Tag: family

Photo by Joe WilcoxFeb 26, 20269:27 pm

A Brook Runs Through It

We return to my father’s big stash of slides; the Featured Image is from January 1973, according to the date stamp. He used a Kowa, likely the seT R2, to take photos of family, nature, and wildlife. I don’t know all his reasons for choosing the camera but one was the leaf shutter—in each lens rather the camera body. The design was characteristically unique then, and now. In the modern era, leaf shutters are more commonly found in fixed-lens models, like the several series from Fujifilm, Leica, and Sony.

Regarding the photographic subject, this might be the brook that cuts through part of the family farm, which my father gave away, not sold, to the co-pastors of his church about three weeks before his death in April 2024. They sold the property in May of last year, ending the Wilcox legacy started in 1895 by my great-grandfather.

Photo by Joe WilcoxFeb 18, 20267:56 pm

How Not to Photograph Kids

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.

Photo by Joe WilcoxFeb 14, 20269:09 pm

My Parents, for Valentine’s Day

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.

Photo by Joe WilcoxFeb 4, 202610:12 pm

Nana Banana

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”.

Photo by Joe WilcoxFeb 3, 20269:38 pm

Across the Snow

Two years ago, my sister Nanette and I discussed traveling to Maine to visit our father, whose health appeared to be declining. We made the trip, and visited with him February 17-18. He died on April 16, 2024.

As I explained yesterday, the Old Man left to me a treasure-trove of photographic slides, most of which he presumably had shot. They’re all mixed up, which makes sorting through them kind of a memorial journey—no, an adventure! The current batch is so far from 1973 and ’74, and I have seen so few.

Photo by Joe WilcoxFeb 2, 20269:10 pm

She Feels Poorly

The process of sorting through my father’s stash of photographic slides continues, sputtering along. I cannot dedicate the time necessary to sort through them quickly, nor to clean them up (if such process is possible). They are filthy.

The Featured Image has a processing date of January 1973. The young girl beneath the blanket appears to be one of my sisters, two of whom looked more alike. Nanette says “pretty sure it’s me. The eyes would be a bit crossed if it were” our youngest sister. “That’s exactly how I lay on the couch when I’m sick today. My guess is I was sick”.

Photo by Joe WilcoxJan 31, 20269:22 pm

Hello, Baby Bird

The lasting legacy left by my father is a significant number—hundreds at least—of photographic slides that remain from those he said had been damaged by water. I don’t know the specifics of the incident that destroyed perhaps half of them. That’s what he inherited to me, and I got more than did most family members.

The co-pastor couple of his church got the family farm to hold in trust intact. They did, for a whole 13 months, until May 2025, when a sale closed and they profited from it. Fortunately, the young farmer buying the property is son of the man who had leased the land for decades; I am sincerely glad for that.

Photo by Joe WilcoxJan 14, 202610:24 pm

We Three Cousins

If you wondered what native, rustic Aroostook County, Maine men looked like in 1978 (or thereabouts), I present the Featured Image taken by my Uncle Glenn. Cousin Dan (left) used an HP film scanner to digitize the photo from an original slide. He emailed the portrait, and two other photos, this afternoon. The scary dude in the middle is me; my arm listlessly hangs over my younger cousin’s shoulder—and holds what looks like a rock; why would that be?

Since I haven’t spoken to the cousin on the right for more than two years, and I know he is a somewhat private, I withhold his name out of respect. Dan, on the other hand, is easier going— as am I—and his identity was revealed in other posts.

Photo by Joe WilcoxJan 8, 20268:42 pm

Shadow Selfie and Friend

Last night’s post is a testament to perseverance. Some variety of virus overwhelmed my immune system. Sick is an understatement—and for the first time since Christmas 2017. Today, I slept in three hours until 7:30 a.m. PST and conked out for several hours this afternoon.

Sleep sure is therapeutic. I feel better this evening, although far from normal state. I don’t take cold medicine or pain killers, choosing to let the body’s defensive mechanisms work without interference. Besides, if over-the-counter anything makes you feel better when not, the tendency is to do too much when the body needs you to slow down and rest.

Photo by Joe WilcoxJun 27, 20257:23 pm

Being Beachy without Waves

While walking to Smart & Final in North Park on April 19, 2025, my wife suggested going along one of the alleys we rarely traverse. At the end—I believe at Lincoln Street—she stopped, transfixed by a bright yellow cottage. The color, compactness, and surfboards screamed San Diego, despite being about 13 km (8 miles) from the waves off of Ocean Beach.

Annie pulled out her Samsung Galaxy S25 for some quick snaps. I did likewise with Nikon Zf and attached NIKKOR Z 24-200mm f/4-6.3 VR lens. Vitals for the Featured Image: f/11, ISO 200, 1/200 sec, 60mm; 12:55 p.m. PDT.

Photo by Joe WilcoxOct 15, 202411:02 pm

San Diego is Scary Now

Seventeen years ago today, the Wilcox family relocated to San Diego from the Washington, DC-metro area. We came to care for my father-in-law, who would live another decade and pass away—age 95—in his own bed. He likely would have gone sooner and/or been confined to a nursing home otherwise.

My wife and I should have fled Communist California—and the slave mentality induced here—in 2017, soon after her dad died. But ongoing concerns about our only child kept us here longer. Our daughter’s brain injury, in March 2023, justified the financial hardship of staying. She survived—something unlikely had we, from a long distance, taken doctors’ advice to end life support rather than by being present choose to continue it.

Photo by Joe WilcoxAug 8, 20245:31 pm

He’s Still the Owner

The Featured Image, which I poorly enlarged from a digital reprint, is a sign of its time that should still be true enough today. The Allagash wilderness of Maine’s Aroostook County isn’t as much “God’s country” as year of this portrait (1965). Four wheelers during summer and snowmobiles throughout winter let more folks noisily traverse territory that was barely accessible decades ago. But the Heavenly owner, so to speak, still holds claim.

Presumably my uncle took this photo, of my cousin Dan. Is that a 410-guage shotgun? That’s what I would expect to see a teenage partridge hunter holding. Safety is one consideration. Then there is using birdshot for, well, shooting birds.