The house where lived Pepe—and Levi may still be—changed for the better during the SARS-CoV-2 (severe acute respiratory syndrome Coronavirus 2)/COVID-19 pandemic lockdowns. The family homeschools now, and that was a decision prompted in part […]
Tag: urban photography
Welcome to the San Diego Housing Boom (I Mean Bubble)
Gulp. San Diego home prices are skyrocketing far worse than my recent essays report. For some unexplainable algorithmic reason, a short news clip from the local Fox affiliate popped up in my YouTube feed, reporting rapid rise in the median home price. One year ago: $671,000. One month ago: $800,000. Currently: $825,000. The clip doesn’t cite a source and my quick online news search didn’t find one. By my math, the annual increase is 22.9 percent. Yikes.
Let’s look at one property on North Avenue in my neighborhood of University Heights. On Dec. 29, 2019, I captured the Featured Image, which because of uncharacteristic underexposure by Leica Q required extensive post-production correction and refinement. Vitals, aperture manually set: f/5.6, ISO 100, 1/125 sec, 28mm; 10:21 a.m. PST.
Tragedy Beneath the Golden Arches
Overnight, an assailant shot and killed a 59 year-old man in the parking lot outside the McDonald’s at El Cajon Blvd and Texas Street in University Heights. Shootings are rare, if ever, in my San Diego neighborhood, so the incident is shocking. As I write, little is publicly known—other than police seeking a white man in his 40’s driving a SUV. Given the number of traffic cams—at the least of surveillance—the vehicle’s license plate could be identified.
I know the McDonald’s well. When still alive, my father-in-law liked to eat lunch there—especially Fillet Fish Fridays, when sandwiches were discounted. My wife or I might drive him there two or three days a week. Before renovations that started around the time of his death in January 2017, I would see many regular customers, such as the three older gents gathered to gab—often for hours—or another man who religiously read his Bible. They vanished with the remodeling, which did away with the cozy booths and replaced them with trendy tables that encourage eating and leaving rather than hanging around.
The Sedan of Many Colors
I see this car along streets all over University Heights—Alabama, Louisiana, Mississippi, and Monroe (East and West sides of Park Blvd.), among others. Finding parking spaces where you live can be challenging, and whoever drives this vehicle is willing to walk a fair number of blocks to secure a spot.
Surely other residents are compelled to park far and away, but I wouldn’t know since so many autos look alike. The Hummer first sighted in February 2021 (and many times in various places, since) is an example. Then we have this multi-colored sedan, which most distinctive hue (pink hood and trunk) my Featured Image only hints at. Vitals, aperture manually set: f/2, ISO 100, 1/6400 sec, 28mm; 2:23 p.m. PDT; Leica Q2.
Across the Way
Reviewing older photos, I decided to give the Featured Image another chance—pulling it from the reject pile, so to speak. I used Nikon D90 and 18-200mm f/3.5-5.6 G ED-IF AF-S VR DX Zoom-Nikkor lens to […]
The Menacing Palm
The mystery: Is this creature in the tree bark a new addition, or has it been there since Halloween and I hadn’t noticed when walking by dozens of times? One wonders. I captured the Featured […]
The Bearded Tree is Gone!
And that’s not the worst of the devastation. Nearly three months ago, I wondered about the fate of the mighty palm after high winds ripped fronds from the trunk. Then, unexpectedly, on the First Day of Spring, under the direction of cute cottages’ new owners, men with chainsaws started clearcutting a lush landscape of shrubs, succulents, and trees around the buildings. The bearded tree is the last to go.
Every nearby neighbor to whom I have spoken about the destruction of the urban jungle is shocked. No one can fathom why the massive deforestation. Late this afternoon, one homeowner, who has lived in University Heights for more than two decades, told me that water can’t be the reason. He and his wife maintain a lovely backyard of flowers, plants, and trees, without wasteful watering.
If You Work (or Live) Here, I’m Jealous
On the same day, April 11, 2021, that my wife and I walked across the Spruce Street Suspension Bridge, we footed down 1st Avenue towards downtown. We wanted to reminisce about our delightful after-theater walk—planes flying low overhead to land—after watching Jesus Christ Superstar on stage at the San Diego Civic Center. That was Nov. 16, 2019, near the start of the 50th anniversary tour, which SARS-CoV-2 (severe acute respiratory syndrome Coronavirus 2)/COVID-19 lockdowns would end earlier than the planned Aug. 30, 2020 final performance.
At the corner of First and Kalmia, we came across the magnificent structure that is the Featured Image (warning: 30MB file), captured using Leica Q2. Vitals, aperture manually set: f/5.6, ISO 100, 1/320 sec, 28mm; 12:44 p.m. PDT. I reduced exposure in post-production, should you feel that the photo is too dark; that’s deliberately done.
The Sun’s Sidewalk Art
On my 8-kilometer (5-mile) walk home from the dentist today, bike rack shadows seemed so perfectly placed for a quick photo using iPhone XS. Composed and presented as shot, the Featured Image comes from El Cajon Blvd near Aragon Drive in San Diego community College Area. Vitals: f/1.8, ISO 25, 1/2833 sec, 26mm (film equivalent); 10:47 a.m. PST.
A few blocks beyond, I saw someone’s personal belongings being moved from a building to the sidewalk. I wondered if the individual(s) had been evicted, when approaching seeing two cop cars and several officers. Many homeless folks encamp in that area, too. What I observed and heard: A healthy-looking, bossy black woman closing on a white policeman and demanding: “Put me in the car and let’s go”. She sure didn’t have that worn, living-on-the-street appearance. The lady was clean, neat, and articulate.
Before Meade’s Traffic Circles
I continue to review past photos of San Diego’s University Heights neighborhood for their personal, nostalgic value. Many were edited around the time captured—like the Featured Image, using Leica M10 and Summarit-M 1:2.4/50 lens—but not published. Until now. Vitals, aperture unknown: ISO 100, 1/2000 sec, 50mm; 5:08 p.m. PDT, May 26, 2018.
The view is from cross-street Georgia; Florida is at the bottom of the hill. Beyond is Alabama, where currently there is a so-called “traffic calming measure” (e.g. circle), supporting the forthcoming regional bikeway. Mississippi follows, then Louisiana (where three years later there is another calming measure). At the stoplight is Texas, where across starts North Park, which name is rudely etched into the two circles on the UH side. That’s but one of the obstructions’ unintended consequences.
The Halloween House
Continuing the walk down nostalgia lane, in my San Diego neighborhood, we go out of season—back before SARS-CoV-2 (severe acute respiratory syndrome Coronavirus 2)/COVID-19 lockdowns tempered some holiday decorating. I used Leica Q to capture […]
The Traffic Circle of Unintended Consequences
As summer began last year, I started seeing some strange change in driving behavior—where my neighbors slowed down and rolled through Stop signs rather than stopping their vehicles. Initially, I attributed the disrespectful and dangerous practice to SARS-CoV-2 (severe acute respiratory syndrome Coronavirus 2)/COVID-19 stay-at-home orders. Many people weren’t working, or if doing so from their residence, and traffic was considerably lighter than usual.
But as San Diego reopened (before later closing again), the no-stopping continued and I recognized the real cause to be something else that is far more disturbing. The Stop-sign roll-throughs started not long after the city opened the first so-called traffic calming measure at Alabama and Meade in University Heights. Where once were Stop signs, the city has placed circles at four-ways where drivers now slow and yield. I first observed the slowing behavior at posted Stops along Meade at Campus and also Cleveland. Coincidence? I think not.