Smoke Gets In Your Eyes

As I reported earlier, last Saturday was a hot day. And after spending the afternoon in the city, I was tired out from all my adventures. I went to bed even earlier than usual, keeping all the windows open on both sides of my apartment because of the heat.

At 3:30 a.m. I woke up, but not because of the temperature inside…I was startled by the smell of smoke. What the heck is going on? I was wide awake instantly. I am pretty sensitive to smoke, whether it’s a neighbor firing up a barbeque grill, or someone in the vicinity having a cigarette. As I evaluated the quality of this middle-of-the-night smoke, however, it was neither of those. Something else was burning, and I was hoping it wasn’t my building.

I looked out from my balcony…nothing visible down below in terms of fire. And I heard no fire engines. I put on pants and shoes, and carrying my keys, did a quick walk-around of the complex. Nothing. Still, the air was sickening with the heaviness of the smoke. I asked myself again: what is going on?

I went back inside, shut my windows, and fitfully, worriedly, tried to get back to sleep.

One of the first things I heard on KQED the next morning was about the huge number of fires burning in California. Somehow, up to that point, I’d missed all the news. However, having dealt with the smoke in the middle of the night (and still smelling it that morning), it all started to make sense. The smoke had finally made its way to the Bay Area.

Well, you’ve probably all heard about this by now…it’s been over a week of more and more fires (primarily started by lightning strikes) and hazy, smoky air for us to breathe.

There are literally hundreds of fires going on. Yesterday, at one point, I heard the number was 1,100. Yes, that’s one thousand one hundred. But I’ve also heard a variety of estimates from 800 on up. This morning’s San Francisco Chronicle reported that the wildfires have so far consumed more than 300 square miles of California. (If you want to see a map of the significant ones, click here.) The other night the weatherman on the local NBC station estimated that the smoke could last for weeks or even months…given that the fires are both north and south of here and that the winds during the summertime generally alternate between northerly and southerly.

How can we live like this?!

For some unknown reason, the lyrics of Sting’sstalker song (“Every Breath you Take”) keep running through my head…

Every breath you take
Every move you make…

Given these conditions, before long I’ll be carrying my own personal tank of oxygen along with me just to breathe…and the tank will probably be strapped to my walker!

Soundtrack Suggestion

I’ve got a red hot heart
And your heart’s as blue as the blood in your veins
I say there’s fire down below
You say it’s only smoke and ashes baby
Only smoke and ashes baby, baby…

(“Smoke and Ashes” – Tracy Chapman)

Strangers in the Night

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…

(“You’re Beautiful” – James Blunt)

The Country Fair

I know this has been a three-day holiday, but it really didn’t seem that way to me. Last Friday was the final day of the semester: the end of the school year. Somehow, I made it through a full academic season here in Marin, though the end product was one tuckered-out academic dean. I basically sleep-walked through this weekend. Man oh man, am I worn out!

Because of the itinerant nature of my professional existence these last four years, I really haven’t had much opportunity for time off (other than moving from one city to the next) – and certainly very limited chances for “vacation.” Surely, this has contributed to my overall fatigue level. One of the (very) few things I did this weekend was to actually put some thought into what I might do during some time off this summer. Given that I haven’t made any plans yet, I’m thinking that maybe my best bet would be to keep things really low key and not try to exhaust myself with any kind of ambitious travel.

What about the Oregon Country Fair?!

Yes, I could use a fun getaway in July to attend this raucous (well, not as much as it used to be) event and to see some old friends. I’m hoping I can make this happen…

Aging and the Art of Protest

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.

Ahhhh…aging and the art of peaceful protest.

I Love Being Published

[This article appeared on page G-39of today’s 96 Hours Magazine of the San Francisco Chronicle.]

Flickr Pickr: Jim Arnold

Charles Howard

Thursday, April 10, 2008

TechnoMonk:: Jim Arnold, known as technomonk on Flickr, is an academic dean at a junior college in the North Bay. Although his day job is administrative, he says his true passions are photography and writing. There is no higher calling than “artist,” he says. Arnold has been photo-documenting the world around him since the mid-1970s, and for a few years he made his living doing event photography. He says he used manual-focus 35mm equipment longer than anybody he knows, but finally embraced the digital world in 2004. “When anybody asks me what kind of photography I do, I just say that I’m a wandering documentary photographer ... and then point them to my Flickr site.”

Want us to pick your flickr picture? On the photo-sharing Web site www.flickr.com, tag your images “SFChronicle 96Hrs.” If we like it, we’ll run it here. We especially like Bay Area images and local photographers. To view the 96 Hours gallery of flickr picks, go to sfgate.com/96Hours. For more great Bay Area photography, check out Frederic Larson's “Mystical Photography” on sfgate.com.

- Charles Howard, choward@sfchronicle.com