Wednesday, November 16, 2016

One day...

I traditionally keep my political opinions to myself.* That means a small circle of friends and family have had to bear the brunt of listening to those opinions. One thing that I've railed on for years is the electoral college.

Shortly before our recent election, I was joking with my small circle, "One day I hope to live in a country where I can vote for president." **

Twice. In. My. Lifetime.

That joke isn't so funny any longer.

Time, therefore, for a new joke...

"One day I hope to live in a country where all forms of slavery are outlawed."

To get the joke***, take a peek at the Thirteen Amendment.

* But that's changing.

** Representative democracy is a subset of my weird humor.

*** I'm using the word "joke" facetiously.

Monday, November 14, 2016


An open letter to my family...

I am fortunate:
  • I am white
  • I am a male
  • I have excellent health insurance
  • I have a great job
  • I am financially comfortable
The expression "an embarrassment of riches" comes straight to mind.

I am one of the lucky ones in this country who is unlikely to feel much impact from the outcome of our recent election.

Or am I?

  • I am white
  • My wife is not

By mere coincidence, I was born the year the U.S. Supreme Court decided Loving v Virginia.

See where this is heading?

The day I was born, interracial marriage was illegal in some states. Couples were imprisoned for the "crime" of loving one another.

The same arguments used against interracial marriage back then have been recycled and are used as arguments today.

Take a look at the trajectory of the policies espoused by our president-elect. The choice that some of you made November 8th has the very real possibility of affecting me, your flesh and blood.

I know that you cannot change your vote now. Nor can I change the fact that I was far too passive about expressing my political beliefs before November 8th.

November 9th was a wake up call for me - it is painfully obvious to me now that it's not enough to not discriminate. I now know that I need to rethink my choices for the future.

The choices that you make from here onward affect me.


(Your loving son, step-son, brother, nephew, cousin, aka Silly Uncle Brian)

P.S. My apologies to everyone (e.g. people of color, religious minorities, LGBTQ, immigrants, women, etc.) whose lives are more immediately and more severely impacted by recent events. My intention is not to equate my circumstances with yours. Rather, my intention is to illustrate the personal stake that I have in the direction our country is heading. I cannot make my family see your faces, but they know mine.

Saturday, November 12, 2016

The Rocks of Rio Del Mar

The first time I walked Rio Del Mar beach was back in 1988. At the time I was living in Santa Cruz - a mere ten miles to the north - finishing college.

After college I continued living in Santa Cruz for a spell (a long standing tradition of UCSC graduates), then moved Rio Del Mar once money started rolling in along with my first job out of college, and then it was back to Santa Cruz once again when my landlord gave me the boot.

For a few years, I actually managed to break free of the gravitational pull of Santa Cruz County and moved to San Francisco. This was in the glory days when working in "tech" was considered cool and hadn't yet earned the scorn of so many San Franciscans.

Living in San Francisco was amazing, but Santa Cruz's gravitational pull is incomprehensibly strong. And here I am again - this time in Aptos.

I've been back now for - what is it? - something like fifteen years. How the time flies.

Since moving back, I have walked Rio Del Mar beach literally hundreds and hundreds of times.

The walk hasn't changed all that much over the years... The same sandy beach, the same roaring waves, the same public pier, the same scuttled ship, the same sights, the same sounds, and even the same smells.

Same, same, same.

Yes the walk is the same walk as it has always been, but for me it remains a beautiful, restorative experience year after year.

Photography is one of my hobbies. Twenty plus years later and I'm still an amateur. But I keep doing it because photography provides me so many opportunities to see the world around me with fresh eyes and to capture it's beauty.

Beauty. You may have noticed that was the word inscribed on the rock in the first photo above.

I don't recall when I first started noticing these rocks on my walk, but it has been somewhere between five to ten years - no small amount of time.

These rocks are nestled in walls, on fence rails, in the large pieces of driftwood that are scattered throughout Seacliff State beach, and countless other miscellaneous nooks and crannies.

Countless people walk by without noticing. Others stop, look, and smile before walking on. And on more than one occasion, I've seen people pocket rocks that apparently spoke to them. Good for them!

For the life of me, I don't know what happens to all of the rocks. Sure, some get pocketed, but where do the rest go?

You see, these rocks change surprisingly frequently. The old ones find new homes somewhere, and new ones mysteriously show up.

And to me, that is the real mystery. Where are these inspirational rocks coming from? Who has been secretly placing them for all these many years?

One of the things I like to do as a photographer is to take on projects.

