Podcasts about Young at Heart

How do you keep a 70-year-old brand feeling fresh, relevant, and full of energy? In this special live episode of The Brief, recorded at MAD//North, we share the story behind Jammie Dodgers and how embracing mischief as a cultural truth helped unlock new growth for the brand. Featuring McCANN's Imogen Tazzyman, ECD, alongside Scott Perry, CMO at Fox's Burton Companies, this session explores how distinctive brand assets, creative consistency and a clear brand truth helped reposition Jammie Dodgers for a new generation - without losing what made people love it in the first place. This episode is a masterclass in how long-term brand thinking, emotional connection and a bit of brave creativity can help legacy brands stay young at heart. In this episode, you'll uncover: Why rediscovering a brand's core truth is often the key to unlocking growth  How Jammie Dodgers reframed “mischief” as a way to connect with modern families  The role that distinctive brand assets play in building memory and effectiveness  Why creative consistency compounds commercial impact over time  How emotionally led creativity drives both fame and long-term brand growth  For more conversations on building enduring brands and effective creativity, subscribe to The Brief wherever you get your podcasts. 

After retiring from the daily show in 2021, Kojo Nnamdi thought he would finally write his memoir in peace. Instead, station management offered him a part-time role hosting the weekly Politics Hour. That semi-retired structure turned out to be a gift. “I now describe myself as semi-retired,” he said. “It gave me a place to go every day… and that helps a lot.” He contrasted his experience with his father's retirement in Guyana, which led to inactivity, a stroke, and an early death. “I learned a significant lesson… about what not to do in retirement.”Listeners meet:A longtime telephone repairman who doodled shoes in high school and later became a professional shoe designer.Two retired New York air traffic controllers who took usher jobs at Madison Square Garden — trading control towers for hockey crowds and Rangers fandom. “We are essentially doing the same job… telling people where to go,” they joked. The role gave them free games, star-player encounters, and a vibrant new social circle.Mary Kay Fleming (interviewed before her passing), who described aging as a “crisis” of shrinking social circles and changing bodies — then showed how contributing to the world and finding what makes you feel alive can transform it.Nnamdi emphasized a common thread: vulnerability. None of the guests positioned themselves as instant experts. “They were all very vulnerable in the mistakes that they made and how they accidentally stumbled into something that gave them purpose, passion, and connected them to community,” Gurney noted.The conversation repeatedly returned to three big ideas that resonate deeply with anyone navigating life after 50 or 60:Stay curious. “Curiosity is what I think is the key to the future after we have retired,” Nnamdi said. He urged listeners to revisit old hobbies or volunteer — “You will meet people and you will find new environments in which you might become extremely proficient and find that you might actually love being in those environments.”Transform fear into excitement. Many guests admitted initial terror (one man hesitated to return to school for shoe design; the swimmer felt visceral panic when the water turned black under the bridge). But pushing through turned fear into energy. Nnamdi linked this to a deeper truth: the fear many retirees feel most is death. Staying engaged crowds out that fear. “If we have something to do that is of interest to us, we don't think a great deal about the hereafter.”Build community. Radio and podcasts create intimate, one-on-one trust. Nnamdi shared a wild story from his early WHUR days: a man bicycled into the station and confessed murders to a veteran DJ because “he'd been listening to me on the radio for years and he considered me his closest friend.” The same intimacy happens in Young at Heart — and in Positive Aging Community discussions. “The people who listen to this podcast are a part of a community who have shared interests,” Nnamdi observed.He also praised WAMU's old "In Your Community” events, where listeners from vastly different neighborhoods discovered they faced the same concerns. “They brought out commonalities that people have.”Young at Heart is available on WAMU.org, NPR, and major podcast platforms. New episodes are in the works.Want to share your own reinvention story? Visit the official form at wamu.org/young-at-heart As Nnamdi and Kaufman prove, the best stories often come from ordinary people who simply decided to try something new.In closing, Nnamdi quoted the old saying with a smile: “It ain't over till it's over.” Whether you're sketching shoes on the side, ushering at hockey games, swimming under bridges, or simply showing up curious every day, the message is clear: retirement isn't an ending — it's an invitation to a new beginning.Tune in. Submit your story. And remember — your next chapter might just be the best one yet.Listen now: wamu.org/show/young-at-heart Share your story: wamu.org/young-at-heart-share

Send a textEpisode 991 is a punch-in-the-mouth reminder that sometimes the safest thing you can do… is go for it.In this episode, I share a note Steve Jobs emailed to himself before his Stanford commencement speech — back when he and Steve Wozniak were just two guys with no wives, no kids, no house payments, and nothing to lose. They weren't investing in better apartments or fatter bank accounts. They were investing in themselves.And that's the heartbeat of this episode.If you're young — I'm talking high school, college, early career — this is your season to explore. You can take the hit. You can start over. You can move cities. You can try something and hate it. You can fail and regroup. The walls haven't closed in yet. So don't build them yourself.If you've got some miles on you — like me — this message is just as important. Because now you've got something young people don't: wisdom. Experience. Knowledge. Judgment. And that can either become fuel… or it can become fear.In this episode, I talk about:Why “nothing to lose” is often when you have everything to gainThe difference between reckless and playful riskOne-way doors vs. two-way doors (most decisions aren't permanent)Why starting with free is powerfulHow writing and starting this podcast at 43 changed my entire trajectoryAnd why succeeding at not trying is the quietest failure of allThis isn't about burning your life down.It's about pushing the walls out before they close in.It's about remembering that you can always start over. I've been bankrupt. I've been homeless. I've been demoted. And I'm still here. Still building. Still young at heart.Sometimes when you have nothing to lose… You have everything to gain.If there's something pulling at you — something you know you need to explore — this episode is your nudge.Let's go.Always keep it simple.Keep it moving.Never settle.Stay tough.Support the show

In this conversation, Dr. Jill Baron discusses her journey into functional and integrative medicine, emphasizing the importance of understanding the mind-body connection and the impact of stress on health. She shares insights on nutrition, practical stress management techniques, and the significance of social connections and movement in maintaining overall wellness. Dr. Baron also highlights the need for a holistic approach to health, encouraging listeners to take small, manageable steps towards improving their well-being.TakeawaysDr. Jill Baron emphasizes the mind-body connection in health.Functional medicine seeks to address root causes of health issues.Stress can significantly impact health as we age.Nutrition plays a crucial role in managing stress.Social connections are vital for mental and physical health.Movement and exercise are essential for resilience.Practical breathing techniques can help manage stress in the moment.Inflammation is a precursor to many chronic diseases.Taking baby steps towards health improvements is important.Practicing self-compassion is key in health journeys.CHAPTERS00:00 Podcast Preview01:51 Introduction to Dr. Baron and her journey03:51 Understanding Functional and Integrative Medicine10:33 Impact of Stress on Health13:47 Practical Tips to Deal with Stress19:33 The Impact of Nutrition on Stress24:09 What is Inflammation and Infla-maging?29:29 The Importance of Hydration32:49 The Role of Social Interaction in Managing Stress35:01 How Dance Affects Health36:38 Gentle Movement and Stress37:37 Steps to Improve Heatlh & Manage StressFor more information on Dr. Jill Baron, visit her website at www.drjillbaron.comFind Dr. Baron's book “Don't Mess with Stress” on Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/Dont-Mess-StressTM-Managing-Optimizing/dp/173602440X

Where has Santa Claus gone?Once upon a time there was Santa Claus's Village — but Santa Claus wasn't there. He had been missing for days and days… actually for months. Who would prepare and deliver gifts to the children as they did every year?That part of the North Pole which was usually very busy had become strangely silent — not an Elf could be seen around, no sounds of bells, the sleighs were covered in snow and all the reindeer dozed about confused.If you looked into his house you couldn't see a trace of life. The fireplace cold, the rocking chair covered in cobwebs, an empty cup on the wooden table and a candle stub burnt out long ago.Many were the rumours that had spread about Santa Claus's absence. Some said he was on another planet in a far, far away galaxy, some on the Moon, some on the vast oceans — and someone even said he had opened a bakery in Buenos Aires.The mystery was thick. Nobody could make sense of it and everything was silent and still.Meanwhile, many miles away, in the Southern Seas, a group of seagulls who spent their days fluttering above the bay spotted a small sailing boat in the distance. There was only one sailor on board who was hoisting the main sail up the creaking mast.The eldest seagull couldn't believe his eyes. He did a couple of acrobatics in the air, pulled out his spyglass, looked more carefully and said: "But I know him! That sailor comes from distant lands!"Turning to the other seagulls he told them: "One day, during one of my long journeys, I lost my way and found myself on the frozen rooftops of a village at the North Pole. I landed right on the house of that long-bearded man you see on the boat. He heard me calling for help, came to fetch me, fed me and told me about his work. I think this meeting has something magical about it. Our next adventure is about to begin."Gliding down, they headed towards the boat and all landed on the bow. The seagull and the sailor greeted each other like old friends.Shortly after, a group of dolphins arrived near the sailing boat, curious. They swam in circles around the boat, jumping out of the water.The youngest dolphin noticed something strange. "Look! Wood shavings are coming out of the hold and floating! And you can see little lights below deck."The long-bearded sailor smiled. "Come," he said in a warm voice, "I'll show you what I've done all these months."He opened the hatch to the hold and inside, by the light of two swaying lanterns, you could see a floating workshop full of wonders. With a sharp plane he had worked pieces of wood recovered from the sea, transforming them into toys — and he had done the same with shells, coconuts, cork stoppers, glass bottles, starfish and golden threads that had arrived from who knows where."I travelled to learn new ways of bringing joy," the sailor explained. "But there's so much work to do and Christmas is coming. Would you help me finish?"And so they all set to work together. The dolphins brought special shells from the bottom of the sea. The seagulls gathered coloured feathers. The objects transformed into gifts were placed in large canvas sacks.The days passed quickly.On the first of December the captain, wearing his red warm hat with his pipe in his mouth, looked at the starry sky and said: "It's time to leave."The dolphins lifted the sailing boat until it rose above the waves. The sails filled with wind and it took flight, whilst the flock of seagulls guided it through the clouds following dreams. Together they continued the journey heading north, flying through the endless blue.Night fell quickly and in the sky full of stars one shone brighter than all the others. It was the North Star which with its light accompanied the sailing boat's descent to earth.By magic, as it approached the village, the sailing boat transformed into a sleigh loaded with gifts. The presents built in the hold arrived in the workshop to be delivered together with all the other parcels.When it landed on the roof of his house, a tinkling of bells was heard in the distance. The Elves looked out of their doors and shouted: "It's him! It's him! It's Santa Claus! He's back!"The red-nosed reindeer woke up suddenly and began polishing the sleighs, decorating them with bows and coloured pine cones.Life in the village awakened all at once. The tree branches shook as if they were being tickled. A group of penguins, who had arrived at the North Pole to lend a hand, sliding on the ice sheets at great speed, ended up inside snowdrifts and came out like bouncing balls.“You are so funny! We'll hang you on the Christmas tree as decorations!" the village animals shouted.But the penguins, freeing themselves from the snow, ran towards Santa Claus's house to help with the preparations.In the village absolutely everyone got moving. The reindeer rushed to the Post Office and filled the sacks with letters, then carried them to the workshop. The Elves with the help of the penguins were ready for work.That morning, when the bells rang out in celebration, foxes, squirrels, hares and bears came running from every corner of the forest to celebrate Santa Claus's return. There was so much to do for the joy of all the children in the world.The air smelt of fir trees and homemade biscuits. The Christmas trees sparkled with icicles like stars. The animals chased each other happily with their noses turned upwards.The preparations began in earnest. Throughout the month of December they worked together — saws that sang, hammers that played, coloured paper that flew. Santa Claus told stories of his journey whilst he hammered and sanded.And when the 24th of December arrived, everything was ready. The presents were loaded onto the sleigh and Santa Claus set off on his most important journey.The seagulls flew away towards new horizons, leaving their footprints on the snowy rooftops.Since that Christmas it is said that Santa Claus never left the North Pole again."What if it was only a tale? Is it true, or not? The final decision is yours!" — Written by Lucia & Marco CiappelliFor the Italian version and many more stories to read and listen to: https://www.storiesottolestelle.com Hosted by Simplecast, an AdsWizz company. See pcm.adswizz.com for information about our collection and use of personal data for advertising.

Where has Santa Claus gone?Once upon a time there was Santa Claus's Village — but Santa Claus wasn't there. He had been missing for days and days… actually for months. Who would prepare and deliver gifts to the children as they did every year?That part of the North Pole which was usually very busy had become strangely silent — not an Elf could be seen around, no sounds of bells, the sleighs were covered in snow and all the reindeer dozed about confused.If you looked into his house you couldn't see a trace of life. The fireplace cold, the rocking chair covered in cobwebs, an empty cup on the wooden table and a candle stub burnt out long ago.Many were the rumours that had spread about Santa Claus's absence. Some said he was on another planet in a far, far away galaxy, some on the Moon, some on the vast oceans — and someone even said he had opened a bakery in Buenos Aires.The mystery was thick. Nobody could make sense of it and everything was silent and still.Meanwhile, many miles away, in the Southern Seas, a group of seagulls who spent their days fluttering above the bay spotted a small sailing boat in the distance. There was only one sailor on board who was hoisting the main sail up the creaking mast.The eldest seagull couldn't believe his eyes. He did a couple of acrobatics in the air, pulled out his spyglass, looked more carefully and said: "But I know him! That sailor comes from distant lands!"Turning to the other seagulls he told them: "One day, during one of my long journeys, I lost my way and found myself on the frozen rooftops of a village at the North Pole. I landed right on the house of that long-bearded man you see on the boat. He heard me calling for help, came to fetch me, fed me and told me about his work. I think this meeting has something magical about it. Our next adventure is about to begin."Gliding down, they headed towards the boat and all landed on the bow. The seagull and the sailor greeted each other like old friends.Shortly after, a group of dolphins arrived near the sailing boat, curious. They swam in circles around the boat, jumping out of the water.The youngest dolphin noticed something strange. "Look! Wood shavings are coming out of the hold and floating! And you can see little lights below deck."The long-bearded sailor smiled. "Come," he said in a warm voice, "I'll show you what I've done all these months."He opened the hatch to the hold and inside, by the light of two swaying lanterns, you could see a floating workshop full of wonders. With a sharp plane he had worked pieces of wood recovered from the sea, transforming them into toys — and he had done the same with shells, coconuts, cork stoppers, glass bottles, starfish and golden threads that had arrived from who knows where."I travelled to learn new ways of bringing joy," the sailor explained. "But there's so much work to do and Christmas is coming. Would you help me finish?"And so they all set to work together. The dolphins brought special shells from the bottom of the sea. The seagulls gathered coloured feathers. The objects transformed into gifts were placed in large canvas sacks.The days passed quickly.On the first of December the captain, wearing his red warm hat with his pipe in his mouth, looked at the starry sky and said: "It's time to leave."The dolphins lifted the sailing boat until it rose above the waves. The sails filled with wind and it took flight, whilst the flock of seagulls guided it through the clouds following dreams. Together they continued the journey heading north, flying through the endless blue.Night fell quickly and in the sky full of stars one shone brighter than all the others. It was the North Star which with its light accompanied the sailing boat's descent to earth.By magic, as it approached the village, the sailing boat transformed into a sleigh loaded with gifts. The presents built in the hold arrived in the workshop to be delivered together with all the other parcels.When it landed on the roof of his house, a tinkling of bells was heard in the distance. The Elves looked out of their doors and shouted: "It's him! It's him! It's Santa Claus! He's back!"The red-nosed reindeer woke up suddenly and began polishing the sleighs, decorating them with bows and coloured pine cones.Life in the village awakened all at once. The tree branches shook as if they were being tickled. A group of penguins, who had arrived at the North Pole to lend a hand, sliding on the ice sheets at great speed, ended up inside snowdrifts and came out like bouncing balls.“You are so funny! We'll hang you on the Christmas tree as decorations!" the village animals shouted.But the penguins, freeing themselves from the snow, ran towards Santa Claus's house to help with the preparations.In the village absolutely everyone got moving. The reindeer rushed to the Post Office and filled the sacks with letters, then carried them to the workshop. The Elves with the help of the penguins were ready for work.That morning, when the bells rang out in celebration, foxes, squirrels, hares and bears came running from every corner of the forest to celebrate Santa Claus's return. There was so much to do for the joy of all the children in the world.The air smelt of fir trees and homemade biscuits. The Christmas trees sparkled with icicles like stars. The animals chased each other happily with their noses turned upwards.The preparations began in earnest. Throughout the month of December they worked together — saws that sang, hammers that played, coloured paper that flew. Santa Claus told stories of his journey whilst he hammered and sanded.And when the 24th of December arrived, everything was ready. The presents were loaded onto the sleigh and Santa Claus set off on his most important journey.The seagulls flew away towards new horizons, leaving their footprints on the snowy rooftops.Since that Christmas it is said that Santa Claus never left the North Pole again."What if it was only a tale? Is it true, or not? The final decision is yours!" — Written by Lucia & Marco CiappelliFor the Italian version and many more stories to read and listen to: https://www.storiesottolestelle.com Each story is currently written and narrated in both Italian and English.The translation from Italian (the original language) to English and the reading of the stories are performed using Generative Artificial Intelligence — which perhaps has a touch of magic... We hope it has done a good job!If you like it, make sure to tell your friends, family, and teachers, and subscribe to this podcast to stay updated. You'll be able to read or listen to new stories as soon as they become available. Visit us On The Official Website https://www.storiesottolestelle.com/ Hosted by Simplecast, an AdsWizz company. See pcm.adswizz.com for information about our collection and use of personal data for advertising.

