The Editor at Work

This sketch of my father was made sometime in the early 1960s, I believe, as he worked at the newspaper. I don't know the artist, though I think it would have been done by the editorial cartoonist at the Stockton Record who, at the time, would have been a fellow named Bert Whitman.

The sketch had been tucked away in a filing cabinet among the many football programs, baseball scorebooks and other papers that my dad left behind. Now, it's been matted and framed and it hangs on the wall in my office.

Fenced in

Our back fence had been in horrible shape for several years. During that time, we had tried to contact our neighbor several times to see about replacing it. No response. But then we learned, through a mutual neighbor, that he had decided to redo his backyard, deck and fence.

The new fence was completed this week, and oh, what a fence it is.

I promised to post a photo, so here we go.

A timely Halloween decoration

In October, it's become common to see front lawns with fake tombstones. But someone in our neighborhood took this Halloween tradition and gave it a timely twist.

In their front yard, one tombstone reads, "RIP Savings."

Another, simply: "401K"

Nice hat

This is a wonderful photo. It's both strikingly lovely and strikingly silly.

The story in the New York Times says the photographer, Hendrik Kerstens, staged the photos to be similar to paintings by 17th century Dutch masters.

In this one, his daughter strikes the classical pose ... but of course it's a plastic trash bag she's wearing on her head, shaped like a lace hood. There's another one where she assumes a similar pose but wears a napkin on her head.

What a good sport and what a fun idea.

California Sto

People in other states refer to a driving technique called a "California stop," in which a driver rolls through a stop sign.

Here is evidence that we in California aren't even patient enough to paint the whole word on the pavement.

Anachronism Day

We thought today was Bastille Day, but it turned out to be Anachronism Day.

The radio broadcaster at the baseball All-Star Game, noting that many people had decided to take photographs of a hometown batter coming to the plate, remarked about the "thousands of flashbulbs going off."

I bet zero flashbulbs went off, but the broadcaster demonstrated himself to be of a certain age.

Later I learned that my wife, when driving home, had seen a young man crossing the street and holding a boombox to his ear. That seemed like a throwback, too.

I would type more, but I have to go repair my buggy whip.

Marines and mules ...

... and donkeys, mainly. As an admirer of Marines, I enjoyed this story from today's LA Times, about young Marines working with pack animals at the training center near Bridgeport.

They do it for a terribly serious reason: to be able to lug the gear they need up the mountains in Afghanistan. But the writer manages to capture the enthusiasm and optimism of young men who have volunteered to do dangerous work.

I also recommend the slide show accompanying the story. There are a couple of photos of the Marines working to pull, and push, their animal up the hill.

God bless 'em.

Room with a view

Attitude is everything. It's something we say all the time but every so often there are real examples that bring the old saying home. As our son continues an amazing recovery, we're convinced that his positive attitude is having a significant impact.

I admire what he posted on his Facebook site the other day: "One thing I learned from my situation, feeling sorry for yourself only gets you down. Remember this, it could be a lot worse."

The view from his room at the naval hospital barracks emphasizes the benefit of taking the glass-half-full approach. Is this a view of an ugly, government-built parking structure or a view of lovely buildings at Balboa Park?

Attitude is everything.

Silhouetty Kitty

This is an artsy portrait of the daughter's kitty, taken in beautiful Oakland on the weekend. The kitty deserves to be portrayed as a shadowy figure, because she is known to escape from her home and take up residence with other felines in the neighborhood.

The photograph was taken after we returned from SF, having thoroughly enjoyed Spamalot, and before we set out successfully in search of a fulfilling dinner along Grand Ave. The kitty stayed in the window.

Moving forward

During the past two months, I have learned much about the human spirit. How people come to the aid of others who are injured. How people rally around each other in times of crisis. How strong the will to live is.

We are about to return to our normal lives. But those lives have changed forever. We will not forget the kindness of all the family members, friends, colleagues and complete strangers who helped us and our son, as he continues his recovery. The daughter has written beautifully about this.