Sometimes the photography projects are meant to tell a story. Somethings they're meant to inspire. Sometimes they're meant to entertain. Sometimes they're meant to challenge me to focus on a particular aspect of photography such as composition.

Capturing photos of these rocks is one of those projects.

One of the reasons I took on this particular project of documenting the rocks of Rio Del Mar was to post these photos online and - however unlikely this is to ever occur - have the person planting these rocks know that I've seen and appreciated her - I presume she is a 'her' - creative, artistic, and inspirational project.

Acknowledging someone's artistic endeavors is a good thing to do, right?

But then my weird humor kicked in.

Somehow I went from thinking "I want to acknowledge whoever is creating and depositing these rocks" to "Hey wouldn't it be funny if I took a year (or more) worth of photos and wrote a facetious blog post claiming that I had been documenting the scourge of rock graffiti littered throughout the beach."

Then maybe the rock lady would stumble upon my blog post and be surprised to see her creations posted for the world to see. Perhaps she would not just be surprised but pleased to be acknowledged too.

And if I could pull off writing that blog post in a humorous enough tone, she might even be entertained.

A juxtaposition of someone pouring their heart into creating these unique, inspirational pieces of art alongside someone else interpreting them to be intentional acts of vandalism... That's funny to me.

Did I mention my weird humor?

I've been really getting into this project. Every time I take a walk at the beach since the project began, I am continually on the lookout for these rocks. Every time I spot one, I think "Aha! I must whip out my trusty camera and capture this evidence. One day I'll expose you, you dastardly tagger!"

Imagine my amusement when one day I knew - I knew deep down in my gut - that this lady and I were on the very same walk at the very same time.

New rocks were showing up in spots where they hadn't been mere minutes before! I looked around attempting to identify this lady amongst the people at the beach, but alas, she is stealthy, this lady.

As an aside before I finally get around to the real reason I'm writing, please allow me - at the risk of diving into the murky waters of gender stereotyping - to explain why I'm convinced this is a lady.

While we're at it, let's see if you have succumbed to the same gender role programming that I have. If you - like me - think these rocks are the work of a lady and not a man, why do you think this?

Is it because females are more inclined to create such emotionally-supportive, inspirational objects?

Is it because females are more inclined to be artistic?

Is it because females are socialized to express their feelings?

Is it because females are more inclined to use smilies when they write (along with hearts about the letter "I")? Could that be the reason? :-)

Those theories all occurred to me, but they're not the basis for my unshaking certainty that this is a lady.

The way I know that this is a lady is because of the bubble handwriting.

Could there possibly be more conclusive proof than bubble handwriting?! I think not!

Okay. Silly aside aside. Why am I really writing this?

Chances are that you have noticed that this has been a rather intense week for us Americans. (Understatement)

Some are celebrating a victory that even they didn't expect. Others are mourning a tragic loss of historic proportions.

Whether you are celebrating or mourning, I posit that we in the U.S. all have some ugly days ahead of us in these upcoming years.

Though I don't always succeed, I strive to be optimistic. So writing about "ugly days to come" doesn't come naturally to me.

But it is exceedingly difficult for me to say otherwise given the obvious polarization that we have had going on in the U.S. for years.

And with the emotions that have been stirred up by last Tuesday's outcome, it's hard to look at our situation and think anything but that it has all finally come to a head.

We have difficult days ahead.

I live in a notoriously leftward leaning part of a leftward leaning state, so as you might imagine, there's more mourning going on around here than celebrating.

In times of mourning, tiny acts of kindness can mean the world.

This morning I took a few extra moments to move my neighbors' newspaper from the street into their driveway.

It was a tiny gesture, but it was apparently enough to warrant a text to say thanks.

This afternoon I let two people into traffic rather than just one. Again a tiny act of kindness. Except of course for the people behind me who were delayed by said same kindness. ;-)

I offer these examples as just that: examples. I don't mean to sound holier than thou.

[ Full disclosure: I routinely get wrapped up in my own life - fixated on "me" and "mine" - and miss countless opportunities that would take just a moment to perform an act of kindness to those around me. Call me human. ]

But I think it would do us all a world of good in the days to come to pause for a moment every now and then and see if there might be an act of kindness we could bestow upon someone else.

Be kind to those you agree with. Be kind with those "on your side".

But also consider the possibility of being kind in some way - however small - to those you don't agree with, with those different from you, with "them".

If that's a hard idea to stomach, try that whole "acts of kindness to strangers" thing. It works.

What on earth does acting with kindness have to do with these rocks?

Here's my tiny act of kindness for a stranger...

I'm going to drop my whole "pretend to be documenting a graffiti epidemic" project, and I'm just going to cut to the chase.

