I am surprised that anyone would want to fly a kite at Old Trolley Barn Park. Trees abound, making high the likelihood of entanglement. But as you can see from the Featured Image, someone attempted to get a kite meaningfully airborne on April 5, 2026. He didn’t succeed while I watched.
Nikon Zf and attached NIKKOR Z 28-400mm f/4-8 VR lens captured the moment. Vitals: f/7.1, ISO 320, 1/500 sec, 145mm; 3:20 p.m.
Perhaps you’ve heard the saying, “Queen for a day”. This afternoon, I met a woman known up and down Adams Avenue, where Normal Heights and North Park meet, simply as Queen. She and her husband sold their home, after raising a family there, and rented an apartment in one of the newer buildings erected during the past few years. Children gone away, the house was too roomy.
I made Queen’s acquaintance when walking to the auto shop, where our Honda Fit had been dropped off to repair the strangest problem: Something had dislodged the splash shield under the engine, and it frequently scraped the ground.
Another book sale weekend at the local library (University Heights)—as designated by the third Saturday of the month (today is fourth Sunday)—is but memory. Our good friend Kerry, whom we hadn’t seen for more than three years, visited yesterday—so, I missed the better of the two days.
But I hauled my butt the 0.8-kilometer (half-mile) walk and looked for books for the women; I brought back a Moosewood cooking follow-up for my wife and two tomes on herbs for our daughter. I saw little that interested me.
While walking home from San Diego Zoo on Sept. 27, 2025, I passed by some kind of gathering or event at the Greek Orthodox Church on Park Blvd in Hillcrest. Being Thursday, I doubted a religious service was underway or ending. But what??
I initially assumed wedding, but on closer consideration funeral appeared to be another reasonable possibility. The people looked cheerer than somber, more befitting a wedding, dedication of child, or something similar.
Minutes earlier, the kid on the left had been doing wheelies down Monroe in my neighborhood of University Heights. Not being a thru street (right turn only on Texas), traffic tends to be light compared to Madison or Mission on either side. I sometimes see roller skaters on Mississippi either at Monroe or Mission. So, these daredevils weren’t out of place, but the electric bike meant increased speed and risk.
I set up the shot, for their approach. You can see them coming upon Louisiana but turned towards one another rather than looking ahead. Meanwhile, the driver is somewhat blinded by the late-day sun as she turns Westwardly. There is no indication that she sees the distracted bikers.
I love the battery life, design, performance, and weight of Samsung Galaxy4 Edge, which I acquired in June 2024. But software compatibility is a sticking point nearly two years later. The laptop packs the Qualcomm Snapdragon X Elite X1E-84-100 processor. Not all applications—too few, actually—run natively om the ARM architecture.
In contrast, compatibility is nearly universal for Windows 11 on x86 chips. Intel’s newest microprocessors are more competitive with ARM, particularly enabling long battery life. Samsung releases new Panther Lake laptops on March 11, 2026, and I seriously consider getting one. ARM is broken for too many applications.
What a sorry lot of siblings we were. Eldest daughter Annette (right) looks the best. The youngest, Laurette, is placid but not exactly enthusiastic. And me—yes, me—looks like I want to be anywhere else but there.
The portrait comes from my father’s collection of photographic slides. My sister Nanette (missing from the photo) and I visited the Old Man at his home in Maine two years ago today. The following month he went into hospice, and he died 40 days later—April 16, 2024. We later learned that via quick-claim deed he gave away the family farm to the copastors of his church. They sold the property 13 months later.
A simple photo marks a moment captured and forgotten: April 28, 2025. I walked East on Monroe Street in University Heights, approaching Park Blvd. Something about the bicycle and protruding powder blue helmet caused me to turnabout as I passed and consider a quick shot.
The Featured Image comes from Nikon Zf and NIKKOR Z 24-200mm f/4-6.3 VR lens, which I carried that afternoon. Vitals: f/5.3, ISO 100, 1/1000 sec, 43mm; 4:33 p.m. PDT. This particular lens is a favorite for walkabouts. It’s just fast enough and makes convenient shooting intimate closeups from a distance.
For anyone applying various vintage or classic film filters to their modern photos, the Featured Image is what you’re trying to achieve. This shot is absolutely authentic. It’s the real deal. You’re looking at my uncle’s dune buggy, as captured by my father in summer 1974, or thereabouts. The vehicle, built around a Volkswagen Beetle chassis, never touched sand, by the way, just the rocky ground of the Allagash wilderness.
My cousin Dan and I used to ride on the back of the buggy, on the (yellow) fiberglass body, holding onto the bar for support. Given how rough were the makeshift roads that lumberjacks had made decades earlier, it’s amazing neither of us fell off.
I resumed looking through my father’s stash of photo slides, today. The number of bad shots is astonishing, and the Featured Image is one of them. I share it nevertheless, for what it captures of the 1970s and because the couple are my parents.
Photographer is unknown, and I wouldn’t be surprised if there is none. My father easily could have used a self-timer and tripod to capture a self-portrait. There is no date on the slide, but I would guess winter of ’72 or ’73. My father’s father died in June of Seventy-two. My mother pushed for divorce not long later. They look happy enough here, so I assume this is before the marriage disintegrated. If true, each would be 30 years old.
This is what absolutely authentic photography looks like. To digital content, I can apply film or vintage filters using any of several editing apps to make a photo look like the Featured Image. But this is the real deal, as captured by someone using my father’s film camera—likely in June or July 1972 or ’73. That’s a pure guesstimate.
Likely location: The lumberjack camp the Wilcox brothers called “Dodge City“. During the early 1970s, a group of hunters would spend as much as three weeks in the Allagash Wilderness, which is along the St. John Valley in an area also called the Maine North Woods. My Uncle Glenn had jacket patches made identifying the group as the Falls Brook Rangers, Yankeetuladi.
Oh the moments 21st-Century Kids are deprived of. There is something oh-so nostalgic about Jell-O made with overripe bananas and a cup or two of real cane sugar. That’s what Nana prepares in the Featured Image, which my father would have taken. Date is unknown, but sometime in 1972 or `73 is my guess.
We sure ate a lot of Jell-O growing up in the 1970s. Eater book review “‘Joys of Jell-O,’ There’s Nothing You Can’t Do with Colored Gelatin” claims that at the height of the jiggly dessert’s popularity, 1968, the average American household consumed 16 boxes a year. You should also read: “How the class history of Jell-O came full circle“—Marketplace”.