Album

(Nighttime office buildings always make me think of Edward Hopper's paintings.)

Eucalyptus Eye
(see anything elephantine about this image?)

Winter Afternoon

The Calm Before The Storm

January in San Francisco

Cable car and Alcatraz

Golden Gate Bridge from Baker Beach

Apartments in Pacific Heights


Tourists and Coit Tower

These photographs were taken some years ago
with my Nikon Coolpix 950 digital camera,
which at the time was considered state-of-the-art.
You can tell that these 2-megapixel digital images,
while still usable for the web,
leave something to be desired in the way of detail.

Morning Drive

It's spring, and the trees are in leaf, and the plum blossoms are out.
Today is my wife's birthday.
Happy birthday, sweetheart.

Morning Thought

A day without email is like tacho without balichão.
Or Astaire without Rogers.

So here's this thing about posting in a blog - you can put all sorts of things in it. If someone can read it, fine. If not, also fine.

That Was A Week

Cease forthwith to wonder whither or whence I have been this past week, for verily I am disposed to apprise my readers of the circumstances thereof, anon. By dint of some commitments, which we had long foreseen, to the many whom we count as close acquaintances, as well as the few whose acquaintance we had lately had the opportunity, not to say, the pleasure, to make, our days had been fully engaged, in several widely separated localities, in activities which were at once pleasant (for the company of the aforementioned acquaintances) and a trifle irksome (for the long drives that unhappily had to be undertaken during the morning and evening rush hours).

We attended lectures conducted by visitors from out of town that were of particular interest to those in the audience who had not previously been exposed to the subject matter. But also to those who had been there and done that, there were gems of information that could be added to their store of knowledge, to be saved for future use.

There were meals in a variety of venues, some rather good. But in the main I can do no better than to affirm that the time spent on all the various activities over the past week can be classified as being worthwhile. Yes, the early wake-ups and late nights had taken a bit of a toll on us, but we now have a relatively uncluttered week in which to recover.

More Views of the City

Telegraph Hill and North Beach

Columbus looks over the Bay

Downtown San Francisco

More downtown and North Beach

Russian Hill skyline

Please click on the images to enlarge

Santorini, Greece

Click on the image to enlarge

Y'know?

I was watching a cable news channel today. This channel is known to be right-leaning, though it portrays itself as being politically neutral, or to use the phrase that recurs in its corporate slogan, as being 'fair and balanced'. It is also notable for its attractive female commentators, many of whom, incidentally, happen to be blondes.

The blonde host (hostess? anchoress?) of the program was interviewing her guest and asking a series of questions. At the start of each question, and sprinkled generously throughout the remainder of her conversation, was a "you know?", which has become so common that most listeners nowadays don't even realize that it is there. It has become almost inaudible, like the 'ums' or 'uhs' people use to buy time between thoughts they are trying to find the right words to express.

Maybe it's just me (maybe it's just I?), but all those 'you knows' make the hairs stand on the base of my skull. It's almost like the shiver you might feel when a fingernail is dragged across a blackboard. (Remember Robert Shaw as Quint in the movie 'Jaws' when he wanted to get the people's attention in the schoolhouse?)

Grecian Summer

Dead Bird

Stiff it lay

outside my door

as if flung there

by the wind.

Stiff its claws,

tail feathers spread

like a badminton shuttle.

Short its life,

made shorter still

by the false sky

reflected

in a picture window.

Workspace

This is a picture of the iMac computer that I use to edit my home videos. It's about four years old, is easy to use, but it could do with a memory upgrade.

This is a picture of my cluttered desk.

Both pictures were taken with a small Sony camcorder on its removable memory stick. The quality is okay, but not quite up to that of a stand-alone digital camera.

Heavy Baby

This optical marvel is not, as you might think at first glance, one of those machines used by your ophthalmologist when you go for an eye exam. It is an old 16mm movie camera, made in Austria by Eumig, and weighing almost as much as a newborn baby.

