Merry Christmas

Merry Christmas to all family and friends; old, new, and those I've yet to meet.

Many things have happened this year, both good and bad, and sometimes it's hard to tell which is which. Jackie O. said "You can't separate the good from the bad, nor should you wish to."

2006 started with my roommate, and dear friend, James deciding to forgo further treatment for his cancer. While honored to share and witness the process of getting ready to die, it wasn't always easy to accommodate his needs and my own need to get on with my life. Whenever I felt especially challenged I tried to remember how much more of a challenge it all must have been for him. I learned much from James and his friends and I hope I added some joy to his life. In June James passed from this life to the next at home surrounded by family and friends.

A month later, when the dust had settled from all of that and I felt like I could take a breath and pay more attention to other things, work ratcheted up the stress and pressure. And while I devoted all of my time and energy into doing all that was expected there, I took no joy in the process. I was so unhappy, actually, that I thought there must be a better way.

Instead of digging myself out of that hole I started to burrow out in a new direction. I found creating this blog such fun that I started to think about how to do something similar as a career. My new roommate, Keith, who moved in late July/early August and has been such a blessing, suggested learning a web design program and start creating web pages. While that sounded great, I thought to do it well I'd need to know about programming, graphic design, photograph manipulation, and a whole bunch of other stuff. Then I'm having lunch with my friend Anna who's an admissions counselor at The Art Institute of California - San Diego. She's telling me about this terrific degree program they have that her younger brother is in called Interactive Media Design. It's a 3 year Bachelor of Science degree program that includes classes in programming, graphic design, photograph manipulation, and a whole bunch of other stuff. And I'm not using creative license here, she literally named off the exact classes I was thinking of. I said "sign me up".

And she did. I applied and was accepted. I applied for student loans and was approved for the entire cost of tuition, fees, books and supplies. I'll be in debt up to my ears when I graduate, but the way God and The Universe work, I've no doubt that will be taken care of when the time comes. January 8th I start classes. I can't adequately begin to tell you how excited I am to be going back to school and learn new things.

While all of that is coming about, I'm putting in 1 to 3 hours overtime most nights at my job and I'm thinking there is no way I can do this job and go to school full time. Then my friend Chuck mentions that the architect firm he works for is looking for a new receptionist. Two interviews later I have a new job. As I write this I'm officially unemployed. My last day at Wawanesa was Friday, the 22nd. I start my new job Wednesday, the 27th.

I haven't even gotten to the best part yet. For that I must give a big shout of thanks to, and praise God for, my two brothers. When my father passed, though not a rich man, over 90 percent of what he had he left to my brothers, not agreeing with my "chosen" lifestyle. My brothers have taken it upon themselves to divide things up equally. Even though they have their own kids to put through college, they've generously shared equal portions of what they received. It's enough to allow me to take a new job at a significantly lower wage while I go to school.

Icing on the cake of this year was a memorable birthday party and trips to San Francisco, Ensanada, Palm Springs, Catalina Island, and Illinois. I've rediscovered my creativity through photography and writing. And throughout 2006 I've been blessed with amazing friends whose care and generosity have helped me over the rough spots and made the bright spots dazzling.

As I close the door on 2006 I look at it with affection, but I'm ready to put it on the shelf. I can't wait to open up 2007 and see what's in store. For the first time in a very long time I feel like everything's going to be OK.

Love to all, thanks to God!

The City of Falling Angels

I recently finished reading John Berendt's The City of Falling Angels. He made a big splash with his first book Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil. In Midnight... he tells of his visits to Savannah, Georgia and his discovery of the people, culture, and current events. His second book follows the same format but is about Venice, Italy. He arrives in Italy three days after a fire reduced the historic opera house to a shell and quickly dives under the skin of the city to describe the intrigues and suspicions behind the cause of the fire and Venetian Society. I picked up the book at O'Hara Airport on a layover on my way to spend Thanksgiving with family. It caught my eye because I absolutely loved Berendt's first book. The movie was good but the book was much better. And the first few pages of the second book is filled with excerpts of book reviews proclaiming it better than the first.

