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…
When I purchased my new Subaru last summer, the availability of this add-on was just too enticing to pass up. So, now, I almost always have my radio tuned to satellite rather than listening to FM, AM, CD or my iPod. Sirius Channel 6, devoted to tunes of the 60s, is where my dial is typically set.
Well, anyway, I was intrigued. Neil Diamond has always pretty much been a favorite of mine. I still remember quite vividly seeing him in concert on February 27, 1971, at Gill Coliseum in Corvallis, Oregon. At the time, I was a long-haired, bearded lad of 23, in my first year of grad school at Oregon State University. (And Neil Diamond had just turned 30 the month before…it’s amazing what you can find out on the internet if you just poke around a little.) Margaret and I had great seats, somewhere in the first ten rows, if I recall correctly. Toward the end of the concert he introduced and sang a new song that he said was going to be released soon: I Am … I Said.
I am, I said To no one there And no one heard at all Not even the chair I am, I cried I am, said I And I am lost, and I can’t even say why Leavin’ me lonely still…
It was released exactly a month later, on March 27, and of course, was a huge hit. I swear: I have always loved that song from the moment I first heard it.
But, I digress.
I immediately tuned into Channel 3, and yes, there he was, Neil himself, talking about the writing of one of his songs. I caught the narrative mid-stream, so I wasn’t sure which song. He was rambling on about this particular piece, and he claimed he didn’t know what it was really about during the time period he was writing it. It was a rather long intro, and then the song played. I had never heard it before, and I remember thinking: how can I not be familiar with this (a Neil Diamond) song?!
Well, as it turns out, he has a new album out called Home Before Dark. Amazon.com informs me that it was just released on April 29, and his website lets us know that this is his 46th album and the only one to debut at Number 1.
The song that I first listened to in the car that noon hour is entitled “If I Don’t See You Again.” It so moved me that it’s the inspiration for this little essay here today.
I don’t know what your experience will be when you hear this song (or what your experience might already have been), but my reaction was (and still is) highly emotional. Quite literally, from the simple opening chords, right until the end, this song seemed to touch me to the core. I can barely remember my drive that lunch hour as I was transported to some other dimension for those seven and a quarter minutes. And, after it played, I could barely remember any of the words…I just had this feeling…
What is the song about? Well, for me, the kicked-in-the-gut reaction it produced suggested it was entirely about loss. While listening I was awash in a huge, familiar physical-emotional response: familiar because of its association with times in my life when things have changed dramatically…when I’ve had to leave people or places behind. Of course, the last four years of my life have been almost entirely about change and loss, so I’ve come to view myself as somewhat of an expert in these areas.
I guess there might be other interpretations, but I’d say this song is about losing a love. And what life brings on when that happens. A tear came to my eye as I listened…the words and the melody poking through an emotional wall I seem to have built up in myself in recent months: a barrier that has apparently prevented me from completely dealing with the depths of the sadness brought on by the loss of a love, and a familiar life, in Oregon.
I can’t seem to get enough of this tune. While it caught me unawares last week, I was immediately hooked. I downloaded it from iTunes that same night, and have been playing it ever since. Exactly what’s going on here, I’m not sure. I just know that my attraction to this song is a powerful one.
And how coincidental that it comes along at this particular time. It was also last week that I was talking to some former colleagues in Oregon, mentioning both my blessings of a new life now made in California, as well as still carrying an overarching belief that Oregon is where I belong.
I suppose this is not very complicated at all. This tune is one that, for whatever reason, touches my soul, and speaks to me about the people and places I no longer have around.
And reminds me of the question that all-too-frequently pops into my mind during unguarded moments: what if I don’t see you again?
Soundtrack Suggestion
Who am I kidding I’m going nowhere I can’t even get through an hour without you Should be ashamed Just want to hear you calling my name Two of us missed connections Guess we must have somehow missed something more ’Cause we’re here alone I know we’re together But too far apart to know how to get back home…
If I don’t see you again Somehow we both made it through I woulda gave up on life Before I gave up on you You went and turned me around Could be was something you said I couldn’t make out the sound I didn’t care what it meant If I don’t see you again If I don’t see you again If I don’t see you again
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 daughter I never had lives in Eugene; she’s part of my “Oregon family.” I’ve known this young woman since she was a rebellious adolescent, though, in the present day, she’s an incredibly mature and talented, 27-year-old married college graduate who has two delightful kids herself (one of them little Gracie).
