At 6:01 am this morning, traveling Cousin Eddie arrived in his beat-up RV for a 6-month visit.

You remember Eddie (Randy Quaid) from the 1989 movie “Christmas Vacation” with light-bulb-happy Clark “Sparky” Griswold (Chevy Chase). Now, that was a movie with some electricity – very illuminating.

On March 20, 2013, at 6:01 am Dallas time, the vernal equinox arrived with Cousin Eddie to light up our world. (Of course, Cousin Eddie is a made-up movie character, but the vernal equinox is not made up – it is high up and right on time.)

“Vernal” means “spring,” and “equinox” means “equal night.” This is one of the two days in the year when the sun stands directly over the equator (that big cowboy belt around the center of the earth). Because the sun over the equator on the equinox is looking right down at the equator, its rays are distributed equally to the northern and southern hemispheres. The equinox day itself is as close to equal in light and dark as any day can be. As such, the day is one of great equality for those residing on the surface of our planet.

So, go out and bask in the uniform warmth of our star and share its encouraging rays with a friend.

And, while you’re there, recite this equinox couplet, as you wander hatless through the fields of spring blooms:

Our sun plays no favorites in its sway

But favors us all, equally this day.

In the fall, you can hum this same two-some of lines, because the other day-equal-night day in the year is the autumnal equinox, which occurs in the fall.

This year the autumnal equinox will fall on September 22^nd. Again, we can bask with perfect equity in the same amount of “golden bennies from the sky.”

“Golden bennies from the sky” is a happily remembered college phrase for that welcome first day of the early northern spring when the golden beams (bennies) of the sun finally shone through the gray clouds of winter, melting our frigid dispositions and exciting us to run onto the university lawns, throw Frisbees and generally act a little crazed.

Spring had sprung and I guess we had sprung with it.

Which isn’t a bad thing — to have a little fun in the warm sunshine of spring, to let our hearts be warmed by nature, and to be bighearted to those around us. Cousin Eddie was bighearted. He had a springtime smile in the icy snows of winter, because I think he’d learned the lesson of the vernal equinox:

Sun equinox high brings an easy smile

That shines as bright inside for winter’s child.

However it is said, perhaps the lesson to be learned from the joys of nature on this first day of spring is to remember and share those joys when nature has turned dreary and drab and is looking for us to play the sun.

Enjoy the bright days of equinox high,

Remember in turn your days in the sun.

And share the light shining there within you,

To brighten a child’s winter Sunday run.

I like Cousin Eddie.

He may not have much.

But he sure seems to have fun and such.

Winter, spring, summer or fall, don’t seem to matter at all.

When Cousin Eddie smiles out that beat-up RV, looking for a stall.

Maybe I should learn from that high-up sun’s equinox arc.

And always leave a place for him to park.

Thanks, Cousin Eddie.

Keep an eye up to the sky,

a smile for a greeting,

and the door open –

for a friend.

Thanks, Sun,

Grandpa Jim

I just checked in the backyard.

Francis is a 2-foot high statue of a guy with a funny hair-do, dressed in a long robe, holding a bunny, with a fawn at his feet peeking into a basket. I remember someone gave me the statue as a birthday gift

I guess Francis is a garden gnome. Some sort of yard art.

(Are you sure?)

Okay, I’ll check the Internet. You can find everything there.

(Are you sure?)

Sure, I just type in “Francis yard art or garden gnome.” And, press enter. . . . There we go.

(And?)

I found him! At the top, it says: “Saint Francis of Assisi Statue Lawn Garden Sculpture Yard Art.” He looks like my guy, except this one has a bird and a squirrel, with a fawn and a rabbit. Same hair style – bald on the top, a rim of hair circling around. Kinda’ cool. He’d fit right in at the mall.

(What does it say under the statue?)