My favorite review is by The Miami Herald: "As refreshing as a chilly Bellini on a humid afternoon, The City of Falling Angels captures Venice's inhabitants and intrigues through a series of sharp, well-defined sketches and explores the amusing stink of its bureaucratic corruptions, high society skirmishes and daring artistic feats. Berendt immerses us deeply in the city's culture and we emerge sputtering and thrilled."

The City of Falling Angels does all of that and more and I highly recommend it. Berendt is a master story teller. He lets the events and people speak for themselves without unneccesary embellishment while painting a beautiful picture of the city, not as a still-life, but describes the life, breath, and sounds of the town the full-time inhabitants know; tourists play no part.

I cannot agree, however, that it's better than his first book. It lacks the surprise and wonderment of Midnight... In the first book Berendt is a young author living in Manhattan who goes to Savannah almost by chance as something different to do on a weekend. He's so surprised by the cast of eccentric characters and situations he finds that he keeps going back, finding Manhattan boring by comparision. In the second book you expect him to find a colorful array of personalities to populate his play and he does; although they're not quite as off-the-charts eccentric as the folks in that sleepy southern city of Savannah. It's not Berendt's or Venice's fault. There are plenty of stories to tell about Venice. It's just that power hungry social climbers, royal descendents, glitterati and a fire can't compete with a murder, a Voodoo priestess, and a Drag Queen.

Surf at Carlsbad Beach, CA 10/21/06

I took this video with my camera during the hike along the beach at Carsbad.

My Fathers House 1967 - 2006

My mother took this picture of the house on Graham Street shortly after we moved in, in 1967. It had been broken up into separate apartments. My parents turned it back into a single family home. It had 10 foot ceilings and beautiful, carved mouldings along the floors and around all the doors and windows. When we moved in it had a coal burning furnace. A truck used a shute to deliver coal through a window into the basement. I helped my father shovel coal into the furnace. Later we got a furnace that burned gas.

We used the bathroom at the end of the hall on the 2nd floor. Otherwise we lived on the first floor. The rest of the rooms upstairs were mostly storage. I would get very scared walking to and from that bathroom at night, down that long hall with large, dark, empty rooms on each side. Although, the bathroom itself was quite nice with an old fashioned claw foot tub.

I took this photo Thanksgiving morning from almost the same spot. My father died a year and a half ago and his house was sold to the nearby University this year. They leveled it and the house next door. I imagine the neighbors are relieved. My father's house had been the eye sore of the neighborhood for decades. He was never one for home maintenance. Fortunately my brothers and uncle salvaged much of the amazing woodwork that was inside, including 2 pairs of large sliding pocket doors.

This was taken 1 block west looking across a parking lot directly to where my father's house used to stand. A grade school stood where that parking lot is. My father was furious when the school district closed the school a couple years after we moved into the neighborhood. Then we had to walk 9 blocks across town to school. Barefoot. In the snow. All up hill. Both ways.

This is Graham Street looking west, one block from where my father's house stood. The parking lot where the school stood is to the left. The street used to go through here. The University has expanded their campus and built a new library. Where you see the new library surrounded by open space used to be two square blocks of one and two story homes that were on my oldest brother's paper route. Dan and I frequently helped Steve deliver papers to those homes.

It's not that I begrudge the University their beautiful new library. Not at all. But where people new to the neighborhood see a nice building surrounded by grass and trees, I hear a little boy's footsteps, heavy with newpapers, splashing in the cold November rain.

Ode to a Lost Art.

Okay, okay. It's a cute picture. What can I say? At 3 years old I was quite charming. But that's not what's cool about this picture. This picture, from the mid '60s, was taken before color portrait photography was widely available or affordable and long before 1 hour processing. Photography studios, such as Olan Mills, would send their negatives off to photo labs to be developed and, if the customer paid extra, colorized. That's one ot the careers my mother used to have. She would use very fine brushes to apply oil paints directly to the finished photograph to produce a color portrait. And that's what's great about this picture, hand painted by my own mother.

