Time, time, time. The Cloudy Messenger. That which escapes all of us. Flash indeed. Most people no longer use a watch so the piece of music above, Leroy Anderson’s The Syncopated Clock (1944), sounds like a lulling relic of a playful time where brass was oiled, and tea came with DELICIOUS cookies. Push play. I could check my watch all day to that ish! Pops gave me a pocket watch for my birthday this year. A huge antique train conductor’s watch. It’s like having a metal ice cream sandwich in your pocket. Like the ones from camp that came six to a plastic clamshell. Good god I want one, it’s so hot outside. And there’s a huge chain on this watch that gives it the authority of a mace. Watch is legit. Not built for skinny jeans. It’s for those who REALLY need to know what time it is. I could have used that watch this past weekend when every mode of communication went to hell in one glossy-sleek-personal-hand-held-computing-basket. My friend Officer Mike, in an act of complete and utter lunacy, decided to run a 50 mile ultra marathon from mile marker 51 to mile marker 1 in the Florida Keys. It







