Skip to main content

Homesick

In this episode, Homesick . . .

"You can never go home again." –Thomas Wolfe.

We've been watching a documentary about the 1970s – 1971, to be exact, on Apple TV+. The Year That Music Changed Everything, how music influenced culture. The Beatles were breaking up, John Lennon recorded the classic Imagineand many Pop bands emerged to protest the Vietnam War. Marvin Gaye's iconic album What's Going On was released in 1971, addressing social issues like poverty, war, and racial injustice. The music from the documentary reminded me of who I was in the 1970s, a time of social and political upheaval. Hippies, with their long hair and anti-war protests, challenged traditional values. Their emphasis on peace and self-expression resonated with many young people, including myself (See Captain Fantastic).

In short, there was political and social unrest throughout the world. It was my sophomore year in high school, and in my world, life was about exploring science, math, space travel, and science fiction. What brought all this to mind?

A few weeks ago, for my birthday, Lori and I traveled to Los Angeles. As you may remember (Griffith’s Glory), we visited Griffith Park. However, since we overnighted in Glendale, CA, we also went to the Glendale Galleria, where I had one of my first jobs after graduating from GIA in 1985 and where Lori and I met.

The Galleria had been remodeled–expanded–featuring an "outdoor" open-air section. While walking through this area, we decided to visit the Barnes & Noble store. It had the feel of the old Barnes and Noble store in Manhattan, with its three floors. Plus, the addition of CDs, LP records, children's toys, and a section dedicated to science fiction. It's been years since I've read classic works by Isaac Asimov, Ray Bradbury, Michael Crichton, or Robert Heinlein.

Scanning the titles in front of the rows of bookshelves, I tried to remember my favorite books from that era. However, as the saying goes, "You can never go home again." Although that may be true, books allow us to revisit 
timeless emotions that seem to be buried deep in our subconscious.

Out of sheer curiosity, I selected a copy of Nightfall and Other Stories by Isaac Asimov.

Over the recent Labor Day weekend, I was immersed in stories that had ignited my passion for science, mathematics, physics, and astronomy since childhood. Asimov's suspenseful narratives continue to captivate and challenge the bounds of imagination long before scientific advancements have mirrored those depicted in fiction.

For example, the story "Nobody Here But—" was written in 1953 and first published in Star Science Fiction Stories. It’s about two scientists, Cliff and Bill, who have created a small but powerful computer. Bill, who is shy and hesitant, struggles to propose to his girlfriend, Mary Ann. Sensing Bill's emotional state, the computer offers advice and suggests specific lines for the proposal. As Bill follows the computer's guidance, he becomes increasingly reliant on it, believing that the machine's suggestions are infallible. When Mary Ann finally agrees to marry him, Bill is unsure whether the proposal is his or the computer's idea.

This story explores themes of artificial intelligence (AI), human relationships, and the potential for technology to influence our decisions and behaviors.

Is this beginning to sound all too familiar? So, why reminisce about the 1970s?

Quietly, while selecting this book from the racks, I heard–in my mind–“Mr. Ball, haven’t you ever been homesick?”

Or–maybejust maybeSiri connected to my neural network

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

Comments

Don Hanley said…
Thanks PATRICK for reminding me to feel free to go back and appreciate my journey up until forever.

Most Popular of All Time

Feeling Human Again

In this episode, The Unexpected Thankfulness of Feeling Human Again I’ll be honest with you: My triumphant return from France was not the glamorous homecoming I had imagined. No graceful glide back into routine. No cinematic jet-setter moment where I lift my suitcase off the carousel and wink at life like we’re old pals. Instead? I came home and immediately launched into a two-week performance piece titled The Great American Couch Collapse. My days blurred together in a haze of soup, hot tea, tissues, and desperate negotiations with the universe for just one nostril—one!—to function properly. The living room sofa became my emotional support furniture. And any creative idea that dared tiptoe into my congested brain was gently shown the exit with a firm but courteous, “Not today, friend. Try again later.” When life hits the pause button like that—when you’re exhausted, sick, and mentally unplugged—how do you find your spark again? Somehow, today, I felt it. A tiny shift. A clearing of th...

Patience – the Only First-Class Ticket

In this episode, Why Patience is the Only First-Class Ticket They say travel broadens the mind. After eight days sailing the Rhône with 140 fellow luxury vacationers, I can confirm it also tests patience, calf strength, buffet strategy, and one's tolerance for people furious that France insists on being French. Don't get me wrong—I adored this trip. The river shimmered like liquid optimism. The villages looked hand-painted. The pastries could negotiate world peace. But somewhere between Ship Horn Hello and Bon Voyage, we'd inadvertently boarded a floating behavioral research study disguised as a holiday. Our ship was less a cruise and more a ferry for the Sailors of Status. ⌚ The Wristwatch Wars Some passengers approached relaxation like yogis. Others treated leisure like a final exam with extra credit. I came to believe certain luxury watches emit ultrasonic signals that only their owners can detect. A frequency calibrated to trigger rapid movement toward any line forming...

Up the Rhône

Up the Rhône by Patrick Ball We booked a fine cruise up the Rhône — what a treat! With iPhones, lanyards, and schedules so neat. They promised us peace and a mind that would mend, But each calm beginning had chores at the end! "Now breakfast at seven! At eight, take the view!" At nine, there's a lecture on ' What Tourists Do!' At noon, there's a tasting (you must love the cheese), Then hurry to nap time — as corporate decrees! I followed that plan till my patience ran dry. The Rhône softly chuckled, "Oh my, oh my, my! You've missed half my sparkles, my ripples, my tone— You're busy pretending you've peacefully grown!" So I fired my planner and banished my clock. I tossed my agenda right off the dock! I let the wind tickle my schedule away, and drifted through hours that danced where they may. I chatted with swans, had no notion of when, I'd nibble, or nap, or go roaming again. No Wi-Fi! No meetings! No planning! No fuss! Just me and ...

When "Not Working" Becomes Your Actual Job

✨ In this episode. The Unscheduled Life: When "Not Working " Becomes Your Actual Job L'horloge du café est détraquée, le serveur s'en fiche et moi, j'essaie. Somewhere between the third sip of espresso and the second croissant, it occurs to me: doing nothing is the hardest work of all. The question on the table this morning, as I sip this slightly-too-strong French espresso, is deceptively simple: How does one define "vacation"? The conventional answer—an enduring triumph of corporate minimalism—is: "Not Working." But that tidy phrase immediately opens a philosophical can of worms. When is life working , and when is it not ? If the highest measure of vacation is simply the absence of labor, then most of our existence amounts to a relentless, unpaid internship for a job we never applied for. We've been conditioned to believe that life works when it's maximally efficient, tightly scheduled, and aimed at the shimmering horizon of "...