It says: “Give your garden the added warmth of this beautiful St. Francis sculpture. Known as the patron saint of the animals, St. Francis of Assisi is the perfect accent in your butterfly garden, bird sanctuary, or wild flower patch. Crafted of resin, this lawn statue measures 21″H. Beautiful indoors or out.” That’s my guy.

(And, who just picked the name “Francis?”)

You mean the Pope. Yeah, I saw that he did. Why’d he pick the name of a garden statue?

(Why do you think?)

He likes animals?

(Not bad, but maybe you should go back to the Internet.)

Francis is an interesting person. It says in the Wikipedia article that Francis was a rich dude who gave up everything and started an order of poor friars. That special rim haircut was called a “tonsure” — it showed that the friars were an approved group of preachers dedicated to a life of poverty. This Francis guy believed that nature reflected God, and he called the animals his brothers and sisters. He even preached to the birds and straightened out a bad wolf that was eating people. It sounds like Francis of Assisi tried to stop the crusades by walking into the camp of the Sultan of Egypt with nothing but his robe and haircut. He was so brave the Franciscans, that’s the name of his followers, were allowed by the Muslims to stay in the Holy Land. Seems like Francis could build bridges and reach folks just about everywhere. He was named a saint less than two years after he died, and Pope John Paul II made him the patron saint of ecology – that’s how we interact with our environment. So, he’s green, which explains why you see him in the backyard. And, he’s one of the two patron saints of Italy.

(So, why do you think the new Pope picked the name of Francis of Assisi?)

Well, the Pope got elected in Italy, and St. Francis was a local and the patron saint of the country. You know what they say: When in Rome do as the Romans do. Maybe, it’s like me trying to speak a little Spanish in Mexico or French in France. My Spanish and French aren’t that good, but I want the people to know I respect them, I like where they live and I appreciate their hospitality. Maybe, the Pope was saying: “Thanks and I want to fit in.”

(Not bad, but do you think that was all the Pope was thinking?)

It’s hard to say what a Pope is thinking.

(Give it a try.)

Well . . . St. Francis had a focus on poverty and the poor — look at his hair and his clothes. I’ve heard that this Pope is already dressing down for a pope. So, he’s not into fancy trappings, and he reaches out to the crowd and talks sorta’ folksy. . . . And, St. Francis of Assisi talked to different people, like that Sultan in Egypt who was a Muslim . . . and they seemed to get along. And, St. Francis of Assisi was a green guy. He cared about the environment before solar panels and wind farms were cool. And, he was simple — he hung around with birds and wolves, the good and the bad, the big and the small. He gave ‘em all a chance, not a prejudiced guy. . . . You know that old Francis was a modern kinda’ guy – I guess. He was a good guy trying to fit in.

(So, you think the Pope is just trying to fit in?)

No . . . I think it’s more than that. I think the new Pope Francis picked the name to say he’s trying to be like we’re all trying to be today.

(And, how are we’re all trying to be?)

Like the old St. Francis. Don’t you see it? I mean it’s cool today to dress comfortable and help each other, and be green and recycle, and talk with everyone and not be prejudiced. That’s what St. Francis did. He lived it. Right on, Saint.

(So, St. Francis fits right in?)

He does. That’s why the Pope picked the name. St. Francis did what we’re all trying to be today. Go, Francis. I dig it. He fits right in.

(I think he does, too.)

I never realized there could be so much in a name.

(Or in a garden statue.)

Maybe I’ll get another for the front?

(Better hurry — they seem to be popular.)

I’m headin’ to the nursery right now. See you later.

(Say “Hello” for me.)

Will do,

(Grandpa Jim)

One of Pope Francis’ first unofficial acts in Rome was to demonstrate the action of the Higgs Field and its bosons on a formerly unattached photon, himself.

Back in 1964, Peter Higgs at the University of Edinburgh in Scotland suggested a secret invisible force field running through the universe that somehow imparts the aspect of mass or substance to subatomic particles and to us, because we are made up of zillions of sub-small pieces like protons, neutrons and electrons that stick together in substance and in total make the weight that we measure on the bathroom scale. Which is the long way of saying, he, Higgs, said our physics doesn’t make any sense unless we can somehow show that energy can become mass and keep us all stuck together and worried about our diet.

