By Ken Sheetz
I had gotten rid of my car way back in 2008, when the recession hit hard and I had to rethink everything. By then, I had turned my Agoura Hills dining room into a green‑screen studio—a scrappy little launchpad where I filmed four new YouTube series. The one that mattered most, KIDS TALK POLITICS, caught fire, earning praise from the LA Times, Reuters, and Education Magazine.
I really thought PBS would pick it up. That show was a joyous celebration of Obama’s election as the first Black president of the United States. Back then, it felt—for a brief, shimmering moment—like racism might actually be over. How wrong we all were.
Still, I’m proud of that show. It went on to become the number‑one DVD for kids and politics on the upstart site called Amazon for five years. You can watch this happy slice of history here on Vimeo. And it was that chapter of my life, and the momentum it gave me, that carried me into another bold adventure: the 24 quantum meditations I would go on to film in Antarctica.
All of those memories raced through my mind as I passed the windmills of Palm Springs, climbing the big hill on the way to film Dr. Patrick Flanagan in my humble rental car the project had afforded me.
By then, my Facebook message inbox was alive with messages from fans raving about Dr. Patrick Flanagan. I knew I was on the path to something amazing. And I also knew I couldn’t shoot it with the consumer‑grade Canon I’d been limping along with—the one I’d bought after my beloved little Flip camera, a gift from my odd‑couple pal named Bradley Quick helped me back on my feet after the Great Recession had forced me to hock everything and barter just to keep a roof over my head. Yes. those tight as hell days of the worst economy since the Great Depression, were in the rear view mirror alright with the Coolest Meditation Ever 12.12.12 Antarctica and The Flangagan Experiments happening back to ere over.
As the Arizona desert spun past I felt so grateful to Pat for this gig of a lifetime I determined to do this thing better than he’s bargained for! So when I hit Phoenix, before the final leg to Sedona, I made a gutsy detour: I stopped at the University Camera Shop and spent every last nickel of my production fees on a pro‑level kit. New sound gear, a fresh green‑screen setup, and a camera package worthy of filming one of the world’s greatest scientists for the New Age.
It was a gamble, sure—but no more daring than the time I went to Antarctica with no ticket home.
That night, I pulled into the Days Inn at the Village of Oak Creek, just southeast of my Cottonwood destination. It was all I could afford. I lugged my new gear into the room to keep it safe, dropped it by the bed, and collapsed onto the crummy mattress, grinning up at the ceiling.
Tomorrow I would set up my new rig and begin filming Dr. Patrick Flanagan. Tomorrow, I thought, I’m going to do this man—and his work—justice!
PS. Sorry if this chapter was a little late in coming. Hope it was worth the small wait.
