Newly On-Fire Photographers

I snapped no photos for four or five years.

I felt like the process of picture-taking got in the way of experiencing the moment. And we have albums full of landscapes... of Mammoth Mountain and forgotten vacation spots, of Hawaii and Canada, of Great Britian, Hong Kong and beyond.

And it was such a bother... getting the light just right, fussing with the focus. Buying the film, dropping off the film, remembering to pick-up the film.

I didn't miss it.

But Ron's mother passed away last summer, and we had few photos of her. We're blessed with an adorable 17-month old granddaughter who grows and changes every month. We don't see Trisha and Nino (our daughter and son-in-law) very often since they moved to Oregon. And Andrea sparkled in beauty and excitement, dressed for her first high school dance.

We recently heard that sadly, our former pastor for 10 years has Alzheimers. They kept it private for three years, but he can't read now, and has trouble remembering much.

And I realized that I was wrong.

Life is fleeting, and special moments are precious. Memories are the stuff of our lives. Gifts from God.

So we bought a nifty new digital camera (a Nikon) last month, and are suddenly on-fire photographers of our loved ones.

For the internet-savvy, the process is amazingly cool. We take the pics and upload them to my laptop. I then upload them to my Yahoo albums, for all to view. I've ordered prints from Yahoo/Target (sent to our home) and WalMart (for faster pick-up).

Ron and I now take new joy from remembering cherished times with family and friends, and sending fun photos to far-away relatives.

(Not to brag about the unusually wonderful women in our family, but........ take a gander at a shot I took last night when we took the gang out for Mexican food. From left: daughter Andrea, daughter-in-law Giovanna, granddaughter Gabriela, daughter Trisha and girlfriend Tessa.)

(US Liberals at About.com)

Being 15 Years Old

I forget how confusing it is to be 15 years old.

One day, you're dressed and buffed and polished in ways you've never before experienced. To your surprise, people say you're beautiful, but you just see a geeky, imperfect kid in the mirror.

Homecoming is exhilirating... dancing, laughing with friends. staying out until midnight (without your parents) for the first time in your life. It's all so intoxicatingly independent.

But the next day, your imperfection bites you in the rear. Your mom told you that people steal iPods. Your dad nagged you to be cautious about where you leave your purse. But you ignored them because you adore the freedom of your music, and, well... it's so very teenage-cool to carry an iPod, and parents don't really understand, anyway.

And yes, you took your iPod when it should've stayed at home, and you left your purse where it shouldn't be, and your treasured iPod got stolen.

You understand that you messed up, and it really, really hurts. For many reasons.

You feel like you always have homework and social pressures and tests. You get wonderful grades, study hard, worship God, do chores at home, (usually) obey your parents, and love your family and friends and dog.

But sometimes, all you want to do is play your guitar. And listen to your iPod...

Ten Things God Will Ask You on Judgment Day

A friend emailed this to me this evening, and I adore it.

10 things God will ask you on Judgment Day

1. God won't ask what kind of car you drove. He'll ask how many people you drove who didn't have transportation.

2. God won't ask the square footage of your house. He'll ask how many people you welcomed into your home.

3. God won't ask about the clothes you had in your closet. He'll ask how many you helped to clothe.

4. God won't ask what your highest salary was. He'll ask if you compromised your character to obtain it.

5. God won't ask what your job title was. He'll ask if you performed your job to the best of your ability.

6. God won't ask how many friends you had. He'll ask how many people to whom you were a friend.

7. God won't ask in what neighborhood you lived. He'll ask how you treated your neighbors.

8. God won't ask about the color of your skin. He'll ask about the content of your character.

9. God won't ask why it took you so long to seek Salvation. He'll lovingly take you to your mansion in heaven, and not to the gates of hell.

10. God won't have to ask how many people you told about this list. He already knows your decision.

Busy Weekend in San Francisco

I'm blogging these words while sitting in a hip hotel room in one of the great cities, San Francisco. The built-in desk here spans the length of my window view of the financial district and the edge of Chinatown. I lulled to sleep last night with skyscraper lights magically beaming into my room.

