Skip to main content

A Pirate's Ponderings

In this episode, A Pirate's Ponderings: Turning 69 with a Classic . . .

When was the last time you were so compelled by a quest that you had your bags packed and your boots on before the first rooster crowed? For me, this summer has been exactly that, a journey where the world outside faded away and the one inside my head roared to life.

I felt like that young cabin boy in training, with the vast ocean of a great story stretching out before me. My hand was on the wheel, navigating every swell, riding the waves, and eager to see what lay just beyond the horizon. This wasn't a journey across lands, but a flight of imagination that has been an exciting ride.

My adventure took off on the deck of the Hispaniola as I became lost on Treasure Island. My imagination soared, and I could almost taste the salt spray and feel the ship's timbers groan as we sailed toward our destiny. Below deck, in the narrow, shadowy depths, I could smell the hearty meals Long John Silver and Jim Hawkins prepared (or was Lori cooking breakfast)—a brief truce between pirate and cabin boy.

When we finally landed on the island, the mutiny exploded, and the book became a breathless race. I cheered for Jim as he narrowly escaped the pirates and felt a thrill of discovery when he met Ben Gunn, the wild, marooned islander. This chaotic scramble for buried treasure was a powerful reminder that an epic adventure is as much about cunning as it is about courage.

The most gripping part of the story, though, was the complex and unforgettable relationship between Jim Hawkins and Long John Silver. It’s an outstanding example of rich character development, showing how a bond can form between a boy and a man, and how even a ruthless villain can carry heartfelt feelings—though often overshadowed by greed and self-interest. This is the kind of reading that keeps you truly hooked.

During these morning escapes, I wasn’t just reading words on a page. My mind was painting vivid images, and I was completely immersed, hearing the rhythmic waves on the shore and the chilling cry of Silver’s parrot: “Pieces of Eight! Pieces of Eight!” This was an incredible feeling of freedom away from the real world.

This summer of rediscovering classics has been the perfect prelude to a big milestone for me: my birthday is just around the corner on August 16th, and I'll be turning 69. It’s a moment of reflection and celebration. But it also has me thinking about your next significant milestone. Perhaps it's a birthday of your own, a graduation, a new job, or an adventure you've just begun.

Whatever the next chapter holds, a truly profound escape awaits you within the pages of a classic. These stories, which have filled my summer mornings with purpose and excitement, remind me that no matter your age or circumstance, there's always a new page to turn and a new story to discover. My next adventure is a Jules Verne classic, Around the World in 80 Days, and I can already feel the engines rumbling.

This renewed passion for classic literature makes me wonder: what have you been missing? Which old favorite on your shelf is waiting for your revisit, or what timeless story have you always meant to read?

So, here’s my challenge to you, as I turn a new page in my life: Find a classic you've always meant to read and immerse yourself in its world. Let its prose carry you away, expand your imagination, and give you the same thrill of a great escape I found this summer.

Whether it's a tale of adventure, a story of self-discovery, or a biting satire, I promise you won't regret the journey.

I’m Patrick Ball. Stay curious and ask questions. See you next episode.

Comments

Don Hanley said…
Losing a leg is far better than losing a brain - as our wooden headed POTUS has done!

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...

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...

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...