This photo of Mom, Linda Devoe, is my favorite of her. The finger, the smile, the wink truly capture her joyful spirit. What was the occasion? Her youngest daughter’s wedding, of course.
I previously shared the portrait about two weeks after she passed away on this date (August 5) in 2017. I used iPhone 7 Plus to make that digital copy of the print. Today: Samsung Galaxy S26 Ultra. I cropped and edited the Featured Image on the smartphone, too.
The mailman, whose last day delivering to my street is tomorrow, delivered not one but two golden tickets: Thursday and Sunday passes to San Diego Comic-Con 2026. The annual pulp media pilgrimage starts one month from today, July 23, and runs through the 26th. Additionally, the lucky—or the chosen—can attend Preview Night on the 22nd.
Thursday is official first day. Friday tends to be busier. Saturday often is busiest because of the masquerade ball that evening. You will see more cosplayers strutting about than on any other day. I call Sunday “family day”; locals predominantly fill the convention center. Meanwhile, the majority of celebrities have gone. (Should I say good riddance?)
Ten days that may change humanity ended this afternoon, with the successful splashdown of the Orion capsule carrying the valiant crew of Artemis II. I was a junior high school student the last time humans traveled to the moon and back (December 1972). Commander Reid Wiseman, pilot Victor Glover, and mission specialists Christina Koch and Jeremy Hansen have gone where no one has since.
Hansen comes from the Canadian Space Agency, and he is the first of his countrymen to go to the moon. The other three crewmembers are longstanding NASA astronauts—2009 for Wiseman; 2013 for Glover and Koch. All four are heroes tonight.
One of the more unusual attractions here in the village of University Heights is the Hsi Fang Buddhist temple. The impressive structure, which includes a bookstore and residences, is located in the San Diego community’s main commercial area.
For no other reason than habit, I typically walk on the East side of Park Blvd. But today that way was blocked, and I was directed across the street, where I stopped to see some of the Temple’s inspirational marketing materials and decor. (I should go by more often.)
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.
New Years, today by the Lunar Calendar, affords opportunity to make—or in this instance amend—my personal motto. On Jan. 1, 2023, I presented “Be Strong” as my declaration for the year ahead. Three weeks later, a tweak is necessary. On January 19, when encouraging you to not be slave to fear and hysteria, I quipped: “Master the moment”. Oh I like that.
To master the moment, you should be strong. To be strong often demands taking charge (e.g. mastering the moment). So the two can stand alone or be combined.
Yesterday, as I arrived for my haircut, the barber walked out of the adjacent grocery store with two lottery tickets in hands. Later, after finishing the masterpiece made with razor and scissors, he boasted about giving me a $1.3 billion cut—referring to the Mega Millions drawing later tonight. I would look dapper in a tux ready to collect the prize, he said.
Well, yeah, if I bought a ticket. But I only had cash enough to pay for the haircut, unless he gave up part of his tip. “That would be a great story”, he answered, telling it and agreeing that I should keep back two bucks to play. I walked next store and bought a ticket.
Queen Elizabeth II passed away today. Her death, at 96, marks the end of the United Kingdom’s longest reigning sovereign—70 years. Strangely, in the span of days, the nation has a new prime minister (Liz Truss) and constitutional monarch (King Charles III). A new future unfolds, but tonight we honor the past.
Elizabeth II brought quiet dignity and good manners to Buckingham Palace, all while burgeoning grace, exuding fortitude, demonstrating forbearance, and intelligently disseminating common sense—to wit. The Queen’s legacy, and that of her son’s as he ascends to the throne, is many: The 56 countries belonging to The Commonwealth, of which there are 2.5 billion people.
For more than a year, a handmade “Black Lives Matter” sign beckoned from the window where Shy typically sunned. My “Cats of University Heights” series profiled the kitty in February 2019. I don’t support the slogan, because BLM refers to an organization with political and social ambitions that are in many respects incongruous with righting the country’s perceived and real racial wrongs. What appears to be a grassroots group, particularly portrayed during 2020’s racial riots and protests, is something else.
Capital Research Center, which tracks non-profits, their organizational structures, and funding, provides insight in two-part exposé: “The Organizational Restructuring of Black Lives Matter: Movement for Black Lives” and “The Organizational Restructuring of Black Lives Matter: BLM Global Network Foundation“—both from April 29 of this year. Fueled by corporate and other donations following the death of George Floyd while in police custody, the organization raised $90 million last year.
I know our daughter feels fairly disheveled on this 27th birthday—kind of like the Featured Image of the cat that we unexpectedly inherited from her in October 2014. I met Cali on June 4 of that year—the evening before she showed up in Molly’s bed. Now Cali is bonded to Neko, but her origin story will always be our recuperating birthday girl.
In the portrait, captured using iPhone XS, Cali sun-sleeps against my home office window on the Katris blocks that sit between the Belham Living Everett Mission Writing Desk with Optional Hutch and Casabelle Mail Center. Vitals: f/2.4, ISO 16, 1/142 sec, 52mm (film equivalent); 3:16 p.m. PDT, June 19, 2021.
A favored walking route from Old Trolley Barn Park is the alley between Alabama and Florida streets. Occasionally, Pace (pronounced paw-chay, according to his owner) appears—and, on some days, Coon or Ghost (both nicknames) in an adjacent, expansive yard. Today, I passed by a woman either emptying recyclables or trash (not sure which) and she wished: “Happy Valentine’s Day”. She was cheerful, which emotion a higher-pitch voice accentuated. Her apartment overlooks the alley, and she recognized me from looking out her windows on other days.
The 35-year-old Salt Lake City native has resided in San Diego for about a decade. We talked about the terrible expense of living here, mainly housing, which she offsets by having a roommate and adopting a minimalist lifestyle. Governor Gavin “Gruesome” Newsom’s several SARS-CoV-2 (severe acute respiratory syndrome Coronavirus 2)/COVID-19 lockdowns put her on unemployment twice, which led her to become entrepreneurial, rather than depressed and destitute. Adapting her mom’s recipe, she bakes and sells chocolate chip cookies by the dozen—$15 a box.
Uncle Arnie passed away last night, Eastern Daylight Time, in Northern Maine. He was 74. Three years ago today, we lost Mom, his sister. Their bond tightened as they aged, and I wonder about the strange synchronicity of one sibling departing on August 4 and the other on the 5th.
My strongest personal memory of Uncle Arnie is him yelling at me and my being perplexed by his reaction. He was known to be cool-headed. I was as old as 12 and about to cross the street in front of my grandparent’s house to the neighbor’s place when he screamed “Joey!” with supreme urgency that caused me to stop and turn towards him just as a car topped the hill and roared past. Uncle Arnie almost certainly saved my life that summer’s day. He gave me one hell of a scolding and sent me inside.