Heavy rain & potential flooding tonight continue overnight and through Thursday. Tune in to San Antonio’s First News 5-9am for all the latest #Weather#Traffic#News and more. @mrtsafn@ChrisDuel#SanAntonio
50 Years of Grant.
Fifty years ago today, my nephew @grantcdull came into this world.
What an extraordinary journey it has been.
Grant was only four years old when we lost his father, my brother Greg, in a military fighter jet crash.
I was four years old when I lost my father.
It's a connection neither of us would have chosen, but one that has always given me a special bond with Grant. We both grew up carrying questions that could never fully be answered, learning to build lives around an absence that became part of who we are.
And what a life Grant has built.
From the very beginning, he has always marched to the beat of his own drummer.
After college, he followed curiosity instead of convention. He traveled the world, eventually making Buenos Aires, Argentina, his home. He immersed himself in its music, culture, and creative spirit, earning the nickname "El G."
He founded ZZK Records, helping introduce groundbreaking Latin American music to audiences around the world. Since then, his creativity has expanded into film, art, and countless other adventures. Rather than waiting for permission, Grant has spent his life creating things that didn't exist before.
Joseph Campbell encouraged us to "follow your bliss."
Grant didn't just read those words.
He lived them.
As I look at this photo showing five versions of Grant, from a baby taking his first steps to the remarkable man he has become, I can't help but think of his dad.
Somewhere beyond what we can see...
I have to believe Greg is smiling.
Proud.
Watching his son become exactly the person he was meant to be.
Happy 50th Birthday, Grant.
Thank you for reminding all of us that life isn't measured only by the years we are given...
But by the courage to follow our own path, create something beautiful, and leave the world a little more interesting than we found it.
Here's to your first fifty years...
...and to all the incredible adventures that are still waiting for El G.
Happy Birthday. I love you.
The Practice
You don’t need a mountaintop.
You don’t need a meditation retreat, a breakthrough, or a moment of perfect clarity.
You just need a window, a cup of coffee, and three minutes of your own attention.
The practice is simple.
Notice what is already here.
Notice the way light moves through the trees.
Notice the sound of birds singing outside your window.
Notice the heat of a mug against your palm.
We spend so much energy searching for what is already here.
The sacred has never been hiding from us.
We have only been looking past it.
#ThisIsTheSacredMoment #DownloadingYourSoul
USA! USA! USA! Tonight’s the night. Can Team USA punch its ticket to the Round of 8 in the World Cup? @mrtsafn & @ChrisDuel are geeked up. Tune in 5-9am for SA’s First News for all the latest on America’s quest for glory. #WorldCup#USA#America#Belgium#Trump 🇺🇸🇺🇸🇺🇸🇺🇸🇺🇸
President Trump’s phone call to the FIFA President leads to our leading scorer’s reinstatement for tonight’s #WorldCup match against Belgium. Will this taint our possible victory? @mrtsafn@ChrisDuel & @newsgirl1200 react with you on San Antonio’s First News #Trump#USA
The People Who Still Live Within Us.
I have spent much of my life grieving people I loved.
My father, gone when I was four. My brother Greg, who taught me to fly. My sister Rosemary, who went from Sixties wild child to spiritual seeker and led me to meditation. My mother, whose love lived a hundred years.
Dear friends whose laughter once filled rooms and whose absence still catches me off guard in ordinary moments.
A song on the radio, a certain slant of sunlight through a window.
For years, I tried to get beyond my overpowering grief.
Now I'm rethinking it.
The older I get, the more I notice something unexpected: the people we love never really leave. Not entirely. They simply change location and frequency.
My mother dwells in me still, her voice rising unbidden when life becomes difficult, those same words she whispered to me as a child: "This too shall pass."
My father lives in me too. I know him through stories my mother told, through photographs of a uniformed young man I sometimes resembled, through the mystery of his absence that taught me early that love and loss are woven together. His courage, his service, the very fact that he existed and then did not, all of it shaped who I became.
My brother Greg lives in me. Greg was a fighter pilot. He taught me to fly, literally. He was my instructor pilot, patient and exacting in the cockpit. When I look up at the vast sky from the ground, or when I am flying among the clouds in an airliner, I think of him. He showed me that we are capable of leaving this earthly plane, of rising higher, of soaring beyond what we once believed were our limits.
Greg taught me to reach for the sky. Rosemary taught me to look inward. She was a wild child of the Sixties, a hippie of sorts, all restless energy and questioning. But she didn't stay there. She became a fervent spiritual seeker, and in her seeking, she led me to discover meditation. She lives in me when I sit in stillness, when I close my eyes and follow my breath, when I remember that the vastness Greg showed me in the clouds also exists within. She taught me that flight doesn't always require leaving the ground.
Friends who have left this world still live within me.