The search for the God particle was on. It’s called the God particle because its existence is portrayed by the popular media as explaining how the Big Bang 13.7 billion years ago created something out of nothing. Of course, neither the physicists nor God looks at it that way. To the physicists, the Higgs’ field full of its bosons pre-dated the Bang — so something was already there from the view of physics. It’s just that the something was pure energy, and nothing was massing or sticking to anything or anybody and making planets and people and all of that, that is, us and the universe. (The last sentence may help explain why theoretical physics can be such an interesting field to some and such a fascinating mystery to others, me included.) And, even God in Genesis says He started with some thing before He made the earth, moon, stars and planets. So, the search was never to find no thing, it was to find the one thing that was used to make the some thing’s we see today and that hold us together.

6,000 scientists have found it. At least, they think they’ve found it. They found it last July, but they had to check the data from the CERN collider. CERN is a French acronym which loosely translates as Council Europe Research Nuclear. It’s a really big hole in the ground, more like a 17-mile dug tunnel circling around under the ground, where protons are launched at each other at 99 percent the speed of light. The thinking of 10’s of 1000’s of scientists for almost 50 years has been if you smash things together really hard, one of the original building blocks may pop out and help explain why we’re doing this. And, it has, we think — a Higgs boson has popped out, we hope.

So, here’s the way it works for the Pope:

Before he becomes Pope (think of this as before the Big Bang), Cardinal Bergoglio rides a bus to work in Buenos Aires in a simple black suit with no fancy hat. He’s a photon – he’s got all the energy in the world but no real mass because people don’t notice him in his humble attire and don’t push to form a big ball around him asking for autographs. The good Cardinal is not interacting and so he is, in effect, mass-less – he moves easily through the crowd. Now, Cardinal Bergoglio goes to Rome and becomes the Pope. The next day, this morning, he leaves the Vatican to catch a bus to a luncheon appointment in Rome. Of course, fans are watching every bus stop in the City for this very thing to happen. “That’s him,” one yells. “Papa! Papa!” 10’s scream as they rush to the scene. “The Pope is out!” 100’s and 1,000’s text and tweet as the crowd grows into a cheering mob. “It’s him,” the helicopter film crew flashes to the masses around the world. And, there you have it: a photon of pure energy (Cardinal Bergoglio) becomes a proton of great mass (Pope Francis) because of his interaction with those around him. As soon as we, the Higgs bosons in our fields of daydreams, see the Pope walking to the bus stop, the world explodes. That’s the Big Bang Roman style.

You wonder why those physicists didn’t skip CERN and go straight to the Eternal City.

For a humble man of prayer, Pope Francis sure has mass attraction.

See you later — I’m heading to the bus stop.

Who knows who we’ll see?

Grandpa Jim

I just got the text — at 1:10 pm Dallas, Texas Time:

WHITE SMOKE IN ROME!

The first white smoke reached the sky at 1:06.

A new Pope has been chosen.

The TV is on.

We’re waiting to see and hear.

St. Peter’s Square is going crazy with exitement and anticipation.

As you will read below, the Iditarod champion was named earlier this moring in Nome.

The hoped for headline from yesterday’s blog has become reality:

 Musher and Pope Finish First Together – What a Race!!

Wow and Double Wow. We are all waiting for the Pope to appear on the balcony overlooking St. Peter’s Square. 100,000 people are waiting there. Millions are watching around the world.

In an age of uncertainty and risk,

White burning ballots new adventure bring .

Excitement is in the air.

Who will it be? Who will it be? Who will it be?

Least expected is the most unexpected

And the most unexpected is just that.

Can’t wait.

It will surprise us yet.