Jared, Steven, and our special guest Sara get jumpscared by Jimmy Johnson

No sleep? No problem. We braved land, sea, and absolutely polluted insides this week to bring you the show you know and love. That's right folks: we do it for you. So please enjoy an all-time episode. One that answers the questions that we've all been asking. Like, “How many edibles is too many edibles for a teacher to have?” And “Will NBC ever let us meet the team”? ★★★ This week's Music: “Empty Lighter” by ⁠⁠Griff Parker ★★★ See Josh Live! ALL STAND UP LINKS CAN BE FOUND HERE: ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠https://thejoshpotter.com⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠ ★★★ Josh Potter:

THE SEASONS IN A BREATHAutumn appeared at the window and looked around— it was November."The leaves are yellow and red.The swallows fly away in flocks over the rooftops.The crisp air smells of roasted chestnuts and burning wood.I like it this way,"Autumn exclaimed.Winter opened the door and looked around— it was January."The snow and the freezing wind.In the woods, mistletoe on branches beneath a blanket of ice.The marmot sleeps in her covered den, dreaming of the stars.How lovely it is to be warm and cozy!"Winter exclaimed.Spring stepped out onto the terrace and looked around— it was April."The flowers bloom and the birds chirp, returning to their nests.With the mild temperature, joyful life vibrates in the air.How wonderful!"Spring exclaimed.Summer went into the garden and looked around— it was July.A cat rests in the shade of a pine tree.The air smells of cut grass and ripe fruit.The butterflies dance carefree to the song of the cicadas.The sun makes me smile!"Summer exclaimed.The months pass and the year spins at great speed,but they will always bring something beautiful. Hosted by Simplecast, an AdsWizz company. See pcm.adswizz.com for information about our collection and use of personal data for advertising.

THE SEASONS IN A BREATHAutumn appeared at the window and looked around— it was November."The leaves are yellow and red.The swallows fly away in flocks over the rooftops.The crisp air smells of roasted chestnuts and burning wood.I like it this way,"Autumn exclaimed.Winter opened the door and looked around— it was January."The snow and the freezing wind.In the woods, mistletoe on branches beneath a blanket of ice.The marmot sleeps in her covered den, dreaming of the stars.How lovely it is to be warm and cozy!"Winter exclaimed.Spring stepped out onto the terrace and looked around— it was April."The flowers bloom and the birds chirp, returning to their nests.With the mild temperature, joyful life vibrates in the air.How wonderful!"Spring exclaimed.Summer went into the garden and looked around— it was July.A cat rests in the shade of a pine tree.The air smells of cut grass and ripe fruit.The butterflies dance carefree to the song of the cicadas.The sun makes me smile!"Summer exclaimed.The months pass and the year spins at great speed,but they will always bring something beautiful. Each story is currently written and narrated in both Italian and English.The translation from Italian (the original language) to English and the reading of the stories are performed using Generative Artificial Intelligence — which perhaps has a touch of magic... We hope it has done a good job!If you like it, make sure to tell your friends, family, and teachers, and subscribe to this podcast to stay updated. You'll be able to read or listen to new stories as soon as they become available. Visit us On The Official Website https://www.storiesottolestelle.com/ Hosted by Simplecast, an AdsWizz company. See pcm.adswizz.com for information about our collection and use of personal data for advertising.

Halloween over Florence: THE MARKET OF GHOSTSSeverino lived in the bell tower on the hill — the one next to the ancient Basilica of San Miniato al Monte.Every evening, at sunset, he would lock the gate at the base of the entrance stairway and before climbing back up, he would pause to watch Florence color itself amber.And so he did today as well. The tourists had left. Time stopped and silence became sacred again.Through the rusted bars the city stood there motionless — perhaps since forever; with its red roofs, marble facades and the Arno flowing between its stones like a glittering silver ribbon.Domes and towers trembling with light, almost suspended in the air, as if everything and everyone were holding their breath waiting for twilight — and for the night that would cover it with shadows, stars and dreams.One more glance, then he turned on his transistor radio that he had found a few years ago and the notes of Duke Ellington's 'Don't Get Around Much Anymore' filled the autumn evening.Silence may be sacred for the monks, but for Severino music was more so. Seven, his raven, didn't need to be called and at the first notes launched himself from the cypresses of the cemetery above, circled in front of the imposing facade of the Basilica and suddenly glided down along the stairway, to land gently on his left shoulder."Hey Seven, had a good day?""Yes. Could have been worse — Let's settle for that."At which, Severino smiled, turned up the radio's volume and began climbing resolutely toward le Porte del Cielo, while Jazz music echoed among the ancient stones.Nine years ago, on this same day in the month of October, the Olivetan monks residing in the Abbey found a child on the steps of the Basilica.He was there, wrapped in fog, silent as the night, eyes curious as the wind, without name and without past. They called him Severino — I don't know why — and he grew up among prayers and silences. He played in ancient rooms and discovered his world, surrounded by books, tombs, art and mysteries never revealed. At night a raven and a black cat accompanied him, illuminated by the moon, in the Cimitero delle Porte Sante, wandering among imposing crypts and motionless statues that whispered memories and mysteries.But on Halloween nights the whispers transform into screams and endless laments. Secrets manifest themselves, legends become reality, and dreams disguised as nightmares knock on doors lit by candles. And that full moon night was precisely this night: October 31st — and remember, whether you believe in spirits or not, nothing changes: the ghosts will come.And Severino was up there, right there waiting for them to arrive. Leaning out the highest window of the bell tower, calm, looking at Florence from above. While Thelonious Monk's 'Round Midnight' played on his radio, he watched — tapping time with one foot and waited.At the second of the twelve strokes of the midnight bells, something began to happen. On the Arno formed a dense fog that pulsed with spectral green. It began to rise and slide slow but inexorable over the bridges like fingers of cold hands of impatient ghosts. It slid over the Ponte Vecchio and rolled through the streets of Oltrarno until reaching San Niccolò, where it climbed up the hill swallowing everything it found in its path.When it reached the gate of San Miniato, it slipped through the bars and climbed up the stairs until it covered, like a high luminous tide, the entire square in front of the church. It climbed up the marble facade and wrapped also the Cimitero delle Porte Sante, covering the entire hill in a cloak of mystery. Then slowly, as if by enchantment, the fog began to dissolve rising toward the sky and when the last cloud melted into the night air, the square was no longer empty.Small jack-o'-lanterns with flickering lights floated in the air smiling with teeth of fire. Black candles sprouted from nowhere, illuminating spectral stalls full of everything and nothing. Bats that seemed made of paper but were alive fluttered among the lights with wings of black velvet, while autumn leaves danced without wind, sparkling with gold and copper. Pumpkins of every shape filled the stands, some carved with funny faces, others covered with silver spiderwebs that shone like threads of moon. Witch hats swirled in the air like flying umbrellas rotating slow on themselves. Roasted chestnuts perfumed the air with cinnamon and mystery, while small dancing skeletons tinkled like ice bells.And finally in the Cimitero delle Porte Sante, the Portal opened. Like every Halloween, for centuries, spirits from all over the world congregated in Florence for their annual meeting. A spectral river of ghosts poured into the square, each heading toward their own stall, and each with their impossible merchandise to sell or trade. The spirits had arrived and Severino observed them from above. A carnival of other worlds, made of sounds, colors and unimaginable stories.The deserted square had transformed into the Market of Ghosts. Stalls kept materializing from nowhere, carved and glowing pumpkins told each other stories of Halloweens past, present and future laughing malicious among the perfumes of lost memories, past centuries, tomorrow's candles and fallen stardust. The sky above the Tuscan hills and above Florence was full of ghosts arriving from everywhere to search for the unfindable. But no human eye could see this spectacle. No one except Severino, who descended from the tower enchanted by that spectacle and immersed himself in the crowd pulsating with otherworldly life. Seven circled above him observing with attentive eyes and cawing a bit nervous. Some ghosts looked at him with curiosity and recognized him. Someone greeted him and many others whispered his name in forgotten languages."There he is," murmured a witch from Prague."The child of time," sighed a Norman knight."He's returned, I told you so." laughed a Caribbean pirate.But Severino paid them no attention because there were ghosts selling: dreams of sleeping dragons, laughter of northern gnomes, tears of mermaids in love, the last breath of dinosaurs, shadows of unicorns. And even fears from past Halloweens — two for the price of one, but only for tonight. The ghost of a pirate who died during a boarding gone not so well shouted: "Storm bottles! Lightning in jars!" A witch from Salem whispered: "Love potions that last three lifetimes…" A medieval knight showed swords that cut fear, A Chinese spirit waved kites that fly into the past.The spectral crowd grew and thickened, laughed and bargained, while Severino walked amazed and fascinated among the impossible stalls of the Halloween Market. Seven cawed restless from above and Eleven, the black cat with orange eyes, jumped from one tent to another not losing sight of a single movement of Severino and the hundreds of souls circling around him.A ghost monk from an era that never existed saw him and smiled at him from behind a stall full of ancient radios adorned with mysterious symbols. Severino approached, fascinated."How wonderful! Do they all work?""Oh yes, certainly" replied the monk. "These transmit on the waves of past, present, and future time. But you don't need to buy one."The other ghosts stopped. They ceased selling, buying and bartering. They looked at Severino with respect and listened to what the collector of frequencies told him."The transistor radio you already have is more special than you think. But to discover its true secrets, you'll have to search in the ancient crypts where everything began."And suddenly the first lights of dawn began to illuminate the sky behind San Miniato with pink. In rush and hurry the ghosts said goodbye flying away in the wind. "Until next Halloween!" They told each other crossing in the sky. The stalls vanished. Lanterns and candles went out. The Market of Ghosts dissolved like a dream.Severino found himself alone in the empty square, Seven on his shoulder and Eleven sitting on the low wallLooking at Florence illuminating itself in the day of All Saints. He observed his old radio with new eyes and from the ancient crypts of San Miniato, something seemed to call him. He turned it on, turned up the volume and descended the stairway in time to Chet Baker's version of 'Autumn Leaves'.It was time to throw open the gate of the Basilica of San Miniato al Monte.___________________We will continue this story.... For now a Happy Halloween to all of you, may you always believe in magic!Story written by Marco Ciappelli for "Stories Under The Stars" Halloween 2025___________________Listen to Severino's Playlist for the songs that accompany this story and subscribe to discover new music with every adventure.

Halloween over Florence: THE MARKET OF GHOSTSSeverino lived in the bell tower on the hill — the one next to the ancient Basilica of San Miniato al Monte.Every evening, at sunset, he would lock the gate at the base of the entrance stairway and before climbing back up, he would pause to watch Florence color itself amber.And so he did today as well. The tourists had left. Time stopped and silence became sacred again.Through the rusted bars the city stood there motionless — perhaps since forever; with its red roofs, marble facades and the Arno flowing between its stones like a glittering silver ribbon.Domes and towers trembling with light, almost suspended in the air, as if everything and everyone were holding their breath waiting for twilight — and for the night that would cover it with shadows, stars and dreams.One more glance, then he turned on his transistor radio that he had found a few years ago and the notes of Duke Ellington's 'Don't Get Around Much Anymore' filled the autumn evening.Silence may be sacred for the monks, but for Severino music was more so. Seven, his raven, didn't need to be called and at the first notes launched himself from the cypresses of the cemetery above, circled in front of the imposing facade of the Basilica and suddenly glided down along the stairway, to land gently on his left shoulder."Hey Seven, had a good day?""Yes. Could have been worse — Let's settle for that."At which, Severino smiled, turned up the radio's volume and began climbing resolutely toward le Porte del Cielo, while Jazz music echoed among the ancient stones.Nine years ago, on this same day in the month of October, the Olivetan monks residing in the Abbey found a child on the steps of the Basilica.He was there, wrapped in fog, silent as the night, eyes curious as the wind, without name and without past. They called him Severino — I don't know why — and he grew up among prayers and silences. He played in ancient rooms and discovered his world, surrounded by books, tombs, art and mysteries never revealed. At night a raven and a black cat accompanied him, illuminated by the moon, in the Cimitero delle Porte Sante, wandering among imposing crypts and motionless statues that whispered memories and mysteries.But on Halloween nights the whispers transform into screams and endless laments. Secrets manifest themselves, legends become reality, and dreams disguised as nightmares knock on doors lit by candles. And that full moon night was precisely this night: October 31st — and remember, whether you believe in spirits or not, nothing changes: the ghosts will come.And Severino was up there, right there waiting for them to arrive. Leaning out the highest window of the bell tower, calm, looking at Florence from above. While Thelonious Monk's 'Round Midnight' played on his radio, he watched — tapping time with one foot and waited.At the second of the twelve strokes of the midnight bells, something began to happen. On the Arno formed a dense fog that pulsed with spectral green. It began to rise and slide slow but inexorable over the bridges like fingers of cold hands of impatient ghosts. It slid over the Ponte Vecchio and rolled through the streets of Oltrarno until reaching San Niccolò, where it climbed up the hill swallowing everything it found in its path.When it reached the gate of San Miniato, it slipped through the bars and climbed up the stairs until it covered, like a high luminous tide, the entire square in front of the church. It climbed up the marble facade and wrapped also the Cimitero delle Porte Sante, covering the entire hill in a cloak of mystery. Then slowly, as if by enchantment, the fog began to dissolve rising toward the sky and when the last cloud melted into the night air, the square was no longer empty.Small jack-o'-lanterns with flickering lights floated in the air smiling with teeth of fire. Black candles sprouted from nowhere, illuminating spectral stalls full of everything and nothing. Bats that seemed made of paper but were alive fluttered among the lights with wings of black velvet, while autumn leaves danced without wind, sparkling with gold and copper. Pumpkins of every shape filled the stands, some carved with funny faces, others covered with silver spiderwebs that shone like threads of moon. Witch hats swirled in the air like flying umbrellas rotating slow on themselves. Roasted chestnuts perfumed the air with cinnamon and mystery, while small dancing skeletons tinkled like ice bells.And finally in the Cimitero delle Porte Sante, the Portal opened. Like every Halloween, for centuries, spirits from all over the world congregated in Florence for their annual meeting. A spectral river of ghosts poured into the square, each heading toward their own stall, and each with their impossible merchandise to sell or trade. The spirits had arrived and Severino observed them from above. A carnival of other worlds, made of sounds, colors and unimaginable stories.The deserted square had transformed into the Market of Ghosts. Stalls kept materializing from nowhere, carved and glowing pumpkins told each other stories of Halloweens past, present and future laughing malicious among the perfumes of lost memories, past centuries, tomorrow's candles and fallen stardust. The sky above the Tuscan hills and above Florence was full of ghosts arriving from everywhere to search for the unfindable. But no human eye could see this spectacle. No one except Severino, who descended from the tower enchanted by that spectacle and immersed himself in the crowd pulsating with otherworldly life. Seven circled above him observing with attentive eyes and cawing a bit nervous. Some ghosts looked at him with curiosity and recognized him. Someone greeted him and many others whispered his name in forgotten languages."There he is," murmured a witch from Prague."The child of time," sighed a Norman knight."He's returned, I told you so." laughed a Caribbean pirate.But Severino paid them no attention because there were ghosts selling: dreams of sleeping dragons, laughter of northern gnomes, tears of mermaids in love, the last breath of dinosaurs, shadows of unicorns. And even fears from past Halloweens — two for the price of one, but only for tonight. The ghost of a pirate who died during a boarding gone not so well shouted: "Storm bottles! Lightning in jars!" A witch from Salem whispered: "Love potions that last three lifetimes…" A medieval knight showed swords that cut fear, A Chinese spirit waved kites that fly into the past.The spectral crowd grew and thickened, laughed and bargained, while Severino walked amazed and fascinated among the impossible stalls of the Halloween Market. Seven cawed restless from above and Eleven, the black cat with orange eyes, jumped from one tent to another not losing sight of a single movement of Severino and the hundreds of souls circling around him.A ghost monk from an era that never existed saw him and smiled at him from behind a stall full of ancient radios adorned with mysterious symbols. Severino approached, fascinated."How wonderful! Do they all work?""Oh yes, certainly" replied the monk. "These transmit on the waves of past, present, and future time. But you don't need to buy one."The other ghosts stopped. They ceased selling, buying and bartering. They looked at Severino with respect and listened to what the collector of frequencies told him."The transistor radio you already have is more special than you think. But to discover its true secrets, you'll have to search in the ancient crypts where everything began."And suddenly the first lights of dawn began to illuminate the sky behind San Miniato with pink. In rush and hurry the ghosts said goodbye flying away in the wind. "Until next Halloween!" They told each other crossing in the sky. The stalls vanished. Lanterns and candles went out. The Market of Ghosts dissolved like a dream.Severino found himself alone in the empty square, Seven on his shoulder and Eleven sitting on the low wallLooking at Florence illuminating itself in the day of All Saints. He observed his old radio with new eyes and from the ancient crypts of San Miniato, something seemed to call him. He turned it on, turned up the volume and descended the stairway in time to Chet Baker's version of 'Autumn Leaves'.It was time to throw open the gate of the Basilica of San Miniato al Monte.___________________We will continue this story.... For now a Happy Halloween to all of you, may you always believe in magic!Story written by Marco Ciappelli for "Stories Under The Stars" Halloween 2025___________________Listen to Severino's Playlist for the songs that accompany this story and subscribe to discover new music with every adventure.

