Wednesday, November 26, 2008
Friday, November 21, 2008
Marion Badalamente in front of 326 Alta St., Los Angeles, California, circa 1921
My grandmother, Marion was so taken with California that she wrote a poem about it and sent it to relatives in New York.
Wonders of California
When I have passed on to the celestial
If offered a chance to return to the Earth
I would refuse unless I could return to California
Do you wish to see beauty -- Paradise on Earth?
Then come to California
Come to Los Angeles
You will not be disillusioned
Here you will see wonderful flowers
Rich nature everywhere
It is like a dream for any visitor
A land with colorful flowers that even a painter cannot duplicate
And tall, green trees under which you can get a good rest
And a fresh breeze
Secluded beaches are easily reachable
Across hills and mountains lie the seas
You can always enjoy the sun shining in this beautiful, big California
Here the seasons are two: spring and autumn
You don't suffer from hot summer or cold winter
If your problem is money
You can work well here as anywhere else
Don't think that you gain less than in other places
Since here everything is affordable: house, food, and clothes
So, why should you suffer?
You only live once
Better to live in a good climate
Where you can get enjoyment and rest
By Mariannina Badalamente, to all family and friends of the East.
Click on the images for the original Italian.
Wednesday, November 12, 2008
Then, after she had disappeared into the woods, he lay in the water for another ten minutes feeling the kiss many times. He decided then that he would love her forever no matter what came to pass. It was not so much a matter of deciding as accepting the inevitability of it.
from Snow Falling on Cedars, by David Guterson, 1995
Cannon Beach, Oregon, October 2008
Tuesday, November 11, 2008
These last roses decorate the windswept lawn
Brown and yellow leaves scatter hither and yon
Under an overcast, gray sky pregnant with rain
I walked by here this morning and am here again
To photograph this tree with its chokeberries and of course the roses, this one carries
with it memories of something lavender
a color, or a scent perhaps, frankincense and myrrh
Friday, November 7, 2008
I grow old...I grow old...
I shall wear the bottoms of my trousers rolled.
Shall I part my hair behind?
Do I dare to eat a peach?
I shall wear white flannel trousers, and walk upon the beach.
I have heard the mermaids singing, each to each.
I do not think that they will sing to me.
I have seen them riding seaward on the waves
Combing the white hair of the waves blown back
When the wind blows the water white and black.
We have lingered in the chambers of the sea
By sea-girls wreathed with seaweed red and brown
Till human voices wake us, and we drown.
from The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock, by T.S. Eliot
I took this picture at Cannon Beach, OR, in early Oct 08