Mr. Ron
Last night I decided against going to Derek Lundy's talk on his new book Borderlands and decided a little fresh air was in order instead.
I walked down to my favorite dock. Even the air felt quiet. The sky, the air, the water. All's quiet. I sometimes feel like this is my island; all mine. Especially at this North End. Often, on my walks, there will be no one.
While I was coming back from the end of the dock, a couple with their little boy named Henry stopped. He was a teacher, she was an organic farmer. They own a farm in Sonoma County, California. "She had worked in Hollywood," he said. "She didn't like that much. Then, she went to the school U.C. Santa Barbara, some organic farming course that's really well known he said. He was a teacher. They were renting a cabin on North End Road.
"It's like a fairy tale here," he said.
What do you mean?
A fairy tale. You know. It's not real."
His wife went to the end of the dock to be with Henry. I noticed, looking past the father that she was showing Henry how to use a small point and shoot camera.
When we walked back to the end of the dock, Henry had disappeared. Now, I see how fast kids can disappear. I could feel their momentary alarm. Henry was hiding on us in the bushes. He came out after a while.
Walking back towards home, I came across this man with his jaunty hat and his handle bar mustache. He had a cane and if I'd had more time and been a little bolder I would have found a way to take more than one photo.
"Why do you want to take my photo?" he asked laughing.
"Because you have a great face."
"Less than 10 minutes and I've had my photo taken twice," he said pointing down the road to a black suburban.
"The guy from the paper just took my photo. He had me posing and everything,"he said.
I looked down the road and I saw an arm stick out of the truck and wave.
"It would be a joke if you got a better photo than him," he said.
I realized it was Derrick Lundy. I laughed.
I really need to start taking more photos of people I thought to myself.