Hey Howdy Hey! Welcome to episode 288 of Disney Assembled!!!In this episode of Disney Assemble, we explore the diverse experiences available at Disney parks, emphasizing that not everything is designed solely for children. We discuss the importance of catering to the 'young at heart' crowd, highlighting attractions across all four Disney World parks that appeal to older guests. The conversation also touches on Disney's upcoming celebrations for America's 250th birthday and the balance of experiences in each park.If you enjoy the show,...Subscribe to the show on your podcast player of choice. If you are able, consider giving us a 5-star rating and review.⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠Buy us a Dole Whip!⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠Become a member and get extra content on ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠Patreon⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠.Find and subscribe to our ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠YouTube channel⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠.Visit our ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠Disney Assembled store⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠ to purchase some excellent Disney Assembled merch.Follow and shoot us a message on our socials: @DisneyAssembled on ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠Facebook⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠, ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠Instagram⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠, ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠Twitter⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠,⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠ ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠Threads⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠, ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠Bluesky⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠, and ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠TikTok⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠ or email us at ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠disneyassembled@gmail.com⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠.Be sure to check out our ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠Spotify Playlist, "Disney Assembled's Favorites" - click here to listen⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠.You can find links to all of the above, as well as links to where you can subscribe to the show, on our website: ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠disneyassembled.com⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠See you real soon!Troy & Mimi :)

Brad Singer sees himself as just another average guy (his words, not ours). Just another average guy who has climbed Mt. Everest and Mt. Kilimanjaro, hiked the Grand Canyon, rim to rim, multiple times and has swam out to Alcatraz Island and back. Did we mention he's not in his 30s? Or his 40s? Or even his 50s? Brad is a good reminder it's never too late, we are never too old, and yes, my good friends, we still have time to go on some adventures. If you've been waiting for your sign to go for it, look no further than this oh-so-good episode to inspire and uplift you. _______________________________ Steve is busy at work on the third book in his cozy mystery series, THE DOG WALKING DETECTIVES. Grab the first two and get caught up: Book 1: DROWN TOWN Amazon: https://amzn.to/478W8mp Barnes & Noble: https://bit.ly/3Mv7cCk & Book 2: MURDER UNMASKED Amazon: https://shorturl.at/fDR47 Barnes & Noble: https://shorturl.at/3ccTy

A Mystery in FlorenceIn Tuscany there is so much magic: hills decorated with olive trees, vineyards and cypresses, bell towers ringing everywhere, hidden gardens, and of course enchanted cities, full of history and beauty, where famous artists have created marvellous works of art.In this tale we find ourselves in the city of Florence, where magic abounds and legends hide in every corner.A river called the Arno runs through it; and amongst the many bridges there is one that quite rightly is a bit more famous than the others: the Ponte Vecchio. In those suspended houses no one lives anymore. Every day it is full of tourists who photograph it and come to visit from all over the world, but many, many years ago on this bridge there were butchers, fishmongers and tanners as if it were a market, a square suspended over the Arno and daily life was very different from today.At the time of this story the shops were all jewellery stores owned by master goldsmiths, who lived there, worked and sold gold jewellery and precious items of the highest quality. It was one of the hearts of the city where the Florentines of the time would meet and stop to chat whilst they came and went from one side of the river to the other. Even the children spent their days having fun playing and running from one side to the other undisturbed.At this point you must know that for some days small thefts had been occurring in the artisans' shops. Gold and precious items disappeared as if stolen by the wind, silently and by surprise, without leaving a trace. Who knows who knows? Who could be the culprit?The goldsmiths gathered together, after closing their shops, right there on the bridge."But what on earth is happening?" said one."Well, if only we knew..." said another."And we can't go on like this, looking like fools!"Bernardo, one of the goldsmiths, said: "Granted I'm a bit absent-minded, but I'm certainly not blind enough not to see if gold is missing from my shop."And off they went asking questions and interrogating each other to try to find an explanation for these thefts, discover the thief and perhaps recover what was stolen.In short, it had been weeks now that gold filings from the working of gold and various precious objects had been disappearing from the shops — and all this was happening under everyone's eyes but no one had seen anything.Who to blame if not those mischievous rascals who enjoyed playing football on the bridge! Between little matches, laughter, running, various games and hide-and-seek, who knows if one of them hadn't started stealing here and there.More days passed and more gold had vanished into thin air. The goldsmiths, tired of this business, came out onto the bridge and shouted loudly all together: "Now we've really had enough and it's time to put an end to it! Let's catch the thief!"Even Giulio the baker came out to the doorway of his shop, on the left, at the end of the bridge, and although he hadn't understood precisely what was happening, he showed everyone his flour-covered hands shouting: "I've got nothing to do with it, I swear! My hands are covered in dough only because I'm always preparing focaccia to bake in the oven."And saying this he joined the others shouting: "Let's catch the thief red-handed before that sack becomes one of flour!"In that commotion, Lapo, a very clever and curious boy, son of the goldsmith Bernardo who was friends with everyone and played together with the other children on the bridge, after reflecting thought: "There's something that doesn't add up: we children don't steal, whose fault can it be?"So Lapo decided to investigate on his own. Because as his grandfather always told him: "one thing done is worth more than a hundred to do" and then he would add that "if you do it yourself you do for three."So, without much ado, the following evening he organised himself, getting hold of a magnifying glass, a notebook with pencil to take notes and a lantern that would accompany him in the dark. The latter he held tight with a slightly trembling hand, but there was no hesitation — the situation wouldn't resolve itself.At dusk, he set off from the Ponte Vecchio, where he lived with his father above the shop, towards the column in Piazza Santa Trinità.Up there was, and still is, the Statue of Justice that towered so high as to touch the sky. The journey wasn't long, but that evening it took him longer than usual, because he observed everything with attention and curiosity. He looked right, left, in the narrow streets, beyond the parapet of the Lungarno and if he saw a stone he moved that too: "you never know where you might find clues" he thought.He had heard it said that the column and the statue of Justice were magical and full of secrets. But the most amazing thing was that from its summit, where indeed the statue stood, one could see what was happening at every point in the city — as we know justice sees and knows everything.Having arrived in Piazza Santa Trinita, he gave a great sigh, took one last step and at the foot of the column — what a surprise... he met a snail."A snail?" you will say. "Eh, exactly a snail complete with house on its shoulders, with lights on at the windows and a fireplace lit" Really, I tell you... Believe it... In short it was there, moving, slowly yes, but determined. When it heard the light step of the unexpected visitor, it became suspicious and withdrawing its antennae as if they were brakes, it stopped dead and said:"Halt! Who goes there? But who are you and where are you going? You're not looking for trouble, are you, wandering about all alone at this twilight hour?""No, what trouble... quite the opposite Mrs Snail" replied Lapo, "I should go to the top of the column to see what's happening on the Ponte Vecchio. There are things that don't quite add up and I'm investigating. As you can see I even have the magnifying glass and hat!" Said Lapo showing the objects to avoid misunderstandings. "Now, since you seem to be from around here, you wouldn't happen to know how I can get up there?"The snail who lived at the foot of the column and was to all intents and purposes its guardian, huffed but then smiled and showed Lapo a small door at the foot of the column, hidden by ivy."Dearest Lapo," she said adjusting her spectacles "you seem like a brave boy, a true friend and also a good investigator, but only from the top of the column will you be able to know the truth."Having said this, the snail rubbed her tentacles and they began to shine with a magical light that enveloped Lapo making him become the height of the door which opened with a great creak; so sharp as to make all the birds that were hanging about in the night fly away.Lapo, now very small, thanked the snail and without fear entered inside the column. In the darkness, he was impressed by a narrow and high well that went up instead of down. On the gleaming walls there was a spiral of tiny steps that he began to climb with determination with the lit lantern held tight in his hand. He reached the top.In the night the starry sky illuminated the Statue of Justice that towered over Florence. It had a scale with two balanced plates in one hand and a golden sword in the other.As we said previously, by enchantment, from there one could see the whole city — one just had to look in the right direction and think of the part of Florence you wanted to see: an incredible magic for a breathtaking view.Now was the moment to concentrate on the Ponte Vecchio and try to solve the mystery of the thefts, but whilst moving around the statue, to go to the side that looked towards the river, he made an incredible discovery. He couldn't believe his own eyes — so much so that he took out the magnifying glass to be sure. Both plates of the scale were full of gold filings and precious trinkets."Good heavens! And how did this stuff get up here?" Exclaimed Lapo with wide eyes. "This is undoubtedly the loot from the thefts at the jewellery shops!"At first, confused and amazed he didn't know what to think, but then, observing the filings more carefully he realised they were all woven together with bracelets and necklaces: these were two nests and an idea immediately flashed into his mind."The thieving magpies!" Exclaimed Lapo. Those crafty birds love everything that glitters, it must certainly have been them who robbed the shops and brought the stolen goods up here.And in the middle of this thought, suddenly they appeared in flight. They landed on the column agitated and furious "KRAA KRAA KRAA! Oh, little boy but what are you doing at our home? Don't you even dare touch these glittering marvels; they are our nest, we found them and they are ours."Lapo didn't let himself be frightened and calmly replied: "But what are you saying? You like glittering things that shine and you take them, but that certainly doesn't mean they are yours."The magpies were all chattering together they seemed to have gone mad and knew no reason. "But what is this one saying?" Said one. "Right, someone comes to our home and expects to give orders?" Added another. "Yes, nice joke. They're not ours? But are you a comedian? Change job, look, because you don't make us laugh." Said another.And all of them laughing.At which Lapo didn't let himself be intimidated. He rummaged in his pocket and found what he was looking for. He proposed an exchange. "What if we made a deal. To tell the truth I lose out quite a bit, but I like you so much that I would gladly give you these beautiful shiny marbles in exchange for the gold and trinkets."Seeing those small brilliant and colourful treasures, which they had never seen before, the magpies calmed down. They looked at each other with a crafty look and without hesitation... "Deal!"They took the marbles from his hand in a flash and flew away shouting: "Hooray, we're rich! From now on we'll collect these little balls."Sighing with relief and satisfaction, Lapo recovered the stolen goods and rushed down from the column. The snail was waiting for him applauding. With another spell she made him come out of the little door and appear right on the Ponte Vecchio where several Florentines were taking the evening air and chatting — including the goldsmiths."Papa, papa I've discovered the mystery and found the culprit, it was the thieving magpies! My friends didn't do anything wrong." "Calm down son, I'm listening". Replied Bernardo.Lapo with all the breath he had in his throat didn't waste a moment and told everything he had discovered and seen: the investigator's hat, the magnifying glass, the magical snail who knew the secrets of the column, the little door, the statue at the top, the view of Florence, the thieving magpies and the trick with the coloured marbles. Finally the mystery of the strange thefts was clarified, all the recovered stolen goods were returned to the goldsmiths of the Ponte Vecchio thanks to the enterprising and brave Lapo.At that point everyone who was on the Ponte Vecchio applauded shouting: "hooray, hooray, hooray, for the little investigator."Whilst the ancient bridge, perhaps enchanted, gleamed with golden lights.Giulio the baker whilst putting focaccia in the oven, sang merrily and with a ringing voice announced: "today focaccia for everyone free of charge, we must celebrate!"The thieving magpies returned to flying; they continued to find small objects and even pieces of glittering dreams; and chattering they said: "It may well be that we've lost a nest, but we've certainly found a story to tell."And perhaps, who knows, there will be a new story!— Written by Lucia & Marco Ciappelli [Inspired by a Florentine legend] Hosted by Simplecast, an AdsWizz company. See pcm.adswizz.com for information about our collection and use of personal data for advertising.

A Mystery in FlorenceIn Tuscany there is so much magic: hills decorated with olive trees, vineyards and cypresses, bell towers ringing everywhere, hidden gardens, and of course enchanted cities, full of history and beauty, where famous artists have created marvellous works of art.In this tale we find ourselves in the city of Florence, where magic abounds and legends hide in every corner.A river called the Arno runs through it; and amongst the many bridges there is one that quite rightly is a bit more famous than the others: the Ponte Vecchio. In those suspended houses no one lives anymore. Every day it is full of tourists who photograph it and come to visit from all over the world, but many, many years ago on this bridge there were butchers, fishmongers and tanners as if it were a market, a square suspended over the Arno and daily life was very different from today.At the time of this story the shops were all jewellery stores owned by master goldsmiths, who lived there, worked and sold gold jewellery and precious items of the highest quality. It was one of the hearts of the city where the Florentines of the time would meet and stop to chat whilst they came and went from one side of the river to the other. Even the children spent their days having fun playing and running from one side to the other undisturbed.At this point you must know that for some days small thefts had been occurring in the artisans' shops. Gold and precious items disappeared as if stolen by the wind, silently and by surprise, without leaving a trace. Who knows who knows? Who could be the culprit?The goldsmiths gathered together, after closing their shops, right there on the bridge."But what on earth is happening?" said one."Well, if only we knew..." said another."And we can't go on like this, looking like fools!"Bernardo, one of the goldsmiths, said: "Granted I'm a bit absent-minded, but I'm certainly not blind enough not to see if gold is missing from my shop."And off they went asking questions and interrogating each other to try to find an explanation for these thefts, discover the thief and perhaps recover what was stolen.In short, it had been weeks now that gold filings from the working of gold and various precious objects had been disappearing from the shops — and all this was happening under everyone's eyes but no one had seen anything.Who to blame if not those mischievous rascals who enjoyed playing football on the bridge! Between little matches, laughter, running, various games and hide-and-seek, who knows if one of them hadn't started stealing here and there.More days passed and more gold had vanished into thin air. The goldsmiths, tired of this business, came out onto the bridge and shouted loudly all together: "Now we've really had enough and it's time to put an end to it! Let's catch the thief!"Even Giulio the baker came out to the doorway of his shop, on the left, at the end of the bridge, and although he hadn't understood precisely what was happening, he showed everyone his flour-covered hands shouting: "I've got nothing to do with it, I swear! My hands are covered in dough only because I'm always preparing focaccia to bake in the oven."And saying this he joined the others shouting: "Let's catch the thief red-handed before that sack becomes one of flour!"In that commotion, Lapo, a very clever and curious boy, son of the goldsmith Bernardo who was friends with everyone and played together with the other children on the bridge, after reflecting thought: "There's something that doesn't add up: we children don't steal, whose fault can it be?"So Lapo decided to investigate on his own. Because as his grandfather always told him: "one thing done is worth more than a hundred to do" and then he would add that "if you do it yourself you do for three."So, without much ado, the following evening he organised himself, getting hold of a magnifying glass, a notebook with pencil to take notes and a lantern that would accompany him in the dark. The latter he held tight with a slightly trembling hand, but there was no hesitation — the situation wouldn't resolve itself.At dusk, he set off from the Ponte Vecchio, where he lived with his father above the shop, towards the column in Piazza Santa Trinità.Up there was, and still is, the Statue of Justice that towered so high as to touch the sky. The journey wasn't long, but that evening it took him longer than usual, because he observed everything with attention and curiosity. He looked right, left, in the narrow streets, beyond the parapet of the Lungarno and if he saw a stone he moved that too: "you never know where you might find clues" he thought.He had heard it said that the column and the statue of Justice were magical and full of secrets. But the most amazing thing was that from its summit, where indeed the statue stood, one could see what was happening at every point in the city — as we know justice sees and knows everything.Having arrived in Piazza Santa Trinita, he gave a great sigh, took one last step and at the foot of the column — what a surprise... he met a snail."A snail?" you will say. "Eh, exactly a snail complete with house on its shoulders, with lights on at the windows and a fireplace lit" Really, I tell you... Believe it... In short it was there, moving, slowly yes, but determined. When it heard the light step of the unexpected visitor, it became suspicious and withdrawing its antennae as if they were brakes, it stopped dead and said:"Halt! Who goes there? But who are you and where are you going? You're not looking for trouble, are you, wandering about all alone at this twilight hour?""No, what trouble... quite the opposite Mrs Snail" replied Lapo, "I should go to the top of the column to see what's happening on the Ponte Vecchio. There are things that don't quite add up and I'm investigating. As you can see I even have the magnifying glass and hat!" Said Lapo showing the objects to avoid misunderstandings. "Now, since you seem to be from around here, you wouldn't happen to know how I can get up there?"The snail who lived at the foot of the column and was to all intents and purposes its guardian, huffed but then smiled and showed Lapo a small door at the foot of the column, hidden by ivy."Dearest Lapo," she said adjusting her spectacles "you seem like a brave boy, a true friend and also a good investigator, but only from the top of the column will you be able to know the truth."Having said this, the snail rubbed her tentacles and they began to shine with a magical light that enveloped Lapo making him become the height of the door which opened with a great creak; so sharp as to make all the birds that were hanging about in the night fly away.Lapo, now very small, thanked the snail and without fear entered inside the column. In the darkness, he was impressed by a narrow and high well that went up instead of down. On the gleaming walls there was a spiral of tiny steps that he began to climb with determination with the lit lantern held tight in his hand. He reached the top.In the night the starry sky illuminated the Statue of Justice that towered over Florence. It had a scale with two balanced plates in one hand and a golden sword in the other.As we said previously, by enchantment, from there one could see the whole city — one just had to look in the right direction and think of the part of Florence you wanted to see: an incredible magic for a breathtaking view.Now was the moment to concentrate on the Ponte Vecchio and try to solve the mystery of the thefts, but whilst moving around the statue, to go to the side that looked towards the river, he made an incredible discovery. He couldn't believe his own eyes — so much so that he took out the magnifying glass to be sure. Both plates of the scale were full of gold filings and precious trinkets."Good heavens! And how did this stuff get up here?" Exclaimed Lapo with wide eyes. "This is undoubtedly the loot from the thefts at the jewellery shops!"At first, confused and amazed he didn't know what to think, but then, observing the filings more carefully he realised they were all woven together with bracelets and necklaces: these were two nests and an idea immediately flashed into his mind."The thieving magpies!" Exclaimed Lapo. Those crafty birds love everything that glitters, it must certainly have been them who robbed the shops and brought the stolen goods up here.And in the middle of this thought, suddenly they appeared in flight. They landed on the column agitated and furious "KRAA KRAA KRAA! Oh, little boy but what are you doing at our home? Don't you even dare touch these glittering marvels; they are our nest, we found them and they are ours."Lapo didn't let himself be frightened and calmly replied: "But what are you saying? You like glittering things that shine and you take them, but that certainly doesn't mean they are yours."The magpies were all chattering together they seemed to have gone mad and knew no reason. "But what is this one saying?" Said one. "Right, someone comes to our home and expects to give orders?" Added another. "Yes, nice joke. They're not ours? But are you a comedian? Change job, look, because you don't make us laugh." Said another.And all of them laughing.At which Lapo didn't let himself be intimidated. He rummaged in his pocket and found what he was looking for. He proposed an exchange. "What if we made a deal. To tell the truth I lose out quite a bit, but I like you so much that I would gladly give you these beautiful shiny marbles in exchange for the gold and trinkets."Seeing those small brilliant and colourful treasures, which they had never seen before, the magpies calmed down. They looked at each other with a crafty look and without hesitation... "Deal!"They took the marbles from his hand in a flash and flew away shouting: "Hooray, we're rich! From now on we'll collect these little balls."Sighing with relief and satisfaction, Lapo recovered the stolen goods and rushed down from the column. The snail was waiting for him applauding. With another spell she made him come out of the little door and appear right on the Ponte Vecchio where several Florentines were taking the evening air and chatting — including the goldsmiths."Papa, papa I've discovered the mystery and found the culprit, it was the thieving magpies! My friends didn't do anything wrong." "Calm down son, I'm listening". Replied Bernardo.Lapo with all the breath he had in his throat didn't waste a moment and told everything he had discovered and seen: the investigator's hat, the magnifying glass, the magical snail who knew the secrets of the column, the little door, the statue at the top, the view of Florence, the thieving magpies and the trick with the coloured marbles. Finally the mystery of the strange thefts was clarified, all the recovered stolen goods were returned to the goldsmiths of the Ponte Vecchio thanks to the enterprising and brave Lapo.At that point everyone who was on the Ponte Vecchio applauded shouting: "hooray, hooray, hooray, for the little investigator."Whilst the ancient bridge, perhaps enchanted, gleamed with golden lights.Giulio the baker whilst putting focaccia in the oven, sang merrily and with a ringing voice announced: "today focaccia for everyone free of charge, we must celebrate!"The thieving magpies returned to flying; they continued to find small objects and even pieces of glittering dreams; and chattering they said: "It may well be that we've lost a nest, but we've certainly found a story to tell."And perhaps, who knows, there will be a new story!— Written by Lucia & Marco Ciappelli [Inspired by a Florentine legend] Each story is currently written and narrated in both Italian and English.The translation from Italian (the original language) to English and the reading of the stories are performed using Generative Artificial Intelligence — which perhaps has a touch of magic... We hope it has done a good job!If you like it, make sure to tell your friends, family, and teachers, and subscribe to this podcast to stay updated. You'll be able to read or listen to new stories as soon as they become available. Visit us On The Official Website https://www.storiesottolestelle.com/ Hosted by Simplecast, an AdsWizz company. See pcm.adswizz.com for information about our collection and use of personal data for advertising.

