I guess I’ve been watching girls since…well, how long now? I imagine since sixth grade. At least that’s when I had my first girlfriend…so I must have been noticing them some by then.
And, all these years later, wouldn’t you know, I’m still doing it. Watching them, that is.
I took the Larkspur Ferry into the city this past Saturday for an afternoon of wandering-around photography. I hadn’t really pre-planned this activity for the day. I did something entirely rare for me: I made the decision to do this spontaneously after my haircut appointment that morning. I quickly packed up a camera body and lens into one of my most compact bags, and drove over to Larkspur Landing to catch the 11:40.
The weather was absolutely perfect here in Marin, with a similarly favorable forecast for the city, so I took a chance and dressed only in shorts and a t-shirt. (For those of you who know San Fran, you realize visiting the waterfront attired thusly is a risk.) Specifically, I had on khaki-colored shorts from REI, a faded-red souvenir t-shirt from Taos, N.M., and a Nikon-logo baseball cap. (This information is relevant later.)
When I boarded the ferry, I didn’t have much of a clue where I wanted to sit. Perching myself inside on such a magnificent day seemed a little weird, so I scoped out the entire selection of seats and finally settled on a spot on the upper deck, outside, in the rear of the boat. (I guess that’s called the stern?)
Shortly after I settled in, I noticed three women (I guessed them to be about my age) sit down on the bench directly to my left. We were in the same row, all facing the water, so I didn’t have a great view of them; but I knew they were there all the same. One of them, especially, caught my eye…as she was dressed in (what I’d call) an elegant black dress. It was a very hot day already (in the 80s, headed for the 90s), so I was asking her, in my head: what possessed you to wear that today? Another of them was wearing a large dressy hat, which also drew my attention.
For about half the trip, we all sat that way, facing aft. But then I realized that, by sitting in direct sunlight on this very hot day, I was perspiring rather profusely and sitting in a small puddle of my own sweat. (More than you wanted to know, I’m sure.) So, I stood up to air myself out. In doing so, I turned myself around, facing the other direction (fore), and was able to both brace myself on the bench and observe where the boat was headed. Of course, this allowed me to watch these lovely ladies, out of the corner of my eye, as well.
Well, watch was all I did. I couldn’t help but notice the rings (or lack thereof): Hat Lady had ringless fingers; Black-Dress Lady had rings, but they presented an ambiguous situation; the third had, what appeared to be, a wedding band. Ms. Hat Lady had a small digital camera and she spent some time taking pictures through a side window that protected us from the wind and spray. The three of them talked and were generally enjoying themselves, it appeared. Although it would have been nice to engage them in conversation…well, that never happened. Frankly, I didn’t have an opening line: for what was I, dressed the way I was, going to say to Ms. Elegant-Black-Dress Lady? I couldn’t come up with a thing.
But, there they were: attractive women, my age. And surreptitiously watching them was a good way to pass the time for the final part of the voyage. (NO, I didn’t ogle them…I did not make myself obvious.)
We reached the city, everyone went ashore, and I figured that was the last I’d ever see of these three.
Once inside the Ferry Building, I took my camera out of the bag, strapped the bag around my middle (it’s a fanny-pack type), and walked north on The Embarcadero. I took the entire four hours (before the return ferry ride) to wander up to the Hyde Street Pier and back. Not that I didn’t rest at times along the way. I had a muffin at a Peet’s Coffee shop. I also stopped at The Cannery to have ice cream and listen to music.
The solo musician in the courtyard when I was at The Cannery played a wonderful acoustic version of Death Cab for Cutie’s “I’ll Follow You Into the Dark.” Although the lyrics speak of an entirely different kind of lady in black, I was reminded of my traveling companions on the ferry…
In Catholic school as vicious as Roman rule I got my knuckles bruised by a lady in black And I held my tongue as she told me “Son fear is the heart of love So I never went back…
By the time it came to take the 4:40 ferry back home, I was tuckered out. I got to the Ferry Building early, of course, and watched my fellow travelers arrive at the loading area.
Ultimately, though (lo and behold!), I saw that the ladies were taking the same ferry back.
I boarded the boat and sat in almost the same place as I had earlier, only closer to the rear…where I could get some shots of the city as we departed (see photo above). As I was still in photographer mode, the view of the cityscape was what I was most interested in; I didn’t see my attractive “lady friends” (well, you know what I mean) anywhere around.
Oh, well…
As we slowly departed the dock, I took pictures for about the first five or ten minutes. I totally ended my photo activity, though, when the wind and water spray got to be just too much. I decided I needed to have another seat (even if inside) to escape the elements and keep my camera dry…so I headed away from the extreme rear of the boat and proceeded inward (foreward). I got a just a little ways, past about four rows of seats, when, all of a sudden, the boat experienced a minor lurch, tilted a bit, and I literally stumbled and tumbled into the nearest seat.
I checked quickly to see that my camera and bag had survived the fall, then looked up at my new surroundings. Seated directly across from me: guess who?
I’m not a stalker. Honest! It actually happened this way!