I don't know who you are, and you don't know me. We will likely never each other's identity. But even so, I want you to know that your inspirational artistic contribution to our beachside community is touching people, inspiring them, and giving them pause to think.

And I know I'm not the only person noticing your untiring efforts to uplift people's hearts.

On more than one occasion, I've seen rocks like yours, but I know they're not your work. You always use black ink - not purple - and I've never seen you draw your smiley face with its tongue sticking out.

But these rocks-that-aren't-your rocks aren't counterfeits... They are works of art by other artists that you've inspired.

Keep up your uplifting work, oh mystery rock beautifier!

And allow me, in my own way, in this unknown blog, to let others unexpectedly stumble onto to your work like I have done so many times while walking RDM beach.

Okay, enough of this warm and fuzzy, Pollyannaish stuff. Time to get back to the "real" world.

Before I get flamed in the comments section below, I'm not saying that tiny acts of kindness here and there are going to fix the enormous challenges that lay ahead.

The days ahead will call for dedication and work. The days ahead are going to call for us to each step out of our own comfort zones and proclaim what we believe in. And sometimes that's going to get ugly.

Any time that ugliness gets to wearing you down, remember the words a wise person once said...

Sunday, August 28, 2016

Yesterday's Commute

My commute is a bit variable. It takes me somewhere between a few seconds to roll out of bed (i.e. home office) and travelling 24+ hours to a far flung corner of the planet. Yesterday I did a rather low key commute from Las Vegas back home.

As is often the case, we were in the landing pattern that goes above Milpitas, over the salt ponds, up the bay, and landing on runway 28L or 28R. I always like to get a window seat in order to enjoy the views.

Yesterday, just after we flew past the Foster City sign and the San Mateo bridge and we were a few moments away from landing, the pilot gunned the engines and we were quickly gaining altitude again. Not sure why we aborted the landing - it wasn't terribly foggy - but I'm glad we did.

The photo above is of the salt ponds across the bay in Menlo Park. Ordinarily this is the view you get. But after the aborted landing, the flight was re-routed out over the Pacific, back inland over Palo Alto, and down towards Menlo Park.

The following photos are of the salt ponds and marshlands on that side of the bay.

So there you have it. That was my commute yesterday. This week I'm working from home. And the following week I'm off to glamorous Pittsburgh. Not to worry... I'll find somewhere else exciting to go before year's end. Already have somewhere in mind and planning is underway!

Saturday, April 30, 2016

Back from Europe

Got back from Europe yesterday. Woke up at 3:30 this morning. That's actually by design as I'm flying out to San Antonio again tomorrow. No need to adjust to Central time zone!

Getting up so early this morning has given me the opportunity to work a bit on some of the photos I took over the last 3+ weeks. I'll put them up on Picasaweb in a while, but first here are some videos that I made from the photos.

The photos in the first video are from Budapest, and they were taken on the big camera (Canon 30D). There are some capabilities that I still count on from that Camera such as its ability to shoot in low light.

I took the bulk of the photos, however, using my phone (iPhone 6). While the iPhone is woefully inadequate when it comes to low level lighting and its zoom can't stand up to real glass, I continue to be very pleased with the photos I can take. Having the phone on me at all times and being able to whip it out practically instantaneously is super convenient. I like that the limitations of the phone as a camera forces me to think much more about the composition of the photos I take.

The following video is a small sampling of the photos I took while in Ireland.

A tip 'o the hat to the anonymous stranger that came to my aid in Dublin.

It was raining, and I was rushing to catch a double-decker bus. The sidewalk was a bit crowded, so as I approached the bus from behind, I was right on the curb... Until in a freakish accident I wasn't right on the curb. My foot landed on the edge of the curb, it slipped to the road surface below, and that immediately threw off my balance. I quickly moved to recover, got my other foot planted in front of me, but there was no saving myself from the fall that was to come.

I was top heavy with all the stuff in my backpack, and the resulting high center of gravity plus my momentum kept my top half moving even though my successfully planted foot had righted my bottom half. I was soon falling face first toward the narrow space between the curb and the bus. I took the fall in several phases. First I took a portion of the fall on my knees. Then I absorbed the next part of the fall with my arms and hands. Next it was my left shoulder's turn. Fortunately I didn't whack my head on the curb. I did end up sprawled out unflatteringly in the curb itself.

