Skip to main content

Sundays With Glenn | Prt. 1

In this episode – Sundays with Glenn | Ep. 1. . .

Have you ever had a wise friend that you wish you could spend more time with? But life's daily responsibilities just seem to get in the way.

You may know such a person, a kind, gentle soul that you could just sit relaxed on your porch on a crisp autumn afternoon, passing the time engaged in conversation? With years of experience, this individual has that uncanny ability to synthesize life lessons into rare practical ideas that build communities. We all have. Or should I say we all wish we had?

Allow me to introduce you to my friend, Glenn Ferguson, who turns 100 years of age on October 29, 2021 - today. I've been privileged to know Glenn over the past ten years.

Admittedly, life has a funny way of introducing you to people (at just the right time) that affects your values for the better. That is, provided you recognize the opportunity and are willing to listen. Sadly, I'm afraid not many folks are eager to listen.

It was early fall of 2010, a beautiful crisp, clear day at Marine Corps Air Station Miramar. I was honored to be a guest of Major Glenn Fergusons (USMC) at the flight-line chalet for the airshow. This was special, a front-row seat to mingle with retired officers and photograph the airshow. Since that day, we've exchanged ideas, had lunch together, discussed technology, introduced young people to shared experiences, and so much more. Let's just say we hit it off.

And after reading the book Tuesdays with Morrie, I was compelled to take on a project that would reveal the wisdom of this "Centenarian" before he's gone from this world. My hope is the following Q&A sessions will enlighten you as they have me.

I'm calling it Sundays with Glenn; welcome to episode one.

Narration - Audio interview with Glenn.

Also, if you have a question for Glenn or would like to be a guest on this podcast email pball@sbcglobal.net. Or click the following link  https://anchor.fm/patrick-ball/message and leave me a voice message.

So, won't you be my virtual neighbor? If you enjoy our weekly visits, please share them with a friend.

I'm Patrick Ball; thanks for listening. See you in the next episode.

Comments

Most Popular of All Time

Believing Is Seeing

🎄 In this episode, Believing Is Seeing . . . It's December, we bustle, we wrap, and we dash. We sort life into boxes— myths  here,  to-dos  in a stash. We whisper of Santa (adult code: “Not Real”), but hold on one minute—let’s rethink this whole deal. For the stories we cherish, the movies we stream, hold more truth in their sparkle than we grown-ups may deem. So hop in this sleigh and hold on real tight— We’re chasing down Santa by the glow of his light! Scott Calvin once landed in the North Pole’s cold air, with elves, cocoa, and snow everywhere. He squinted and frowned—“This just  cannot  be so!” (Like thinking tangled lights will detangle if we  blow .) Then Judy the Elf gave a cocoa so steaming,  and said something simple . . . yet surprisingly gleaming: Seeing’s not believing—no, that’s not the key. "Believing is seeing!"   Just trust, and  you’ll  see!” Kids don’t need a map or a satellite screen to know Santa’s workshop is her...

Stamps and Snow

In this episode, Stamps and Snow . . .   You don’t usually walk into the local Post Office expecting a time warp . . . but here we are. All we wanted were stamps for this year's Christmas cards— yes, the old-fashioned paper ones that require licking, sticking, and hoping the Postal Service is feeling ambitious this week. But holiday errands have a talent for slowing you down, almost like the universe whispering, “Relax. You’re not getting out of this line any faster anyway.” So we waited. And while we waited, we talked (Are you surprised?). Because the Post Office is one of the few places where people still look up from their phones long enough to talk . . . Maybe it's because they're holding packages. It’s the modern town square: part civic duty, part free entertainment, part sociology experiment. The discussion began with holiday specials streaming on Netflix, Paramount+, and other services during this time of year. One gentleman who has lived in Vista since 1958 told us,...

Night Before Christmas

I n this episode, Night Before Christmas . . .  (In the spirit of Edgar Albert Guest) I’ve wrestled with the tangled lights the way I always do— With just enough patience left to see the project through. I climb the ladder carefully; the years have taught me how. To take my time with every step and keep a steady brow. We hang the faded ornaments I’ve known since I was small, the chipped, the cracked, the tilted ones—I love them best of all. Santa’s lost a bit of paint, the stars’ leaning right, but oh, it casts a holy glow across the room tonight. The kitchen hums with activity, with laughter, and with cheer, as voices drift like echoes from a long-forgotten year. The floor is strewn with paper scraps, the clock is ticking slow, As Christmas finds its own sweet pace and sets our house aglow. The hallway grows a little still; the lights are dimmed, and low, Small shoes are lined in messy pairs to wait for morning’s snow. The fire's warm, the room is full, the world is deep and wide,...

A Holiday Reflection–Mother's Love

In this episode,  How a Mother’s Love Built My Memories– A Holiday Reflection As this holiday season approaches and the world buzzes with shopping, planning, and busy schedules, I find myself embracing something wonderfully simple: taking a moment to pause. Not to check off a list or recharge devices, but to breathe deeply, remember fondly, and honor the person and place that have shaped my sense of home long before I had the words for it. This year, after regaining my strength from a lingering post-travel fog, my mind didn’t wander to exotic destinations or future adventures. It drifted backward—across oceans and time—to Cuba, Illinois, in the early 1960s, and to the woman whose love built the foundation of my world: Mauricette Elaine (Bontemps) Ball. My Mom . We came to Cuba after leaving La Rochelle, France, in 1959—a transition so dramatic I only appreciate its enormity now. My mother, barely in her mid-twenties, stepped off that plane and into the Midwest with a courage that s...