August 29: Thad’s Poem

Hi All,

I am at the same campground that I was at yesterday, thinking about taking a day off. It is supposed to rain on and off today, and I have a ton of work to do. This is a nice camp. Still, there is that urge to get on the bike. I may just ride 1/2 of the day.


The day before my surgery (a year ago), my lifelong friend, Thad Walker, sent me a poem that he had written. Thad and I are both fans of the great Robert Service and, if you are as well, you will see the similarities in the meter. Thad, by the way, invented quantum computing.



Quite the jolt, that thunderbolt came out of the Facebook sky.

A child!  A bride!  A big bike ride! And then the “my oh my”.

The “say it ain’t so”, the “No God No”, a delay of the Tour de Star Chart

Those medical brass gonna take a pass around Scott’s big ol’ heart!


Scott’s a Service man, so he’s got a plan, to beat this devil down.

Gonna take his hit, gonna hurt a bit, gonna wear that evil gown.

Motto “Don’t Panic”, will get him through the manic days of pain and bed,

And the God Who Sees will heed our knees, and heal him toe to head.


For future action portends an Acton vision of things to do.

Gonna be a sight, to resolve that light, from the pre-galactic stew.

See the heavens scowl without the windy howl of our Earth’s atmospheric home,

And feel God’s like as Scott rides the bike from home to Nome to Rome.


On April’s First day, Scott heads away, north-seeking the Whitehorse Saloon,

On a classic steed, a blue Chevy breed, ridden daily from dawn to moon.

As he cranks out the miles, making old friends smile, others are shocked to uncover,

That this biking astronomer and moon-lighting geographer, will return with new worlds to discover.


For those in the know, rooting Go! Go Scott, Go!, checking daily for news from his blog

The travelogue pics, descriptions of ticks, and vicarious drinking of glog.

The trip’s first leg ranks, Lyons-Al-Can-Fairbanks, with the greatest of bi-pedaled feats

With a circle sawed chest, and a few Sabbath’s rests, to get on and clip in those cleats—!


We greatly admire, in one almost retired, this guts gumption gloryful gig

Enduring hills heat and traffic, with his Guardian seraphic,  as Scott puts the miles on his rig.

His courage and daring, that few when comparing, can claim to have mustered so much,

Inspires the rest, to face up to their tests, and like Scott to come through in the clutch.


I am humbled, Thad.


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