Phedippidations

They found something. It made for a bad weekend.

Checking in, as I am want to do, after some time.

To quote Judy Collins:   “Isn't it rich? Are we a pair? Me here at last on the ground, You in mid-air, Where are the clowns? There ought to be clowns”   On behalf of my Dad and the woman who gave my siblings and I life, who in turn gave life to her grandchildren…We want to thank you with all of our hearts for being here today.   I’m Stephen John, Loretta’s first child and like you, I will always miss her.   But then there’s this weird thing, and I know my Mom was keenly aware of this: “the phenomenon of living on in your progeny”   Her influence, taste, opinion, knowledge, philosophy, story and voice…will continue to live on within us.   My Mom, or “Ra Ra” as her grandchildren call her, was always good at remembering special days with a card. Every year on Ellen’s birthday (December 25th) she’d write “you’re still my best Christmas present ever!” on her birthday card…and so on Christmas Day, 2009 when Ellen broke the news that she was pregnant with the twins giving my Mom a framed print of the ultrasound: Mom

Health, SCJ and other stuff.  This is me checking in. Be happy.

This is the most important election in the history of 'Merica.  You really need to vote this time: and I have a suggestion as to how.

In these troublesome times for our Country and World, you should know that there is a dude.  A dude who asks only for the occasional adult beverage, a dude who does mind, the Dude minds. “This will not stand”, he’ll say, “ya know, this aggression will not stand man.” Mike is the dude, so that’s what you call him. That or His Dudeness of Duder or El Duderino if your not into the whole brevity thing.  Above all, the Dude Abides: and you should find comfort in that.

Friends, fellow runners…thinkers all of you, I am honored yet a little squeamish to introduce my pal: Mike.

It's not the kind of place to raise a kid, in fact it's HOT as hell.

A great circle on the celestial sphere.

There Outer Space, Inner Space, No Space and HEAD SPACE.

J. Robert Oppenheimer reflects on the moment that the first atomic bomb exploded. Nice one Bobby. 

Where is the center of the Universe?  I've got a better question.

Take this episode out with you between 9:30 PM and 10:30 PM if you're in the northern hemisphere of the Planet Earth and look to the South.  I wanna show you something cool.

"It has been said that astronomy is a humbling and character-building experience. There is perhaps no better demonstration of the folly of human conceits than this distant image of our tiny world. To me, it underscores our responsibility to deal more kindly with one another, and to preserve and cherish the pale blue dot, the only home we've ever known." -- Carl Sagan, Pale Blue Dot

Look, in the sky...it's a bird, it's a plane, it's THE ORB!

This planet, Earth, is all we have.

You might want to adjust your Fitbit buddy: you traveled much further that you think.

The Solstice is a time to be mindful.   It’s about being present, but not about stopping time It’s about savoring the present without thinking or feeling about it   It’s about acknowledging all the emails, text messages, tweets, updates, news flashes, alerts, alarms and distractions without engaging with them for a few minutes   It’s about learning how to interact with the universe around us in a focused, meaningful, thoughtful way.   We’re standing or sitting or laying down on a planet that is orbiting around it’s axis once a day, and orbits a star every year and rises and falls up and down along the plane of a universe every 125 million years that has spinning away from the galactic center 

Happy Summer Solstice.  This is the first of a 30 day series of short podcasts that I'm calling "Intervals Post Solstice".  In today's episode I talk about the solstice itself.

This is my father. Glenn Francis Walker, son of Pius Alexander Walker and Helena Viola MacDonald, my Grampa and Nana. Grampa was the son of Angus B. Walker and Theresa Morrison, my great grandparents,  Angus was the son of Peter Walker and Mary MacDonald, my great great grandparents. Peter was the son of Angus Walker who married  Sara McPhee on February 9th, 1846 at Saint Micheals Roman Catholic Church on Prince Edward Island, Canada: my great, great, great grandparents. I’m sure that my ancestors beyond Grampa were great. But my Dad?  Glenn Francis Walker, whose birth certificate from Boston Lying-In Hospital in Boston Massachusetts certified that Francis Glenn Walker, weighing 8 pounds 3 ops was born at 2:19 PM on May 25th, 1937…my Dad, he’s the greatest. I love you tree-tri-so Dad. Happy Fathers Day.