I have spent my adult life deeply agnostic and religion-avoidant, with two exceptions.
My first summer in college, I went through dark times, and at some point decided it would help if I had faith. I would intermittently pray, along the lines of God if you’re there I know I’m supposed to take you on faith but I can’t so if you could please just give me a sign, I will take it from there. One day, a few minutes after I finished such a prayer, the doorbell rang.
My favorite hike takes me through the chaparral-covered hills of Griffith Park but maintains a view (smog allowing) of downtown Los Angeles in the valley below. The weather and the seasons change but from this distance the city looks constant.
A fall afternoon.
Moonset at sunrise.
Early spring wildflowers.
(Posted as part of the Weekly Photo Challenge.)
Marlowe was at his finest in this book.
Detective Philip Marlowe is the person of this or any year, but don’t give him the award. He’ll be a no show at the ceremony and not just because he’s a work of fiction.
Of all the characters I have met and loved in novels, Marlowe is my favorite. I recently re-read his seven novels and found them as fresh and relevant as they were when I last read them, decades ago.
Marlowe has an unswervable moral code. He makes mistakes, he has doubts, but he always knows what’s right and acts accordingly. His morality is personally customized. It may not jive with law or mores but when there’s a discrepancy, Marlowe’s right.
Marlowe despises phonies and looks out for underdogs. He’s smart but he mostly operates on instinct. He’s often alone and frequently lonely. He’ll never be rich and he doesn’t care because wealth costs honor. Not that he’d ever put it like that. He doesn’t go on about honor or loyalty or justice or dignity but he lives his life in ways that promote all four.
Attempted to snap this photo of my teen son during a Mom don’t take my picture phase. This phase lasted longer than most childhood phases, but in retrospect they were all quite fleeting.
For many years, whenever I aimed a camera at my daughter, her hand whipped up in front of the lens. My son recently pointed out that, had I saved all those shots, we would have a complete chronicle of the palm of her hand as it matured from elementary school to college.
Share dinner with me – okay. But don’t take my picture!
Typical photo of my daughter.
(Posted as part of the Weekly Photo Challenge.)
This Daily Prompt is disturbingly well timed. It catches me ducking the same questions in real life: Do I allow someone to take care of me?… What does it take for me to ask for help?
Next week I will have surgery to replace a hip. If I listen to the surgeon, within a couple weeks I will be back to activity, cautiously, with a cane. I like that worldview. But the hospital says to expect weeks of incapacity. I like that not at all. It is a big dose of old and helpless.
Either way, I’ll need help. But a couple weeks means I only tap those who have offered. Many weeks means asking those who haven’t offered help. That would be a first for me. I’m sure it would lead to great personal growth, yada yada. I am spending equal amounts of time not thinking about it, believing it will all work out fine whatever it turns out to be, and opting to try something easier than asking for help, such as training the cats to wait on me.
Reflecting further on this prompt, I discover that the ability to ask for help requires love, trust, and confidence, in myself and the other person.
Took these photos in September, 2012, in the Bowery in Manhattan. Wonder if this building still looks like this?
(Posted as part of the Weekly Photo Challenge.)
Check out the Maurice Sendak tribute animation – today is his 85th birthday – on Google’s search page. The animation is wonderful!
I’ve never been into sports. I’m no good playing them – except Jacks, I play a mean game of Jacks – and was never interested in watching sports until my kids started playing them. Through my kids, I’ve become a soccer fan and I enjoy track meets. Last year, my daughter joined a college crew team. I know zip about crew, as you will quickly detect from this post. For those who know even less: crew teams race in rowboats. There. Now I’ve shared everything I know.
I learned at my daughter’s first crew meet that binoculars are a good idea.
(cont.)
Engine at the beach. What are the stories it could tell?
Just outside the surf, East Beach, Santa Barbara, CA
(Posted as part of the Weekly Photo Challenge.)
New York City subway ceiling. What do you see? I see a baby sea monster menacing Greenland.
View from the up escalator, A line at 96th street, NYC.
(Posted as part of the Weekly Photo Challenge.)
Required Writing 