Today, May 17, is the tenth anniversary of my grandmother’s death. Today I’m remembering my still missed Grandma. I’m remembering much that seems ordinary, but those are the memories of the root of lives. I’m also remembering the picnics at Minneopa State Park outside of Mankato, Minnesota during my week summer stay with her and grandpa. I always got to share a family birthday celebration with both Grandma and Grandpa, as we were all March babies born during snowstorms. And there were what we called the Betsy-Tacy tours we’d do in Mankato from time-to-time, where Grandma would point out the real-life places that had inspired the author of those books. (For those of you who don’t know the Betsy-Tacy books by Maud Heart Lovelace, they are too-little-known classics of children’s literature. They are stories of two young friends, and others, growing up in a small town in the early 20th century. The town is based on the Mankato the author grew up in, and the stories are based on her own childhood. Lovelace’s childhood home, “Betsy’s House,” is still there and has been restored by the Maud Heart Lovelace Society.)
She encouraged my interest in photography. My first SLR camera was a camera that my grandmother lent me. When she would go on trips to Norway or Wales (especially the study tours to Norway), she’d come back with rolls upon rolls of film. Her grandson takes after her, only I’m now shooting with a digital SLR and I’m not taking photos of the old rosemaling in Norway’s folk museums.
Grandma was an artist, a top notch rosemaler. (Rosemaling is folk Norwegian rose painting.) She studied with some of the best painters in Norway and the United States, and taught many people the art herself. When I was young, she would patiently teach me some basics of rosemaling. I always enjoyed it, but was never really any good at it myself. But my grandma’s painting was beautiful. The photo here is one of her plates, which I proudly display on my living room wall.
Above, all, she was a kind and caring woman who was so often ready to be with us on our important days growing up. Her friends have told me that she would glow to talk about her family. I still remember how strange it was at the visitation before her funeral that she wasn’t there checking on her family members, seeing that we were alright. Her absence at our family gatherings in the years since has, perhaps, come to feel less strange, but I still miss her, even a decade later.
In memory of
Grace Hewitt
March 11, 1922 – May 17, 2000
I’ve got a new toy.
I’m visiting Portland, Oregon and I stopped by the local Apple Store. I walked out with a brand new iPad.
It’s an amazing device. When they were first announced I thought they seemed nifty, but was a little skeptical. But after having got my hands on one, I determined that I wanted one too. I’m just playing with it, yet. Some of the games make very good use of the touch screen and orientation interface. The screen is beautiful. I decided not to wait another couple of days for the 3G version. I don’t have immediate need for always having internet access, and many of the apps will store information for offline reading. So, I could, for example, update my email, the NY Times, or BBC news and still read it when I don’t have internet access.
I’m in gadget heaven!
On Tuesday this last week, Ron Howard’s excellent film Apollo 13 was released on Blu-ray disc. It was also the 40th anniversary of the accident on that flight. Watching the movie this week I recalled during the scene of the mission launch the same thing I noted 15 years ago, that the the majestic and spectacular launch of a Saturn V is unlike anything we are currently capable of. We cannot go to the moon. We don’t have heavy lift capability anything like what the Saturn V could do. At the end of the movie is a voiceover where Tom Hanks, in the character of Jim Lovell, wonders when we will go back. I wonder that, too. It is a question still unanswered.
It is in this context that I hear the proposals made by President Obama for the future of NASA. The proposals are a mixed bag, including some great news and a little bit of “lunacy,” so to speak.
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Please allow me share with you photographs of golden wheat ready for the fall harvest. Here is a sample. A few more can be seen in my galleries.
Gallery: Wheat
My last set from San Francisco are photographs from along the beautify San Francisco Bay. In this gallery are several views of the the bay shore at the Maritime Park and a few sea birds in photographs I hope you find beautiful and interesting.
Gallery: By San Francisco Bay
At last, I’ve posted the last couple of sets of photographs from my trip to San Francisco in the fall. This set is of buildings, cityscapes, and architecture in San Francisco, including the much photographed “Painted Ladies,” a row of victorians facing Alamo Square. You’ll also see the recently restored facade of the Castro Theater, in its grand movie palace glory, and other of the shapes and styles that are fairly typical of San Francisco’s buildings.
Much of the east coast of the United States has been targeted by deep snows. While other parts of the Midwest has also had some significant snows of late, where I live a couple of inches here and there have been all we’ve had. I’m feeling a bit left out.
But a couple of days before Christmas I drove into the face of an approaching snow storm to be with my family for the holiday. We largely stayed put for the next few days, with 21 inches of snow falling. All that snow blanketed the world in a beautiful white.
Gallery: Christmas Snow
My high school classmate Betsy Johnson-Miller, who teaches in the English department at the College of Saint Benedict and Saint John’s University, has published a volume of poetry titled Rain When You Want Rain. First off, congratulations go to Betsy on the publication of her book! It’s always a great achievement.
I have a bit of pride in this publication for myself as well, for I too have been published in a quieter way. Perhaps, in the spirit of the schools at which Betsy teaches, I should remind myself how St. Benedict urged the artisans of the monastery to conduct themselves: cum omni humiltate faciant ipsas artes—with all humility they are to practice their craft. Perhaps, however, some excitement can be allowed. I’m proud and pleased that Betsy and her editors chose one of my photographs to grace the cover of her book. I hope it does the book justice and invites readers inside.
Information on Rain When You Want Rain can be be found on the publisher’s website.
About the Photograph
The photo is from a set taken on April 24, 2009. A series of strong thunderstorms were passing through. Along the way they were creating quite the light show with lots of very active lightning. I set up my camera on a tripod and began taking photos. The photo that is on the cover of Rain When You Want Rain was taken after the storms had moved on to the east, closer to Wausau and Stevens Point. But now instead of seeing many cloud-to-ground lightning strikes and intense, branching bolts of lightning within the clouds, the clouds were being lit from within by the now almost mysterious light of these intense electrical storms.
My set of lightning photos from that night can be seen in my Lightning gallery, or click on the image below to see a larger version of the cover image in my photography galleries.