Thanksgiving 2006

Very early Wednesday morning Keith graciously provided shuttle service to San Diego International Airport for my 6:25am flight to Chicago. In Chicago I had about a 3 hour lay over before catching the commuter flight to Bloomington, IL where my mother and her friend Mac where waiting. Mom planned dinner at a very nice Chinese Buffet. But my stomach was upset and while she and Mac ate I could only manage some hot tea. But later I felt better and we stopped by the house of Harry and Betty. Their daughter Arnette was there with her husband, daughter, and a high school foreign exchange student. Arnette and I dated in High School and our families attended the same church.

Thanksgiving day was bright and warm for Central Illinois in late November. The good weather held for the whole long weekend. After scanning some photos out of Mom's albums and emailing them to myself, which you all will get to see here soon, we drove around Bloomington to see old haunts, schools, and new developments. After a light lunch at Baker's Square we drove 4o minutes to Peoria where my brother Dan, sister-in-law Rebecca, and daughter Lesley live. They're generally referred to as DRL. My oldest brother Steve was already on the road from Kansas City with my sister-in-law Kim, niece Eileen, and nephew Aaron. We call them SKEA.

They arrived right in time for a late afternoon Thanksgiving Day Feast headlined by Dan's fine craftmanship cooking and carving a turkey and Becky's off the charts amazing, memorable apple pie. I'd tell you the secret ingredient, but then I'd have to kill you. After dinner we gathered in front of DRL's living room fireplace for this photo. Except for my failing to make sure the tripod was holding my camera straight, we took a good picture.

Friday morning we drove downtown to find a good spot to watch Lesley march with her school band in the Holiday Parade.

I'm so upset I didn't get the hat memo.

That's Lesley on the far right carrying the Illinois Flag.

Friday, after lunch, Mom and I left Peoria and drove up to Kankakee where she grew up and where my grandmother is in a nursing home. She's 94 years old and completely alert. Even though I hadn't seen her for over 5 years she knew who I was and where I was visiting from. She'd lost her hearing aids so it was hard to talk to her, but she mostly likes to talk about herself and I mostly like to listen so we had a fine time.

She's very much ready to go. She dreams every night about my grandfather who died 5 months before I was born. She dreams he's waiting for her at a wedding banquet. I have their wedding picture and a picture of the 2 of them shortly after they were married which I'll be posting here soon so you'll know what she looks like and who's she with when she's done with this life and goes on to the next.

Saturday I drove over to Champaign. It's the first time I'd been back to the town I lived in for 20 years. On one hand it was like I'd never left. I remembered where everything was like the back of my hand. On the other hand it seemed like a lifetime ago, so much has happened in the 5 years since I moved to San Diego.

But so much happened in that town. I started living in the campus dormitory, 18 years old and clueless. I left after living in this co-op apartment building for 5 years, knowing little more.

My apartment was on the top floor, 2nd from the left. It had 9 foot ceilings, crown mouldings, formal dining room, sun room, hardwood floors, 1 bedroom, 1000 square feet, my own washer/dryer in the basement, and a 1 car garage with an automatic garage door opener. Steve Otto helped me plant the 4 small trees across the front. They're dogwoods and bloom white in the spring, which looks great against the red brick.

Sunday we drove to Springfield to tour the Lincoln Museam. It's an amazing place that brings history to life with life like wax statues, live actors, lighting and visual effects, computer graphics, smoke and mirrors.

My favorite room had a wall size map of the United States at the time of the Civil War and computer graphics that showed the progression of troops and the Northern and Southern boundaries. One second represented 1 week, the whole progression of the war completed in 4 minutes. To remind us that the real cost of the war was in human lives, a counter in the lower right corner started at zero and progressed in time with the rest of the map, leaping by tens of thousands for major battles.

