Skip to main content

Christmas 2014

In this episode - Christmas 2014 . . .



Has it been eight years already? With Christmas quickly approaching, I’m reminded that 2014 was about re-inventing myself; I’d asked Santa for a new electric guitar, and I began dreaming.


Why a guitar? Allow me to set the stage for you. Bradley University, Saturday night, 1977, Peoria, Illinois, the rock band Boston had just released their first album the previous year titled “Boston.” I wore that album out, playing it repeatedly. When Boston played on stage that night, it was magic. We were there! I fell in love with the idea of playing guitar.


“It’s more than a feeling; when I hear that old song they used to play (more than a feeling), I begin dreaming.”


Why wait? I thought, do something! Everything I’d read kept encouraging me; dare to dream, re-invent yourself go back to what you loved as a child. It’s never too late to learn something new. So, I did. Every morning I began practicing on my old acoustic guitar. At first basic chords, man, was that tough. And rather boring. I struggled to play some Buddy Holly songs. Simple enough, three cords and a few short licks. Not so. It took me six months to develop the finger strength and coordination to play a G chord with consistent results. Try it sometime.


We decided I needed a little inspiration, Lori and I made a trip to Corona, California, to visit the Fender factory (being remodeled). We toured the factory to witness how the famous Stratocaster, now 60+ years old, was made. When you enter the factory store, immediately on your left is a life-size photo of Buddy Holly and his original 1958 Sunburst Stratocaster that was made famous on the Ed Sullivan Show. The tour included the visitor center, which displayed images, and guitars of prominent players who had played a Fender. Jimi Hendrix, Buddy Guy, Stevie Ray Vaughn, Dick Dale, George Harrison, and Eric Clapton. That was an exciting day for me.

After the tour, we stopped in the demo room and strummed a few chords on an American Standard 60th Anniversary Stratocaster. What an incredibly light action. It was so easy to play. And, of course, I wanted a Stratocaster.


Since that visit to Fender, I’ve practiced chords daily, studied music theory, played some Buddy Holly songs, watched many musicians play live, and marveled at some fantastic guitar work by Chet Atkins, Stevie Ray Vaughn, and Tommy Emmanuel.


I’m retraining my brain and my fingers. It’s a high I never dreamed possible.


So, it’s 45 years later; today, I’m playing the intro licks to Boston’s most famous song, More Than A Feeling. Sounds a little crazy at my age, but that year, Santa finally brought what I’ve always wanted: an electric guitar. It’s a beauty. A Fender Sunburst Stratocaster. Well, technically, it’s a Squire made by Fender, but who cares - it’s magnificent. And sounds great!


“Santa knows; he always knows.”

So my listening friends, dare to dream, re-invent yourself, and return to what you loved as a child. It’s never too late to learn something new. You just might surprise yourself.


“It’s more than a feeling; when I hear that old song they used to play (more than a feeling), I begin dreaming.”


I’m Patrick Ball; thanks for listening, Have a Merry Christmas! See you in the next episode.

Comments

Most Popular of All Time

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...

The Yellow Legal Pad

In this episode, the Art of Refiring July 1st is staring me in the face, less than two weeks away. For years, retirement seemed like something that happened to other people. Suddenly, it's on my calendar. I've been thinking a lot about the dreaded "R-word" lately. Not because I'm worried about having enough to do. Quite the opposite. What fascinates me is this strange paradox: Why does retirement make so many of us nervous, while having a job—even one that regularly drives us crazy—somehow feels comforting? Let's be honest. Most of us spend years complaining about meetings that should have been emails, reply-all disasters, impossible deadlines, and that one coworker who insists on microwaving leftover fish in the breakroom. Yet when the idea of walking away finally arrives, we hesitate. I think I've figured out why. A career isn't just a job. It's a highly structured coping mechanism. For forty-plus years, somebody else has basically decided what I...

The Big Rip and the First Tee

The telescope (Celestron) sits quietly under its cover, temporarily blinded by Southern California's annual meteorological hostage situation – June Gloom. Somewhere above that thick gray ceiling, photons that began their journey before humans appeared are streaming across the cosmos, only to be intercepted by a marine layer that seems to have veto power over astronomy. Instead of observing the universe, I find myself imagining – The End of Everything (Astrophysically Speaking) by physicist Katie Mack. According to modern cosmology, the universe may eventually end in a Big Rip, a Big Crunch, Heat Death, Vacuum Decay, or some other catastrophe that sounds suspiciously like a rejected heavy-metal album title. Astrophysicists spend their careers calmly discussing the possibility that reality itself could suddenly cease to exist because a quantum field had a bad day. It's a remarkable way to start a Saturday morning. One moment you're contemplating the ultimate fate of spacetime...

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...