There is nothing to add but: Thank you.

Warped speed

We all have our eccentricities ... but we all don't have a replica of the chair Captain Kirk used on the bridge of the Starship Enterprise in Star Trek.

Thanks to the New York Times, though, I learned that a number of men (yes, the Times reported, they all seem to be men) have created replicas of the chair. Some, such as this gentleman, have installed these chairs in their living rooms. One fellow said his wife had forced him to keep the chair out in his garage/home-office: "My wife is not big on it," he told the reporter. "I've actually been threatened with divorce if it comes into the living room."

For all the trouble and expense the men go to in order to create these chairs, it turns out that they're not terribly comfortable ... almost as though the original set designers never really expected anyone to sit in this pretend chair for very long.

Rams win!

Congratulations to the St. Mary's High School Golden Rams of Stockton for winning their fifth state championship in the past decade, in girls Division III basketball.

(Thanks to Sac Bee Web site for the photo.)

City Sightings

We had a wonderful time skewing the demographics at the Space Gallery in San Francisco last night for the Instant Gratification show of Polaroid art. We left the revelry unfashionably early, around 10:30 p.m., but that provided two benefits: First, our departure allowed at least a couple of the people waiting in line to enter. Second, we chanced into a sighting of the San Francisco Snuggie Pub Crawl.

We had learned from the daughter that Snuggies--the As Seen on TV blankets with sleeves--have become an unlikely hit with the twentysomething set. We saw evidence of that cultural trend when we walked out of Space Gallery and saw a group of 10 or 12 people, all clad in what appeared to be royal blue monks' robes. They were headed to Vertigo, the bar across Polk St. from the gallery, and there were already at least a couple of other people in sea green Snuggies awaiting them there. According to the SFSPC Facebook page, Vertigo was even offering drink specials for Snuggie wearers only. If only we had known.

So far, according to the Snuggie Pub Crawls Web site, there is not a Snuggie Pub Crawl scheduled in Sacramento, though somehow the trend has reached Scranton, Penn., and Rapid City, S.D.

The other interesting sight came this morning, as we were walking back from our brunch at the Olea restaurant on California St. A man with a banjo slung over his shoulder came walking out of a laundromat. Had he been entertaining other patrons of the laundromat? There didn't seem to be anyone else in the building. Had his banjo playing scared all the other people away from the laundromat? Was he starting his laundry and heading off to a banjo gig nearby? We will never know.

Shocking revelation

I learned yesterday that a colleague of mine at work shares the same birthplace with me. Both of us were born in Amarillo, Texas.

We have worked in the same office for 20 years and somehow this never came up; not that I mention Amarillo much. After all, my family left there when I was six. But ever since I have proudly proclaimed myself a Texan by birth and Californian by choice.

My colleague also left Amarillo as a child; she was 13 months old, she said. But the timelines worked out so that we would have lived there at the same time.

If I later find out that her family lived on Carolina St. or Cimarron Ave. ... well, that would be a full-scale freak-out.

Mr. Lincoln's watch

I thought the story about the Shakespeare portrait would probably be the best story of the week, until I saw the story about Abe Lincoln's pocket watch: How an otherwise-anonymous watch repairman told his family that he had etched a secret message in Abe's watch on the day he learned that the rebels had fired on Fort Sumter ... how he had related the story to the New York Times as an 84-year-old in 1906 ... how a descendant had researched the tale and convinced the Smithsonian to open the watch ...

... and how, by God, the message was actually there, with the watch repairman's name to clinch the deal.

They'll be arguing for generations about whether that portrait really shows Shakespeare, but Jonathan Dillon's descendants now know that he really did what he said he did.

And, on top of all that, it's a beautiful watch.

The great man himself?

As an English major, I am of course interested in the question of whether this portrait is the actual, honest-to-god William Shakespeare.