From Springfield SKEA continued west to Kansas City, DRL went back to Peoria, and I drove to Mom's house in Bloomington in time to say good-bye and catch the flight to O'Hara and then San Diego where Keith again provided taxi service.

This was an amazing trip for me in many ways that are hard to describe. I travelled alone but I wasn't lonely. I was with myself in a way I hadn't been before. I created and defended my own agenda for the weekend so I wasn't just following the herd. And through photos, places, and people I connected with the past in meaningful ways that gives me confidence going forward into the future.

Love to all. Thanks to God.

MCC Walking Disciples 3rd Anniversary Hike on Catalina Island, November 18, 2006

Before dawn on the morning of Saturday, Novemeber 18th, the Walking Disciples started gathering in San Diego for the 2 hour drive north to Long Beach for our first hike outside of San Diego County. Our destination was the Catalina Express for the 24 mile ferry ride from Long Beach to the town of Avalon on Catalina Island. We were all very excited about this trip. Many of us had never been to Catalina before. We all anticipated a great day full of adventure and amazing sights. The day far surpassed our expectations.

Opposite Avalon the coastline is very rugged and beautiful. From the highest point of our hike we had 360 degree views, 3/4 of it ocean, and at least 40 mile visibility to other islands and mountains on the mainland. We could see weather patterns in the low clouds over the water. The views were so big I didn't know which way to point my camera.

The Cowardly Lion, Dorothy, the Tin Man, and the Scarecrow.

While everyone counted their aches and pains Teresa climbed the steps of the Wrigley Memorial and started waiving to the crowds like the Queen of England and made us all laugh.

Everyone is in good shape and good spirits after a very long hike.

These painted eagle sculptures are about 4 feet tall and are on the boardwalk that goes around the bay.

They lit up the bridge to welcome us back to Long Beach. The lights are reflected in the water and across the prow of the ferry.

Walking Disciples at Tamarack Beach, October 21, 2006

Saturday morning Skip joined me for a drive up to Carlsbad to meet our fellow MCC Walking Disciples for a hike along the bluffs overlooking the beach, starting at Tamarack Beach and walking south for 2-3 miles and then back to our starting point. It had been some time since I was in Carlsbad and when we got out of the car I looked around at the sun and the surf and the expansive sand and told Skip I'd forgotten how beautiful it is up here. Our hike was along sidewalks and bike paths and well traveled roads. Bicyclists, joggers, surfers, and walkers were all out enjoying the day.

As I write this I realize I'm approaching it from a Midwest perspective, as if such a fine day was a rare occasion as they are in central Illinois. Whereas in and around San Diego you can count on nearly everyday to be as good, or at least not so bad as to seriously prevent you from doing what you want to do. I'm still something of a tourist with his camera gawking at all the splendor as if I was the first to see it.

Local fauna.

Skip on the beach.

Meanwhile, In Another Part of the Forest

One of the books I read this summer is a collection of gay short stories of Keith's titled Meanwhile, In Another Part Of The Forest, edited by Alberto Manguel and Craig Stephenson. I have several collections of gay short stories myself so I was familiar with many of them. However, this is a large book and many of the stories were new to me. They're all gems by masters such as E.M.Forster, James Baldwin, Ray Bradbury, Ernest Hemingway, and William Faulkner, among others.
One of my favorites is by Shyam Selvadurai called; "Pigs Can't Fly". It's the story of a young boy who prefers to play 'bride' with his girl cousins instead of soccer with the boys. He and all the girls agreed he played the lead best until a new girl joined them, got jeolous, told her parents, and he was forced to quit in shame.
In the introduction the author and the editors compare the hero's experience to Alice in Wonderland: " Moments of joy... enlarge the self. ...we grow in the world... We are that colossus Alice in Wonderland shooting up to the ceiling after downing the bottle labeled "Drink Me". ... if we are ridiculed by adults and peers, the magic vanishes, the joy evaporates, and, like Alice shrinking to the point where she falls in her own pool of tears, we are reduced to something even smaller than we were in the pale beginning."
For me this was a revelation into the meaning behind part of Alice's strange adventure and the genius of Lewis Carroll as well as throwing light on a common childhood tragedy.

