I have been taking photographs since I was eleven—not good photographs, but photographs of Campfire Girl’s Camp, my family, my many trips, special events, and what interested me—like cool shadows. But as I look back at the albums of photos taken before digital cameras and as I scroll through my photo files taken with the last three digital cameras I owned, there are few images that would interest anyone other than myself, and even I don’t find them that interesting. Therefore, I decided it was time to learn how to use the camera and signed up for a beginning digital photography class. Continue reading
I met our friend Marla in July 1971 when I walked into Empire Savings and Loan for a job interview. Continue reading
Now that the scaffolding is complete, an impartial panel of coroners in Paris, where la statue de la Liberté was sculpted, will conduct an autopsy to determine Lady Liberty’s cause of death. While crews dismantle her body, an investigative team of international lawmakers will continue their inquiries in the United States where she was fatally killed. Although the exact cause of death is unknown, authorities noted where Emma Lazarus’s famous 1883 sonnet “The New Colossus” had once been there was now black, putrid Gangrene obliterating the words, “Give me your tired, your poor,/ Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free.” Therefore, the investigation will begin with the Trump administration’s immigration policies and the USA PATRIOT Act. However, authorities have not ruled out other known suspects: the recent un-blockable text sent to every US citizen with a mobile phone; and Facebook’s business model, also known as “surveillance capitalism.” It is rumored that Oliver Stone, the legendary Hollywood filmmaker, has begun work on a controversial docudrama exposing Lady Liberty as a false symbol of hope and prosperity used by the US government to lure the tired, the poor, the huddled masses yearning to breathe free from other countries into low-paying, back-breaking jobs. No one from the US government, Trump’s administration, or Facebook could be reached for comment.
I feel posed. Sixty-six years of living and I am a mannequin with no original thoughts. I blame my mother and her tribe of latex-girdle-wearing women who in the ‘60’s escaped the ERA movement, Women’s Liberation and NOW by hiding out in suburban kitchens with harvest gold appliances. Those women should have been hunted down and sterilized. Instead they reproduced versions of themselves who now wear Spanx’s and polish their stainless-steal appliances while working a full time job.
(Postcard from the Getty Museum: Garry Winogrand’s photograph, Los Angeles International Airport, 1964)
I shut down my Facebook page because of Facebook’s unethical practices, and I had no intention of putting it back up. But today our sister Roberta’s beautiful needlework was awarded first place at the Marin County Fair, and was also awarded two Special awards from the city of San Rafael and from the San Francisco School of Needlework & Design and I wanted to shout it out so the world could hear: “Roberta you are amazing,” And that is what I did giving in to pride and not standing up for my convictions.
I want my computer to work faster, expect to instantly be connected to the internet, and appreciate immediately booking a flight, hotel room, and restaurant reservation. But on a recent visit to Hearst Castle I was reminded of the pleasure of anticipation. Continue reading
Orange County does not have a reputation for culinary excellence, not like New York City or San Francisco; and there is some truth to those generally held opinions, as behind the “Orange Curtain” too many of the high end, four star rated restaurants are steak houses serving expensive slabs of beef on a plate with nothing else, unless you order an additional side dish that you could have made at home for a lot less. But not all high end, highly rated restaurants in the county fit into that narrow category.
On my one and only visit to New York City in March 2004, two experiences left one lasting impression—the incongruity of the “American Dream” and the reality of US immigration policies.
I wish I were able to image the rest of my life as if it were the ocean my brother captures in his wonderful long exposure photography, where water has presence and volume but no turbulence or promise of a refreshing dip. Then I would stand on those textured rocks with my arms open and fall into the years ahead without expectations.
Who does it belong to? Me!