A humble and holy man — Pope Francis. He just greeted the world with the simple prayer of children and faithful everywhere: The Our Father. Cardinal Bergoglio of Argentina is the first pope from Latin America. A simple man — in Buenos Aires he lives in a single room, takes public transportation and cooks his own meals. The son of an Italian immigrant, Cardinal Bergoglio is known for his committtment to the poor, as St. Francis was in his life. The voice of the poor, archbishop of  Buenos Aires, a Jesuit described by his colleagues as a saint, Pope Francis is a new and quiet voice of peace to a world waiting for a kind and understanding touch.

The race in Rome is decided, and I think we will all be the better for its outcome.

Wow.

Now, back to the race in Nome.

MItch wins!

Mitch Seavey wins the Iditarod!

At 12:22 am and 39 seconds early this morning Alaskan time – “on a clear brisk night in Nome,” Mitch crossed under the victory arch and claimed the 2013 title of Iditarod dog sled race champion. Just 24 seconds later (count them and that is not much difference for a race of 1,000 miles) – at 12:23 am and 3 seconds, Aliy Zirkle glided home for second place.

I like to think that as soon as Mitch claimed the title, he jumped from his sled and turned to waive Aliy and her team across the finish line.

The Champion finishes first with the gait,

Who turns to wave the winners through the gate.

Thank you, Mitch for a race well run and one graciously won.

As has been said, there are only winners who finish this race. Aliy gave it her best and I bet she’ll be back next year to try again. She and the others at the finish and those tired mushers pushing with their teams for Nome are all the winners. I am sure Mitch, with his second Iditarod win, knows and believes that he won to encourage them all, and he would if he could be there at the gate to wave each across.

For now, at the top, the white knight of the north is Mitch Seavey. At 53 years young, Mitch is the oldest person to win the sled race over the snow of our far northern state. Last year, Mitch’s son Dallas was the youngest Iditarod winner. Back-to-back, son-father champions is a tale worth many a telling before a warm winter’s fire with a hot cup of chocolate in hand.

The latest news from Nome is that Son Dallas has finished at #4, 59 seconds behind Jeff King at #3, and 44 seconds ahead of Ray Redington, Jr. who finished at #5. Only 1 minute and 43 seconds separated those three. Folks, that is some very close racing to the line after almost 9 and a half days of hard sledding. My hat is off to the state of Alaska and its hardy and hard-working mushers.

Iditarod!

Go Alaska.

Mush on!

Thank you Nome. Thank you Rome.

Remember, you first heard it here, at Uncle Joe Stories:

 Musher and Pope Finish First Together – What a Race!!

March 13, 2013

3 – 13 – 13

Lucky 13

Double Lucky 13

A new pope and a champion musher – on the same day

Lucky Double 13

Believe,

Grandpa Jim

The reporters and camera crews are waiting at White Mountain, Alaska.

The White Mountain checkpoint is only 77 miles to the finish line in Nome. The first to Nome to cross the line in the snow will be the winner of the 2013 Iditarod dog sled race across Alaska. The veterans here at White Mountain tell us that the first musher into White Mountain usually wins the race. That’s usually. This year may be different. An eight-hour rest break is required at White Mountain before the leader can yell “Mush!” and break with his team of dogs for Nome and glory. That glory this year may come only over after a “grueling race to the finish.” On the trail at 5 am this morning, the leaders were: Mitch Seavey at #1 who led yesterday morning (keep pushing at #1, Dad Seavey!), Aliy Zirkle the leading lady who moved up to #2 from #4 yesterday (fly through the snow, Aliy!), Jeff King at #3 where he was yesterday (hang in there, Mr. Tenacious!), Ray Redington Jr. up from #5 yesterday to #4 today (mush on, Junior Alaskan!), and in the fifth position Dallas Seavey from #8 yesterday “who is pushing hard to the front” to catch dear old Dad (on to glory and family pride, young Dallas!). Wow, this is an exciting race and there are few more mushers just behind the front runners who will be ready to launch off White Mountain for the final long slide to that finish line in Nome and the crown of the north.

