Sunday, April 27

Tyson Four-Step

Nothing like the smell of deep-fried asparagus, a bulldog who likes to skateboard and girls polevaulting on Fremont Street to get the camera clicking. The Stockton Asparagus Festival is the yearly fund-raising event for all ages, even us old coots who'd rather sit in the shade than traipse up and down eatery row, watch Joey Chestnut win the all-you-can-eat contest (again) or listen to Joan Jett croon to other 50ish folks.

It was good to be in church today where all of us old coots had a great time without any hype, hoopla or barf bags.

Wednesday, April 23

Belated Happy Earth Day

Earth Day in the 1950's was any day you communed with nature, planted a tree, picked a rose, weeded the flower bed, composted your garbage, or used your trusy machete to cut down a yucca bloom. The girls in camp were impressed, but the local ranger tied us to the back of his pickup and dragged us around for awhile. Lesson learned.

Oh, that's brother Marty on my right and cousin Larry on my left. I forgot who wore the machete belt after this incident --- certainly not any of us.

Wednesday, April 16

Pete Souza's Ronald Reagan

White House photographer, Pete Souza, enjoyed the Reagan years by shooting all things President and presidential, including family and friends. Great moments during a history-making time. Find them here: The Musarium

Monday, April 14

Stitching Time



THIS IS WORDYDAVE AT A K/P PHOTOSHOOT IN SEATTLE


I haven't seen the latest figures of how many people are taking how many pictures in how many seconds around the world. Guess you could have done this before the digital camera revolution, but it's impossible to estimate now. Capturing the instant (or a few seconds worth) of the moment digitally provides the current 'gotta-have-it-now' mentality.

Barb was sorting through several bins of old stuff a few days ago. Mementoes saved for daughter Liz and personal stuff for the old couple. There was a box of old pictures that I'd taken a long time ago that jogged the old memory nerves. A few that others had taken that I didn't remember (like the one of me in bed reading 1984 when I was just out of high school). Old negatives that I need to convert for saving. All stuff that will be tossed after we check out of the breathing ward.

We (and our kids) need PROOF that we were young sooner or later. Don't ask me why.

Sunday, April 6

Party Gurlz

Birthday parties for 8 year-olds haven't really changed through the years. It's still proverbial mayhem and pandemonium until the last decorated cupcakes are eaten. All parents and grandparents were thoroughly entertained.

Keep those cameras handy. You'll soon forget the wonderful details without them.

Monday, March 31

Deja Nam

Friendly Al was wearing a Vote for Obama t-shirt and huge Obama button on his shiny blue jacket. He was more than ready to bring the "boys" home from the second fiasco, this time in Iraq. Barak was the ticket to get this done --- not Hillary, and certainly not McCain.

That's my wish as well. Bring them home. We have plenty of oil in Alaska and offshore to supply the good ol' USA for hundreds of years (if this mess is about oil --- which I really doubt). If it's about freedom, the Iraqis must want freedom badly enough to secure it by themselves. They don't need us to train them how to get it. They can fight their own civil war for it.

Our 'fight' is here, on the borders and within the states that harbor these extremists, illegals and their sympathizers. Denmark is reeling from its 'open-arms' policies. Looks like we're next in line for the dance.

You can see photos of the Vietnam Veteran Welcome Home event last Sunday here: http://wordydave.zenfolio.com

Sunday, March 16

This Fragile Force

Windblown blossoms sail the breeze and land willy-nilly on the grass or spider webs. The spiders do wish they'd stop.

The northyard's green explosion reaches heavenward, defying all but mowing and poison. It must prevail without choice. It must drink the sunlight, devour the earth and make babies. It's a beautiful thing . . . and painless.

"Now this I say, brethren, that flesh and blood cannot inherit the kingdom of God; neither does corruption inherit incorruption. Behold, I show you a mystery; We shall not all sleep, but we shall all be changed. In a moment, in the twinkling of an eye, at the last trump: for the trumpet shall sound, and the dead shall be raised incorruptible, and we shall be changed. For this corruption must put on incorruption, and this mortal must put on immortality. So when this corruptible shall have put on incorruption, and this mortal shall have put on immortality, then shall be brought to pass the saying that is written, 'Death is swallowed up in victory. O death, where is your sting? O grave, where is your victory?'" (St. Paul, I Corinthians 15:50-55

Friday, March 14

The Pharmacy is Full

Today's visit to the local Kaiser pharmacy to pick up meds to treat Barb's flu symptoms reinforced my belief in the power of genetic inheritance. We disease prone humans are but a breath away from the next world. The place was packed with young and old, thick and thin, rich and poor. Barb had to wait at the entrance after her doctor's visit. She was too weak to walk the '1/2 mile' to the pharmacy, so I accepted the challenge. If you weren't sick before you wandered in, you would most likely catch something before you wandered out. Tis the plague season.