The absolute, without-a-doubt, best part of my existence the past two Christmas seasons has been the opportunity I’ve had to support and encourage “B’s” interest in photography. Last year, it took the form of proposing the idea to her (real) parents that we split the cost of purchasing a digital SLR camera for her holiday gift. The proposal was enthusiastically accepted and, incredibly, I was the one lucky enough to accompany her to the store when we picked up the camera. As we exited the store, she was smiling hugely while she gushed, “this is the best Christmas ever!”
She’s now had a full year with that particular piece of equipment, and has reportedly loved every minute of it. Late this year she purchased another lens for her system, indicating that she was ready, perhaps, to move up a notch in the technology hierarchy. So, this holiday season, as we talked about her wants and needs via email, I offered to sell her, at a hugely discounted price, my current digital SLR. It’s a camera body that’s still being manufactured, only nine months old, under warranty, and little-used by me this year due to a scarcity of personal time (what with all the changes I’ve made in my life recently). This year’s proposal also became a reality and she’s had the camera a little over a week now…luckily I was able to get it packed up and shipped out in time for Christmas. She’s currently busily, and happily, snapping away with this more ambitious piece of equipment.
I’ve teased her about her newly-acquired “addiction” and advised her of the dangers of said Nikon Acquisition Syndrome (NAS)…though I suspect she has not, yet, caught on to the full implications of my warnings. Still, I’ve told her, regarding NAS: there are many more dangerous and terrible maladies in this lifetime.
For me, I hope to get “out there” this year and produce many more photographs than I have in the last few months. That is, perhaps, my number-one ambition. (Thank goodness: it appears that I’ll not be engaged in a job search during 2008!) To support my goal, I’ve taken a couple of photographic steps myself lately. First, I’ve placed an order for the newly-introduced Nikon D300 (see the video below), just out in November to rave reviews, and currently in short supply. (I’ll be getting this camera body when my number comes up in the ordering queue.) Second, I’ve signed up for another full-day session at Nikon School. Hence, on January 27, I’ll be over in Berkeley, sitting a dark room with a few hundred other Nikon nuts, learning more about digital photography. And expecting to be inspired.
If this season is thinking about people you love, and making some plans for the future…well, I guess maybe there’s been a little of the holiday cheer for me this year after all.
Soundtrack Suggestion
Ev’ry time i see your face, It reminds me of the places we used to go. But all i got is a photograph And i realise you’re not coming back anymore.
Dan Burns (played by Steve Carell) writes a daily newspaper advice column entitled “Dan in Real Life.” He’s a widower and the anxious, overprotective father of three daughters. The wisdom about love and life he offers up to his readers apparently comes from a voice within that he is able to transmit but cannot really hear himself. The morning after he and the kids show up at his parents’ (Dianne Wiest and John Mahoney) beach house for a holiday, family-reunion-type weekend, his mother immediately orders him to go out and “buy the papers” — and take some time away from his daughters who are obviously exasperated with their totally-not-so-cool dad.
It’s in a used-book store, where Dan decides to buy the morning newspaper, that he meets Marie (Juliette Binoche). Marie is obviously in the midst of some kind of minor personal crisis and she “needs a book” to get her through. She asks Dan for some help thinking that he’s an employee there. Although amusing and obliging, he eventually gets busted as just another customer. After asking Marie if he can make it up to her, Dan, in the initial stages of infatuation, spends a good portion of the rest of the morning telling her his life story.
It’s only when she eventually gets called away, and he returns back to the beach house, that he learns this “hottie” he’s found is the new girlfriend of his brother Mitch (Dane Cook). And that this weekend is to be her induction into the family.
The rest of the movie, Dan in Real Life, is spent illustrating the myriad awkward (some hilarious, some touching) moments that arise when, in the middle of this intimate family gathering, Dan and Marie work through their mutual-attraction issues.
This is a romantic comedy, of course, so it’s a happy ending. And while the outcome is entirely predictable, I recommend that you, too, see this movie. Treat yourself: escape for awhile and vicariously experience some of those giddy, beginning-of-a-relationship feelings.
So here’s why I mention any of this…
I believe this film reinforces one of life’s basic truisms. Namely: you just never know. For there you are, completely minding your own business and, wham (!), for better or worse, you turn a corner (or enter a bookstore) and your entire life changes. Further, while you can make plans for your time here on earth, the advice remains: expect the unexpected.
“…the only thing you can truly plan on…is to be surprised.”