I bought this some time ago on eBay, and though it is about fifty years old, it still runs like new. It has a prime lens, and two supplementary lenses that are so marvellously engineered that when you rotate one of them to fit over the prime lens, the corresponding viewing lens will also move over the prime viewfinder. It has a built-in light meter, which also appears to be accurate, and a clockwork motor that, though not exactly quiet when in operation, is strong and dependable. No batteries at all. With the exception of the leather trim, the entire machine is made of metal and glass, which is what accounts for its weight.

Handling this baby requires strong arms and dexterous, non-arthritic fingers. For those whose vision might be less than 20-20, the eyepiece of the viewfinder has a very accurate dioptic adjustment.

I have heard that you can still get 16mm film these days, though at an astronomical price.

Going Backwards

From time to time I return to read some of my earlier postings on this blog. And am usually surprised, sometimes pleasantly, other times less so.

(I re-read the old stuff to keep from repeating myself.)

Despedida

In a short while he will be eighty-four years old. Up until a year or so ago he was still quite spry, enjoying his card games, an occasional fine meal, the companionship of friends. Even after diabetes resulted in the loss of several toes, he was still able to dance at parties. A slight man, always dapper, with a quick smile, and a twinkle in his eye, he has what is commonly called 'Old World' charm. The ladies recognize his courtly manner, a quality that distinguishes him from other men within his circle. He speaks well, does not mince words, and has an unjaundiced and slightly bemused view of the world and of his place in it. He is generous to a fault.

His family and friends are important to him. He enjoys their visits just as he used to enjoy chance meetings with them in the street or at someone's home. And there are many visitors to his bedside every day, a steady stream.

Recently he was diagnosed with terminal cancer. He accepts his fate with his trademark good humor, says he is quite prepared to leave this world, has no regrets. He is grateful for all that he has experienced in his life, for his family and his many friends. He will not miss the world that he is leaving, he says; what he will miss most is the companionship of those he will leave behind.

His philosophical view of his imminent passage from this life is colored not by sadness, but by his steadfast courage and a deep religious faith.

"Dear ..."

In earlier times, the accepted salutation when writing a letter, whether personal or business, began with the word "Dear". "Dear Sir or Madam", "Dear Emily", etc. If the addressee was a loved one, or a close relative, the word used could be "Dearest".

Then business letters became more impersonal, and, in a business world dominated by persons of the male gender, the salutation became "Gentlemen" instead of "Dear Sirs", (always assuming of course that the recipients met minimum requirements as such).

If you knew the addressee's name, you could use it, as in "Dear Mr X" or "Dear Mrs Y." For females in a business environment, still later, "Dear Ms Z" became the accepted norm, in which their marital status was not revealed.

Then came e-mail.

With this means of easy, instantaneous communication, the salutations seem to have changed. No more "Dear", which many considered too prissy, even for personal messages. So instead of "Dear", we now say "Hi" or "Hey", if indeed we say anything at all. Often there is no salutation, since the names of the sender and the recipient will be obvious in the heading, and we can get right down to business with the text in the so-called "body" of the message.

The computer has changed the whole culture of letter writing, and we oldtimers must go with the flow.

One thing I will not go along with, however, are the ridiculous little shortcuts, such as the letter "u" instead of the word "you", and the ampersand "&", and all the LOLs and BTWs and other acronyms that make electronic messages seem like a cryptographic maze.

Where, oh, where, are the belle-lettristes of today?

Takeoff

The airline people at the terminal announce that our flight has been delayed an hour beyond the scheduled departure time of 6:00PM. The reason: a backup of landings at our destination, brought on by a low ceiling (no elaboration forthcoming about this). In the waiting area, the passengers groan and roll their eyes. Some get up and head for the restrooms, for a snack, to get some reading material, or just to take a walk to dissipate their frustrations.

A half-hour passes, and there is another announcement. We brace ourselves for the worst, but no, there is a calling out of names of wait-listed passengers, who are asked to come to the front counter. It will be a full load on this plane.