Go Iditarod! The world is watching.

As it is in Rome.

At about noon Alaskan time today, 177 cardinals will process into the Sistine Chapel to start the conclave to elect a new Pope. From White Mountain, Alaska to Rome, Italy is 5,114.3 miles or 8,230.6 kilometers — if you’re flying. It would be much much farther if you’re mushing behind a team of dogs. And, there doesn’t appear to be any white in Rome, yet. Once the doors lock behind those cardinals in the Sistine Chapel, each cardinal will take an oath and settle into his assigned witness box beneath Michelangelo’s vaulted ceiling. The first vote will be taken. If a single Cardinal receives 77 votes (a 2/3rds majority), the white paper ballots will be burned and white smoke will drift from the chimney above the celestial frescoes. Within an hour, a solitary figure in a simple white robe will step out, onto the balcony and announce his newly chosen name, the new Pope’s name, to the camera crews filming below and multitudes watching, smiling and cheering around the globe. The race will have been won. But, if there is no winner, a lump of black coal will be burned and black smoke will issue up into the disappointed skies. Black smoke means “No pope today, sorry. Come back tomorrow.” Then, the cardinals will pray, sadly rise, return to their hotel and try again with the new day.

Only time will tell, time does tell well.

The papal conclave is too close to call.

In Rome, there is no race by five down a frosty mountain, over a frozen stream to reach Nome and a single drawn ribbon.

Yet in optimism we wait for each race to reach its end, tomorrow may be the day both lead Musher and new Pope are named.

Now that would be a concurrent headline in both the Anchorage Daily News and the Vatican Daily News: “Musher and Pope Finish First Together – What a Race!!”

In their ways, I think both will have reached a far distant place, wearied from the race, accepting the acclaim and wishing for a slower pace. I fear neither will be granted that wish.

A quiet life is not at race ending, a race ends with a new life beginning.

With fame more attention, with attention more work.

I think it’s time to move to the finish lines.

You go to Nome, I’ll head for Rome.

Don’t delay and miss the fun,

Grandpa Jim

The next Pope will not be from Alaska, the next winner of the Iditarod may be.

The Iditarod is the great dog sled race across Alaska. As of 1:14 am local time this morning leaving Shaktoolik, the leader was Mitch Seavey, an Alaskan since age 3 when he moved to Alaska with his parents. Next in the line of race are Aaron a native Alaskan, Jeff an Alaskan from California, Aliy Zirkle an Alaskan from New Hampshire, Ray another native Alaskan, Joar a Norwegian, Jake an Alaskan from Minnesota, Dallas Seavy the leader Mitch’s son, Sonny an Alaskan from Michigan, and Dee Dee an Alaskan born in Frankfort Germany. Those are the top 10 contenders as of daybreak up north, but as can happen in the land of snow, dogs, sleds and mushers, things can change by the next checkpoint. So, stay glued to the ice waves and the latest news from the whoosh of sled rails across the snow. Right now, however, the odds are 9 to 1 that the next winner of the Iditarod will be an Alaskan.

Popes are harder to call.

As of early this morning in Rome, the front runners are reported to be – and it’s too foggy in the Eternal City to discern the actual order of alignment in the lead pack and there may be one or two Cardinals who moved up over the night whom we can’t quite see – but, right now, the Top 4 in the leading group of mushers are: The youngest at 63, Cardinal Odilo Pedro Scherer from Brazil, the unlikely favorite of the 38 Roman Cardinals; Cardinal Angelo Scola from Milan, Italy, 71 years young, the son of a truck driver and a Vatican outsider; Cardinal Marc Ouellet, at 68, a Canadian and a Vatican insider who has said being Pope is a job nobody would willingly pursue; and Cardinal Gianfranco Ravasi, another Italian, but one who blogs, tweets and has a Facebook page, a long shot who enjoys art, science and the Internet. Those are the Top 4 contenders this morning as seen by our observers perched with their binoculars on the seven hills of Rome. Things can change with the morning sun over the Forum, but right now the odds in St. Peter’s Square are 2 to 2, the forecast tied and uncertain, whether the next Pope is to be or not to be from Italy. The Conclave of 115 Cardinals starts its deliberations tomorrow morning, with the winner needing 77 votes. So, keep a keen eye fixed on that chimney atop the Sistine Chapel. When the white smoke shows there, a new Pope has been chosen.

