Ev’ry time i see your face,
It reminds me of the places we used to go.
I want you here to have and hold,
As the years go by and we grow old

I’m so embarrassed… AGAIN! (another repost)


For the longest time, I’ve wondered, ‘Why don’t any of the wonderful people who follow my blog and like my posts ever post anything to THEIR WordPress blogs so that I can like and support THEIR stuff?”

Yes I did. Wonder. Such a thing.

Probably not as many times as someone in the world wondered, “Why doesn’t this self-centered schmuck ever hit ‘like’ on any of MY WordPress posts?”


I even said to some fine fellow who was incredibly supportive of this blog and after many messages had passed between us, something like, “Gee, I’d love to see some of YOUR stuff sometime. Do YOU have your own blog or website?”

That was actually the last I spoke to him. Nothing at all after that question. The line went dead.

So I’m on this thing called The Reader yesterday, I’m sure you’ve all heard of it, scrolling down and thinking, “Wow, WordPress does a really nice job of selecting material from its tens of thousands of blogs just for me. I really like all this stuff. Good job of curating, WP!”

Then I see MY latest blog post. And NOW I’m excited. I said to my more significant other, “Honey, look! WordPress is featuring my post in The Reader.”

I did say that. Yesterday.

She was like, really? What does that mean? And I said, “Well, it means that probably everyone interested in photography will see my post in their Reader, it’s like being featured on the front page. Or something.”

(I probably shouldn’t be posting any of this. Do my face palm in silence and move on.)

But then, sharp detective that I am, I sez to myself, “Myself, this is going to mean a significant increase in traffic. Gird your loins, brother. This is your moment.”

My ship had finally come in. I thought.

But then when I checked my stats… 😦

I won’t drag this out any longer. Yes, I am obviously a self-centered schmuck. And I had seriously conflated The Reader with, “Freshly Pressed”


I just want to say now to all of you SO familiar names who have hung in there, liking my posts, THANK YOU for your patience with me. Seriously, thank you. I would like to say that I’m just so busy, there certainly is something busy going on inside my head, but I don’t think that’s the issue. I’ve always been this way. Conflating. Confusing.

I’ll give you one very early example. First grade. Catholic school. 1963. Sometime after the Christmas break. I was sent to the principal’s office, I can’t remember what for. Sister Victor was the principal. Yep, that was her name and that’s who she was. I vainly tried to make an excuse … something about the 3 months we had ‘off’ for the Christmas vacation.

You see, loyal readers, I had conflated SUMMER with the 10 days of Christmas break.

Sister Victor was not generally known as a forgiving nun and she snarled at me that we didn’t get three months off for Christmas and then a few minutes later threw me down a flight of stairs.

True story.

Anyway. I am sorry, fellow, WordPress photo-bloggers. I can see now that most of you really are posting YOUR stuff to your WordPress blogs and I am blown away at the quality and breadth of the great photography and creativity you all are putting forth into the world… and… I’m LIKING it all as fast as I can. 😉

20 Years Ago Today


On the evening of August 11th, 1995, I met my best friend, Sheri. Remembering her today as well as expressing my endless gratitude for all the amazing gifts she provided to me in my life. Bernadette and I will always miss you and love you, Sheri! 

This is Where I Live Today


Our long national nightmare is over. Nixon has resigned. Wait a minute. No. We have moved after 25 years at our last residence.

It has been horrific. Like scraping moss off a rock. And we didn’t have a lot of time either. I won’t go into details. We could have ended up anywhere. I can’t tell you of the horrors we have seen for near $3000 a month. Rents in Los Angeles are outrageous. We had enjoyed 25 years of rent control. Our rent now will double.

As bad as that is, it wasn’t the worse thing by miles.

The worst thing, the thing that, quite honestly, at this stage of our lives, hit us like a terrible medical diagnosis, was that our happy lives might be over. I will tell you and you can believe me or not but the truth is our very happiness and futures were at stake. LA can now be just a brutally difficult place to live. So finding the right place, or not, was a process fraught with some of darkest concerns either of us have ever had.


Well. Fuck it all, that’s not how it turned out. Now we can breathe. We’re going to be fine. Somehow we found a place that is perfect for us. It has an incredible history which I will share at some other time. Right now, I’m writing this last night. Or something like that. You can probably see that my brain is fried. We haven’t actually moved until tomorrow. Wow. That’s not actually English either. Anyway. By the time this is published, we will be there. Or here. Whatever.

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Here’s a shot from the 1950s. That’s LA in the salad days of Hollywood’s Film Noir era. Or I’m thinking Val Lewton. Foggy night. Shadows and trees rustling. 😉