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WCSH Sets Standard for Responsible Reporting

Last night’s mass-casualty shooting in Lewiston, Maine, is somewhat personal. For starters, I graduated from the high school, and today one of my sisters reminded me that when teens we bowled at the alley where the killer started his rampage. Additionally, as a journalist, the reporting about the tragedy interests me, and I am simply stunned by how measuredly responsible the team at News Center Maine has covered the ongoing story.

I have periodically watched the live stream from the station’s dedicated app, on Roku, or from the web browser on my laptop. Last night, when some national news services reported 22 dead and more than 50 injured, the anchors explained they understood that numbers were being reported elsewhere but News Center Maine would wait for official—thereby, verifiable—figures from law enforcement. Hours later, the local station reported 15-20 dead, as provided by police to NBC News. Eighteen is accurate, not 22.

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Mourning Rose

I don’t have much to say tonight. This evening, Eastern Daylight Time, there was a mass-casualty shooting at two separate locations in Lewiston, Maine. I lived in the state’s second-largest city during my latter teen years and graduated from the high school. While I haven’t been to Lewiston for decades, roots there and being Maine-native twist my gut thinking about this tragedy.

As I write, the city is under stay-at-home lockdown, and the shooter is on the loose. Police have released photos of the assault-rifle-carrying suspect and (escape) vehicle taken from surveillance video.

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Monster Mash

Since moving to the San Diego village of University Heights 16 years ago, I have given little attention to Halloween decorations. But in 2023, they are everywhere—and in exponential numbers. Some neighbors seemingly try to outdo others. Ostentatious, expansive, nightly-noticeable are the prevalent themes.

But a few seasonal adornments stand out for being tastefully austere, like these in the windows of a house along Lincoln. Coincidentally, in January, I wrote about the property then being the most costly rental ($5,950) in the neighborhood.

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‘No Contract, No Peace; No Justice, No Peace’

The headline is the slogan I heard chanted by striking workers, seen on the El Cajon Blvd sidewalk between Georgia and Florida streets and alongside—but not on—Kindred Hospital property, which is in San Diego neighborhood University Heights. Last time I saw, and documented, similar picketing was June 2018.

But the tone was different today; hostile even. “No justice, no peace” is more typically associated with cultural and societal protests, particularly regarding equality or race. I always have regarded it as an implicit threat; you may not agree. Putting that aside, how else should “no peace” be interpretated as chanted by unionized workers demanding contract concessions? You tell me.

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Is That a Threat or a Promise?

As Halloween approaches—and the number of ghoulish yard decorations explode like no other year—we return for more. I used Samsung Galaxy S23 Ultra to capture the Featured Image, last night. Vitals: f/2.4, ISO 1000, 1/8 sec, 70mm (film equivalent); 7:52 p.m. PDT.

The grave stones are quite elaborate, running outside the cement enclosure and facing the sidewalk. I returned about an hour ago, with Leica Q2, for a sharper shot—but illumination is orange and nowhere as striking as the blue. So I passed the opportunity.

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Big Book Sale Surprise

My wife asked about going to see the San Diego mural from my Oct. 18, 2023 post, so today we walked to the alley between El Cajon Blvd and Howard Ave. along 30th Street in North Park. She took first photos; I shot some refreshers.

From there we headed West along Howard towards Sprouts market to buy bananas and organic whole milk. The University Heights Public Library book sale room opens into the grocer’s parking lot—and it was open. So we ventured inside for a surprise.

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Now That’s Frightening

Welcome to another blast from the past. I captured the Feature Image on this date in 2012, using Galaxy Nexus, which was codeveloped by Google and Samsung and manufactured by the latter company. Vitals: f/2.75, ISO 50, 1/115 sec, 3.43mm; 3:40 p.m. PDT.

Location: Monroe, between Cleveland and Maryland, in University Heights. The property is good measurement of San Diego’s changing housing market. The place sold for $520,000 in June 2011. The family living there moved to a larger home and put this place on the market, where it went for $617,500 in September 2013.

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The Cats of University Heights: Aura

We go from Milo, Too on Mississippi to the alley behind the street along the same block. My wife spotted the grey today, and I stopped with Samsung Galaxy S23 Ultra for a shot through the chain-link fence.

Take a close look at the Featured Image. A white glow outlines the kitty—and it’s not some digital artifact produced by the smartphone’s sensor. The late-day sun created the effect for which this fine feline earns nickname Aura. Vitals: f/4.9, ISO 250, 1/60 sec, 230mm (film equivalent); 5:47 p.m. PDT.

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The Most Unaffordable City

San Diego is too prestigious a place. In July 2023, rents exceeded San Francisco. Yikes! Last month, the median-selling price for residences (houses and more) topped $1 million. The city earns yet another distinction: U.S. News & World Report has crowned San Diego as “#1 in most expensive places to live”. Uh, yeah.

Los Angeles is second; broadly, California cities capture seven spots in the top ten. Oh joy. I marvel at how suddenly—catastrophically—was the transition from, quoting the motto, “America’s finest city” to America’s most unaffordable place to live. Four years ago, food, sundries, and housing cost so much less.

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The Cats of University Heights: Milo, Too

This series started seven years ago—Oct. 17, 2016—with a kitty I call Scruffy. Five-hundred-fifty-three profiles later, I continue to discover new kitties—something I couldn’t conceive in a neighborhood with so many dog owners.

My miscalculation: Failing to understand the make-up of San Diego households, of which 52 percent are renters rather than homeowners. As such, tenant turnover is fairly frequent and includes pets; for people living in smaller spaces, feline friends are a popular choice. Foolish me, for not seeing the obvious.

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Three of Us

I take the hint—just need to follow-through. Tonight, my cousin Dan emailed another photo, taken by my uncle, circa 1970, with closing “call any time”. I will. I will. We Wilcox men must stick together.

Meanwhile, the Featured Image, later edited by me, is what he sent. I only share with you because everyone benefits from humbling moments of public humiliation. Eleven-year-old me looks like the prince of dweebs. I am aghast, honestly. Someone should have left that little twerp in the woods.

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Sixteen Years Ago Today

On Oct. 15, 2007, the Wilcox family arrived in San Diego from the Washington, D.C.-metro area. Within days, I began to understand the character of Communist California Culture and regret relocating. But we came to assist my aged father-in-law, so that he might maintain freedom to live in his apartment, which he did until passing away there at age 95 in January 2017.

My wife and I talked about returning to the East Coast almost immediately after her dad’s death. But our only child (an adult, by then) was attached to Southern California, and she wasn’t ready for us to leave her. We stayed—or shall I say overstayed—our time here. San Diego has changed all too much in terrible ways—almost all brought about by state and/or local mandates.