Viva La Papa and on with race.

In Alaska, may the best team of dogs and their Musher slide home to Nome in victory and the shouts of a welcoming crowd.

In Rome, may the chapel doors creak open and the best red Cardinal appear transformed in white to the cheers of a waiting world.

The race is to the winner, the winner is for us all.

Hope springs eternal,

Grandpa Jim

The snow dogs are racing.

Iditarod!

The great dog sled race across Alaska has reached Mile 592 at Eagle Island, Alaska. Starting in Anchorage, the track travels 998 miles to its end in Nome. Musher Martin Buser was the first out of Eagle Island at 2:41 am this morning. The racers are called “Mushers” – likely because they are always yelling “Mush! Mush!” to their dogs to keep the sleds push push pushing through the Alaskan snow, slush and mush.

Martin is originally from Switzerland, has lived in Alaska for over 30 years and became a U.S. citizen in 2002. He and his wife and two sons hail from Big Lake, where Martin runs Happy Trails Kennel. Sled dogs are important to Martin, and he races to show that his dogs are the best at what they and he do best – mush. Martin Buser has completed 29 Iditarod’s and won four with his teams of dogs. The “team” is Martin Buser and his sled dogs. He starts with 16 dogs, and 6 must be on the towline at the finish line. An author once described Martin’s dogs as “eternal children.” That may explain why they work so well together and run so often to first. Good luck, Team.

In second place out of Eagle Lake this morning at 5:51 am was Aliy Zirkle. Aliy was born in New Hampshire. She moved to Alaska in 1990 where she went to work for the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service. Aliy lists her occupation as “dog musher,” has finished 11 Iditarod’s, and was second last year. “Mush on, Aliy, this may be your year.”

The word “Iditarod” may derive from an Alaskan native word for “far distant place.” I think the mushers and their sled dogs would echo that feeling on the long and lonely march to Nome.

God speed and finish well.

Whatever the place,

You are winners.

Iditarod!

Grandpa Jim

Which dog is the biggest?

The English Mastiff is the largest breed in the world of dogs. A full-grown mastiff can tip the scales at 250 pounds (113 kilograms), and they regularly do, but they can be bigger — much bigger. Zorba, the English Mastiff, holds the Guinness World Record for canines at 343 pounds (156 kilograms). In November 1989 at eight-years old, little Zorba measured 8 feet, 3 inches (251 centimeters) long — without his tongue stuck out to lick you – and he was 37 inches high at the shoulder when on all fours. Of course, standing up, he was 8 feet 3 inches and could dunk a basketball. (I made the dunk part up, but I bet he could.) That is a lot of doggie. Zorba has gone to dog heaven, but he is still the longest and largest dog ever recorded. Thank, you Zorba, for setting the record for big dogs.

Which is the tiniest doggie?

Right now – and stay tuned because three other little dogs are in the race to grow and be smaller – but right now, Guinness says the smallest dog alive in the world is a long-haired female Chihuahua by the name of Boo Boo who is four inches tall and weighs two pounds. She is so small she drinks out of a plastic spoon and only weighed one ounce at birth (about four U.S. pennies).

And, the loudest is?

In a dazzling display of decibelic discordance, the German Shepherd Daz, guarding his home in England, woofed away at 108 decibels of dynamic diction scaring away robbers, postmen and cat burglars for miles around. The decibel (written dB) is the unit used to measure the intensity of sound, and sounds above 85 dB can cause hearing loss. At 108 dB, Daz’s bark is roughly equivalent to the blast of a car horn or a chain saw cutting down a tree out front. Daz himself is reported to be lovable and unaggressive, but when he lets loose with that diaphragmic display of sound, there is none like him. Aggressors grab their ears and run for cover when our nonaggressive pooch starts barking.

