Herself: I joined the Photographic arts museum.
Reading: Spandau by Speer, still.
Balance: Sitting on the grass watching a fiddler play and kids dance.
I had eleven pages of numbered sites with photographs, hugs, and smiles squeezed in between. The sun was out, and we dodged mental health runners, a parade of dog walkers, and event companies that were filling most of Balboa Park’s few parking spaces with tents. Sunday, today, is the 40th Anniversary of Earth Day being celebrated in Balboa Park by all comers. I thought it a crazy idea that first Earth Day. Today I think it a very important part of life.
She once told me I was easily amused when I told her about the Carytids holding up a roof for the earliest California Exposition. Once she had seen them, she laughed with me. After acres of pictures and a saunter back past the cars to find a mullion here and a continuous frieze there, they left to take her mother, the other grandmother, to lunch, and we moved the car to a parking place left open right in front of G’s museum. Imagine.
Lunch, with discount at the Hall of Champions, then while he worked I walked, enjoyed, smiled in the sun, looked at other’s photographs, photographed other’s, and felt very old trying to get up from the grass. I actually asked myself when I had gotten this old. Not good.
A Quinceanera walking past…dancing past, the party in red and black. A wedding here another there, this one watching a magician…all followed by photographers and assistants with mountains of the paraphernalia needed for the photographic ceremonies.
Here the wail of a well played sax. Magic around every corner accompanied by the clanking of tent poles and hum of diesels setting up for the morrow.