As I noticed these three women, I’m sure my eyes widened a tad. Partly because I was initially asking myself: did anyone notice my clumsy landing? Though I was also quickly thinking, upon recognition: oh, it’s you!
I’m sure I also offered up an embarrassed smile. I had performed a totally inelegant landing, directly across from Ms. Elegant-Black-Dress Lady.
They couldn’t help but notice my arrival, of course. It was as subtle as a fart in an elevator. However, they all returned my smile. And, I don’t remember exactly how it started, but, after a little bit, we began a conversation. I believe one of them asked me if I did photography for a living…and that got us rolling.
They learned that I was a college dean and did this for fun. Elegant-Black-Dress Lady told me that she and Hat Lady had been friends since they were eighteen. I told her that I’d had lunch with a friend last weekend with someone I’d known since I was twelve…and that, since I was 60, that was a while ago now. Whereupon she immediately disclosed that she was 63. I said, “I thought we were just about the same age.” She asked, “what gave it away?”, and I replied, simply, “the familiarity.”
She smiled and said, “how diplomatic.”
I learned that Ms. Elegant had just moved to Sacramento last year from Philadelphia, for a new job. And that shortly after the move she had lost her longtime canine companion: a Labrador retriever. She learned that I had just moved from Oregon and lost a relationship shortly thereafter. She made sure I understood the profound nature of her loss, and that she was still grieving. I listened empathetically.
I admitted to Ms. Elegant that I’d noticed her on the trip into the city…that her black dress had caught my eye right away. I told her I wasn’t sure about wearing black on this hot day, but that, certainly, I thought it was a very classy look. (It seems I’ve reached a point in my life when I can look at a woman over 60 and think: hot!)
We all talked about being college students in the Sixties. They know that I was in the Air Force for three weeks in 1969 and took nine semesters to complete my undergraduate degree. We all agreed that, despite the tumultuousness of the times, there was no better time in history to be a college student in the U.S.
I didn’t ask their names, and they didn’t offer. I don’t know where they work, although Ms. Elegant, I learned, has an employer-supplied vehicle. Black, of course. When one inquired what I do with my photos, I gave Ms. Elegant a business card that has my Flickr web address on it. So, she has (they have) my name and contact information; I don’t have any clue about them.
Because I was having such a great time, I missed the photo opportunity of San Quentin from the water…and the arrival at the pier in Larkspur. And, even though I had camera in hand, I didn’t even think to ask if I could take their picture. A considerable oversight on my part. Sigh…
Still…it was a thoroughly delightful afternoon: primarily because of my unexpected tumble that led to the conversation with three new lady friends, anonymous though they may be.
Girl watching certainly has it payoffs. Even though the entire experience is, often, all too fleeting.
Soundtrack Suggestion
My life is brilliant My love is pure. I saw an angel. Of that I’m sure. She smiled at me on the subway… You’re beautiful. You’re beautiful. You’re beautiful, it’s true. I saw your face in a crowded place, And I don’t know what to do…
Although it’s been 38 years now, I can’t seem to forget this day.
This is excerpted from the Eau Claire (Wisconsin) Leader-Telegram, May 4, 1970…
Non-Silent Minority Opposes New Thrust
To the Editor:
I [must protest] the decision, announced by President Nixon on April 30, to deploy American ground and air combat troops into neutralist Cambodia. This [action … further compounds mistakes] … [already made] by this and previous administrations …
I truly am unable to comprehend how the American people [are able to] tolerate such irresponsibility [on the part of our national leadership] …
American young men are dying in Vietnam, and now Cambodia. For what?
[If] the South Vietnamese people are determined to be free of Communist aggression, they themselves are the ones who must rally forces to fight and defend their land.
[Our presence] in Southeast Asia is unconstitutional … we are engaged in a large scale war operation without a formal declaration of war. [Surely this is a] mockery of the document upon which our form of government was established … !
[Are] not the “brave young men,” including reluctant inductees, dying needlessly [in a part of the world where we have no legitimate business]? I [believe] this [to be] the case and cannot agree with the President’s decision to expand the war efforts in Southeast Asia for any reason or for any length of time. Mr. Nixon, you must bring all the American troops home immediately and call a halt to this immoral, unjust and unconstitutional fiasco.
Respectfully, from one of the non-silent minority,
Kent, Ohio, May 4 -- Four students at Kent State University, two of them women, were shot to death this afternoon by a volley of National Guard gunfire. At least 8 other students were wounded.
The burst of gunfire came about 20 minutes after the guardsmen broke up a noon rally on the Commons, a grassy campus gathering spot, by lobbing tear gas at a crowd of about 1,000 young people…
I went walking along the Pacific Ocean beach of San Francisco’s Sunset District during the weekend. It was an incredible day: bright sunshine, cloudless, not-too-windy. I was dressed in layers, but many (individuals, couples, families) were attired simply in shorts and t-shirts.
As I walked up and down the beach, I couldn’t help but notice how, well, dirty, the landscape looked. This ocean-front bore very little resemblance at all to the array of pristine beaches I am accustomed to in Oregon.