In today's episode I got to sit down with my friend, Carlos Whittaker, and a live audience! Carlos is one of the most life-giving people I know. He is honest, hilarious and always full of hope.  We chat about ways we can reconnect with God, what he's learned about welcoming grief into his life since losing his dad to dementia almost 6 months ago and the challenges (and joys) of parenting older children. Carlos also shares how he stays young both physically and at heart (it's probably not what you think!) and we discuss something he does better than anyone I know - bridging gaps between people who are divided.  Listen to Carlos' last interview on the podcast: https://podcasts.apple.com/us/podcast/carlos-whittaker-7-weeks-without-a-screen/id1119318768?i=1000665223233  Grab a copy of Reconnected: https://amzn.to/3HoajMZ  Want to Reconnect with God? Check out the message Carlos shared at Embrace Church: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Wtw_M24wa1w  Thanks to our amazing partners on this episode: Tommy John & Vern Eide Tommy John has thousands of five star reviews for a reason! They sell the most comfortable undershirts, modern polos, and loungewear you'll find. I promise you are gonna love it! Check them out today at tommyjohn.com Vern Eide Motorcars is a growing employee-owned company that offers sales, service, and financing of automotive, motorcycle, and power sports lines, including Acura, Ford, Chevy, GMC, Honda, Hyundai and Mitsubishi brands. Whether you live locally or across the country, visit verneide.com Subscribe to The Conversation on YouTube and watch the full interview with Carlos: youtube.com/@adamaweber  Sign up for The Crew: adamweber.com/thecrew  

Have you ever read a book and thought, “Wow, how did the author do that?!” Or maybe you'd love to sit down with your favorite author and pick their brain about their writing process or tips and tricks for when you get stuck.Today, the Read-Aloud Revival team has compiled some of our favorite advice about getting creative from the archives of RAR Premium's Family Book Clubs. Whether you write, draw, paint, or engage in any other creative pursuit, and whether you're seven or seventy-seven–and every age in between–there's something here to help you get your creative juices flowing.In this episode, you'll hear: Tips for staying with the struggle and keeping the joy in your creativityHow to create a satisfying storyAdvice for getting ideas, when to ignore your outline, and loving the process Learn more about Sarah Mackenzie:Read-Aloud RevivalWaxwing BooksSubscribe to the NewsletterFind the rest of the show notes at: readaloudrevival.com/writing-advice

Bobby Bluebell remembers the “cuddly duffle-coat friendship” of Glasgow bands in the early ‘80s and the Bluebells' second act rebooted by the Volkswagen ad. The band are touring again and an even bigger part of the city's thriving musical community, and he looks back here at the first gigs he ever saw and played, along with … … singing “When I'm Dead And Gone' in an old folks home.   … on the town with Siobhan Fahey, her sisters and boyfriends Kevin Rowland and Gary Crowley. … buying Rocket Man and Wee Neil Reid's Mother Of Mine, aged 13. And Elton John at Glasgow's Kelvin Hall. … his side project The Golden Tree (with Grahame Skinner of Hipsway) playing ‘Scottish' songs by Marmalade, Strawberry Switchblade, Ewan MacColl, Coldplay, the Easybeats, Talking Heads and the Bay City Rollers. … “Glasgow had six gangs. You had to choose your route home carefully if wearing Kickers.” … Clare Grogan's sister's part in the Bluebells' fortunes. … Edwyn Collins and Alan Horne holding HIT and MISS signs in the front row of an Oxfam Warriors gig. … “A cuddly duffle-coat friendship”: the Glasgow bands of the early ‘80s and memories of Altered Images and Peter Capaldi's Dream Boys. … why Dolly Parton was ditched and ‘Young At Heart' chosen for the Volkswagen ad. … playing the Old Grey Whistle Test with the Psychedelic Furs. … “the best way to get an audience to stop talking is to entertain them.” … “All hits are luck”. … his Golden Rule when playing festivals. The Bluebells tickets here: https://www.songkick.com/artists/315250-bluebells/calendar The Golden Tree: https://open.spotify.com/artist/7HO0TGE0vgPgwDoaBUMAJF?si=LUsXAtrURVWYjEkzDpI0mQ&nd=1&dlsi=65dddbf6bf6c45e4Find out more about how to help us to keep the conversation going: https://www.patreon.com/wordinyourear Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.

Bobby Bluebell remembers the “cuddly duffle-coat friendship” of Glasgow bands in the early ‘80s and the Bluebells' second act rebooted by the Volkswagen ad. The band are touring again and an even bigger part of the city's thriving musical community, and he looks back here at the first gigs he ever saw and played, along with … … singing “When I'm Dead And Gone' in an old folks home.   … on the town with Siobhan Fahey, her sisters and boyfriends Kevin Rowland and Gary Crowley. … buying Rocket Man and Wee Neil Reid's Mother Of Mine, aged 13. And Elton John at Glasgow's Kelvin Hall. … his side project The Golden Tree (with Grahame Skinner of Hipsway) playing ‘Scottish' songs by Marmalade, Strawberry Switchblade, Ewan MacColl, Coldplay, the Easybeats, Talking Heads and the Bay City Rollers. … “Glasgow had six gangs. You had to choose your route home carefully if wearing Kickers.” … Clare Grogan's sister's part in the Bluebells' fortunes. … Edwyn Collins and Alan Horne holding HIT and MISS signs in the front row of an Oxfam Warriors gig. … “A cuddly duffle-coat friendship”: the Glasgow bands of the early ‘80s and memories of Altered Images and Peter Capaldi's Dream Boys. … why Dolly Parton was ditched and ‘Young At Heart' chosen for the Volkswagen ad. … playing the Old Grey Whistle Test with the Psychedelic Furs. … “the best way to get an audience to stop talking is to entertain them.” … “All hits are luck”. … his Golden Rule when playing festivals. The Bluebells tickets here: https://www.songkick.com/artists/315250-bluebells/calendar The Golden Tree: https://open.spotify.com/artist/7HO0TGE0vgPgwDoaBUMAJF?si=LUsXAtrURVWYjEkzDpI0mQ&nd=1&dlsi=65dddbf6bf6c45e4Find out more about how to help us to keep the conversation going: https://www.patreon.com/wordinyourear Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.

Bobby Bluebell remembers the “cuddly duffle-coat friendship” of Glasgow bands in the early ‘80s and the Bluebells' second act rebooted by the Volkswagen ad. The band are touring again and an even bigger part of the city's thriving musical community, and he looks back here at the first gigs he ever saw and played, along with … … singing “When I'm Dead And Gone' in an old folks home.   … on the town with Siobhan Fahey, her sisters and boyfriends Kevin Rowland and Gary Crowley. … buying Rocket Man and Wee Neil Reid's Mother Of Mine, aged 13. And Elton John at Glasgow's Kelvin Hall. … his side project The Golden Tree (with Grahame Skinner of Hipsway) playing ‘Scottish' songs by Marmalade, Strawberry Switchblade, Ewan MacColl, Coldplay, the Easybeats, Talking Heads and the Bay City Rollers. … “Glasgow had six gangs. You had to choose your route home carefully if wearing Kickers.” … Clare Grogan's sister's part in the Bluebells' fortunes. … Edwyn Collins and Alan Horne holding HIT and MISS signs in the front row of an Oxfam Warriors gig. … “A cuddly duffle-coat friendship”: the Glasgow bands of the early ‘80s and memories of Altered Images and Peter Capaldi's Dream Boys. … why Dolly Parton was ditched and ‘Young At Heart' chosen for the Volkswagen ad. … playing the Old Grey Whistle Test with the Psychedelic Furs. … “the best way to get an audience to stop talking is to entertain them.” … “All hits are luck”. … his Golden Rule when playing festivals. The Bluebells tickets here: https://www.songkick.com/artists/315250-bluebells/calendar The Golden Tree: https://open.spotify.com/artist/7HO0TGE0vgPgwDoaBUMAJF?si=LUsXAtrURVWYjEkzDpI0mQ&nd=1&dlsi=65dddbf6bf6c45e4Find out more about how to help us to keep the conversation going: https://www.patreon.com/wordinyourear Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.

FORBIX — THE HAIRDRESSER WITH AN ARTIST'S TOUCHIn the heart of the town of Tagliaspunta, nestled among shops of all kinds, there's a hairdresser named Forbix, for women, men, teenagers, and children — though not too little. Forbix is no ordinary hairdresser: he has the magical touch of an artist. His scissors are made of silver and, as they cut, they whisper stories. His ivory comb makes hair shine, and his hairdryer doesn't blow air — it blows dreams.At his cutting station, he becomes a magician: the scissors, guided by his hand, flutter through the hair and, touch after touch — voilà! — the result is perfect.One day, the tree standing in front of his shop said to Forbix:“You are an artist, and I'm tired of my tangled mop of leaves. I'd love a little makeover,” it sighed, “and I'd make a great advertisement for you.”The hairdresser didn't need to be asked twice: he stepped outside with his enchanted scissors.Circling the tree with the flair of a genius, after a few confident snips, he trimmed the branches and turned the dry leaves into silver confetti that the wind carried away. The tree looked more radiant and alive than it had ever been, with fresh green leaves adorning it like braided ringlets.The next morning, two children — Sara and David — playful as ever, were hopping along the sidewalk when they saw the tree, so elegant and in a good mood, its leaves joyfully whistling.Sara had curls like little summer clouds, and David's hair stuck up like a tiny hedgehog.As they came closer, they asked in unison:“Who's the artist who did all this?”The tree replied: “The hairdresser, Forbix.”“We'd love to go too! Our hair is all messy and really needs a good fix. Our moms have been saying so for quite a while now.”“Well then, you'd better listen to them. Go on, go in,” the tree encouraged them with a whisper.David went in first, tripping over the marble step, followed by Sara who smiled and waved.Forbix, ever observant, welcomed them in and, running his hands through their hair one at a time, slowly began to cut with his magical scissors. The comb gently caressed their hair, which began to shine, and with the blow-dryer, dreams swirled through the air along with whispered stories.Looking at themselves in the mirror, their faces lit up with big smiles, while Forbix, pleased in turn, gave them a wink.Sara and David happily thanked him with a bow and a wave.Out on the sidewalk, they danced in a joyful circle around the tree, on whose branches little songbirds had perched — giving a cheerful concert, along with the leaves and the children.The true magic of Forbix lies not only in the tools of his trade, which he uses with an artist's passion, but also in his ability to listen — and bring a smile.-- Written by Lucia & Marco Ciappelli

FORBIX — THE HAIRDRESSER WITH AN ARTIST'S TOUCHIn the heart of the town of Tagliaspunta, nestled among shops of all kinds, there's a hairdresser named Forbix, for women, men, teenagers, and children — though not too little. Forbix is no ordinary hairdresser: he has the magical touch of an artist. His scissors are made of silver and, as they cut, they whisper stories. His ivory comb makes hair shine, and his hairdryer doesn't blow air — it blows dreams.At his cutting station, he becomes a magician: the scissors, guided by his hand, flutter through the hair and, touch after touch — voilà! — the result is perfect.One day, the tree standing in front of his shop said to Forbix:“You are an artist, and I'm tired of my tangled mop of leaves. I'd love a little makeover,” it sighed, “and I'd make a great advertisement for you.”The hairdresser didn't need to be asked twice: he stepped outside with his enchanted scissors.Circling the tree with the flair of a genius, after a few confident snips, he trimmed the branches and turned the dry leaves into silver confetti that the wind carried away. The tree looked more radiant and alive than it had ever been, with fresh green leaves adorning it like braided ringlets.The next morning, two children — Sara and David — playful as ever, were hopping along the sidewalk when they saw the tree, so elegant and in a good mood, its leaves joyfully whistling.Sara had curls like little summer clouds, and David's hair stuck up like a tiny hedgehog.As they came closer, they asked in unison:“Who's the artist who did all this?”The tree replied: “The hairdresser, Forbix.”“We'd love to go too! Our hair is all messy and really needs a good fix. Our moms have been saying so for quite a while now.”“Well then, you'd better listen to them. Go on, go in,” the tree encouraged them with a whisper.David went in first, tripping over the marble step, followed by Sara who smiled and waved.Forbix, ever observant, welcomed them in and, running his hands through their hair one at a time, slowly began to cut with his magical scissors. The comb gently caressed their hair, which began to shine, and with the blow-dryer, dreams swirled through the air along with whispered stories.Looking at themselves in the mirror, their faces lit up with big smiles, while Forbix, pleased in turn, gave them a wink.Sara and David happily thanked him with a bow and a wave.Out on the sidewalk, they danced in a joyful circle around the tree, on whose branches little songbirds had perched — giving a cheerful concert, along with the leaves and the children.The true magic of Forbix lies not only in the tools of his trade, which he uses with an artist's passion, but also in his ability to listen — and bring a smile.-- Written by Lucia & Marco Ciappelli Each story is currently written and narrated in both Italian and English.The translation from Italian (the original language) to English and the reading of the stories are performed using Generative Artificial Intelligence — which perhaps has a touch of magic... We hope it has done a good job!If you like it, make sure to tell your friends, family, and teachers, and subscribe to this podcast to stay updated. You'll be able to read or listen to new stories as soon as they become available. Visit us On The Official Website https://www.storiesottolestelle.com/

How do you stay young at heart, despite getting older and having all of the responsibilities and life weighing you down? We're gonna dive into that today, and as usual embrace our multipassionate selves and nerd out on a few other things we're excited about! Healthy drinks, Magic, Eragon books, new music, thoughts on Thunderbolts, Death of a Unicorn, The Gorge, Predator: Killer of Killers.AND Holy crap it's Friday the 13th!!The Real Brian Show is the show for the multipassionate person. The place to end your week on a positive note, nerd out with us, and HAVE FUN! Learn things to better your life, and escape all the negative crap around us!PLEASE SUPPORT TRBS in 2025!!!!Patreon: https://patreon.com/realbrianshowBuy Me a Coffee: https://www.buymeacoffee.com/iamtherealbrianMusic Spotify Playlists: TRBS 2025 Playlist on SpotifyTRB's GLORIOUSNESS (New Music) Playlist on SpotifyThe Captain Influence Playlist on SpotifySubscribe to The Real Brian Show Apple: https://podcasts.apple.com/us/podcast/the-real-brian-show/id1160475222Spotify: https://open.spotify.com/show/3UsRunmoQzHkrWbwmAjmLM?si=e76f534378ec4b8fYouTube: https://youtube.com/therealbrianSupport The Real Brian Show Buy Me a Coffee: https://www.buymeacoffee.com/iamtherealbrianPatreon: https://patreon.com/realbrianshowAMAZON LINK: Any time you purchase something off of Amazon, please consider using the TRBS affiliate link: https://amzn.to/3OVl49oAffiliate links mean I earn a commission from qualifying purchases. This helps support the channel at no additional cost to you!Connect With TRB and The Show! Website: https://realbrianshow.comFacebook: https://www.facebook.com/iamtherealbrian/TRBS Facebook Group: https://www.facebook.com/groups/realbrianshow/Twitter/X: https://twitter.com/iamtherealbrian

