Tribute to Dr. Seuss

In this episode, A Tribute to Dr. Seuss . . .

by; Patrick Ball

From Amazon, it must have been kismet,

I received my first book, such a joy to revisit.

Hand-delivered by truck,

Dr. Seuss, Oh, what luck!

Oh, the Places You’ll Go!

I know what you’re thinking,

“You’re too old for kids' books, wake up - stop dreaming.”

The winter is dark, a rediscovery - who me?

The thrill of reading, It’s what sets you free.

Like you, I’m off to great places. “We’re off and away!”

Reading is fun amidst the news of today.

Come on - you’ve read Ted Geisel, you may recall,

The Grinch Christmas podcast was recorded last fall.

That wasn’t a book, but a digital rendition,

We read from a Kindle, Oh My, we Broke tradition!

It worked, on an iPad, artwork in color.

But let's be clear, it wasn’t that clever.

Somehow - someway - it’s just not the same.

Having a book in hand, that’s the name of the game.

What a tactile sensation,

Not to mention the smell - no agitation.

Folding back pages has a sensory feel,

You just don’t get that - with a tap - that’s the deal.

My friend - you know better.

Stand up - be bold! You're never too old.

By fair means or foul, it appears to me,

Kids' books enlighten, just wait, you’ll see.

I’d love to keep rhyming,

But, I’m no Seuss that can do so by trying.

Just maybe, perhaps - a book in your hand,

Feels more natural than any Gadget can.

Thank Dr. Seuss, for this lesson today!

Your new book is waiting.

“So . . . get on your way!”

I’m Patrick Ball; thanks for listening; see you in the next episode.

Comments

Don Hanley said…

Thanks Patrick - as a poet, you'll do
for there's no one so true!
keep it up my friend
you may start a trend!

March 10, 2022 at 11:07 AM

Morning Coffee

In this episode, Morning Coffee . . . Now, I’m not saying everyone needs coffee. Some folks get by just fine on, I don’t know, sunlight and positive thinking. Me? I’m pretty sure I started drinking the stuff sometime around the Reagan administration. Reading John Gierach’s "Ode to Campfire Coffee" in Trout Bum (a book that should be required reading for anyone who sees sleeping on the ground as recreation) got me thinking about how we’ve managed to complicate something as fundamentally simple as boiling water and adding grounds. Taste, you say? Look, black coffee is an acquired taste, like tequila or cilantro. I just don’t get it. Gierach, bless his heart, mostly drinks his java streamside, probably while wearing wool socks and waders and contemplating the mysteries of the universe. As for me? My outdoor coffee experience is a bit different. Picture this: the High Sierra, where campfires are banned (to avoid agitating Smoky Bear), and I’m huddled over a Whisperlite , coax...

A B+ Kind of Life

Welcome back to this week's On the Fly . Retirement has taught me something unexpected: life gets a lot more enjoyable when you stop chasing perfection. Lately, I've been having an absolute blast playing executive par-3 courses like Rancho Carlsbad . A short iron, a sunny morning, and nowhere to be except the next tee—that's my kind of day. This Thursday, though, I'm raising the stakes. I'm heading to The Links at Lakehouse in San Marcos, a full-size par-71 course with enough water hazards to keep the local fish well-stocked with my golf balls. After shooting a 64 on a par-3 course, I've set myself a new goal: shoot an 89 before my birthday next August. Why 89? Because on a par-71 course, that's bogey golf—one extra stroke per hole. For non-golfers, think of it this way: par is like earning 100% on a final exam. Bogey golf is a solid B+. You got the job done, learned something, and probably had a lot more fun getting there. The older I get, the more I appre...

The Endless Work of Wisdom

It always makes me smile. The moment people learn I've officially entered what I like to call the Great Un-Working (retirement), they almost immediately ask the same question: “So . . . What do you do now?" I think they're expecting me to say I'm restoring a vintage sports car, hiking the John Muir Trail, or finally becoming fluent in French. Instead, I tell them: "I live life deliberately." That's usually the point when I get a polite nod, followed by the unmistakable look of someone wondering whether I've simply found a more sophisticated way to say, “I’m becoming a bum.” Apparently, "living deliberately" sounds suspiciously like unemployment, just better branding. The truth is, what living deliberately looks like for me right now is taking time to synthesize a lifetime of experiences into these weekly reflections. It's slowing down long enough to ask what those experiences have taught me, while keeping the door wide open to the poss...

A Tucson Typewriter Tale

One of the great joys of wandering without much of a plan is that the universe occasionally rewards your lack of organization. During my recent visit to Tucson, AZ, Robert and I were strolling through the Annex this afternoon, doing what tourists and newly minted retirees like me have elevated to an Olympic sport: meandering. The Annex is one of those places where every few steps there's another handmade candle, artisan coffee, or vintage object someone rescued from a garage sale and convinced the rest of us was always destined to become art. Then I saw something that genuinely stopped me. A young woman standing quietly behind a manual typewriter. Not a laptop designed to look like a typewriter. Not a quirky Bluetooth keyboard. An honest-to-goodness mechanical typewriter—the sort of machine that once announced every sentence to the entire office with a satisfying clack and enough force to wake nearby pigeons. With an iPhone 16 sitting in my pocket in an age when people write novels...

On The Fly

Search This Blog