January 19, 2009

The Plunge and the plane




Double Journal spread, August, 1984. Swimming class at the Mission Beach Plunge.



Entries: Written in advance. I confess. One more pre-prepared entry left...…I need to do a couple of one handed entries.

Himself: Really spoiling me. Retreating to single person shooter games when not spoiling me. Cooked a meatloaf from scratch. Good too.

Herself: Saturday had worse attack of IBS since the big house. Sunday: changed fiber and felt great. Finished: Berlin Diary. Laughed a lot at “Smokey and the Bandit.” Those really were the good ‘ol days.

Balance: Was not the too many chocolate chip cookies we both ate.
The city of San Diego, tho structural studies proved the building sound and the building was marked as a historic landmark, tore the building down around the pool in the 1990’s.

They broke my heart and destroyed my belief in the Historical Site Preservation system.


Concrete block ticket booth out in front of the Plunge.




Links:

Mission Beach Plunge History.

Mission Beach Plunge Images today




I sent this email off this morning to a list I belong to......Only now did I think you would enjoy these dramatic images too:

Dear Listers..........

For those who are interested in some excellent photographs of the recovery scene yesterday and the raising of the plane, do check out "Tugster: a waterblog".........

Tugster

And on "Bowsprite: A New York Harbor Sketchbook" do read "VHF Harbor Prose: the salvage of the plane".........

Bowsprite: salvage the plane vhf

Georgette a Lurker from clouding-over-at-last-but-still-warm San Diego

2 comments:

  1. Forget about imbalance, especially when it comes to chocolate chip cookies. Dr. Choco(late) is one of the best for making one feel better after hand surgery. Of course you know that!

    ReplyDelete
  2. I wish I had photos to show you (maybe I do, I'll have to look through my father's old slides from 40 - 50 years ago) of the tugboat "Girard Point" that was captained by a delightful man named Linwood Warwick (married to my father's cousin Joyce) in New York harbor.

    In summers, he often transported barges up the Hudson and along the New York State Barge Canal (the Erie's replacement) and my dad and I would ride along through a few locks, after which my mother would pick us up.

    Oh, the maritime life.

    ReplyDelete

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