The Out of Tune InstrumentsOn the bank of a stream, where a great many colorful little fish swam, lived a small family: mamma, babbo, and their seven children — four boys and three girls. Their house was a bit far from the town of Strumentopoli, but being close to the stream and next to the Great Forest made it a wonderful place to live.Mamma lovingly tended the vegetable garden. Babbo, on the other hand, was a woodworker who crafted musical instruments from the finest trunks, chosen among the sturdiest and most fragrant trees in the forest.The children went to school in the village. In winter, they reached it on skis, while in spring and autumn they rode in a cart pulled by two young deer — one white and one black, like the keys of a piano.Before they left, babbo counted them one by one to make sure no one was missing. Then, as he did every day, he reminded them:“Behave yourselves, don't skip school, and remember the tale of Pinocchio and his nose!”Those words always ended with a smile from everyone.Babbo would then return to his workshop. His instruments were well-made, using excellent materials, but there was one problem: they were out of tune. Still, as a good luthier, he didn't lose heart. His passion for music was so strong that teaching his children to play had become a joy. He even gave them special names: Chitarra, Violino, Oboe, Liuto, Arpa, Bongo, and Ukulele.Mamma didn't object. Of course, naming them after vegetables might have been funny, but their village friends probably would've made fun of them.The children did well in school, and when they came home, they helped mamma in the garden. One day, though, they mistook some nettle plants for lettuce — what a sting! They all ran straight to the stream and jumped in to soothe the burning.The little fish burst into laughter:“You're so silly! Ah ah ah!”Mamma helped them out of the water and, turning to the fish, said:“This evening, at sunset, there will be a concert in our courtyard. My children will perform with their instruments. You're all invited!”The fish replied enthusiastically:“Thanks for the invitation! We'll be there for sure — it's going to rain, and we love splashing! Splich, sploch, splach!”That evening turned out to be a real party. At the concert of slightly strange and delightfully quirky music, everyone had a blast: the musicians, the animals from the forest, and even the fish — who mamma cheerfully sprayed with water.After that joyful evening, life went back to its usual pace: school, garden, and even the forest. In fact, during their free time, the children often helped babbo choose and cut wood to build his instruments.The Great Forest had become familiar to them. So one day, while they were playing there and climbing trees, the kids spotted a group of gnomes huddled together, looking agitated. They quickly hid behind some bushes to observe and listen in on their conversation.The meeting, called in great haste, was to make a decision about an imminent danger. A powerful storm was on the way. They spoke of a hurricane wind that hadn't been seen or heard in a hundred years — or perhaps even longer — and it was heading for the forest.“We must stop it, by any means,” said the gnomes.So they decided to call on an old ally: the Great Warrior of the Mountain, armed with a sword and magical powers. He was the one who, in the past, had already defeated dragons and even extraterrestrials who had tried to conquer Earth.The seven children, alarmed by the news and determined to help in the battle, ran quickly back to the house — also to warn the villagers of the impending danger. Meanwhile, the wind drew closer. You could hear it from afar — wild and howling. As it passed, the trees bent until their tops brushed the ground. Some swayed, others snapped, and a few were completely uprooted.The people of Strumentopoli, who had begun to feel the wind blowing through the village streets and saw the Great Warrior descending the mountain, grew concerned — but they didn't panic. Everyone grabbed their instruments and rushed toward the house by the stream to help the family who lived there, and together try to save the Great Forest.At the same time, the colorful fish arrived — united and determined — along with the other animals of the woods and stream.“All together we can form a barrier and block the wind!” they shouted in unison.At that moment, the children of the family — still out of breath from running — stepped forward and said:“We have our babbo's instruments too. They're strange, a bit out of tune… but if we all play together, maybe we can stop the storm.” And with that, they rushed into the house and came back out in no time at all.The gnomes, fully aware of the instruments' flaws, cast a powerful musical spell. When the children began to play, something magical happened. For the first time, the music was melodious, harmonious, and full of feeling.One by one, all the people of Strumentopoli joined in. Each person, with their own instrument, contributed as if they were all part of one great orchestra.The hurricane wind — engaged in a fierce battle with the Great Warrior of the Mountain — heard the music from afar and immediately began to calm. Its howling softened, and by the time it reached the forest, it had become a cool mountain gust, and finally… a gentle valley breeze.The wind had become part of that marvelous orchestra — the battle was won thanks to everyone. Each had offered their own music and helped bring about the victory.“United we are strong,” they all said proudly.The babbo luthier continued building instruments with the finest wood the forest had to offer. They were so beautiful and sounded so good that people said they were the most melodic ever heard.The children — Chitarra, Violino, Oboe, Liuto, Arpa, Bongo, and Ukulele — joined the village band. At every festival, they played with great success, cheered on by applause and warm smiles. Even the gnomes and the Great Warrior listened to their music… from the forest and the mountain.The colorful fish swam and danced happily in the stream, and when someone passed by, they greeted them with joyful splashes.The family continued to live near the Great Forest, and on summer evenings, when everything finally grew quiet, they would lie along the stream and watch the stars above. Their hearts would tell stories… and the night would write the happy ending of every tale.

The Out of Tune InstrumentsOn the bank of a stream, where a great many colorful little fish swam, lived a small family: mamma, babbo, and their seven children — four boys and three girls. Their house was a bit far from the town of Strumentopoli, but being close to the stream and next to the Great Forest made it a wonderful place to live.Mamma lovingly tended the vegetable garden. Babbo, on the other hand, was a woodworker who crafted musical instruments from the finest trunks, chosen among the sturdiest and most fragrant trees in the forest.The children went to school in the village. In winter, they reached it on skis, while in spring and autumn they rode in a cart pulled by two young deer — one white and one black, like the keys of a piano.Before they left, babbo counted them one by one to make sure no one was missing. Then, as he did every day, he reminded them:“Behave yourselves, don't skip school, and remember the tale of Pinocchio and his nose!”Those words always ended with a smile from everyone.Babbo would then return to his workshop. His instruments were well-made, using excellent materials, but there was one problem: they were out of tune. Still, as a good luthier, he didn't lose heart. His passion for music was so strong that teaching his children to play had become a joy. He even gave them special names: Chitarra, Violino, Oboe, Liuto, Arpa, Bongo, and Ukulele.Mamma didn't object. Of course, naming them after vegetables might have been funny, but their village friends probably would've made fun of them.The children did well in school, and when they came home, they helped mamma in the garden. One day, though, they mistook some nettle plants for lettuce — what a sting! They all ran straight to the stream and jumped in to soothe the burning.The little fish burst into laughter:“You're so silly! Ah ah ah!”Mamma helped them out of the water and, turning to the fish, said:“This evening, at sunset, there will be a concert in our courtyard. My children will perform with their instruments. You're all invited!”The fish replied enthusiastically:“Thanks for the invitation! We'll be there for sure — it's going to rain, and we love splashing! Splich, sploch, splach!”That evening turned out to be a real party. At the concert of slightly strange and delightfully quirky music, everyone had a blast: the musicians, the animals from the forest, and even the fish — who mamma cheerfully sprayed with water.After that joyful evening, life went back to its usual pace: school, garden, and even the forest. In fact, during their free time, the children often helped babbo choose and cut wood to build his instruments.The Great Forest had become familiar to them. So one day, while they were playing there and climbing trees, the kids spotted a group of gnomes huddled together, looking agitated. They quickly hid behind some bushes to observe and listen in on their conversation.The meeting, called in great haste, was to make a decision about an imminent danger. A powerful storm was on the way. They spoke of a hurricane wind that hadn't been seen or heard in a hundred years — or perhaps even longer — and it was heading for the forest.“We must stop it, by any means,” said the gnomes.So they decided to call on an old ally: the Great Warrior of the Mountain, armed with a sword and magical powers. He was the one who, in the past, had already defeated dragons and even extraterrestrials who had tried to conquer Earth.The seven children, alarmed by the news and determined to help in the battle, ran quickly back to the house — also to warn the villagers of the impending danger. Meanwhile, the wind drew closer. You could hear it from afar — wild and howling. As it passed, the trees bent until their tops brushed the ground. Some swayed, others snapped, and a few were completely uprooted.The people of Strumentopoli, who had begun to feel the wind blowing through the village streets and saw the Great Warrior descending the mountain, grew concerned — but they didn't panic. Everyone grabbed their instruments and rushed toward the house by the stream to help the family who lived there, and together try to save the Great Forest.At the same time, the colorful fish arrived — united and determined — along with the other animals of the woods and stream.“All together we can form a barrier and block the wind!” they shouted in unison.At that moment, the children of the family — still out of breath from running — stepped forward and said:“We have our babbo's instruments too. They're strange, a bit out of tune… but if we all play together, maybe we can stop the storm.” And with that, they rushed into the house and came back out in no time at all.The gnomes, fully aware of the instruments' flaws, cast a powerful musical spell. When the children began to play, something magical happened. For the first time, the music was melodious, harmonious, and full of feeling.One by one, all the people of Strumentopoli joined in. Each person, with their own instrument, contributed as if they were all part of one great orchestra.The hurricane wind — engaged in a fierce battle with the Great Warrior of the Mountain — heard the music from afar and immediately began to calm. Its howling softened, and by the time it reached the forest, it had become a cool mountain gust, and finally… a gentle valley breeze.The wind had become part of that marvelous orchestra — the battle was won thanks to everyone. Each had offered their own music and helped bring about the victory.“United we are strong,” they all said proudly.The babbo luthier continued building instruments with the finest wood the forest had to offer. They were so beautiful and sounded so good that people said they were the most melodic ever heard.The children — Chitarra, Violino, Oboe, Liuto, Arpa, Bongo, and Ukulele — joined the village band. At every festival, they played with great success, cheered on by applause and warm smiles. Even the gnomes and the Great Warrior listened to their music… from the forest and the mountain.The colorful fish swam and danced happily in the stream, and when someone passed by, they greeted them with joyful splashes.The family continued to live near the Great Forest, and on summer evenings, when everything finally grew quiet, they would lie along the stream and watch the stars above. Their hearts would tell stories… and the night would write the happy ending of every tale.-- Written by Lucia & Marco Ciappelli Each story is currently written and narrated in both Italian and English.The translation from Italian (the original language) to English and the reading of the stories are performed using Generative Artificial Intelligence — which perhaps has a touch of magic... We hope it has done a good job!If you like it, make sure to tell your friends, family, and teachers, and subscribe to this podcast to stay updated. You'll be able to read or listen to new stories as soon as they become available. Visit us On The Official Website https://www.storiesottolestelle.com/

What a magnificent full moon!Late April.The San Fernando Valley shimmered gently.Tiny lights flickered softly,like electric fireflies in summer dreams.In a small garden,beneath an old wise lemon tree,something special was about to happen.Because lemon trees, you know,hide delicate secrets;magical whispers, patiently guardedamong their fruits, flowers and branches.Up high, safe and sound,Mr and Mrs Hummingbird waited.Little hearts vibrating with hope.They watched carefully,as small eggs cracked, whispered and hatchedunder California's warm sky.Jack and Sally arrived.At first with their eyes closed,resting peacefully in the warmth of their mother.Days passed gently.Soon their eyes opened andfeathers grew, stretching softly.From their nest they gazed with wonderat the lively world of the garden:birds singing, flowers murmuring,bees buzzing tirelesslyand squirrels chasing each other merrily,leaping from tree to treeas if they'd had a little too much coffee;far too much, in fact!“Calm down a bit,” exclaimed Sally bravely from the nest.“We're still learning how to be hummingbirds!”The garden fell silent for a moment,smiled quietly,and kindly replied,“Welcome, Jack! Welcome, Sally! Welcome to the Valley!”Days turned into weeks. Sally stretched her wings,tiny feathers growing stronger by the hour,training and preparingto reach the sky of her dreams.At last, the big day came.“Watch me, Jack!” sang Sally joyfully,and with a brave flutter, she left the nest.She flew—slowly at first, then faster;twirling, laughing, gliding above the flowers and below the branches,while the whole garden cheered and clapped.Jack watched from the nest, silent.His left wing, carefully folded, was still unsure.The garden held its breath, happy for Sally,but gently concerned for Jack.“Your moment will come too, dear,” whispered Mrs Hummingbird softly,kissing Jack on the forehead. “Believe in it.”That very night, as stars filled the sky,Jack stared at the little Glass Hot-Air Balloon that,hanging from a branch of the lemon tree,swayed gently in the evening breeze.An ornament, a sunset trapped,gently lit from within by dancing flames that, perhaps, were fake,but only if you didn't believe in magic.Jack believed.He balanced carefully, hopping softly,bravely, from branch to branch,towards the glowing balloon that kept on dancing in the windas if it were flying through the sky.Without hesitation, he jumped into the tiny basket.Suddenly, sparks shimmered. Whirls danced.Magic awakened beneath his feathers,as the Glass Hot-Air Balloon rose,lifting slowly into the evening air.“Jack!” exclaimed Sally, eyes full of wonder.She flew right up next to him, laughing.Together they soared, joyfully twirling,while the garden clapped louder than ever.Even Mr and Mrs Hummingbird blinked in astonishment,smiling proudly at their brave children.“You know,” said an old owl,smiling wisely from a nearby branch,“if you follow the sunset, through the canyon,you'll reach the Great Blue Ocean.”Jack's heart fluttered with courage.“Come with me, Sally!” he said, eyes shining.And Sally didn't hesitate.She joined Jack on the hot-air balloonand together they flew higher and farther,beyond the valley, over winding canyons,towards golden rays blending with endless blue.The ocean appeared—glittering, infinite;the waves whispering gentle secretslit softly by what was left of the sunset.Below, the Malibu pier glowed warm and welcoming,caressed by the Pacific Ocean and the breeze.The whole bay greeted the brave adventurers.Jack breathed deeply, heart full.He had found his way to fly, to soar in the sky;not by trying to be like the others,but by embracing who he truly was.Because it's not our limits that define us,but our courage to dream,our will to believe,and the magic we carry within.Because nothing,absolutely nothing,can stop those who dare to dream.- Written by Marco Ciappelli

What a magnificent full moon!Late April.The San Fernando Valley shimmered gently.Tiny lights flickered softly,like electric fireflies in summer dreams.In a small garden,beneath an old wise lemon tree,something special was about to happen.Because lemon trees, you know,hide delicate secrets;magical whispers, patiently guardedamong their fruits, flowers and branches.Up high, safe and sound,Mr and Mrs Hummingbird waited.Little hearts vibrating with hope.They watched carefully,as small eggs cracked, whispered and hatchedunder California's warm sky.Jack and Sally arrived.At first with their eyes closed,resting peacefully in the warmth of their mother.Days passed gently.Soon their eyes opened andfeathers grew, stretching softly.From their nest they gazed with wonderat the lively world of the garden:birds singing, flowers murmuring,bees buzzing tirelesslyand squirrels chasing each other merrily,leaping from tree to treeas if they'd had a little too much coffee;far too much, in fact!“Calm down a bit,” exclaimed Sally bravely from the nest.“We're still learning how to be hummingbirds!”The garden fell silent for a moment,smiled quietly,and kindly replied,“Welcome, Jack! Welcome, Sally! Welcome to the Valley!”Days turned into weeks. Sally stretched her wings,tiny feathers growing stronger by the hour,training and preparingto reach the sky of her dreams.At last, the big day came.“Watch me, Jack!” sang Sally joyfully,and with a brave flutter, she left the nest.She flew—slowly at first, then faster;twirling, laughing, gliding above the flowers and below the branches,while the whole garden cheered and clapped.Jack watched from the nest, silent.His left wing, carefully folded, was still unsure.The garden held its breath, happy for Sally,but gently concerned for Jack.“Your moment will come too, dear,” whispered Mrs Hummingbird softly,kissing Jack on the forehead. “Believe in it.”That very night, as stars filled the sky,Jack stared at the little Glass Hot-Air Balloon that,hanging from a branch of the lemon tree,swayed gently in the evening breeze.An ornament, a sunset trapped,gently lit from within by dancing flames that, perhaps, were fake,but only if you didn't believe in magic.Jack believed.He balanced carefully, hopping softly,bravely, from branch to branch,towards the glowing balloon that kept on dancing in the windas if it were flying through the sky.Without hesitation, he jumped into the tiny basket.Suddenly, sparks shimmered. Whirls danced.Magic awakened beneath his feathers,as the Glass Hot-Air Balloon rose,lifting slowly into the evening air.“Jack!” exclaimed Sally, eyes full of wonder.She flew right up next to him, laughing.Together they soared, joyfully twirling,while the garden clapped louder than ever.Even Mr and Mrs Hummingbird blinked in astonishment,smiling proudly at their brave children.“You know,” said an old owl,smiling wisely from a nearby branch,“if you follow the sunset, through the canyon,you'll reach the Great Blue Ocean.”Jack's heart fluttered with courage.“Come with me, Sally!” he said, eyes shining.And Sally didn't hesitate.She joined Jack on the hot-air balloonand together they flew higher and farther,beyond the valley, over winding canyons,towards golden rays blending with endless blue.The ocean appeared—glittering, infinite;the waves whispering gentle secretslit softly by what was left of the sunset.Below, the Malibu pier glowed warm and welcoming,caressed by the Pacific Ocean and the breeze.The whole bay greeted the brave adventurers.Jack breathed deeply, heart full.He had found his way to fly, to soar in the sky;not by trying to be like the others,but by embracing who he truly was.Because it's not our limits that define us,but our courage to dream,our will to believe,and the magic we carry within.Because nothing,absolutely nothing,can stop those who dare to dream.- Written by Marco Ciappelli Each story is currently written and narrated in both Italian and English.The translation from Italian (the original language) to English and the reading of the stories are performed using Generative Artificial Intelligence — which perhaps has a touch of magic... We hope it has done a good job!If you like it, make sure to tell your friends, family, and teachers, and subscribe to this podcast to stay updated. You'll be able to read or listen to new stories as soon as they become available. Visit us On The Official Website https://www.storiesottolestelle.com/

They say you're only as young as you feel.After battling a demon and watching a friend vanish into death, the weight of the Underworld begins to show.Bastion is back—but not untouched.Dark dreams creep in. A relic burns with buried power. And trust wears thin among the living.The party presses on, soul-weary and splintering, while a certain witch watches... waiting.There's no youth left here. Only secrets, scars, and the price of power.Crit & Fumble: Underworld – Episode 4: Young at HeartNow streaming.