The sky is clear and bright baby-blue today. The air is cool, clean and breezy. It's a glorious and beautiful day in San Francisco.

I've visited "The City" many dozens of times, but have never seen it so teeming with humanity:

It's Fleet Week, and three ships of uniformed sailors on weekend shore-leave roam the city.

This weekend, there's a free multi-night Bluegrass concert, featuring Emmylou Harris, Elvis Costello and 60 other performers. It's expected to draw more than 300,000 attendees.

Oakland A's fans are celebrating sweet victory yesterday over the Minnesota Twins, and their progression to baseball's AL championship. Tomorrow is the San Francisco 49ers-Oakland Raiders football game.

And the Blue Angels gave an airshow today, thrilling all with magnificent fly-bys over the San Francisco Bay.

I'm here for an About.com/New York Times weekend meeting, and leave soon for dinner with the NYT crowd. Fortunately, we have reservations (for about 100!).

It's all thrilling and fun, and the city pulsates with laughter and excitement...

But catching a cab is a time-consuming challenge.

In fact, it's 5:40 PM now. Dinner's at 7 PM. I better start now... :)

Snickers and Vitamins

Yesterday in a chain-store pharmacy, I was in line behind a man clutching eight Snickers candy bars. He was about 80 years old, dressed neatly and casually, in athletic shoes and a faded baseball cap pulled low.

He (glancing at me}: "I gave up vitamins two years ago."

Me: "Oh?"

He: "Yeah... now, I eat a candy bar a day. Never felt better. "

Me: " Uh... (smiling). Well, they say chocolate's good for you. At least dark chocolate is, I think..."

He: "Keep's the heart going, you know."

He stuffed the bagged candy bars inside his light jacket, and glanced around the store.

He: "My daughter's visiting me from Washington DC. She's one of those Type A types..."

Me: "Oh?"

He: "Yeah... she has a big job with the Census Bureau there."

Me: "Great. That's great.... You must be proud."

He (winking): "I have to stay out of trouble when she's here...."

He smiled and walked out of the store, candy bars hidden from view.

God and Edison Had Other Plans for Us

Our neighborhood experienced an unplanned black-out on Saturday, from 7 AM to almost 7 PM. Seems the aging cable sending electricity to 48 homes on four streets frayed and finally wore-out.

We had busy schedules and plans for Saturday... housecleaning to do, a TV baseball game at 1 PM, Andrea had loads of high school homework, and Ron and I both hoped to get work done on our laptops.

But God, and Edison, had different plans.

We showered in darkened bathrooms, and ate cold breakfasts, while waiting for power to return. We read, listened to our one battery-powered radio, and quietly puttered for hours. Andrea played guitar, and immersed herself into an iPod music world.

At noon, we ventured out for a leisurely lunch together at Souplantation, assuming power must be on when we returned. But no... it wasn't.

Mid-afternoon, our un-air conditoned home was warm from the late summer day, so Ron and I took chairs and the radio into the sunny front yard, and listened to our team. Andrea took a nap.

Neighbors meandered over, and chatted amiably about jobs, the economy, sports and children. An Edison contractor, waiting for equipment to arrive, proudly showed us photos of his wife and two young children back home in Colorado, where he can't find work. He misses them terribly... is going home next week to hug them.

We never worked on Saturday. We never did our planned chores. We did nothing constructive.

We rested, together as a family. And it was an unexpectedly lovely day... one that we needed.

Just as God knew we did.

Marking the Advent of Fall

With Andrea's excited return to school yesterday, life feels like it's returned to normal. Which is wonderful and familiar.

To celebrate the advent of fall... even though our Indian summer days remain over 90 degrees... I baked a fragrant pumpkin pie for last night's dinner.

It was soothing and delicious with hints of cinnamon, ginger and cloves, just like comfort food should be.

It's always good to be home.