The way Henry was unconditional with his kindness, not just to me, but to anyone who crossed his path. The way Mark always showed up with a book, even to parties, because he always wanted to expand his knowledge. Their stories. Their wisdom. Their humor. Their kindness. All of it remains, not as memory alone, but as active force.
I used to think death was a wall.
Now it feels more like a doorway.
A person disappears from our sight, but their influence continues moving through the world in ways both large and small. A phrase they taught us. A lesson they lived. A kindness they showed. A dream they inspired. A wound they helped heal.
The people we love become woven into the fabric of who we are.
We carry them in our habits. In the stillness of meditation, in the checking of weather before decisions, in the voice that rises to comfort ourselves when no one else is there.
We carry them in our choices.
We carry them in our hearts.
And sometimes, when we're paying close enough attention, we realize they are still actively helping us become who we are meant to be.
Love changes form, but it does not disappear.
The people who mattered most to us continue living through the lives they touched.
And so maybe nobody truly leaves.
Maybe they don't move away at all. Maybe they simply move inward.
From beside us...
To within us.
#DownloadingYourSoul #ThisIsTheSacredMoment #BeHereNow #Family #Love #Death #Spirit
Giraffe? What Giraffe?
There has been a lot of talk lately about Gracie the Giraffe, who wandered away from her home near Leakey and somehow became South Texas' most wanted fugitive.
A $5,000 reward has been offered.
Texas Game Wardens are searching.
Social media has become one giant game of Where's Gracie?
And now...
...people are starting to ask me some uncomfortable questions.
Look, I don't know anything.
This photo proves absolutely nothing.
Sure, there appears to be a giraffe strolling through downtown San Antonio.
Sure, I appear to be riding it.
Sure, Gracie looks remarkably calm around me.
But let's not jump to con-fur-sions.
Besides, if I did know where Gracie was...
...do you really think I'd stick my neck out and tell anybody?
She's been head and shoulders above most of the people I've met lately.
She's got a long view of life.
She doesn't sweat the small stuff.
She reaches for the highest branches.
Frankly, she's excellent company.
So if you happen to see a suspiciously tall "horse" wandering around San Antonio...
Mind your own business.
We're just out for a little necksercise.
🦒😄
(For the record, I hope Gracie is found safe and returned home soon. Until then... my attorney has advised me to answer all further questions with: "Giraffe? What giraffe?")
INBOX: Joint letter from six San Antonio City Council members on Kanye West's scheduled Alamodome concert states they "condemn hate without resorting to censorship, which could set a precedent toward limiting expression based on objectionable viewpoints."
This is my 61st Father's Day without my dad.
He died in February 1965.
He was 42 years old.
I was four.
I've never had a conscious memory of celebrating Father's Day with him.
I don't remember making him a handmade card in school.
I don't remember giving him a tie or a coffee mug.
I don't remember sitting across from him at breakfast or hearing him tell one of his stories.
Those memories belong to other people.
Not to me.
As I grew older, Father's Day became something different.
It became a day of imagination.
I wondered what advice he would have given me as a teenager.
What he would have thought of the choices I made.
Whether we would have shared a love for Spurs basketball.
Whether he would have laughed at my terrible jokes on the radio.
I wonder what it would have been like to introduce him to Beth.
I wonder what it would have felt like to hug him as an adult.
Those are conversations that only exist in my heart.
And yet...
I don't feel fatherless.
Not really.
Because somehow a man I barely knew has been one of the greatest influences in my life.
His courage became part of my story.
His absence taught me that nothing in this life is guaranteed.
His love, though I experienced so little of it in person, has somehow continued to find me.
Sometimes in dreams.
Sometimes in silence.
Sometimes while writing, when words seem to arrive from somewhere beyond my own thoughts.
I often kneel beside his grave at Fort Sam Houston National Cemetery and wish I could have just one ordinary conversation with him.
Not about anything important.
Just life.
The weather.
The Spurs.
How Mom is.
How grateful I am to have been his son.
Then I realize...
Love isn't measured by the number of Father's Days you have together.
It's measured by what remains after all the years have passed.
Sixty-one Father's Days have come and gone.
I still miss him.
I always will.
Happy Father's Day, Dad.
I hope, somehow, you know that your little four-year-old boy never stopped looking up... and never stopped loving you.
May you dwell in bliss. ❤️
#Fathers #FathersDay #Father #Grief #GreatestGeneration #DownloadingYourSoul #ThisIsTheSacredMoment
Mayor OJ wants to cancel the Kanye West concert at the Alamodome.
@ChrisDuel sounds off, citing the First Amendment & concerns over which artists Mayor OJ will want to cancel next. We’ll be all over this Monday morning 5-9am! #Kanye#Ye#KanyeWest#SanAntonio#MayorOJ#Cancel