It would be fun if it were true, since Shakespeare has been studied and studied to the point that it would seem that nothing new could be learned. If it's true, it would also make generations of the Cobbe family look rather foolish. After all, the family has owned this painting for nearly 300 years and not once did a Cobbe say, "You know, this bloke looks a little bit like the other portraits of Shakespeare that I've seen." It was only in the last three years that a Cobbe made the connection, setting off the chain of events that led to the painting's unveiling in London yesterday.

I also hope it's true because one of the Cambridge University specialists who has worked to authenticate the painting is named Rupert Featherstone and, in my mind, if it's good enough for Rupert Featherstone, that's all I need to know.

Funky to funkier

Our Sacramento Bee published a story today about the sad state of the Cal Neva Resort. The place is teetering on foreclosure and, according to the story, has fallen into a state of disrepair under its current owner. Actually, I suppose you could say it has fallen into two states of disrepair, since the state line runs right through the property, as the above Bee photo of the Indian Room shows.

Having visited the Cal Neva nearly five years ago for a wedding, it's hard to imagine it falling on even harder times. One of my cousins had a lovely wedding there, but save for the wedding party, there were few people at the resort that Independence Day.

I remember the trip primarily for the odd things that happened: I got a flat tire; I doused a new tie with champagne; and we took the very funky tour that the resort offered. In one of the tunnels connecting the main lodge to the guest cottages, the tour guide stopped us next to a small X chalked on the wall. The X, he told us, marked the spot where John F. Kennedy and Marilyn Monroe had, allegedly, had an assignation during Frank Sinatra's ownership of the Cal Neva in the Rat Pack days. The tour also took us to the showroom where Sinatra had performed back in the day; by then, it smelled musty and was obviously in long-term disuse. It all seemed kind of forlorn.

But it's a special place for my cousin who was married there, and doubtless for many others. And that state line running through the lodge and the pool gives it a certain panache. Let's hope someone can revive it. Save the Cal Neva!

Vivaldi is popular ...

... in Sacramento. At least, that's what we learned last night. We thought we could walk up at the last minute and buy tickets for a Vivaldi concert in downtown Sac last night.

But no.

When we reached the front door of the church where the concert was to be held, we were confronted by a sign that read, "Vivaldi concert sold out." Boo hoo.

We contented ourselves with a stroll around the downtown area and resolved to plan ahead next time.

Viva Vivaldi.

Good for the soil and the soul

Just returned from an invigorating, hour-long walk in the rain. It's been raining steadily but gently all morning, so we could walk in relative comfort and enjoy the clear air and the vivid colors created by the muted light.

We also cut a jaunty appearance in our Driducks rainsuits (worn at the left by a lucky male model), purchased for football-watching attire but very useful for rain-walking. I imagine people looking out their windows were checking to see if their electricity was still on, since we looked like an itinerant, two-person utility crew.

But the suits kept us dry and allowed us to enjoy a walk in the rain.

The blossom trail

It's a beautiful time of year in California's Central Valley: The almond trees are blooming. I-5 between Santa Nella and Tracy offers a spectacular view of the valley floor and never more so than at this time of year, with the almond orchards fully decorated with their white blossoms.

It's hard to view the blooming trees without gaining a sense of promise. What a shame that so many almond blossoms will fail to reach their full potential this year, because farmers won't have enough water for their trees. Our state continues to diminish itself by failing to plan for its future and providing enough water for all the needs it has.

Many of us have been explaining this to anyone who will listen, but our politicians can't even do the little things, such as figuring out how to pass a balanced state budget on time, let alone do the big things such as creating new places to store water and resolving the decades-long dispute about how to move water.

It makes the beauty of the annual blossom season seem even more fragile.

An omen ... of what?

Entering my boss's office late yesterday afternoon, I noticed a large bird landing on the ledge outside his window. It turned out to be a vulture; it looked like this image of a turkey vulture.

I pointed it out to him and, as we debated its symbolism, the bird flew away. We decided that if a vulture gets a look at you and decides to fly away, it's a positive sign.