The Tribe of the Wandering Shoes | Part Three & Four | Winter, Spring, and the ReturnAfter a summer shining with light and an autumn drizzly but fascinating in its colors, the Tribe of the Wandering Shoes set off again for new adventures—mysterious, surprising, and of course, a little dangerous. More determined than ever, ready to overcome any challenge, they resumed their journey Winter didn't take long to arrive: in December, the first snow fell on the mountains. The Tribe boarded a coach headed to the Dolomites, where the snow-covered peaks waited for them on the horizon. As soon as they settled into the hotel, excitement took over. They couldn't wait to dive into the fresh snow and build a giant snowman! They got straight to work, shoveling pile after pile of snow. With a little ladder, step by step, they reached the height of the face. Two buttons for eyes, a carrot for a nose, a pipe in the mouth, and a scarf wrapped around the neck—it was perfect!“Brrr! It's freezing!” — exclaimed one of them, and they all looked down at their tips and saw they were completely frozen.“We need a miracle!” — declared one shoe with a solemn tone.“Maybe a portable radiator…” — mumbled another, her laces trembling.They decided to call the Alpine Rescue Team, which arrived with a supersonic jet packed with hot water bottles, boiling tea, and thermal blankets. But just then, the weather station—mounted on a space ship at the top of the mountain—reported a severe snowstorm on the way. The Tribe, worried, asked to return immediately to the valley, but the jet couldn't transport them in the traditional way. The only solution? Catapult them down like snowballs wrapped in thermal blankets!“Um… excuse me, but has anyone ever tried this system before?” — asked one shoe, suspicious.“No, but what could possibly go wrong?” — replied another.“Worst case, we'll end up spread across the snow like jam on toast!”The flight was wild: they bounced off a cable car, spun an eagle and a couple of vultures into the air, who, surprised, exclaimed, “Oh! Oh!”Fortunately, the mountain pines gave them a soft landing with their snowy branches. The shoes landed unlaced, a bit bruised, but safe.“I think we just invented the first extreme sport for footwear,” — commented one, still dizzy.The villagers in the valley found them and, touched by their story, brought them to the old cobbler in town. The man, with decades of experience repairing mountain shoes, was initially puzzled to see such a colorful and battered bunch. That night, the cobbler couldn't sleep, wondering how to fix them. At dawn, with determination, he got to work.“No, no, help! You're going to hurt me!” — protested the purple shoe at the sight of the tools.“Oh please!” — said the cobbler with a smile.“I've been bringing mountain boots back to life for years. You'll be brand new, trust me!”And so, with expert hands, he stitched, glued, and brightened their colors, working passionately until every shoe looked spectacular again.The Tribe spent happy days in the village. With Christmas around the corner, they helped decorate the lit-up streets, snow-covered trees, and shop windows. By then, everyone knew their story and called them left and right for advice on decorations, and the atmosphere was magical and festive.Soon, the days grew brighter and you could feel the awakening of spring in the air. Their snowy adventure was behind them, but a new challenge was waiting ahead. The Tribe started to miss the city they had left and decided to go back. They marched in single file and took the right road at the first roundabout. They followed a little stream and, after a long walk, stopped by the bank to rest. They stepped into the shallow water to cool off, when one of them, sharper than the others, noticed something strange beneath some dry branches.“Come here, come here!” — she called out.The others rushed over curiously, and with great effort, they managed to flip over what turned out to be an old wooden boat. They jumped in, nudging each other.“I'm going first!”“No, me first!”They bickered, tripping over their own laces, but since they were a bit tired from walking, each one took her place. Soon, they noticed a problem.“Um… has anyone seen the oars?”“Oh no! Now how do we move?”Just then, a shiny pike and a giant shimmering carp emerged from the foamy waves and, without saying a word, began to push the boat, gliding it along the stream and lifting it into the air.“But… this is magic!” — gasped one shoe, amazed.As the stream widened into a river, they spotted their city in the distance. The two extraordinary fish dropped them off on the shore and, in the blink of an eye, vanished into the golden reflections of the water.“Good gracious, what just happened?” — they all exclaimed.Still stunned and silent, they headed toward the big tree-lined park in the city. Lying in the grass, they looked up at the blue sky and realized just how much they had missed their busy store and the bustling crowd. That's when they noticed something strange.For the first time, they looked carefully at the glowing sign above the entrance: “Sorelle Soletta Department Store”They stared at each other, wide-eyed. The Little Witch Soletta… was the owner of the shop!Once placed back on the shelves, with their laces tied tight and their soles polished, the shoes smiled at one another.“What an adventure, folks…” — sighed the purple shoe.“Oh yeah,” — replied the red one, “but it's so nice to be back here!”“With all due respect to eagles, cobblers, and flying fish… nothing beats the smell of the shop in the morning,” — added the blue shoe dreamily.“And here we've got curtains, changing rooms, and customers who try us on gently…”“…not to mention Little Witch Soletta watching over us!” They all burst out laughing. “In the end,” — concluded the one with golden laces, “traveling is wonderful… but coming home is even better.”And from that day on, every time a child or an adult chose one of them, a new story began.But that one… well… that's another adventure!

To get involved, you can call the Ripley Park and Recreation center at 662-837-3818 or call Director Kim at 662-587-2313.   Welcome to HEARD IT ON THE SHARK with your show host Melinda Marsalis and show sponsor, Mississippi Hills National Heritage Area. HEARD IT ON THE SHARK is a weekly interview show that airs every Tuesday at 11 am on the shark 102.3 FM radio station based in Ripley, MS and then is released as a podcast on all the major podcast platforms. You'll hear interviews with the movers and shakers in north Mississippi who are making things happen. Melinda talks with entrepreneurs, leaders of business, medicine, education, and the people behind all the amazing things happening in north Mississippi. When people ask you how did you know about that, you'll say, “I HEARD IT ON THE SHARK!” HEARD IT ON THE SHARK is brought to you by the Mississippi Hills National Heritage area. We want you to get out and discover the historic, cultural, natural, scenic and recreational treasures of the Mississippi Hills right in your backyard. And of course we want you to take the shark 102.3 FM along for the ride. Bounded by I-55 to the west and Highway 14 to the south, the Mississippi Hills National Heritage Area, created by the United States Congress in 2009 represents a distinctive cultural landscape shaped by the dynamic intersection of Appalachian and Delta cultures, an intersection which has produced a powerful concentration of national cultural icons from the King of Rock'n'Roll Elvis Presley, First Lady of Country Music Tammy Wynette, blues legend Howlin' Wolf, Civil Rights icons Ida B. Wells-Barnett and James Meredith, America's favorite playwright Tennessee Williams, and Nobel-Laureate William Faulkner. The stories of the Mississippi Hills are many and powerful, from music and literature, to Native American and African American heritage, to the Civil War. The Mississippi Hills National Heritage Area supports the local institutions that preserve and share North Mississippi's rich history. Begin your discovery of the historic, cultural, natural, scenic, and recreational treasures of the Mississippi Hills by visiting the Mississippi Hills National Heritage Area online at mississippihills.org. Musical Credit to: Garry Burnside - Guitar; Buddy Grisham - Guitar; Mike King - Drums/Percussion All content is copyright 2021 Sun Bear Studio Ripley MS LLC all rights reserved. No portion of this podcast may be rebroadcast or used for any other purpose without express written consent of Sun Bear Studio Ripley MS LLC

The Wondrous Vegetable ShopWith the arrival of spring, beneath the soft mantle of the earth, tubers and roots began to awaken. The carrots stretched their orange tips with their green tufts. The round and plump potatoes whispered among themselves.“I can feel the warmth of the sun even down here,” said a deep red beetroot. “Doesn't it seem like the perfect moment to show ourselves to the world?”“You're right!” an enthusiastic onion replied. “Enough of staying down here! I want to shine on the shelves of a beautiful shop.”So, they began their journey toward the surface. The earth gently parted to let those cheerful and determined roots pass through. Once they emerged, they started strolling carefree among the olive trees of the Tuscan hills, chatting happily about their new adventure.Along their path, some sparrows hopped on the branches and, seeing the lively and chatty group, immediately chirped: “Chirp, chirp, chirp! Where are you going, fragrant vegetables?”“To find the most special shop in town and put ourselves on display,” they replied.A farmer, who had cultivated with passion for many years and cared deeply about the quality of his produce, noticed them and gently gathered them. He placed them in a basket and took them to a shop in Sesto Fiorentino, well known for its dedication to the finest products of the land.Above the shop's window, the sign read: THE WONDROUS VEGETABLE SHOP.In baskets lovingly arranged, the carrots displayed their vibrant orange color, the potatoes gleamed, and even the onions proudly showed off their shining hues. The radishes giggled and happily put themselves on display as well.Customers couldn't resist such a spectacle of colors and scents and stopped, enchanted, saying: “What spectacular vegetables! Now this is a well-stocked and high-quality shop!”The vegetables were delighted to be appreciated and purchased—they knew they would bring flavors and smiles to every kitchen with delicious dishes. Full of taste and nutrients, they were happy to be healthy and wholesome ingredients for everyone, from the youngest to the oldest, bringing to the table the joy and warmth of a meal shared with family and friends, following Italian tradition.And so, buon appetito to everyone!________________________________________________________________________Each story is currently written and narrated in both Italian and English.The translation from Italian (the original language) to English and the reading of the stories are performed using Generative Artificial Intelligence — which perhaps has a touch of magic... We hope it has done a good job!If you like it, make sure to tell your friends, family, and teachers, and subscribe to this podcast to stay updated. You'll be able to read or listen to new stories as soon as they become available.Visit us On The Official Website https://www.storiesottolestelle.com/

Title: The Art of Being Random, Ravioli In London, Having Unscripted Conversations, and Writing Magical Short Stories for Kids and the Young at Heart Some people meticulously plan their podcasts, carefully outlining each segment, scripting the perfect transitions, and staying laser-focused on a central theme.This is not that podcast. Nope!Welcome to Random and Unscripted, where Sean Martin and Marco Ciappelli hit record and let the conversation take on a life of its own. No structure, no rules—just whatever happens to pop into their heads. And, as it turns out, quite a lot pops in.In this latest episode, we kick things off with a deep philosophical debate about… hats. Specifically, the mysterious origins of Sean's recently rediscovered headwear, which may or may not be Australian (or possibly extraterrestrial). Naturally, this segues into a discussion on the architecture of New York and London, the peculiar planning rules that keep St. Paul's Cathedral in view, and, of course, eating amazing ravioli. Because why not? It's ravioli! What's the matter with you?!From there, things take a turn into the creative process behind Storie Sotto Le Stelle, the podcast and story series Marco has been creating with his mother. What started as a way to preserve small-town grocery store memories turned into a whimsical collection of tales featuring talking shoes, mad cats, colorful bicycle races, enchanted gardens, and even a robot studying humanity from an observatory made of glass. Sean marvels at the sheer volume of stories Marco's mom has written (over 40 in the pipeline!), while Marco contemplates the life choices that led to him having yet another unpaid creative job. LOL!Somewhere along the way, they also tackle the nature of creativity, the fine line between genius and madness, and whether there's a market for on-demand, custom-made stories (spoiler: Marco is not taking commissions… yet. Go ahead, make him an offer).In true Random and Unscripted fashion, we wrap things up with musings on personal passions—writing, music, storytelling, and the simple joy of doing something just because it makes life more interesting. It's the kind of conversation best enjoyed over coffee, a glass of wine, or while wearing a completely unnecessary but highly stylish hat.New episodes drop when they drop. Expect the unexpected.Guest links:

A Word of Encouragement with Vicky Mutchler is heard at 11:30 AM Central Time on Faith Music Radio.  Join the Facebook group On a Positive Note to get more words of encouragement from Mrs. Vicky - https://www.facebook.com/groups/171863542874382/

On a Bench, Waiting for the TrainAt the village station, under a long wooden canopy, steel tracks ran on both sides, allowing trains to speed past in a blur. But every now and then, some would stop, only for a moment, before continuing their journey after passengers had disembarked and boarded.Grandfather had promised many times to take his grandson to visit the train station near their home, and now they were finally there. Standing on the platform, the boy waited with eager anticipation—his first time seeing a train arrive.After a few minutes, a bell rang, followed by an announcement:"Train number 75265 arriving on Track 2. Coming from here, going there. Please pay attention and board if it's yours. It won't wait long—it's running late, as usual…"Soon, the locomotive appeared in the distance, approaching rapidly before slowing to a stop in front of them.The boy had never seen anything so overwhelming. Gripping his grandfather's trousers, he shrank back and cried out:"Help, help, help!"To his eyes, the train was a towering iron giant, covered in strange designs, exuding mystery. A moving machine on rails. A long, mechanical serpent, fast as lightning—imposing, unfamiliar, and yet… fascinating.Passengers stepped out of the open carriage doors, while others hurried aboard. Some people rushed back and forth, luggage in hand, checking schedules on glowing boards before boarding their trains to destinations unknown."Maybe it's not a monster after all. The grown-ups aren't scared like I am."The boy tried to be brave, glancing up at his grandfather, who smiled and took his hand. They lingered at the station for a while, sitting on a bench, watching trains come and go, the stationmaster blowing his whistle, the endless movement of travelers.As the sun dipped below the horizon, Grandfather bought two ice creams—strawberry and pistachio—from the station café. Enjoying their sweet treats, they strolled home, hearts light with happiness. A few days later, it was the boy's birthday. Grandfather never had any doubt about what to give him. They returned to the station, and after purchasing two tickets, he said:"Now you're old enough to travel. So today, we set off on your first adventure. And just wait—when you grow up, you'll have so many more!"But these were no ordinary tickets.When the station clerk heard it was the boy's first train journey, he called over the Stationmaster. With a knowing smile, the Stationmaster reached into his pocket and handed them two colorful tickets that read:Destination: End of the Line StationTrain Number: 18674Valid for: Round TripPlatform: 2 and 1/2, almost 3Valid in: Sun, rain, snow, or windIncludes: Popcorn and souvenir"Huh, how odd," Grandfather thought, scratching his head beneath his hat."But everyone knows you can always trust the Stationmaster."And so, hand in hand, they made their way to Platform 2 and 1/2, almost 3.A few benches were occupied by waiting passengers, but one was free. They sat side by side. Excitement buzzed in the air like migrating birds, their imaginations already soaring as a soft breeze brushed their faces.The train was arriving!A whistle. The screech of brakes. The hum of engines. The overhead speakers announced:"Attention, attention! Train Number 18674 is now at the station. Departure imminent for the End of the Line Station. The weather is uncertain, but that's fine—nothing to be done about it anyway. Fresh, crunchy popcorn will be served throughout the journey."The train slowed to a full stop, and with a gentle creak, its doors swung open. No one got off, but many climbed aboard, quickly filling the seats—except for one at the back of the carriage.Grandfather settled into it, placing his grandson on his lap. The boy felt safe there.With wide eyes, he took in the strange world around him. Some seats faced forward, others backward."Which ones were pointing the right way?"He wondered for a moment, then, with a spark of imagination, transformed the passengers into pieces on a grand chessboard, ready for a fantastic game.A tall, broad-shouldered man with a long beard stood at the front."Aha! An ogre!"Beside him, a plump woman with strong features."Definitely the ogress!"At the center, a blonde girl with blue eyes, absorbed in her phone."A princess!"A heavily tattooed man with multiple earrings and a face full of stories."An explorer!"Further back, a young woman in a wide-brimmed straw hat, wearing flowing clothes and bracelets that jingled softly."A traveler!""How could all these different characters fit into the same story?"As he pondered, the train whistled louder, gliding through plains, tunnels, and hills until the voice overhead declared:"Attention, attention! The train is arriving at End of the Line Station. All passengers, prepare to disembark."A gentle deceleration. A smooth stop."Wow! Amazing!"Instead of opening, the train's side panels lowered to the ground, forming ramps leading directly onto the platform.A light mist veiled the station, but an irresistible scent of roasted treats and cotton candy filled the air. Following the sweet aroma, the passengers arrived at a vast square where a statue in the center spouted water from its enormous mouth, surrounded by a fantastic garden.As the mist lifted, a flock of brightly colored, chattering parrots burst into view, circling above.Then, suddenly—"Look, look! What a surprise!"They all exclaimed in unison.Mary Poppins, on a bicycle, umbrella in hand, was pedaling through the garden."Why are you here?" the parrots asked, curious and mischievous."I'm collecting children's wishes in my upturned umbrella," she replied. "My chimney sweep friends will carry them home, transforming them into dreams ready to come true.""Craa, craa! We have a wish too! To fly around the world, with no destination, no hurry!""Very well," Mary Poppins smiled. "And what's your address for the dream delivery?"The parrots twirled in the air, singing:"Craa, craa! The street that isn't there, in the invisible house at number no-number! Bye-bye, Mary Poppins! We're free—craa, craa—we're off to dream!"She waved farewell and pedaled away.In the enchanted garden, stalls overflowed with sweets, magical rides spun, enchanted toys lay scattered, and a marvelous cart brimmed with books that turned their pages with a mere thought. An ancient talking tree told fairy tales, offering juicy, special fruits to those who listened.The parrots, flitting here and there, served as slightly distracted guides, leading the travelers left and right. A small group was following the man who looked like an ogre.He walked with determination, carrying a large suitcase, and was followed by his wife, who held a half-open bag overflowing with all sorts of trinkets. Behind them came the explorer, the blue-eyed princess, and finally, the tourist with the straw hat.Guided by the parrots, they made their way toward a strange building at the edge of the square. As they got closer, they realized it was an old, neglected theater—worn with time but still holding a certain architectural charm. The scent of dust and aged wood drifted from the slightly open door, adding to the place's mysterious atmosphere.The five peculiar characters were none other than actors, ready to perform a show filled with surprises, illusions, and wonders. Entry was free.Inside the theater, soft music played in the background, audible even from outside, leading them toward the stage.The enchantment of the place and sheer curiosity drew in all the other travelers as well, including the grandfather and grandson, who stepped inside to witness an unexpected spectacle.They had barely found their seats—worn and faded with age—when suddenly, white doves appeared, fluttering above their heads.The ogre revealed himself to be, in fact, a magician. With a swift motion, a breath, and—pluff!—his costume changed in an instant. Then again. And again.At the sides of the stage, a hall of mirrors distorted objects into strange shapes, while hidden playing cards appeared and vanished within the audience's seats, mixing together as if by magic. Yet, no matter what, the magician always seemed to guess the chosen card correctly.Suddenly, as if by enchantment, the princess and the explorer appeared. Behind them, sparks of fire shaped like stars filled the theater."What a show, what a marvel!"The entire stage lit up as the magician, waving his wand in the air like a conductor, brought forth a waltz. At its rhythm, the two actors, now transformed into dancers, moved gracefully to the music. Under the magician's guidance, they floated into the air, performing acrobatics.Meanwhile, the magician's wife—who was a bit of a sorceress herself—stepped onto the stage, opened her bag of trinkets, and out came balls, rings, and juggling pins. The tourist in the straw hat appeared beside her, and together, they began a dazzling juggling act, perfectly in sync with the music.As the waltz neared its end, both the dancers and the jugglers vanished in a cloud of smoke and lights. Incredibly, even the stage itself disappeared.The audience held their breath, stunned and enchanted, before bursting into applause, smiling in amazement as the Ogre Magician bowed deeply in gratitude.The show had come to an end.Still astonished, the travelers left the theater, but the magic followed them as they made their way back toward the station.The whole town felt like an enchantment, and at the heart of it were the grandson and his grandfather—unexpected protagonists of a timeless adventure. So great was their wonder that they had lost track of how long they had been there.Guided once again by the flitting parrots, they returned to the main square along with all the other passengers. From the nearby station, glowing signs signaled the imminent departure of Train 18674."Attention, attention! Train Number 18674 has arrived at the station. Departure imminent for destination: Return Station. Weather still uncertain, but no need to worry. Hot popcorn, souvenir postcards, and an almost-magic wand included in the ticket price."As the travelers boarded, the parrots fluttered in farewell, then soared toward the horizon, disappearing alongside Mary Poppins.The train pulled away slowly, smoothly. From the windows, passengers watched as the enchanted town faded into the mist once more.In the blink of an eye, they were back where they had started: the small village station.As the train glided through the mist, the village slowly reappeared.In the warm light of a summer evening, the passengers stepped off one by one, still in awe of the unexpected journey. They whispered among themselves, exchanging impressions of what they had just experienced.Grandfather and grandson decided to stop for an ice cream before heading home. They walked over to the station café and, without hesitation, ordered two cones with their favorite flavors: strawberry and pistachio.Just as they took their first bites, they turned toward the tracks—and froze.The train that had taken them on their journey was gone.Not only that—the other passengers had vanished too, without leaving a trace.From behind the station clock's column, the Stationmaster appeared, his satchel slung across his shoulder and his signal paddle in hand. He raised his head, tipped his hat with a smile, and then, whistling softly, strolled down the empty platform.Grandfather and the boy waved enthusiastically before taking each other's hand. As they walked home, savoring their strawberry and pistachio ice creams, they talked happily about their extraordinary adventure.It almost felt like a dream.But, as everyone knows, reality and fantasy often walk hand in hand.Just like the grandfather and the child, making their way home, bathed in the golden hues of sunset.