Most fur, please?

The heaviest amount of fur in the canine world belongs to the Komondor. Komondorox (that’s the plural) are large white-coated Hungarian guardian dogs. Their coat is long and thick and resembles dreadlocks or a mop. You will hear them called “mop dogs” because they look like mops on legs, their eyes covered with fur and a pleasant, endearing smile peaking through between those white dreadlocks. Komondorox are tough but friendly, having arrived with all that fur from Tibet to Hungary in about 1100 A.D. The Komondor breed has been declared a Hungarian national treasure, and that says a lot for a mop with dreadlocks.

Highest jumper and fastest runner, if you could?

For a single jump by one dog, Cinderella May, a Holly Grey, cleared 68 inches (5 feet, 8 inches, or 172.7 centimeters) in the State of Missouri, U.S.A., on October 7, 2006. It was an official Guinness World Record. A Holly Grey is greyhound. The greyhound is also the fastest dog, attaining speeds up to 45 miles per hour (mph) chasing that fake rabbit around that dog track. Go, Cinderella!

And, of course, the most good natured?

This is a hard pick. So many dog breeds and individual dogs are easy going and great to be around. If you have a dog, he or she is the best for you. Some picks from the web are: 1) the Basset Hound, originally from France, is stated to be among the most good-natured and easy going of breeds, amiable with dogs, other pets and children; 2) the Bulldog, because it is very sturdy, not very energetic and will pretty much let kids walk all over it without complaining; 3) the Labrador Retriever for a family because Labs love to please, are playful, protective and caring, and train easily — being known as the canine Einstein’s; and for the single walking in the town park and hoping to meet someone special, the Lab has been documented to be the best dog to have if you’re looking for a date (remember that scene from the 1961 animated film 101 Dalmatians where Roger takes his dog Pongo for a walk in the park and they meet Anita and her dog Perdy — Wow, that was love at first sight, for dogs and humans alike); and finally at #4) my favorite, the Mutt, or mixed breed, just down the street at the local shelter, the bigger the better for kids, any size at all for all the rest of us, and remember (and this is the best piece of advice I saw on dogs) whatever dog you choose, everyone in the family needs to be the pack leader for that dog, every day, from day one, and that dog will be the best dog ever.

Bow Wow,

Grandpa Jim

“Grandpa, why don’t you have any music?”

“Katelyn, I have 200 CDs loaded on the server. Just scan through and pick one.”

“There is not one.”

“Meaning?”

“You need some new music?”

“Ok, suggestions?”

“Adele Skyfall.”

I just listened to the song on YouTube. Wow. Her name is not Adele Skyfall. Adele Laurie Blue Adkins is her name. She will be 25 on May 5^th. Adele is the English girl who wrote and sings the theme song for the 2012 James Bond movie Skyfall. For that, Adele won the U.S. Academy Award for Best Original Song. Over the past six years, her awards and outstanding achievements are too numerous to mention without numbing the senses. Suffice to say, she has more #1s than the Beatles. At age 24, she was placed at #5 on the list of the Greatest Women In Music, and Time Magazine acknowledged that she was one of the most influential people in the world.

Wow, and I never heard her name.

In 1964, I hid behind the couch in my parent’s living room and listened to the Beatle’s first 45 released in the United States. On the B side was the song, “I Want to Hold your Hand.” No one in Iowa had ever heard of the Beatles. I remember my Mom walked in and said, “I like that song.” She was always smarter than me. Mom Lorraine will be 94 in six days, March 10^th, exactly eight weeks before Adele turns 25, on May 5^th. They will be 69 years apart in years. I suspect they are much closer in their ways.

I like Skyfall, and I like Adele.