I knew that the bus was about to leave, so it was imperative that I move... and fast. That doesn't mean that my body was moving as fast as my brain, however. As I was just beginning to get back up, I was very much consciously aware that a portion of my body - my legs - were physically under the bus. Having had my legs for nearly a quarter of a century now, I am rather attached to them - both figuratively and literally. If the bus drove straight ahead, I was going to have a very serious problem on my hands. Alternatively, if the bus had started driving forward and turning out in to traffic, a pair of crushed legs was going to be the least of my problems - or perhaps my last.

As I got to my hands and knees, that stranger's hand reached out and pulled me the rest of the way up.  By the time I was completely upright again, my brain had switched from survival instinct mode to oh-great-everyone-just-saw-me-fall-embarassed mode. I thanked him, and he went on his way.

I have more photos from Ireland and Hungary, plus I have loads more from Northern Ireland, the Czech Republic, and Austria. Didn't get many photos from England. Rather than sight seeing, the short time in England was about visiting friends.

Monday, February 1, 2016


My travel schedule has been busy right from the start this year: A week in Oak Ridge, Tennessee, a week in Lake Oswego, Oregon, and a week in San Antonio, Texas. Tennessee was cold, Oregon was wet, and Texas was cold and hot and sunny and rainy (aka. confused).

Now that I'm back home, the weather has alternated between dark grey skies dumping rain and beautiful sunny blue skies punctuated by fluffy white clouds.

But why all this talk about the weather? I suppose it's just gotten me a bit philosophical lately. For instance, every day I was in Oregon it rained. It rained and rained... except for one beautiful day. That day was glorious. And then the very next day it was back to grey and rainy.

The emotional boost provided by that one glorious day stood in stark contrast to the gloomy, rainy days. I didn't give it much thought at the time, but soon after I was reminded of an insight that I gained years ago from spending so much time flying from one city to another. Let me see if I can put this into words.

Here at home (and all up the northwest coast) winter is our rainy season. Winters can be long and wet and - sigh - depressing at times (Unless of course you live in a state that has been hammered by drought for years in which case the whole "Ugh it's raining" mentality flip flops into "Thank goodness it's raining").

Day after day - and if you're far enough north - week after week that rain can keep falling. And it can get you down.

But here's the thing... Take any miserable, rainy day. Hop in a plane, climb above the cloud layer, and voila! It's a beautiful, sunny day. Sometimes life is like that. You can get all caught up in how oppressive the dark stormy clouds are, but the reality is it's always sunny. Always. Sometimes you just have to remember that the sun is always there and rise above it all.

Easier said than done, I suppose, but it's still true.

Funny, as I write this, I've got the song "You are my sunshine" stuck in my head. In this philosophical mood I'm in, the second line is resonating right now: "You make me happy when skies are grey."

Who makes you happy? What makes you happy? How can you rise above the clouds in order to see the sunshine that's always there?

Anyway... I took a few photos of Oregon and Texas. Take a look.

Friday, January 1, 2016

Hood River and San Juan Bautista

Happy New Year!

I'm taking advantage of the holiday (and the recent momentum I got from working on my India photos) to catch up on some other photos from 2015.

What do Hood River, Oregon and San Juan Bautista, California have to do with each other?

Ordinarily very little.

In our case, those were the locations for two weddings that we attended in 2015. With the exception of 2015, we've been a lull. You get to an age in life when all your friends who are going to ever get married are married. As a result the number of wedding invites tapers off considerably.

The nieces and nephews will get married some day in the not too distant future, but those weddings are likely many years in the future.

Right now it's lulls-ville.

So it was a surprise in 2015 to attend not one but two weddings.

The first was Richard and Sabrina's wedding in Hood River.

This was our first trip to Hood River, so we took the opportunity to explore the area. One thing that confused me initially was that I wasn't aware that I was looking at multiple mountains. If recollection serves, the photo below is of Mt. Hood.

We spent much of our free time touring the "fruit loop".

And we had the opportunity to meet some friendly alpacas. I say "friendly" because at the time I couldn't remember whether it is llamas that spit or alpacas or both. Still not sure which ones are the spitters. Fortunately, these guys weren't spitters.

You can see more photos from Hood River here.

Interestingly, I found out recently that I'll be returning to Oregon for a third time. The first time was the wedding in Hood River. The second time was for work in November. And I'll be returning the week of January 18th again for work. Not sure yet whether it'll be Beaverton or Hillsboro or Lake Oswego. All conveniently located to let me visit my mom again.

The second wedding was Larry and Dianna's in San Juan Bautista.

Mission San Juan Bautista is beautiful...

The plants on the ground of the mission were intriguing...

But some of the best photos weren't ones that I took. Rather, these were taken in the photo booth at the wedding reception.

Extra credit to me for the creative use of the mustache. :-)

You can see more photos from San Juan Bautista here.