World AIDS Day December 1, 2006

All that are present
reach a hand back
to all those that passed.
You did not go in vain.

The AIDS epidemic is 25 years old. That there are people younger than that contracting AIDS still is a real failure of humanity as a global community. Many shackle our best efforts by promoting abstinence. They make much of the failure rate of condoms. But what is the failure rate of abstinence? The next time you're in a room with someone preaching the benefits of abstinence and the evils of condoms ask them: The failure rate of condoms is about 3%, what is the failure rate of abstinence? How many people here were born as a result of failed abstinence? And what kind of a back up plan does abstinence only give you? If you know how to use condoms you can still chose abstinence. But if you've been taught abstinence only, and that fails, where does that leave you? Unwantedly pregnant or sick? We deserve better.

MCC Beach Bonfire/Barbecue September 10, 2006

On a sunny Sunday afternoon the church planned a barbecue and bonfire at Crown Point on Mission Bay at 4pm. Since Crown Point is my favorite place to start roller blading around the bay, I got there at 3pm. I like roller blading around the bay because the sidewalks and bike paths are nice and wide. I like starting at Crown Point because after a nice warm up through a picnic area the path turns west towards the ocean and into the wind. When part way around the bay it's 2 short blocks over to the bike path that runs along Mission Beach. The path is real wide but you can't go fast because of all the people. But there's the ocean, the surf, surfers, beach goers, and beach volleyball to watch. At the south end of the beach the path turns in towards the bay. It's along this waterway between the ocean and the bay where I saw this boat on its way in tossing out bate or some kind of food that was attracting all the birds.

The image is a little blurry, but that's a wedding about to get under way right on the bay with sail boats going by.

After roller blading around the bay I joined the MCC beach bonfire/barbecue at Crown Point on Mission Bay.

Not far down the beach from our group, using the next firepit, another church group had backed a Ryder truck up and unloaded a whole truck load of firewood. The park closes at 10pm. They quickly realized they could never use all the wood they brought so they came over and asked us to help ourselves. Later on they just brought over more wood for us. While everyone else from MCC left before sunset, Chuck, Eddie, and I decided to stay and enjoy the bonfire. We talked, traded shots with the camera and enjoyed watching the fire dance, the sun light fade, the city lights come on, the tide come in, the bay turn to glass, and the moon come up.

Labor Day, 2006

Labor Day dawned bright and clear and turned out to be just as sunny and warm as my two previous trips to the beach this summer. After stopping at the Ibis Market for sandwiches, snacks, and drinks I headed towards the ocean. Side note: the north/south streets in my neighborhood are named after birds alphabetically. It starts with Albatross, which I used to live on, digresses from the system for B and skips C altogether, then takes up with Dove followed by Eagle, Falcon(my street), Goldfinch, Hawk, Ibis, Jackdaw, skips K in favor of Ingalls, and ends on a Lark. It occurs to me that my mother and her siblings who grew up on Eagle Street in Kankakee, Il could flee the midwest and enjoy sunny San Diego and, at the same time, come full circle and live back on Eagle Street. Though it's a lovely lane full of charming craftsman cottages, I don't think I want you all just one block away from me. But I digress.
The beach was terrific; the sand warm, the ocean cool. Adolfo and friends were nearby. Eddie showed up after fighting traffic from LA. We took a long walk up to the north end of the beach and back, stopping to chat with lots of friends along the way. As we were getting ready to hike up the bluff to our cars another friend of Eddie's stopped by and we kept talking late enough to stay and watch the sunset. I got this shot just before the sun completely slid into the sea. And, being careful not to blink, we saw the very last ray of the sun flash a bluish green before drowning beneath the waves.