After my father died nearly a year ago, my sister sent some of his memorabilia—thousands of slides (mostly) from the 1970s; journals from the same era (not yet read by me); and a handful of photos.
About six months passed before I opened the boxes containing the stuff. Nearly three weeks before dying, he gave away the family farm to strangers, which poisoned my interest in my father’s personal things. I am still quite unresolved about the situation.
An unusual and exciting circumstance came to pass today. Both my hometown (Caribou) high school basketball teams—girls and boys—played in the Maine State finals; Class B. They last advanced together in 1983, when the Lady Vikings won and the men lost.
The boys’ game was a blowout, as Caribou beat York 65-44. But the girls gave a show that people in Aroostook County will talk about for decades. Playing the Biddeford Tigers, the Vikings dominated until the last seconds of the fourth quarter, when their rivals tied the score at 40 and put the game into 4-minute overtime.
While walking with my wife, today, I saw a fairly large group of people overflowing the sidewalk at Florida and Monroe in my neighborhood of University Heights. Initially, I wondered if they gathered to protest, perhaps against Donald Trump or for Palestine—either or both likely given the mood across Liberal San Diego County. Recent group gatherings closed down one or more local highways during rush hour.
But as we approached, I could see no placards and heard loads of laughing. Then my eyes turned to someone bent over marking the street with chalk. He continued until out of sight. As Annie and I resumed, a look over my shoulder revealed the group moving away. Later, when we returned to our street, I continued in the direction they had taken.
What’s going on with the Featured Image? Well, as my wife and I walked by TapRoom Beer Company, something strange caught my attention. Inside, an art class appeared to be underway. Seriously. A bunch a folks gathered around at least one table, and they sketched and watercolored.
I turned back, pulled out Samsung Galaxy S25 Ultra, and stealthily snapped a fast photo, which would be rather meaningless without explanation. Hence the reason you are getting it. I wanted to capture more of the group but there wasn’t good way without being too obvious and coming off as an annoying Peeping Tom.
While walking about our neighborhood of University Heights, today, my wife and I spontaneously decided to get in the car and drive to Ocean Beach; an errand beckoned us. Once completed, we continued onwards to Sunset Cliffs.
I already carried Nikon Zf with NIKKOR 40mm f/2 (SE) lens attached. However, what was needed: NIKKOR Z 24-200mm f/4-6.3 VR. So Samsung Galaxy S25 Ultra pinch-hit for the long shots.
This afternoon, I walked over to unbeloved Hillcrest to mail a package at the United States Post Office. The postal workers were friendly and helpful, but the place was surprisingly not crowded. Plausible explanation: This is a holiday weekend for some people, particularly leading into Monday events.
Jan. 20, 2025 celebrates Martin Luther King Jr’s birthday, and the day will also be the inauguration of Donald Trump as 47th president of the United States. If Microsoft Copilot can be trusted for accuracy, Trump will only be the second President to serve non-consecutive terms (Grover Cleveland is the other).
While walking up Adams Avenue in my neighborhood of University Heights, today, I chatted with one of my sisters over the phone. Suddenly I heard, then saw, a massive pack of bicyclists speed past, turning onto Park Blvd. By the amount of time taken to go by, they numbered in the hundreds.
Caught off guard and fumbling, because of the phone call, I lost precious seconds deciding to pull round Nikon Zf and attached NIKKOR 40mm f/2 (SE) lens. The Featured Image and companion were captured, quickly, suddenly, with little preparation. Both are composed as captured. Had I more time and not otherwise been distracted, I would have slowed down the shutter speed for blurred motion shot.
Yesterday, I was invited to a luncheon with a group of people celebrating the 2024 Presidential Election. Venue: the historic, stately, and expensive Hotel Del Coronado. I hadn’t been there in years—and never in December. Wow, was the place packed with revelers local and visiting, loners and families, of every fashion.
One neighbor (and good friend) and I were the spendthrifts of the group. She asked if I would want to go halvsies on a meal. That works for me. She suggested a breakfast burrito. Great choice. When the thing was served, I cut off a piece and, after nibbling a bit, decided not to eat any. The tortilla was flaky and tasty and fancily unlike any burrito I ever ate. I thought my wife would love it (she did) and a waiter boxed up the largely uneaten meal. The thing cost $23 before tax and tip, which we split.
The Barber of Seville is closing up shop after 45 years of operation—more than 30 of them in downtown University Heights. George gave me a final cut this afternoon. His last customer will be a local priest, sometime on Dec. 11, 2024.
While waiting outside for my turn, I observed something, or more appropriately someone, across the street. You can judge for yourself from the Featured Image. Homelessness is a San Diego fixture, and I see street dwellers sprawled on sidewalks every day. But this gent is the first with an inflatable woman.
Two days ago, my wife and I enjoyed a scenic, 56-km (36-mile) drive from San Diego to Ramona, Calif., where I underwent Stop the Bleed trauma training. In our neighborhood, Democrat-candidate-supporting signs are everywhere. We have seen one for Trump, inside a window where no one could tear it away.
But we saw several banners—one hoisted high above the highway—along the route to Ramona and an actual Trump Store on Main Street. Say what? Someone would either graffiti or torch the place if located in the Hillcrest-North Park-University Heights area. Around where we live, people who can’t stop talking about inclusion and tolerance are quick to exclude and exude intolerance towards Donald Trump, his MAGA-movement, and anything or anyone Republican.
As I walked along Louisiana Street from El Cajon Blvd, today, a lady dressed in full witch regalia—black with red accents—turned the corner from Meade. We passed and I wondered where she could be going 26 days before Halloween.
An answer approached after I crossed onto the next block: Two more witches walked my way. So, I stopped them and inquired, explaining about the other costume dresser. Some of the local ladies were off to University Heights neighborhood bar Gilly’s, which recently changed ownership and partially its name.
Food inflation is way worse than official, government data states if my local Aldi is a measure. The German-owned grocery was my favorite supermarket—until today’s visit. The many changes—higher costs among them—dismay and disappoint.
Aldi is about a 20-minute drive from our apartment, making it an expedition when other grocers are walking distance away. I hadn’t been to the place since sometime in 2023, although my wife has ventured there more recently. Today’s trip was my suggestion.