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Young love is going through some turbulent times these days, so for this St., Valentine's Day podcast, we shift our attention to ups and downs of older love.

Santa and Mrs. Claus answer all your questions an explain the magic of Christmas. 

The Tribe of Wandering ShoesA Story Under the Stars in Four Parts. Just like the seasons!This Is The Second Part: The Autumn Adventure.The season was changing. The warm, sunny days of summer had given way to crisp and fresh mornings, often with a layer of fog beginning to cover the fields. The days were getting shorter, and the cool wind made the leaves fall — the street sweepers with their brooms couldn't gather them fast enough before another strong gust brought down just as many.The Tribe of the Wandering Shoes gathered for an extraordinary meeting; they all agreed that it was time to leave the beaches and resume their adventure before dark clouds full of rain appeared on the horizon.They packed their bags, put together some provisions, and cheerfully set off toward the Tuscan countryside. They walked through fragrant woods, where the leaves crunched under their feet and the colors of the trees painted the landscape with shades of red, orange, and gold.The Wandering Shoes felt the first drops of autumn rain as they wandered through winding paths and small villages. Everywhere they went, they saw other signs of the seasonal change: pumpkins on porches, scarecrows guarding the last cornfields, and the smell of spices in the air.At one point, they reached a small country town, where preparations for Halloween were already in full swing, and that's when the rain began to pour down heavily. The streets, flooded with water, looked like small streams, and the shoes were completely soaked.They tried to climb onto the roofs of the houses, but the tiles, slippery like soap, made them fall back down. They didn't know what to do anymore, but luckily, at that moment, along came Senapino the donkey, pulling a cart.It was Halloween, and his load consisted of yellow pumpkins, round and of various sizes. Senapino stopped and kindly said to the shoes: "Hop on, I'll give you a lift!"The shoes didn't need to be told twice, and full of joy, they jumped on in the blink of an eye. They squeezed together as much as possible to make room among the pumpkins, and the good donkey, understanding they needed a dry place, took them out of town.After a short journey, they arrived in front of an abandoned barn with a very tall tower."In the tower, you'll be warm, and from its top, you can enjoy a beautiful view: the starry sky at night and the red roofs of the town by day. A perfect place for Halloween night."Senapino invited them to get off and, after saying goodbye, resumed his journey, slowly disappearing into the distance.No door blocked the dark entrance of the tower, so the Wandering Shoes went in and climbed the old stone staircase worn by time. As they climbed slowly, they heard a bouncing noise behind them. Turning around, they saw the pumpkins following them step by step.Some torches lit up by magic, and suddenly the stairs were illuminated by faint, flickering flames. Once they reached the top, the whole Tribe settled into the tower-barn, accompanied by the pumpkins that had followed them. They dried off well and thought it would be fun to celebrate Halloween together.To create the right atmosphere, they carved the pumpkins from Senapino's cart, placed candle stubs found among the barn's junk inside them, and after lighting them, placed them on the windowsills and terrace. The tower, with its glowing pumpkins, could be seen from afar, and it was a sight to behold. Surely the villagers would appreciate the view.But then, suddenly, incredibly, and unexpectedly, all the pumpkins, with a jump, transformed into spiders with long legs and big, glowing red eyes. They quickly started hunting down the Wandering Shoes, as if they had always been their favorite prey.What a fright! What chaos!There were shoes running in every direction and others hiding behind the braver ones, who, stretching out their laces, tied themselves together like a magical web. In no time, this web intertwined and grew out of control, forming an enchanted shield around the shoes to protect them.The spiders, furious, began jumping and climbing everywhere like mad but were unable to catch any prey. After several attempts, disappointed, they scurried down the stairs, abandoning the barn and heading toward the town in search of new victims. But the streets were filled with floating ghosts, white like sheets, and as they brushed against the scary spiders, they transformed them back into friendly glowing pumpkins.The danger had been averted. It was Halloween night, and as we all know, on this enchanted night, anything can happen.Even in the tower, the Wandering Shoes were breathing a sigh of relief as the remaining bits of candles were burning out. Soon, darkness fell, and the restless evil forces launched a new attack.In the large, dark, and gloomy room, a gust of icy wind slammed all the doors and windows shut, and enormous sabers appeared, crossed and wrapped in iron chains; as if that weren't enough, in the center was a large rusty bolt with keys hanging, but out of reach.By magic, every exit was barred, and the shoes were trapped.Two pairs of yellow shoes tried in vain to kick the exit door, while others attempted to jump for the keys, but they too were unsuccessful. So, even though the pumpkins had been defeated, the Wandering Shoes found themselves trapped in the abandoned barn, victims of some evil power.When they had lost all hope of being freed and celebrating Halloween, a sudden blaring sound, a vibration, and a gust of wind rushed toward the tower. A fiery bolt unlocked the main latch with a loud bang, and with a sharp and resonant metallic snap, the key fell. At that moment, all the swords and chains dropped to the floor at once. The curse dispersed like a ghostly glow.Without hesitation, the shoes ran to the tower windows to see what had happened! Not only were they open, but once again illuminated by warm, flickering torchlight.From there, they could see the town below, where pumpkins of all sizes lit up the town with their glowing candles. The danger was truly over this time, and it was the best Halloween night. On the terrace were delicious treats of all kinds, some even spider-shaped, crispy and ready to munch on.Finally safe and happy, the next morning they would be able to continue their journey.In the night, they wondered among themselves:“But could that donkey, Senapino, have been part of the spell that imprisoned us?” “Who knows?”And all in chorus: “Maybe the little witch Soletta knows something about it! Is she the one pulling the magic web's strings?”____________________________________What can we expect at this point, after the summer and autumn adventures?Stay alert; the story will continue in the third part: the winter adventure in the snowy mountains. Don't miss the next high-altitude journey!

The Battle Of HalloweenThree friends, neighbors and very curious, met every afternoon, after finishing their homework, at the playground in their village nestled in the green Tuscan hills. There, sitting on a bench in the middle of the lawn, they plotted how to end the day with fun. Usually, they got up to mischief and sometimes ended up in peculiar situations.The days passed, and summer was now just a memory. But despite a bit of rain and an autumn breeze, one afternoon they met on the usual bench. After much scheming, they gathered all their courage and decided that one of these nights, they would secretly go to the old abandoned cemetery. It was located behind the church, at the foot of the hill, about 2 kilometers from the village center.Ghost stories linked to the cemetery, whispered by the elders, had discouraged them many times; moreover, they had heard rumors of a strange character, somewhere between real and imaginary—a mysterious guardian who sometimes watched over the main gate at night.It was autumn, dense clouds darkened the sky, and the days were gray and foggy—the perfect season for the adventure of the three kids, before winter arrived. The calendar marked October 31, and that very night, Halloween night, would be simply perfect.A handshake, then a goodbye, and each went home. They had dinner and went to bed early as usual, not to arouse suspicion. Lying in bed, they dozed off, but in their half-sleep, every noise—the bang of a shutter, the creaking of the floor, or the squeak of a door—seemed like spirits moving, maybe ready to join them on their adventure. As planned, at exactly the tenth toll of the bell from the church tower, they snuck out, each from their bedroom window, slipping out through the back of their houses.Almost at the same time, they met at the designated spot and in the darkness made their way toward the cemetery. Lina, who seemed the bravest, held a small flashlight, pointing it behind her to light the way for Sara and Teo, the other two companions in the adventure.They were all a bit nervous, stopping to hide at the slightest rustle or the appearance of a sudden shadow. Once they reached the church, they hurried determinedly towards the entrance of the cemetery, and that's where the night started to get interesting.For starters, Martino, the mysterious guardian they had heard so much about, was really there. They saw him with their own eyes in front of the old, rusty, and decaying gate. He was sitting, half-asleep, but certainly alert to the slightest noise. He held a still-lit pipe in one hand and a harmonica in the other. A jet-black raven perched on his right shoulder, and a small yet regal-looking dog sat by his left side, keeping him company.The fear of being discovered froze them instantly. They caught their breath and, in the blink of an eye, reached the wobbly fence barely standing at the back of the cemetery. From there, they climbed a large elm tree and sat on the highest branches. The call of some owls with big, piercing eyes echoed like a dark omen, but a glow unexpectedly appeared on the other side of the crumbling wall.From the large elm, Lina, Sara, and Teo witnessed an unusual and astonishing sight. In front of them lay a well-kept green park, like a secret garden. Small graves, with tombstones shaped like dogs, cats, and other pets, adorned with flowers of every shade, were scattered in every corner.In the central part stood imposing statues representing sacred figures for the cemetery and its inhabitants. These were the statues of the Royal Frog, the Wise Turtle, the Noble Horse, the Mysterious Cat, and the Faithful Dog.Looking around from their vantage point, they saw pumpkins of various sizes, carved with images of animals and lit by candles. Lanterns and various objects typical of Halloween Night were placed around the graves. Curious, they decided to climb down from the elm and, little by little, started walking toward the park, paying attention to the movements of the faint, flickering lights that cut through the mist. The atmosphere was enchanted and magical.They moved quietly, Lina always leading the way. Every now and then, she would stop Sara and Teo, saying, “Do you hear that noise? Are we sure it's not a ghost?”“N-n-no, just the wind... we hope,” whispered Sara and Teo — But it was Halloween Night, and anything could happen.In the center of the park, the spirits of the animals living in the cemetery jumped and flew, carried by the air with the help of colorful pinwheels spun by a gentle breeze. It was a full-on celebration. Paper lanterns lit up small stalls filled with all kinds of treats for the joy of the animals. Cookies and snacks shaped like little ghosts, skulls, and bats, small fruit pumpkins, and—believe it or not—mini chicken and turkey sausages for dogs, and fish ones for cats!Several spotlights rose into the sky at the edges of the park, operated by magpies that vigilantly watched over the cemetery. Suddenly, all the beams of light illuminated one area of the lawn. What was happening?The magpies had sounded the alarm. A white dog with black patches was running away with a string of sausages dangling from its mouth. A dark brown wolf intercepted him immediately:“Woof! Woof! Oh, stop! Halt! What are you doing, running off with sausages in your mouth? What's your name? Where are you from? What are you doing here?”“Oh! Calm down. My name's Spot!” replied the white dog with black patches. “I live on the other side of the cemetery's fence; through a secret passage, I sometimes meet my friends who live here. Every year for the Halloween celebration, I take the chance to visit them and grab some tasty treats to eat. Everything's so good, Mmmh Mmm… what a delight!”Then the wolf said: “Ooh, but don't you know that it's dangerous to wander around on Halloween night? You might run into malevolent supernatural beings.”Meanwhile, all the spirits of the cemetery animals were already bringing more goodies to give to Spot, and in chorus, they said: “Stay with us for the Halloween celebration!” The dog happily accepted the invitation, wagging his tail and doing a thousand somersaults. The Halloween celebration had begun. Soon the twelve chimes of the church bell would echo through the silence of the night.While everyone was having fun and eating to their heart's content, the moon darkened: thunder, howls, meows, and other strange noises created a ghostly soundtrack. Then, a dense mist and absolute silence fell over the cemetery like a threat. It was midnight, and a destructive force was being unleashed, led by ghosts and skeletons armed with bone scythes and glowing green swords. The dry trees snapped like twigs as they passed. The spectral ghosts appeared wrapped in long strips of mist-made fabrics. Their intention was clear: to reach the sacred statues of the animal protectors and destroy them.In this terrifying situation, the three companions, who had spotted a crypt at the far end of the park, instinctively took off running toward it to seek refuge. But, passing by the maintenance shed, where all sorts of tools were stored, an idea suddenly struck them. They stopped to gather nets, ropes, mousetraps, sticks, rakes, and shovels. They immediately used them to create improvised traps to stop the malevolent intruders. The skeletons tripped and fell apart with a creak, while the ghosts got caught in the traps with their fabric strips.But these figures were driven by a destructive force and formed a large group ready to advance and wage battle. Only a small number of them had fallen into the traps, but most of them were moving swiftly, causing devastation and terror, destroying everything in their path. They were dangerously approaching their goal. When all seemed lost, the spirits of the domestic animals, led by Spot, the wolf, and the magpies, formed a circle around the statues. Even the three friends had joined the battle to defend the cemetery.Despite this extreme act of courage, the malevolent forces did not seem intimidated and continued advancing, shrouded in the mist that accompanied them, among ghostly sounds.While all of this was happening, Martino, the guardian at the main entrance, though half-asleep, was suddenly awakened by a cold wind and his faithful, alarmed, and attentive companions. He immediately stood up, shivering, and peered through a thick, mysterious fog that partially obscured his view, while inexplicable noises came from the park.The raven on his shoulder took flight, reaching the old, rusty sign of the gate, while King Lilo, the dog, sniffing the night air, walked without hesitation along the main path. At that point, Martino placed the harmonica to his lips, grabbed his old cane, and walked down the path, following King Lilo; the raven soared into the air.Soon, they reached the group that was bravely resisting the attack. As they approached the battleground, the music from Martino's harmonica intensified, while his raven flew directly toward the malevolent forces, distracting them from above. King Lilo, fast as a beam of light, circled around the brave protectors and positioned himself between them and the spectral invaders. Spot, Lina, Sara, and Teo did not hesitate for a moment and stood by his side — and so did all the other spirits of the domestic animals.It was at that point that the ghosts and skeletons halted their march, and when the sound of the magic harmonica reached them, they floated into the cold night air and vanished into nothingness. Finally, the nightmare was over, and the celebrations could resume.The three friends were greeted by a multitude of wagging tails and were invited to spend Halloween night in their company. Of course, even Spot the dog, the guardian Martino, King Lilo, the Black Raven, and the Brown Wolf joined the celebrations with plenty of treats and few tricks — because clearly, everyone had already had enough of tricks and scares.Like a dream, the mysterious adventure of three curious friends vanished with the dawn, and all three woke up happy and incredulous in their beds. But what had really happened on that mysterious Halloween night?Perhaps only Martino, the guardian, and his loyal companions, who knew the legends and secrets of the night, could know, but no one ever saw them guarding the entrance to the abandoned cemetery again.Well, they weren't seen again for a while; to be exact, not until the Halloween night of the following year!Happy Halloween to everyone!

Join Dr. Martin in today's episode of The Doctor Is In Podcast.  