We finally board at around 7 o'clock, in an orderly fashion according to the large printed number in the middle of the boarding pass. The airline's advertisement proudly mentions increased legroom on its flights. But for the extra few inches of space, the passenger would have had to pay a premium. Mercifully, today's flight is going to be a short one. We can bear the discomfort and save a few dollars.

The flight attendants go through their safety routine, and then the captain's voice comes over the address system — the air traffic controller has just informed him that the aircraft's departure will be delayed for another twenty minutes. The captain apologizes, though the delay is not of his making. He wants us to know that. He shuts down the engines.

The minutes tick by, and then the captain sounds happy to announce that we have been cleared for takeoff. Outside the little porthole, it is already dark. We taxi toward the end of the runway. There we wait for another flight to depart or arrive (we can't tell which is which), and then our plane moves forward slowly, as the three red lights on the grass verge to our left go out. We move past banks of blue lights. Now the plane makes a ninety-degree turn on the tarmac. Out the window we see the avenue of lights marking the length of the long black runway all the way until they converge like an inverted V thrusting into the night.

There is a loud braking noise as the plane shudders to a standstill, but only for a moment. Now the great engines are revved up to full takeoff power. The plane gathers speed, bumping a little over the slight unevenness of the runway.

You feel this urge, like a sudden desperate hunger, for this great shuddering machine to leave the ground, to rise, to lift off, as the darkened landscape slides by outside your window. When will we be airborne, you wonder? How many more feet of runway does it need to get off the ground? What hazards might there be ahead, unseen but imaginable, that could prevent this giant metal bird with its heavy burden of people, fuel, and luggage from overcoming the gravitational pull of the earth?

Then comes another thump, but with it there is an accompanying, and gratifying, sense of release, and you realize that the thump is nothing other than the sudden easing of the plane's massive weight from the hitherto heavily stressed and slender cushioning struts of the undercarriage. We are, finally, airborne.

Some moments later, a whining noise can be heard, as the plane heads upwards in a steep climb. The whine is followed by two more thumps as the undercarriage, with their multiple rubber tires, retracts into the bays beneath the fuselage.

The plane streaks ever upwards, at such an angle and at such a speed that you can feel your eardrums tightening, and then, reaching cruising altitude, a height greater than that of the earth's highest peak, it levels off, and the captain's voice comes over the intercom once again, announcing that though he has switched off the seat-belt sign, and passengers are now free to move about the cabin, they are asked to fasten the belts again whenever they are seated, as a precaution against unexpected air turbulence.

On this flight, no food, no movies, no earphones for music. Just a soft drink in a plastic tumbler, drunk quickly so that the flight attendants can collect the empties in time for the preparations for landing. No nuts (which are now verboten because a small handful of people out of the millions of air travelers may be allergic to them), and no pretzels, either. In short, there are no frills on this flight.

For reading material, if you have not brought any with you, there is always the seat-pocket safety instructions ("in the event of a landing on water, the seat cushion may be used as a flotation device").

San Diego Views

Eucalyptus and Palm

Side Street

Downtown Skyline

Office Building

Museum Family

Geisel Library, UC campus

Primavera

In the photos which I posted earlier today, there aren't any views of our typical California hills. That is, those rolling, bare and grassy hills within whose canyons and arroyos and gulches we find the sturdy live oaks and shrubs native to our Mediterranean climate. In the summertime, the grass is dry and yellow-brown from lack of water, making a stark contrast to the dark green of the vegetation in the ravines.

But in the spring, after the rains of winter, these hills offer shades of the most lovely green hues, varying across the landscape from dark olive-green, to pale viridian to verdigris to chartreuse to bluish-green. The landscape then becomes a challenge and a delight for painters.

And spring is not very far away.

The Bay Area after rain

It was such a glorious afternoon that I went out and took some pictures. While large sections of our country has been experiencing terrible blizzards and heavy snow, we lucky Californians have days like this to be grateful for.

Believe me, we are.

[Click on the pictures to enlarge them]

San Francisco's skyline can be seen in the distance, with the airport
in the middle.

Hillside homes on the Peninsula

The Bay