Blue Conga

San Francisco, 1985

The Nobel Prize-winning physicist Richard Feynman (1918-1988) is famous for many things, including his proof of why the Space Shuttle Challenger exploded (a frozen O-ring). When he was introduced at academic functions, his hosts often added the fact that he played the bongos.

“It is odd,” Feynman mused. “On the infrequent occasions when I have been called upon in a formal place to play the bongo drums, the introducer never seems to find it necessary to mention that I also do theoretical physics. I believe that is probably because we respect the arts more than the sciences.”

Feynman made that remark in 1965. I wonder if it’s still true. I do know that when I add science-y anecdotes to this project, it feels like I’m diverging from my more art-y personal stories. But the sciences define me as much as my writing, relationships, and travels. Growing up during the Space Age, I was fascinated by sci-fi, chemistry sets, dissections, and astronomy. Those obsessions led to my lifelong friendship with Arthur C. Clarke, my work at the San Francisco Exploratorium, and my brief but exhilarating stint as a speech writer for Buzz Aldrin.

Feynman and I looked strangely alike in our late 30s.And like the late physicist, I love to drum. Somehow, mysteriously, I acquired my first African hide drum at 10. Bongos, rattles, and an ashiko drum occupy a corner of my small flat. Mindful of my neighbors, I rarely play them.

As for this tree ornament: It was purchased as a totem, a reminder to do more drumming. I tried. I even took a conga class. But I cannot, in good conscience, drum in my thin-walled Oakland fourplex. My new electric bass, however, is a different story. I plug in headphones, and play guilt-free. And my weekly lessons are teaching me about music theory, a science in its own right.

But a full-body immersion in rhythm is a state beyond the rational confines of scientific thought, That’s why I still feel a pang when I watch videos of a beatific Feynman playing the bongos. Not because I gave up drumming, but because these clips show me what a fully integrated spirit—a human at home in two worlds—looks like.

Ah, Feynman. How I would have relished even a single lesson with you—on any subject.