Category: People

Photo by Joe WilcoxJun 1, 202410:40 pm

After the Pond

My father was a controlling, jealous, and quick-tempered man. The distance between Andromeda and Milky Way galaxies separated our personalities. He and I shared little in common, so much that if not for some physical resemblance my only conclusion must be illegitimacy. But Mom was faithful; he was the one who slept around, which precipitated her divorcing him.

Ah, the day she confided in me was joyous. I was relieved that he would be gone and me freed from his anger, curses, and putdowns. My sisters suffered loss at his departure. I thrived in his absence. Even during the lean teen years, when we had no Christmas presents and often were hungry, I wouldn’t want him around. Mom was a single mother with four children; he contributed nothing. She suffered for her brood; he looked after himself and his new family.

Photo by Joe WilcoxMay 30, 20249:42 pm

Grampy and Grandsons

We aren’t finished with the family photos. The Featured Image is another, provided by my cousin Dan, who sits playing checkers with our mutual granddad. I am the kid with the dorky grin. The photo was taken sometime in 1970, making me either 10 or 11, depending on when.

My Uncle Glenn made the portrait; camera unknown. Where: The Wilcox Family Farm—the majority of which my father unexpectedly deeded to the co-pastors of his church. A long-time family friend sent me a copy of the Quickclaim Deed, dated March 27, 2024. He died almost exactly three weeks later.

Photo by Joe WilcoxMay 29, 202410:10 pm

My Uncle and His Camera

Now a blast from the past: 54-years-ago this month, meaning May 1970. My Uncle Glenn holds his gorgeous Yashica Mat-124. The newer G model released that year; I don’t know how long he owned the medium-format twin-lens reflex camera.

Wow, what a beauty she is (oh, and my uncle is handsome, too). The Mat-124 packed two—count `em—lenses at one of my three favorite Prime focal lengths: 80mm (28mm and 135mm are the others).

Photo by Joe WilcoxMay 10, 202410:15 pm

The Sleeper

I rarely photograph San Diego homeless, as a silent sign of respect. But, today, one gentlemen so surprised me that I felt compelled to take the shot—well, several. Walking East on Meade Ave., I saw him sleeping on the sidewalk across the way, where Mission cuts diagonally—think 45 degrees—from the intersection at Park Blvd.

The sleep mask is what intrigued me. He looked so unusually comfortable, lying on the cement, which was surprising, too. Foot and vehicular traffic is fairly brisk, and noisy, on a Friday afternoon; then there is the bus stop—a couple meters away, at most. Yet he looked so serene and lay motionless, but in an open space where homeless are otherwise uncommon.

Photo by Joe WilcoxMay 6, 202410:05 pm

Pop Pie at Night

T long-delayed ophthalmologist appointment finally occurred today. That meant massive dilation to check my optical implants. My pupils were massively large, such that the iris in each eye rimmed so thinly that my best analogy is the muted corona around last month’s total solar eclipse.

As such, I spent most of the day indoors, hiding from sunlight, and only ventured outside after dark—and what a glorious evening, too. Mild: 16 Celsius (61 Fahrenheit). Despite temporarily impaired vision, I brought along Leica Q2 Monochrom.

Photo by Joe WilcoxMay 5, 20249:56 pm

Daughter and Mother

Why wait for Mother’s Day (May 12, 2024) to celebrate mom? While rummaging through Google Photos, I happened upon a portrait of my sister Nan with our most beloved parent. Date and locale is unknown to me, but presumably sis could identify both.

I had some fun with the Featured Image. One of Google Photo’s mischievous editing options is something called “Color Pop”. You can see how everything around the women becomes monochrome. But not without imperfections. Look at mom’s left hand and some fingers on her right hand. Color is gone.

Photo by Joe WilcoxMay 2, 202410:00 pm

The Beachcomber

We return to Mission Beach for a final time, from my April 29, 2024 quickie visit. Subject of the Featured Image is the person working the sand with a metal detector, as two other folks stop their walk to watch.

Once again, I pulled out Samsung Galaxy S24 Ultra to make the moment. Vitals: f/3.4, ISO 32, 1/1900 sec, (synthetic) 230mm (digital and optical zoom); 10:39 a.m. PDT. In post-production, I started to lighten up the dark areas, but instead decided to leave the photo as shot. Moody is better, and everyone is considerable distance away.

Photo by Joe WilcoxApr 29, 202410:14 pm

Golden Storm Troopers

I don’t know what to make of these two. Do you? After dropping off contact lenses to our daughter in Ocean Beach, my wife and I drove over to Mission Beach, where there is a boardwalk shop selling $10 hoodies. Eighty-percent cotton, baby!

While waiting for Annie, I turned my attention to the distant shoreline and people along the surf: Strangest of all are subjects of the Featured Image. Golden Storm Troopers? I don’t recall seeing any of them in any Star Wars film.

Photo by Joe WilcoxApr 22, 202410:22 pm

Father-Son Moment

My father and I weren’t distant, but we weren’t exactly close either—mainly because our characters were markedly different. I wasn’t the son he had wanted, and Dad didn’t get another. I am eldest of four siblings (three sisters).

Stated succinctly: We shared almost no interests in common, and our dispositions were lightyears apart. I am fairly easygoing, while he was one of the most controlling persons I have ever met—oh, gosh, but not in a brutal, cruel way like parents who beat their kids or spouses. He was simply demanding of everyone, but, to reiterate, not violent by any means. That said, mom divorced him when I was 13, and his departure was a relief.

Photo by Joe WilcoxApr 17, 202410:53 pm

Dad and Daughter

My father’s death yesterday ends one saga and begins another. His grandfather purchased the farm in 1895, and the core property has remained continuously with the Wilcox clan. At one time, the expanse topped 200 acres. But portions were sold off decades upon decades ago, leaving 100 acres—60 of which is for farming and the rest is woodland.

Dad chose not to leave the portion over which he has title—nearly two-thirds, including the buildings—to family. His pastors, a married couple—and not their church—are the inheritors. The arrangement isn’t some surprise; he made clear his intentions years ago.

Photo by Joe WilcoxApr 16, 20249:43 pm

For Father

My father has passed away—40 days exactly since life-saving treatment suspended and he left the hospital to decline in his home. A few minutes after 9 this morning, my sister Nan telephoned to say that he had taken a sharp turn downward and wasn’t expected the last much longer. She called again, almost exactly four hours later, to let me know he was gone.

Some weeks ago, Nan asked me to write the obituary—a task I resisted. Top reason: In this age of Artificial Intelligence scanning and rampant criminal scamming, I was reluctant to share much family information publicly. For some people, death is an opportunity to take advantage of others in their grief.

Photo by Joe WilcoxApr 9, 20249:23 pm

Mail Heist in University Heights

Crime is on the rise in San Diego. News reports, social media posts, and street talk among neighbors all spotlight an increasing trend. Porch pirates are commonplace. Shoplifters compel retailers to lock up sundry staples like batteries and toothpaste. Armed robberies, burglaries, and debit card skimming also appear to be on the rise.

So I suppose today’s incident here in University Heights shouldn’t surprise anyone. Late morning, my wife and I walked over to a parallel street, where we came upon a police car and our mail carrier speaking with someone who turned out to be his supervisor. Busted window and glass on the pavement revealed what happened.