Renegades: Born in the USA

In this episode - Renegades . . .

You may have guessed by now that I’m a podcast listener. Long ago I discovered that my preferred learning style is listening. Like many bloggers, producing podcasts is my attempt to find my voice.

However, I’ve discovered to delivering a weekly Podcast takes dedication, determination, patience, and inspiration . . . And you never know where that inspiration may come from.

Many of you may or may not know that this Podcast is hosted on Spotify. As a Spotify free subscriber recently we discovered a new original podcast series - Renegades: Born in the USA.

Former President Barack Obama and celebrated rock musician Bruce Springsteen have launched this podcast exclusively on Spotify.

It’s a series of conversations between the former president and rock star, about their lives growing up, music influences, and enduring love of America - despite its challenges.

Renegades aired on Feb. 22, 2021 - according to an article posted on CNBC news, “it will span eight episodes.”

Spotify said the pair, who first met in 2008, will discuss in addition; race, fatherhood, marriage, and the future of America.

Obama said this in the first episode, “On the surface, Bruce and I don’t have a lot in common. But over the years, what we’ve found is that we’ve got a shared sensibility. About work, about family, and about America.”

“In our own ways, Bruce and I have been on parallel journeys trying to understand this country that’s given us both so much. Trying to chronicle the stories of its people. Looking for a way to connect our own individual searches for meaning and truth and community with the larger story of America.”

“What we discovered is we share a fundamental belief in the American ideal. And why we both felt like outsiders as kids.”

This production inspires me to do more on this podcast - possibly guest interviews. Is that something you would like to see?

Huh, maybe, in our own way, we are all Renegades? If you're so inclined check it out. How you ask?

The easiest way to listen is to download the Spotify app to your phone and subscribe, remember it's free. Or simply ask your smart device, “Hey Google play the podcast Renegades: Born in the USA on Spotify.”

As a Podcast listener, if you come across any compelling Podcasts let me know, email pball@sbcglobal.net.

Won’t you be my "virtual" neighbor? If you enjoy our weekly visits, please share them with a friend.

This is Patrick Ball, thanks so much for listening. See you in the next episode.

Comments

Anonymous said…

c6-5

March 7, 2021 at 10:28 AM

Sunflowers, French Steel, and the Yellow Jersey

Watching Le Tour de France this year, I found myself transported back to August 1983 as the Peloton in Stage 10, Bastille Day, flowed through the French countryside like a brightly colored ribbon. I was in my twenties, visiting family in the Charente-Maritime region of France, completely obsessed with bicycle racing—and convinced I was much stronger than I was. My connection to cycling—and to France—runs deep. I was born in France, and my very first real road bike, at age fifteen, was a Mercier . To me, it wasn’t just a bicycle; it was a work of art made from beautiful French steel. I rode that bike for miles, through high school, into college, and until the day someone decided they needed it more than I did. I hope they at least appreciated the craftsmanship. Its untimely disappearance led me to a Schwinn Voyageur, and later, when I started racing around Illinois, to a Raleigh Competition . But during that summer of ’83, while staying with my Uncle Jean Paul in Lagord, just north of L...

Rediscovering the Magic of Summer . . .

Summer mornings, especially on a holiday weekend, have a special magic. The air is cool, the world quiet, and the day full of possibilities. This July 4th weekend, Lori and I decided to capture a bit of that magic by beating the holiday traffic with an early morning bicycle ride. We went through our usual pre-flight checklist: Stretched out the morning stiffness. Filled the water bottles. Strapped on the helmets. Checked the tires. Three tires passed inspection. The fourth had apparently declared independence. The rear tire on my e-bike was flatter than a Kansas highway. “Well, it looks like we’re not riding today,” Lori said, with the calm acceptance of someone who had already mentally promoted coffee to the day’s main event. “Why not?” I replied. “I’ll ride my old bike.” She gave me that look —the one that safely translates as, "Are you sure about this? " “Absolutely,” I said. “Why not?” I dragged the bike stand out and surveyed my options. One glance at the aggressive gear...

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...

Misfits at Halloween

In this episode - Misfits at Halloween . . . It’s autumn, and Halloween is approaching - how do you capture the experience, the smells, the rustling sounds of multicolored falling leaves, the quiet, peaceful feeling, the solitude of life in a small town? News flash, I’m here to tell you it’s not always as tranquil as sentimental storytellers like to depict it. Admittedly, like all agrarian communities, Cuba had its pranksters. Thankfully, though, in our small, rural farming community of the late 1960s and early 70s, I’m happy to report there was no teen violence, no gang shootings, and no serious vandalism. Well, ok, we did torment the local policeman, who we dubbed Barney Fife (I don’t remember his name). In the fall, most families would have harvested their gardens by Halloween, but inevitably, there would be leftovers. A group of us would hide behind Jim Welch’s garden fence on Main Street and hurl the leftover, soft, rotten tomatoes at Barney’s squad car as he patrolled the town. F...

On The Fly

Search This Blog