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Weekend bonus shot, 06.23.12

attheBayBabasDay

At the end of the pier in the middle of the San Francisco Bay, Berkeley, CA.

On Baba’s Day a week ago, we came back to the Berkeley marina after visiting my Pops. We ended our adventures here, at the terminus of the kilometer-long Berkeley pier. The remnants of the original portion of the pier pick up after a 50 foot gap (to allow passage through of small boats), and point just a little to the south of  the Golden Gate Bridge.

If the Supreme Court makes a big fat pronouncement tomorrow morning about LGBT civil rights, you can be sure that something or another will appear here as soon as I pick myself up from either the ceiling or the floor, depending. (Biting nails about Voting Rights and Affirmative Action rulings, also due out this week.) [UPDATE: No announcement Monday. More decisions on remaining cases will be made Tuesday morning, 10am Eastern; Thursday mornings are also a traditional decision day, but they’re scheduling additional days this week to hand down decisions.]

As per usual, you should also check out what’s up over at Lesbian Family. Last Friday I posted several items of interest, one of which was a short and sweet interview (“A Few Minutes with Zach Wahls, Everly Lesbian Mom’s Dream Son“) and the other provided (or linked to) some helpful infographics (“Upcoming SCOTUS Rulings Clarified For You“).

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Weekend bonus shot, 05.12.13

happytruckcleaningboy
Happy truck washer, Berkeley, CA.

This time I convinced him to get outside the vehicle as I washed it (last time: he stayed inside and listened to a Sondheim musical).  He had that huge spray nozzle thingie in his hands for a mere moment, and he instantly understood why Baba has so dadgum much fun washing the vehicles. And he was danged good at it, too.

I tried to convince him that going on a dump run was about as much fun, maybe more. “Huge piles of garbage, taller than that building there!” I said. “Ginormous tractors just pushing the garbage in a huge pile! So much flying dust they have to spray a mist of water down on the pile every so often! Can you think of anything more fun than that?”

As it happens, he could. Spraying the nozzle thingie with soap and water all over the side of the truck. I’m going to keep working on him about the dump run.

 

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Weekend bonus shot, 04.28.13

smilingboy
Farmer’s marketeer, Berkeley, CA.

 

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Weekend bonus shot (Monday edition), 04.15.13

viewfrombelow

View from below, Memorial Stadium, Berkeley, CA.

I was heading to an event up there, on the balcony of the top floor of Cal’s remodeled Memorial Stadium, overlooking the San Francisco Bay. Having managed not to read the directions explaining how to enter the building, *cough*, I had a little time to spend outside it, watching my chums schmooze.

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Weekend bonus shot, 03.31.13

PopsJune12-2
Pops, Berkeley, CA.

Dad, not quite a year ago, in the Easter bonnet I got him. OK not bonnet, but that’s how we jokingly referred to it.  Tried to get it on Easter, and the hat shop was closed (duh), so we went the next time he was in town with me. Hats like these are made for gents like my dad.

Thinking a lot about him today.  He is more gone than here, more out than in. Thus, the heightened value of stolen moments like this one, showing me him and his love, utterly present.

He would never ordinarily feel this unselfconscious in front of a camera–would always stiffen and pose uncomfortably, the ineffable essence of himself evaporating in a puff.  This image exists because I held the camera against my chest, and–yes, I’ll admit it–took three or four pictures stealth. He was looking into my eyes, not at the camera’s lens.

We sat under a shade on a sunny June afternoon; he’d just finished watching his youngest grandson “graduate” preschool in a ceremony the school held in our backyard with all the other kids;  he hadn’t tired yet. We had been talking about something or another which I totally forget now. Something that made him smile like this, mostly with his eyes, which have been capable of reflecting and inspiring so much mirth for so many decades.  And there he was. Being him.

 

 

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Weekend bonus shot (Monday edition), 10.01.12

up-up-up

Ascending the ladder to the trapeze platform, Oakland, CA.

Her schoolchum (with whom she shares a desk in 3rd grade) held her birthday party at Trapeze Arts in Oakland, and basically wow. Oh, no, I wasn’t freaking out in the least. I was perfectly calm.

This ladder led to a platform on which the kids were hooked to safety ropes, then handed a trapeze bar and swung out into the open air. Those who could then hooked their knees on the bar, some even did a flip off the bar down to the net.

That ladder has 21 rungs; there’s a net under the platform, but it doesn’t to extend under the ladder so you best keep a steady grip.

“Were you scared to climb up there?” I asked, after her first go.

She looked at me and her eyes widened the merest bit before she gave a quick, short nod.

“It’s like 14 Uncle Curtis’ stacked on top of each other.* But it’s worth it. Once you get up there, you get to fly.”

 

*Her Uncle Curtis is the gold standard in tall, at 6’8″.

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Mom’s passing, 19 years later (Weekend bonus shot, 09.02.12)

momandus
Pops and family, Castro Valley, CA.

 

The summer of 1993 I was slowly adjusting to a breakup (not my choice; the axe fell just outside a Lesbian Avengers meeting in NYC).   My mother spent that summer in a convalescent hospital, ostensibly healing from first one, then another bone break earlier that spring. She was a heavyweight and older woman, unaccustomed to advocating for herself anywhere as fiercely as she advocated for others.  These were the reasons, I decided later, that no doctor had valued her body enough to thoroughly examine the x-rays of her bones as of her first bone break.  She had had a double mastectomy just three years before, and the bones that broke (we would find, posthumously) were textbook bones for a breast cancer metastasis in a woman her age.

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Weekend bonus shot, 08.19.12

postpreschoolicecream2
Our last post-preschool ice cream ever, Albany, CA.

Soon I’ll post an ode to Michelle, Preschool Director from Heaven. Because neither of us is good at good-byes.

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