When I was younger, my father would let me stay up late on weeknights with him sometimes — sometimes we’d watch “NOVA” on PBS and talk about astronomy, or nerd out watching “Star Trek” — we both wanted to be Captain Picard. We’d even say in his famous baritone voice — “Warp speed” and make a whooshing sound as we pretended to zoom forward.
Other nights, we wouldn’t say a word to each other. We’d drive around listening to Nation Public Radio’s classical music programs or ambiguous AM radio stations with lofty poets talking about the silohuettes of sleeping willows at sunset.
I did the same thing we used to do recently. I went for a solo drive about an hour before the break of dawn.
Memories came flooding back when I turned the dial to a radio station with one of those lofty poets. It was nerdy, and it was beautiful.
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