These are my nephews. At their parents’ weddings, many years ago, my cousins and I would hold [Shirley Temple drinking contests]. The tradition has passed on to the next generation. Joe’s wedding, I think, is part of a new between-generations mini-era, in which Pete, Timothy, Stephen, and I will get married; and in which Matthew, Daniel, and Nicholas have already gotten married. The part of the mischievous young males will now be played by the children of those of the half-generation previous. Yeah? Sister Clare says that her son Aaron, second from the left here, has taken up my old hobby of filling spiral notebooks with stories, drawings, and games. I need to introduce him to programming and to the right kinds of fantasy stories, to round out his geekish education program. : http://context.metalbat.com/index.pl?955
Archive for September, 2005
[Cousin Tim] has always been particular about high-quality products. For as long as I can remember, he’s insisted on Apple computers, Oakley sunglasses, BMW automobiles, Swatch watches, and so on. While in Chicago he wanted to be sure to check out the Swatch store on Michigan Avenue. They had some nice, simple, high-quality watches; I was even tempted to replace my aging Timex digital, only the second watch I’ve needed in about 13 years (and I only needed a second one because I broke the first while screwing around with its innards). They also had some fancy data-watches that connect to a satellite and download news items. I found the juxtaposition of fancy, relatively frivolous Western consumer technology with headlines of strife and death to be exactly the kind of thing I started this photo-journal for. : http://timothygrimes.com/
Here’s the view from our hotel room. Chicago is a fine city. I got unused to the hustle and the bustle; these days I am rather uncomfortable in crowds. Even walking around the University District of Seattle is stressful; I have to consciously block all of the people out of my perception.
For the weekend of my brother Joe’s wedding, I stayed at the hotel with my parents and other assorted wedding guests. On one hand I would have liked to spend as much time at my old house as possible, but on the other hand I quite like being in hotels, especially with my cousins. It reminds me of scouring the corridors for loose change to use in the hotel’s game room.
I had a very late flight from Seattle to Chicago–And the longer I waited, the later it got. Here’s what a busy international airport looks like at about midnight. I was lucky to have an excellent book with me, because I’m utterly incapable of sleeping anywhere that’s not my designated sleeping place for the night.
When people associate Seattle with espresso and hipsters, this is the kind of place they’re thinking of. My brother Pete sells invisible braces; he went into the dental office of the father of my friend Joe McCartin from high school. Joe’s dad recognized Pete’s last name, and it came out that I’m in Seattle these days, and so is Joe. I got Joe’s phone number and we met up. It was weird to see someone who I haven’t associated with since I was playing punk rock shows. We caught up, ate Ethiopian food, and then visited this cafe. Since then, Joe broke both of his hands defending his girlfriend from an assailant, watched his girlfriend move to New Zealand, and got fired from his job as a union organizer for being injured.
We went back to the beach for another low tide, to wander and meet the sea life; this nice train passed by.
On the last day, we walked up to the base of Yosemite Falls. Here you see the falls flowing much more strongly than they normally do, because of the heavy snowfall.
Near the park is a small town of buildings from pioneer times, kept as original as possible. This door caught my eye; I wish the newfangled lock wasn’t there to mar it. These days you can get a cheap, decent door, with absolutely no character. Right now I’m trying to imagine the pride you would get from putting together your own house, laboring over each detail, to shelter yourself and your family.
I like these trees so much I’m posting a few different pictures of them. This is certainly a place I could enjoy spending some more time. The ancient trees give a sense of security. That’s security in the old meaning of “safeness and comfort”, not security in the new meaning of “being watched suspiciously and having your rights scraped away because someone blew something up somewhere”.