God, be merciful to us sinners.

Sunday, March 2

Chinese / Vietnamese New Year Parade

Well, you missed it . . . again. . . the downtown parade that is the most colorful event of the year. It had all the trappings of the Year of the Rat celebration but the firecrackers! Enjoyed by all ages, the dragons were the biggest draw. Guess that's why they put the Clydesdale horses and the Wells Fargo stage at the very end of the venue.



You can see all 117 pictures at my photo site: wordydave.zenfolio.com

Monday, February 18

Seed and Feed

The season is finally changing from freezing cold to mildly cold with rain mixed in here and there. Feathers are changing color. Grass is starting to grow again. Time to plant some flowers and enjoy some sunshine after being house-bound for a few months. The yard is a wreck and will need some major mending.

Borrowed the neighbor's chipper/shredder this morning and continued getting rid of the limb debris from the storm-toppled pine tree in the backyard. Works great (Craftsman 7.5 hp), but you have to trim of the larger shoots and all the pinecones before cramming the branch into the 2" opening of the chipper. I quit after the first big blister appeared on my gloved hands. And all that pruning shears snipping will be rewarded with an aching hand tomorrow. I'm about 1/3 finished and will have to borrow the machine again. Sorry, Bill. But thanks so much for letting me use it!

Barb has spent the day on the computer job-searching. I spent a few hours doing book research and writing a bit.

Picked up Eliz and headed for WalMart for a low-priced version of tax software and a few other items. Slurped an A&W rootbeer float on the way home.

There is no 'rest of the story.'

Sunday, February 3

The American Experience

Alexis de Tocqueville wrote a two volume appraisal of these United States called Democracy in America. The first was published in 1835 and the second five years later. His initial 1831 venture to these shores was accompanied by a desire to assess the country's prison system. His final tome covered far more and has become a classic description of early America and Americans. He visited 17 states and traveled thousands of miles, always intrigued by the culture and politics of such a unique people.

His thoughts on the American's dedication to a God of blessing paint a much different picture than the America he would see today:

"In the United States, on the seventh day of every week, the trading and working life of the nation seems suspended; all noises cease; a deep tranquillity, say rather the solemn calm of meditation, succeeds the turmoil of the week, and the soul resumes possession and contemplation of itself. Upon this day the marts of traffic are deserted; every member of the community, accompanied by his children, goes to church, where he listens to strange language which would seem unsuited to his ear. He is told of the countless evils caused by pride and covetousness; he is reminded of the necessity of checking his desires, of the finer pleasures which belong to virtue alone, and of the true happiness which attends it. On his return home, he does not turn to the ledgers of his calling, but he opens the book of Holy Scripture; there he meets with the sublime or affecting descriptions of the greatness and goodness of the Creator, of the infinite magnificence of the handiwork of God, of the lofty destinies of man, of his duties, and of his immortal privileges. Thus it is that the American at times steals an hour from himself; and laying aside for a while the petty passions which agitate his life, and the ephemeral interests which engross it, he strays at once into an ideal world, where all is great, eternal, and pure.

"I have endeavoured to point out in another part of this work the causes to which the maintenance of the political institutions of the Americans is attributable; and religion appeared to be one of the most prominent among them. I am now treating of the Americans in an individual capacity, and I again observe that religion is not less useful to each citizen than to the whole State. The Americans show, by their practice, that they feel the high necessity of imparting morality to democratic communities by means of religion. What they think of themselves in this respect is a truth of which every democratic nation ought to be thoroughly persuaded. . .

"What means then remain in the hands of constituted authorities to bring men back to spiritual opinions, or to hold them fast to the religion by which those opinions are suggested? My answer will do me harm in the eyes of politicians. I believe that the sole effectual means which governments can employ in order to have the doctrine of the immortality of the soul duly respected, is ever to act as if they believed in it themselves; and I think that it is only by scrupulous conformity to religious morality in great affairs that they can hope to teach the community at large to know, to love, and to observe it in the lesser concerns of life."