I had to ask myself: what’s going on here?
Well, consider…
On November 7, 2007, not long after I moved to the Bay Area, a wayward container ship (the Cosco Busan) ran right into the Bay Bridge and spilled 54,000 gallons of bunker fuel oil into the water.
You must remember hearing about this. It was a mess. Beaches were blackened; more than 2,500 birds died. (And 20,000 more may have been put at risk.) And who knows what other health risks were created!
At the time, I was just starting a new job in the North Bay, and was pretty much totally focused on my own personal survival. The oil spill, to me, was sort of background noise.
Now, this spring, I get out on a nice day and look at the beaches…and think…ohmygod!
Bunker fuel spills are extremely toxic to marine life, especially birds that float and feed through a spill. The oil inhibits the birds ability to thermo-regulate and they become cold as their natural insulation in their feathers break down. The birds spend most of their time trying to preen the oil out of feathers and thus ingesting the oil. Weakened, they will often beach themselves and fall prey to predators or die from the toxic effects of oil…
Please remember : Do not attempt to wash, feed or house oiled birds and other animals! Spilled oil is extremely toxic. The use of proper gloves and protocols must be followed to insure the safety of the public AND the animals.
So, I am asking: am I really ok when I’m out walking around on these beaches these days!? How would I know?
I’m trying to do anything I can these days, whenever I’m away from work, to get my mind off work. The intensity of each workday right now makes that rather difficult.
So, it was with some sense of delight, recently, when I discovered a “wink” in my home email, from an East Bay woman who found my profile on match.com.
Yes, in case you didn’t know…I have a personal-ad profile listed online. And I’ve been involved, off and on, in the virtual dating world for quite some time now.
Years, actually. (Ah, the stories I could tell!)
Now, usually, I don’t respond to mere “winks” – much preferring someone who is drawn to my profile enough to write me a full (even if brief) message. But this time, for whatever reason, I wrote a short little note back – and after a couple of emails, we decided to meet for tea at an East Bay Starbucks last Sunday.
In short: it was wonderful. We talked for little over an hour and things went very smoothly, I thought. As we parted, she invited me to call or email her.
Which I did, a few hours later. I sent her an email indicating that I was “interested” and: could we get together again?
The answer: no thanks. “The chemistry just wasn’t there. So sorry about that.”
Isn’t it strange how rejection from someone I don’t even really know can still have such yucky feelings associated with it?
I hadn’t put myself out there like that for anyone in a long time. I guess I need to get more practiced, and thicker-skinned.
Maybe I’ll wink at somebody myself tonight. I really do need to get out more.
Soundtrack Suggestion
Another aeroplane Another sunny place I’m lucky, I know But I wanna go home Mmmm, I’ve got to go home
The weather this weekend in Marin County, California, was absolutely perfect. Both days were clear, sunny and hot…with temperatures into the upper 80s. However, as recently as a few days ago (and then again today), the daytime highs were in the 50s - and the blustery winds made it feel even colder. Last Tuesday was very chilly. That was the day I was making my preparations to attend the Olympic Torch Relay.
I had a vacation day scheduled for Wednesday, and planned to take the ferry into The City for a day of observing and photographing the event(s). It surely seemed like a day of potential excitement (what with the recent, well, passionate protests in Paris and London)…and one that held some promise for colorful photos of the planned demonstrations.
Ah, but the important question for me: howdo I keep warm? After all, these happenings were to take place along the waterfront in San Francisco…not exactly the most comfy place in the world on lots of days, what with the probability for low temperatures and howling winds. Given the propensity of my body to tighten up with both stress and cold, and the fact that I’d be carrying heavy camera equipment, I would need to dress appropriately for the occasion and take a minimalist approach to packing and toting my gear.
So, folks, this is the most important factor for me these days as I prepare for a day of protesting. How do I keep these old bones and muscles from freezing up?
Well, I came up with some answers.
First off: long underwear. Yes, here it is April in the Golden State, and for the only time this year, I donned a pair of my silk, REI-brand long-johns. Then, of course, SmartWool socks and my ECCO cross-trainers. The rest of the outfit included:
jeans,
a short sleeve t-shirt, covered by a long-sleeved t-shirt,
covered by a North Face fleece pullover, covered by a multi-pocketed photographer’s vest,
all topped off with a baseball-type cap (with a peace sign on it).
Finally, to keep my body even more toastfully comfortable, I wore (underneath everything) two ThermaCare heatwraps: one around my midsection for my lower-back, and one across the tops of my shoulder blades.
I carried my smallest camera bag that held just one body, one lens, an extra battery, and compact flash cards.
And this worked!
I must report total success. I was there wandering around and taking photographs for three and a half hours. I was quite comfortable the entire time (it turned out to be a sunny, not-too-windy day), and survived the adventure in fine form.
One guy about my age, who was carrying a hand-made “Free Tibet” sign, called his wife on the ferry ride home and said that he’d had enough for the day. “My feet are killing me,” he reported.