The Tribe of Wandering ShoesA Story Under the Stars in Four Parts. Just like the seasons!The Summer AdventureIn a large clothing store downtown, among other items for sale, there were some rather peculiar sports shoes. In addition to being very comfortable, cheerful, and available in various colors, they would occasionally swap laces and positions for fun. And, believe it or not, they talked to each other.Lately, during the closing hour from 1:45 to 2:45, they would plot how one day they could fulfill their dream: they wanted to wander the world aimlessly, thus becoming the Tribe of Wandering Shoes.Hidden behind thick curtains were the fitting rooms, where, invisible to the store staff and customers, lived a lively little witch. Her name was Soletta the Witch, and she had a glowing magic wand from which she cast spells whenever she pleased.By day she spied, and by night she schemed, wandering around the store as if it were her own; it was no surprise she knew about the plot of the sports shoes.When they decided to take action, Soletta the Witch cast a spell, first tripling their number and with a flick of her wand and a puff of air, sent them sliding down the escalator. Suddenly, they found themselves free outside.Now, free and multiplied, the Tribe of Wandering Shoes was ready for adventure.It was summer, the days were so hot and sunny that they decided to go to the beach. This would be their first stop. After packing for the journey, they set off.Step by step, they reached the seaside just at sunset: an incredible light reflected on the waves, turning them silver, and upon arriving at the beach, they swayed like leaves in the wind. The cool sand was pleasant to step on, but the grains that got into their shoes as they walked caused a lot of itching. They started jumping, dancing, and having fun, waking up all the umbrellas which reopened along with the drowsy deckchairs. At that point, everyone was laughing and dancing with the shoes; joy, as we know, is contagious.After a wonderful evening together, they went to their hotel, and after a refreshing sleep, they got up early. The sun was still low on the horizon, and all agreed it would be nice to take a walk in the pine forest. After a hearty breakfast, they set off in single file: one, two, three, one, two, three, forward march.They walked in the shade along a tree-lined avenue. Seeing them, people were curious and said: “What beautiful colorful shoes” and they, happy and indifferent, continued: one, two, three, one, two, three, forward march.Reaching the pine forest, they sat under a huge tree. Everything was pleasant and relaxing until a bright flash, a sudden bolt from the blue, grazed them. They closed their eyes in fright, and when they opened them, they saw a vast field of mushrooms in front of them.Were they magical mushrooms? How could they have appeared so suddenly? And what about the pine forest? Was it perhaps a fantastic and enchanted place?Seeing the bewilderment of the Wandering Shoes, some mushrooms began to speak in unison: “We are part of a magic spell. This is the Pine Forest of Wonders. We communicate with fantastic creatures and, together with them, protect the animals and plants living in this habitat.”“We are very curious about this,” said the surprised Wandering Shoes, “what else do you do?”The mushrooms responded again in chorus: “At night we illuminate the undergrowth with iridescent lights, our stems grow, and our caps change color.”And they continued: “We traverse secret paths, where magical plants grow that emit an enveloping and intoxicating fragrance. We enter caves where elves, squirrels, owls, bunnies, and many others live. We have the power to communicate with them.”“But if you are wondering why we appeared to you, it is because, unexpectedly, something fantastic has happened. The bright flash that grazed you has given you a superpower that now allows you to know the magical secrets of the pine forest.”The mushrooms invited the entire Tribe of Wandering Shoes, astonished and speechless, to stay in the pine forest and wait for the night. Mystery hung in the air until dusk when the forest magically transformed into an enchanted fairy tale.And as the mushrooms had said, the shoes with their newfound superpower became part of it. They quietly explored the secret paths, entered the caves following the mushrooms, and met the elves and all the other inhabitants of the pine forest — magical and non-magical.At one point, all the shoes found themselves asleep under the big tree. Awakening before dawn as if from an incredible and fantastic dream, the pine forest returned to their eyes as it was the day before. They lay for a while, reflecting on the mystery of the magical mushrooms.Drawn to the fantastic life of the nighttime pine forest, they returned once, twice, three times, and more. They learned the secret language used by the animals, mushrooms, and elves to communicate with each other, and thus the Wandering Shoes became part of the fairy tale.They spent the rest of the summer days breathing in the sea air and watching the sunsets, while the waves whispered mysterious melodies on the sand. But they spent the nights in the pine forest. Occasionally, they looked at each other and whispered incredulously: “Do we really have a superpower?!” “Who knows?”And all in chorus: “Maybe Soletta the Witch knows something!”_______________________________And maybe, just maybe, she does. Yes? No? What do you think?From summer to autumn, the adventure of the Tribe of Wandering Shoes continues with a slightly spooky, but not too scary, Halloween story! Don't miss the next thrills and surprises.

What do you do during your senior year(s)? Go to prom! This week Joan and the Golden Gents are staying young at heart… even if their knees are too old for the top bunk. This week also has the 2nd Annual Golden Talent Showcase, a long overdue visit to the happiest place on earth, and a poolside BBQ. Cannonball! 

Robots on the HillOn a bright spring day, some schoolchildren on a field trip passed near the Observatory on the Hill. The large, gleaming building was an architectural wonder, with tall towers reaching toward the sky, silver domes shining in the sun, and gigantic telescopes protruding like curious eyes, always ready to explore the universe. It was the first time they had seen it up close, and to their eyes, it appeared as the wonder of wonders.Back at school, the children couldn't stop thinking about that mysterious place, and during the remaining hours of lessons, they frequently raised their hands to ask questions. But the teachers' answers were vague, and their doubts remained unresolved. To be honest, not many in town knew much about that building. It had been there for so long that no one paid much attention to it anymore. Maybe it had always been there.Among the students in that class were a brother and sister, who were perhaps a little more curious than the others. When they got home, they decided to visit their grandmother, who, more often than not, knew how to answer their strangest questions: "Grandma, you who always tell us memories of the past, and that a merry-go-round and a music box were your favorite games to play, could you tell us something about the future? What secrets are hidden in the sky? What happens in the great Observatory on the Hill?"Grandma smiled, and her eyes lit up with a mysterious sparkle. The two grandchildren, by the way, were sure that their grandmother was hiding some secret in her super-private garage. In fact, Grandma wasn't just passionate about stories from the past: she read a lot, listened to the radio, and often, at night, she observed the sky with peculiar tools. And it was in the sky that she had a dear friend, the Wizard of Knowledge, with whom she had often collaborated in the past to decipher the mysteries of the universe and the future.Without hesitation, Grandma decided to call him on the radio, so that he could answer her curious grandchildren. After a few moments, the Wizard of Knowledge appeared with his shimmering spaceship. Floating next to him was a magical book, which opened and closed on its own, revealing strange symbols, ancient formulas, and secrets.The Wizard turned to the children with a wise smile and told them that the Observatory on the Hill is open 360° to the world, made of glass windows with an infinite view, from where you can study the entire universe. Some robots, coming from distant planets, discovered it while wandering on Earth. To conduct their studies as astronomer scientists, it was the perfect place.The robots that lived there and were in charge of the research project had particular names:ASSO, the Robot best at organizing things, was the head of the expedition.CONNI, the Explorer Robot, who was connected to the universe and understood it better than anyone else.UNO, the Math Genius Robot, who counted the stars and all flying celestial bodies, including meteors and shooting stars.SALUS, the Researcher Robot, who was knowledgeable about Planet Earth, observed all its inhabitants, and tracked every change, from ecosystems to biodiversity.AUDIO, the Artificial Intelligence that was invisible but responsible for all space communications and coordinated discoveries between the various planets.After explaining, the Wizard of Knowledge invited Grandma and the grandchildren to board his spaceship, and together they floated slowly toward the observatory. Gravity seemed suspended, and everything around them shone with a magical light.The Wizard offered them colorful balloons that lifted them into the air, and through the open roof of the spaceship, they were transported to the glass windows of the Observatory.What a wonder! There were hundreds of instruments and many robots of different sizes, all busy with their tasks. Among them stood out for size, shape, and color, Asso, Conni, Uno, and Salus. They looked up, surprised and amazed at the sight of the visitors, and didn't know how to react. The children sent kisses and greetings, but the robots, who didn't understand affection, exchanged only light signals and went back to work as usual. Who knows what thoughts they had and what secrets they hid in their electronic brains.Once back home, they were happy about the adventure, but their curiosity had grown even more. The robots' work would continue, but in their opinion, it was necessary for them to interact with humans to share their discoveries and collaborate for a better world.The robots they had seen through the glass were of few words and too absorbed in their tasks to chat with them. But perhaps what couldn't be seen was the solution: AUDIO, the Artificial Intelligence!To contact it, they needed a genius idea: Grandma's radio could be what they needed. But it required some changes. They immediately fitted it with super-powerful antenna and microphone. Without hesitation, they tried to get in touch with AUDIO, explaining their idea. But no response came. They changed frequencies and tried for several evenings, but without luck.One day, Grandma, while cooking spaghetti with tomato and basil, was listening to news about the universe, tuned to a new local radio station called Space Station. By chance, there was an interference and, between one forkful of spaghetti and another, as she adjusted the tuning, she intercepted a metallic voice that seemed to want to communicate with her grandchildren. There was no doubt: she realized that the transmission came from the Observatory on the Hill and that it was AUDIO!Grandma immediately informed her grandchildren and all the children in town, who happily gathered every day after school to talk to AUDIO. They talked about all sorts of things, and while they were learning a lot, so was he, and so were the other robots, with whom AUDIO could act as a translator.Time passed, and many pieces of information and discoveries continued to arrive from the observatory. After a year of knowing each other, the children asked AUDIO: "Can we celebrate with a cake with candles?"AUDIO replied: "I have no age, and time makes no difference to me. Besides, to be honest, sugar is bad for gears. You eat the cake and let the wind blow out the candles."The children smiled, realizing that their curiosity had truly opened a window to the future."Look!" they exclaimed joyfully, "AUDIO and his friends are one of the wonders of the future."Grandma, on a day of rain and sunshine, took her mini spaceship out of the garage, quickly started it up, and after a refueling stop on the rainbow, reached the Planet of Wisdom at incredible speed for a greeting and afternoon tea with her friend, the Wizard.She returned home before dark, and after parking her mini spaceship in her secret garage, she relaxed in the garden. While she was sitting in her rocking chair, her grandchildren arrived and asked her:"What are you looking at?""I'm observing the sky, you know, it's crowded with astronauts in spaceships, some headed for the Moon, others for Mars, and even beyond.""You know a lot, Grandma," they said, smiling. "The merry-go-round and the music box were your past games to play, now you know the secrets of the future. Well done! And if one day you fly again, let us know; we'll watch you along with the robots and our friends. Maybe one day we can join you on one of your space adventures. What do you think, Grandma?"Grandma smiled, and looking at the starry sky, replied:"Who knows... maybe one day..."

Pajaritis del amor, Amo mucho a todos ~~~Bailemos como chuparrosas y peleemos como jabalíes ~~~No más dominación sin Consentimiento.Collect your own tears and Conduct your own Spirit. Habla con tus antepasadas.un Amor,ravencito kerkawwwYoung at Heart was originally recorded by Frank Sinatra in 1953 and published by Sunbeam Music.Support the Show.Support My Sponsor:Magic Mind Adaptogenic & Nootropic Elixir 20% off at Checkout! Support Link here | Use Code: BARBARIANNOETICS20Tip me in Solana (crypto):Address: 9XPHpqH7GawTGtPgZAzfXFU6oPWTpSua1QXwRYAWVh9y If you dig the pod, check out the adjacent video & livestream show Barbarian Yak Fest on Rokfin: https://rokfin.com/BarbarianYakFestFind me on IG: barbarian_noetics Become a Patron: patreon.com/noetics (unlock bonus content plus win a Dream Interpretation)Direct Donate on PayPal @barbarian.noetics@proton.me Cash App@ $BarbarianRavenbuymeacoffee.com/noetics.Spread the word and tell a friend. Remember to set the BNP on Auto Download after you subscribe. I appreciate you all. Section 107 of the Copyright Act of 1976 allows for “fair use” for purposes such as criticism, comment, news reporting, teaching, education and rese...

On this week's Spencer & Vogue: Spen's 25 year old heart, meeting a Vogue, moisturiser, some absolutely never evers, meeting Tsonga, Google searches and linguistic fun.Remember, if you want to get involved you can:Email us at Spencerandvoguepod@gmail.com OR find us on socials @voguewilliams @spencermatthews AND @spencer_and_vogueListen and subscribe to Spencer and Vogue on Global Player or wherever you get your podcasts. Please review Global's Privacy Policy: https://global.com/legal/privacy-policy/

PEDALING TOWARDS THE STARSOne fine day, in the squares of the city of Ciclopoli, large billboards appeared advertising a bicycle race; everyone could participate, from zero years and up. There wasn't much information, but it suggested that those interested should contact the Association of Bicycles with Wheels, located at Via dei Manubri Number Eight, behind the playground. The citizens got informed. The start was scheduled for the first Saturday of June from the Piazzale of the Astronomical Observatory, next to the Municipal Library. The finish line was at the top of the Hill of Dreams, and the prize was a star for everyone who crossed the finish line. Registrations had already started and, of course, were free for everyone. Many requests for participation were received.There was a lot of talk about the event, and all the inhabitants of Ciclopoli, including animals, wanted to lend a hand. Volunteers were certainly not lacking. Finally, the day of departure arrived, and the city turned into a great festival. There was a lot of chatter from the balconies of the houses and even from the dome of the Astronomical Observatory, where some inhabitants had climbed to watch the start. Spectators from everywhere cheered on the race participants.Kites in bright colors were tied to the tricycles to keep an eye on the kids. In the playground, where the city's permanent puppet theater was located, the puppets peeked out to watch the show themselves; the strings moved, and a round of applause filled the air. The church bells rang in celebration. All the participants were ready at the start with bikes, unicycles, and tricycles, and all together they formed a varied and numerous group.The start took place despite the great confusion. Fortunately, some fawns were on duty along the race route. They had a megaphone and wore special headphones, which worked with voice transmission to communicate with each other. Little clouds in the clear sky acted as flying race assistants, drawing arrows to indicate the path to the runners at each intersection.Shortly after the start, a fawn took the megaphone: “Attention, attention, the grandfather with the green jacket has a flat tire.” Everyone stopped to wait for the tire to be repaired. Shortly after, a second fawn: “Everyone stop! The kid in the yellow shorts needs to pee.” Another brief stop and a little further ahead, the first refreshment stop. Sandwiches, sweets, and fruit were already ready to be distributed, and everyone lined up to refresh themselves. Tall-stemmed flowers wearing multicolored aprons served the cyclists as they arrived. After a great feast, they set off at full speed again. A small hare was running among the bushes at the edge of the road, and a boy in a purple shirt, curious as he was, left the race course to chase it. The nearby fawn took his megaphone: “New communication! Stop, everyone, a cyclist has gone off course,” he hurried to reach him and brought him back to the road. Everyone back on the saddle.Pedaling, pedaling, they reached the great Field of Happiness full of flowers where the grandparents got lost chasing butterflies and the children lay down to rest. Time was passing. “Let's hurry, let's hurry, the top is still far away,” said the grandparents. Owls, marmots, squirrels, and martens began to follow the runners, cheering them on. Meanwhile, the fawn on the lookout: “Help, the grandmother with the pink skirt has fallen,” but fortunately nothing was broken, and the race resumed quickly.The fastest cyclists happily reached the top of the Hill of Dreams in the early afternoon. The rest of the group arrived at sunset when it was already dark. It was later than expected, and at that point, they couldn't return to the city. How could they spend the night up there? They had no supplies, let alone blankets and sleeping bags. The animals following them understood the problem, and from the nearest farmhouse, they procured milk and cheese for everyone. They ate abundantly and, tired, lay down on the grass around the top after parking their bicycles. It was a bit chilly. In the night air, there was a great buzz. The stars were deciding what to do. They held hands and transformed the sky into a great blanket. How wonderful, a great warmth enveloped all the cyclists who fell asleep.Suddenly, while everything seemed calm, first a flash, then a thunder, and a powerful breath as if caused by the breath of a giant from the top of the hill. No fear, it was just the automatic anti-theft alarm to wake the sleeping cyclists. Awake and with their ears well-tuned to listen, they heard a strange tinkling coming from the free parking lot around the curve. This caused a commotion among the race participants, who jumped to their feet and ran towards the parking lot just in time to see some magpies, some real thieves: bicycle thieves. They had just stolen many parts: bolts, bells, chains, handlebars, rims, and spokes, carrying them away in flight. “What a disaster! And now what do we do?” The fawns did not lose heart and with their powerful means available, they sent an S.O.S. to an elderly carpenter, who was also a blacksmith in the nearby village. Received the signal, he didn't hesitate for a moment and left for the rescue with the siren on his work van. Before dawn, all the bicycles, unicycles, and tricycles of every kind had been skillfully and quickly repaired — as best as the situation allowed. But the fact is that from the first to the last, the cyclists were able to set off again towards Ciclopoli. Their means fixed as much as possible, hopping and limping here and there, they went down the descent, and everyone was laughing their heads off.What great fun! Each one carried with them the promised prize in memory of the cycling race on the Hill of Dreams: a shining star and even a piece of the blanket made of the sky from the previous night.And the Magpies?Well, they had been working for years on building their bicycles, and the race with an overnight stay on the hill offered them an opportunity not to be missed. Their bikes were completed, and that very evening, they were seen pedaling towards the sunset and disappearing on the horizon.The End_____________________Each story is currently written and narrated in both Italian (On The Website https://www.storiesottolestelle.com/) and English.The translation from Italian (the original language) to English and the reading of the stories are performed using Generative Artificial Intelligence — which perhaps has a touch of magic... We hope it has done a good job!If you like it, make sure to tell your friends, family, and teachers, and subscribe to this podcast to stay updated. You'll be able to read or listen to new stories as soon as they become available. 

May 23, 1954 - Jack's trip to Las Vegas is disscussed as well as Jack's last television show of the season featuring Bob Hope, as well as Dennis Day's TV Show. References include the portable Crosley TV set, dialing information (1-1-3), "My Sin" perfume, The Good Humor man, Marylin Monroes and her husband Joe DiMaggio, Frank Sinatra's song "Young At Heart", Bing Crosby, Howard Hughes, 

Today's Phone Tap victim has been applying to EVERY reality show she can for over 15 years. So, Jeff's calling her to let her know she's been selected for the next season of Golden Bachelor!See omnystudio.com/listener for privacy information.