If you had trouble reading those three paragraphs, I suggest you go back over them without hurrying.

May God help America present to assure America future.

Sunday, January 27

Humdrum No More

Henry David Thoreau aptly opined, "The bluebird carries the sky on his back." Today it carried rainbows.

Bright, bold bands brush blueward,
Ending any idea of the humdrum.

Saturday, January 26

From 1850 Philadelphia to the 1872 Catskills


I don't even know where the Catskills are. Let me look in my road atlas . . . not there. Oh, here they are in Wikipedia.com. Northwest of NYC . . . 3500' to 4000' oddball range of 'mountains'. Beautiful, nonetheless.

And how did I end up in the Catskills? Or Caatskills as was originally written. More 1850 research on Philadelphia, that's how. I was looking for the whereabouts of Fort Gibson in Jones Woods near Hestonville, PA. That's where my gg-grandpappy's 116th PA Volunteers were sent after joining the Union Army in August 1862. They received their uniforms, accouterment, and drilling there before being sent to Washington, DC in October.

Well, I did a search and found an old PA Railroad brochure printed in 1855 that related the wonders of Philadelphia and its railroad. Did you know that in 1850, Philadelphia had more 'dwellings' than NYC, was the greatest manufacturing city in America and had 'public schools of the first order?' Anyway, the author of the article raved on and on about Philadelphia, then gave a visually descriptive commentary on the ride from the city to Pittsburg by steamship and rail. It is a wonderful view of life along the tracks 150 years ago, and pinpoints the little town I was looking for, of course (about 3-4 miles west). Are you still reading? Good.



Anyway, I scanned the long article all the way to Pittsburg, then linked back to the homepage of the article, which had a link to an 1872 newspaper article written by Fanny Fern (Sara Willis) of New York City. She had taken a vacation to the Catskills and was awestruck by its beauty. What interested me most was her comments on little children who grew up only knowing city life:

"A city child is a cruel, wicked, shapeless, one-sided abortion. 'Tis a pale shoot of a plant, struggling bravely for its little day of life in some rayless corner, all unblest by the warm sunshine which God intended to give to it color, strength, and fragrance. What wonder that the blight falls on it?"

She goes on to praise the glory of God's creation and how kids can appreciate it as well as adults and how a real and true education must include a first hand knowledge of all things bright and beautiful.

Parents, grandparents and friends of children: Make plans now to take your kids someplace special and let them enjoy this world that was made just for that purpose.

Saturday, January 19

Truce, the 2005 Movie

Last night's viewing of a locally made film didn't produce any of the "you gotta see this" emotion for me. A number of incidental film extras, one actor and some promoters showed up to add their weight to this small budget offering. It has won a few awards, though. The story line is pretty weak, but good music and photography (for the limited funds).

The movie Truce was written, produced and directed by Matthew Marconi, a young Chapman University School of Film graduate who found the right connections and folks interested in supporting the idea of a contemporary rancher/grandfather who has to take in his granddaughter while losing his ranch to the bank. He's a craggy ol' coot (Buck Taylor), paired with the sweetest darling girl in the world (Samantha Droke). The two butt heads and learn to love each other in the end. George Kennedy plays a minor role as a doctor.

Filmed in Clements, Lockeford, and Lodi, familiar places and faces entertained the locals. Most impressive was the writer/director, whose humility and non-pretentious spirit won the small crowd as he explained the story background and making of the film. There were numerous questions and answers.

As people were leaving, I asked Mr. Marconi about the photography of the movie and the still shots taken during shooting. There were two extra photographers for stills, but he said most of the photos were out of focus. Not good. Must have been volunteer amateurs, so I gave him my card and offered my services when he makes the sequel. Of course, I'm just another amateur, but I know how to focus. Ha!

Tuesday, January 1

Foggy Bottom

I'm sure I looked unquestionably strange cruising around the college campus this morning looking for trees to take pictures of in the fog. Very foggy, though, so I don't think anyone saw me. Anyway, it was New Year's Day morning and hardly anyone was up yet. I also wandered around Victory Park, soaking my shoes while scouting a few oaks and other arrangements.

Couldn't pass up a little color, though, from the rose garden.




This was all after taking Barb to work at 8:00. Poor girl. It's already 4:34 in the afternoon and she's not off yet. Went in to pick her up, but she's in the cash room and has to work late.

After being off work since Dec. 22 (except for last Thursday), I'm more than ready to get back to normal and see the folks. How about you?