On The Fly

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...

🎄  Preview of this week's  On the Fly  blog: A Holiday Tribute to Mom. As the holidays hustle with pixels and beeps, the world scrolls along in a smartphone-y sleep. I log off for a moment—just one little minute— To breathe in the past and to sit myself in it. My mind doesn’t wander to faraway places, Or trips full of tickets and new airport faces. Instead, it drifts backward, as memories do, to Cuba, Illinois, where the best moments grew. To a home full of warmth, in the wintry Midwest, Where my mother—dear “Marcie”—put love to the test. With a smile that could melt the most frigid of dawns, and hugs that hung on you like shivering fawns. She came from La Rochelle in France, brave and bright, Across oceans and war shadows, into new light. A town full of strangers soon felt like her own, And her courage built up the foundation of home. “Oh yes, we know Marcie!” the locals would say— “It's Doc Ball’s French lady! She brightens the day!” She cleaned, and she cooked, and sh...

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...

In this episode - Happy Birthday Rodger . . . Today in history marks a memorable day for our family. On May 5, 1962, my Lil' brother Rodger was born (he's not so little anymore). Growing up, we were a close-knit family. Every morning, breakfast together, and dinner around the table each evening. Mom insisted. We spent weekends romping around Grandma's yard in the country. It was the 1960s, a great time to be a kid. Recently, after attending a Celebration of Life , I thought, why don't we take time more often to celebrate someone's life while they're still with us? Do w e need to be slapped by the abrupt loss of a loved one to stop, take time out of our hectic lives, and show love, appreciation, and respect to a friend or relative? And to openly share special memories of that person with others. Well, not me; this podcast is designed to inspire a 60th birthday celebration of stories for Rodger Allen Ball. Allow me to start with a couple of treasured memories I ...

Today a New Era dawns for the Ball family. Not because it’s a new decade but today, January 31, 2020, we closed the back door for the last time at 531 North 6th Street, Cuba, IL. 61427, my childhood home for over 50 years, since March 1966. That address (P.O. Box 606) has been emblazoned in the minds of my brothers and me for so many years we will never forget it. So many cherished memories, lessons learned, family meals, gatherings, special pets, hospital visits, holidays celebrated and friendships nurtured. In short - our Home. Funny, we always called it Mom’s house. Dad lived there to of course. They were married for over 55 years. It was always home - where Mom lovingly raised her family.  “Make sure you’re home in time for dinner.”   Where Dad taught us to play ball. Fix old cars. The skills of an outdoorsman. Where my siblings and I practiced archery, raised flying squirrels, summer fish fries in the yard, watch the leaves blossom in spring, raking...

“J'ai trouvé des trésors” (I’ve found some treasures). These were my first words (via FaceBook Messenger & Google Translate ) to my cousin Marie Claude Papot in La Rochelle, France.  “I have over 60 years of letters, postcards, photos, and notes written in a hand I cannot read, can you help?” “C'est une bonne idée!” Came her response. I’ve dubbed this “Project Translate.” It’s been over a year now since my mother ( Mauricette Ball ) passed away. Frankly, I'm ashamed to say she was the only connection to our French family. During a recent visit home I decided it was time to finally clean Mom’s house. It was obvious after almost a year none of my siblings wanted the responsibility of dealing with Mom’s belongings. Can’t say that I blame them really. All the years my parents lived in that same tiny house in the small Midwestern town of Cuba, IL. she saved everything (tucked neatly away in places you’d never suspect). Turns out I’ve uncovered bundles...

No Norelco commercials again this Christmas season! Strangely enough I miss them. Have you noticed how fast time flies as you get up in years? We’re already into November, Thanksgiving in just two days! And yes , “Christmas - is - just around the corner.” Do you have this years tree? Stop by Home Depot and see me . . . It seems like yesterday. Santa cruising down the snow-filled slopes on his triple-head  Norelco  electric shaver. Before your time? No problem they’re on  YouTube  - of course. Now Santa is trying to sell you a luxury sports car (A red Mercedes). As a youngster I was convinced - just around the corner - meant Main Street; Marshall’s Hardware - Santa Land. My brothers and I would take a walk to town to see all the holiday decorations and toys we wanted Santa to bring. Day-and-Palin’s was the only Christmas tree lot that I can remember in Cuba, Illinois. Waiting for Christmas seemed like an eternity. The toys have morphed somehow, instead of a...