Katelyn’s right. I should add Adele to the server. Who cares if she is immensely popular and has turned music on its ear? I will like her anyway.

Katelyn reminds me of my Mom Lorraine. My Mom’s nickname was Corky. It could be my granddaughter’s too. They both love to listen to music and dance to music and neither really stops moving when they’re listening or dancing or doing all the rest that they do so well and never stop doing. I suspect Adele is the same.

I think they are all smarter and jumpier than me.

And, they each have great taste in music.

Listen and enjoy their songs.

I’m feeling jumpy too.

Hang loose,

Grandpa Jim

A mom and dad are being recruited to take a free sight-seeing trip around Mars.

The world’s first space tourist, Dennis Tito, is looking for volunteers for a 501-day free space adventure. With accommodations yet to be designed, the Earth couple will take off on January 5, 2018 for a 228-day half-arc fling around the sun. On August 21, 2018 they will wave and take pictures as they pass the Red Planet on the left.

“Oh, Margie,” the husband will gasp, “I never thought we’d be this close.” “Franklin Delanore,” the wife replies with an affectionate hug, “I always knew you’d take me places.” They kiss, jump up and down, and shout with glee, “The neighbors will never beat this one.”

With luck, John Carter of Edgar Rice Burroughs’s fame, with Dejah Thoris, a Princess of Mars, at his side, will look up and spy Margie and Franklin Delanore flying through the skies and wave back from atop their eight-legged greater thoats, to the delight of our space adventurers with their faces pressed to the glass of the single porthole of their passing spaceship.

“Wow, Margie, that was an exciting flyby. Did you see John and Dejah down there? They did look good. Now, it’s just 273 days to get back home. I can’t wait until we are within range of decent cell phone tower so we can see what the pictures look like.”

Mr. Tito says he is sponsoring the trip to Mars just for the fun of it. Dennis started his engineering career at the U.S. National Aeronautics and Space Administration – known affectionately as NASA – made a bundle in investments, and paid the Russian Federal Space Agency $20,000,000.00 in 2001 to hop on a Soyuz space capsule for an eight-day stay on the International Space Station. Apparently that was great fun.

Off we go into the wild blue yonder
Climbing high into the sun

Minds of men fashioned a crate of thunder
Sent it high into the blue

Here’s a toast to the host
Of those who love the vastness of the sky

Off we go into the wild sky yonder
Keep the wings level and true

As a Sputnik kid, I grew up with the rhythm of that U.S. Air Force song echoing in my head, satellites being launched and men landing on the moon.

Those were exciting times.

They still are.

I wish the young couple well who find the golden ticket and win the free trip into the wild blue yonder in a crate of thunder to view the true vastness out there in the wild sky yonder.

The brochure says the sky is only blue until you break free of our planet and enter the black bright vastness of space, flying off in search of the red planet, a mysterious and enchanted domain found in the remembered words of ancient lore, spied by wanders in late-night dreams and inhabiting the pages of stories not written and yet to be told.

I know. It’s only one couple that will be selected for the trip. But, that’s this trip and this time.

The Dutch Company Mars One hopes to place people on the surface of the Red Planet in 2023 and establish a long-term colony soon thereafter. NASA is working on new habitation capsules and big-push rockets to race its own colonists to Barsoom, the land of John Carter, by the mid-2030’s.

As the erstwhile space explorer Alexander Pope once wrote while gazing into the night sky:

Hope springs eternal in the human breast;

Man never Is, but always To be blest:

The soul, uneasy and confin’d from home,

Rests and expatiates in a life to come.

One of the nice things about planets is that they have been around for a long time and are expected to be around for a long time to come.

So, don’t give up.

Get those applications in.

Search and find those golden tickets.

Your trip to the skies is there and waiting for you.

And then off you go into the wild blue yonder and the black brightness of space.

These are fun and exciting times for one and all.

Couples and singles will find a way.

To what awaits them all.

Keep dreaming,

Grandpa Jim