A Valentine's Day surprise

We were pleasantly surprised when our Marine showed up at home on Valentine's Day. He had gotten leave for the three-day weekend and driven up from Twentynine Palms with a buddy. He also brought a nasty cold with him.

Earlier in the day, we had a lovely time at our grand-niece's first birthday party. She is being raised bilingual--English and sign language--and she expresses herself frequently via signs.

She received a couple of baby dolls for her birthday and, each time, enthusiastically signed "baby." This was very charming and I wanted to illustrate that, but the only picture I could find to show the signing of "baby" features a gorilla; so you'll have to imagine how the sign looks as delivered by a round, blue-eyed, ginger-haired 1-year-old.

A generational thing

While shopping on Old Sacramento this weekend, I saw a toddler-sized shirt that I doubt would have been available when our children were that size.

The shirt was emblazoned with the words:

"My mom's tattoos are cooler than your mom's"

Best news story of the week

It came from Dayton, Nevada, where a boy was having his sixth birthday party with his kindergarten class. During the party, people brought in a big, wrapped box. The boy unwrapped it and inside was ... his father, just back on leave from Army service in Iraq.

The photo from the Nevada Appeal is wonderful.

Sophisticated in Sac

We have had a cultural weekend.

Enjoyed a lovely concert performed by the Sacramento Baroque Soloists on Saturday night: Vivaldi, Bach, Telemann and more.

Then today, we finally saw one of the Oscar-nominated films, Slumdog Millionaire. Given the dreary topics of some of the other nominees, it's hard to see how this one could lose and I know I'll be rooting for it.

Best New York Times story of the week ...

... is about funny place names in Britain. The story was filed from a village named Crapstone.

Don't know if the Times is trying to lock up the 13-year-old boy demographic, but the story certainly appealed to the 13-year-old boy in me.

Here's one of the wonderful photos from the story:


It also includes a helpful map to towns or villages including North Piddle, Pratts Bottom, Ugley, Titty Ho and East Breast.

Thank God for England!

Weird dream

For some reason, I dreamed that my wife and I were playing cards with two young men. This is particularly odd because we don't play cards and even gave away our card table the other day.

When it came time to start the game, I encouraged one of the men to cut the cards. Instead of doing that physically, he decided to visit a Web site: cutthecards.com

Just for the record, there is no such site ... undoubtedly, because it's a stupid idea conceived in a dream state.

Perhaps I dreamed about this as a result of seeing a PBS program about American comedy that included a feature about the great Harpo Marx. In one of the film clips, he's in a saloon and a couple of guys at a card table tell him to cut the cards. Which Harpo does, all right ... with a hatchet.

A big day for the old Southsider

My late father grew up on the south side of Chicago, rooting for the White Sox and the NFL Chicago Cardinals. I'm sure he was excited when the Cardinals won the NFL title in 1947, before they moved to St. Louis and then to Arizona.

He'd be amazed to see the way things stand now, with the Cardinals headed to the Super Bowl for the first time ever and a fellow Chicagoan and White Sox fan about to be inaugurated as the nation's first African-American president.

He would have been pleased by all of it.

More Chesleys?

Apparently, there's been a big increase in the number of newborns named Barack, for obvious reasons.

I wonder if there's be a similar surge in the name Chesley, after the heroic landing of the crippled jet in the Hudson River by Chesley Sullenberger III.

I wish I had a panda blog ...

... because if I did, I could post this funny line from Conan O'Brien that I read in the newspaper this morning:

"In China, a panda has bitten a visitor for the third time in three years. People who saw the attack described it as horrifying and absolutely adorable."

We are now Mac people

One reason posts on this blog have been few and far between is that our old computer was terribly unreliable. For many days, we were unable to log onto it at all.

So today, we went out and got us an Apple IMAC. It is even up and working, with a minimum of cursing (related to hooking up our existing printer to it).

We look forward to many years of trouble-free computing. 

One interesting ergonomic side-effect: The new machine has a 20-inch screen and I've found myself with a sore neck from looking up at it. We will have to sit on a phone book or get a taller chair, I suspect.