by Jim Bond.

For over two decades, this veteran broadcaster was the producer and host of radio talk shows in Houston, Texas, St. Louis, Columbia, Jefferson City and Kansas City, Missouri; and Louisville, Kentucky. These programs ranged from light-hearted call-in programs to in-depth conversations with artists, authors, leaders of government, industry, and other celebrities.

Most recently he re-entered the medium with a program called The Bond Broadcast, along with his son Michael and Michael’s long-term girlfriend, Sarah Lepird. This inter-generational program deals issues which one might discuss around the family dinner table. And, it can get a little raucous at times. Jim is frequently subjected to eye-rolling and comments such as: “Oh Jim (or Dad)”. Broadcasting from Muskegon, the program is on hiatus during a conversion to podcast.

Jim also has an extensive background in creative writing, doing weekly columns with Media One Magazine (Columbia, MO in the 1970s), a weekly arts column for the Manistee News Advocate (2000-2004), and monthly features for Muskegon’s On The Shore magazine during the late 1990s. Additionally, he has written commercial TV and radio commercials and scripts for corporate and industrial films.

In addition to ‘Shaken, Not Stirred’, Jim is a regular contributor to thebondbroadcastblog.wordpress.com, along with Michael Bond and Sarah Lepird. The blog is a support mechanism to their broadcast/podcast.

Oh, these posts won’t address major topics such as world peace, climate change, Bigfoot or the coiffures of major political candidates. No, these posts are going to be about those petty, daily irritations. Those niggling little issues which don’t deserve much mention until they add up at the end of the day and leave you wanting to repair your computer glitch with a ball peen hammer.

And let’s commence with the 185 pound elephant in the room which sometimes causes me irritation; me and my name. My full name is James Benjamin Bond. The ‘James Bond’ part appears on credit cards. This is why I just normally use the diminutive ‘Jim’ in daily life. It’s camouflage.

So, after all these years, I have decided (at the suggestion of Editor-in-Chief Rob Alway) to go for the gusto, to shamelessly delve into self promotion based on a fictional character. My son Michael, who is in marketing, responded to the column’s title: “That name is just steering into the joke too. Very nice, and very fitting to you!”

So let me relate some of the daily irritations suffered over the decades as a result of the name (of which, by the way I AM very proud).

Message from Rob Alway: “I know you probably get real sick of the fact that your name happens to be the same as a famous fiction spy. But, I do think a great name for the blog would be “Shaken, Not Stirred.”

A little history here. My life was perfectly normal (well, kinda) until May, 1963. I was finishing up my sophomore year at Peacock Military Academy in San Antonio, Texas. The movie “Dr. No” premiered, starring Sean Connery as Agent 007. “Bond, James Bond”.

As a hormone infused 16 year-old, I had passed through the Golden Gates of Nirvana, the Promised Land of: “Hey, I’m James Bond” delivered with panache (what does that word mean again?). And I would never, ever again suffer the angst of that phone call: “Um…hi…this is Jim Bond and I was…um…wondering…if perhaps…you might…want to go out…like, on a date…?”.

NO! “I’m JAMES BOND!” No more acne, no more hesitation, just charge ahead in my Aston Martin! (In those days it was a Moped, but, whatever).

The ‘007’ jokes have been pervasive for 53 years. They started in earnest when I graduated high school and a friend gave me a shirt, monogrammed ‘006 1/2’.

So now, it’s:

“Does anyone ever tease/comment you about your name”? “No, you’re the first.”

“Not THE James Bond?” “Well, actually yes, we had it long before they did. My father and grandfather were both named ‘James’.”

Here’s one of my personal favorites, usually delivered with a smirk:

“Well, your parents certainly had a good sense of humor…”

Really? Ian Fleming wrote his first Bond novel, Casino Royale, in 1952. I was born in ’47.

“Well, they did have a good sense of humor, but…”

I generally pay cash when ordering a martini in a restaurant. I want to avoid the inevitable comment when they see my credit card: “Oh, I hope your martini was ‘shaken, not stirred’”!

Ha…ha…ha.

But the one that, for me, holds the most vivid memory was a poor telemarketer, calling me on a Saturday evening and looking at his list after he had dialed.

“Hello, is this (snicker) James Bond?”

Since I was preparing for a stage appearance that night, I was somewhat curt.

“Who the ____is this and what the ____do you want?!”

(dial tone)

By the way, I never named my sons James. But that hasn’t saved them from “So, is your father named James?”.  

There have even been times I’ve considered a legal name change. Something simple…with a flow.

Tracy? Not bad. James Tracy…Jim Tracy.

No, Robert. Bob Tracy.

How ‘bout Richard. Richard Tracy? Dick…uh oh.      

 

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