The Life in My Years

Lens Artists Challenge #389: Time to Relax

Paul

March 16, 2026

Relax. Just relax and have fun doing what you’re doing. Don’t worry so much about being results oriented. Just commit yourself to the moment.” —John Goodman

This week’s Lens-Artist prompt, “Time to Relax,” comes from Anne Sandler of Slow Shutter Speed.

Relaxation isn’t an easy thing these days. High prices, a little war here and there, social media. How do you calm the jitters?

I’ve often found relaxation in the pages of a book. I guess books are a sort of balancing act. I do read about politics which can raise the blood pressure, but before I turn off the lights at night I enjoy delving into poetry or maybe a good detective story.

“Outside of a dog, a book is man’s best friend. Inside of a dog it’s too dark to read.”
― Groucho Marx

There are stories, personal ones, in the pages of the books above. The Pickwick Papers, This Is My Best, and Here is Your War all came from my father’s library. The latter of the three is still timely. My heart was warmed and my faith in the future generations was boosted when my grandson asked to read Maus. Frank Deford’s, Over Time was personally autographed by the author, an accomplished sports writer whose pieces I looked forward to reading every week when my copy of Sports Illustrated arrived in the mail. I met Mr. Deford at a talk he gave at San Francisco’s Commonwealth Club. What a twist of fate that when I left the talk and turned on the radio, Giants pitcher Matt Cain was throwing a perfect game. I got home just in time to see the last inning.

The book on the far left? Required reading.

One of my favorite things is to go out for coffee and find a table in the sun and just sit and get lost in a book. The two sitting outside of a patisserie in Paris seem to be unwitting soulmates.

A French Journey: An Evening in Paris.

Paul

9 comments

March 11, 2026

An American’s observations of a first time trip to France.

It’s alternately called the ‘the bridge of wishes,’ or ‘the lover’s bridge.’ Tradition holds that lovers should kiss and make a wish when passing beneath the little span called Pont Marie. Opened in 1635, Pont Marie links the Left and Right Banks of Paris.

The photographer’s ‘blue hour’ is fast approaching. That’s the magical, oh too short, window when the sun has just set and everything takes on a blue-ish hue; when the lights of the city add points of gold and yellow and the red neons of restaurants and bars add a flourish of gaiety (as if Paris needs a flourish of anything).

I’ve made the short walk from the Saint Paul Metro Station. Standing mid-span, leaning against the sun warmed stone of the bridge I watch the throngs heading from work to home and family, or to a cafe for evening cocktails with friends, or heading for an early dinner at a bistro overlooking the Seine, to luxuriate in a cassoulet.

Or just out for a stroll,

because

good God dude, it’s Paris and that’s what you do.

I suppose you could stay home, have KFC takeout and watch reruns of Friends. In that case you don’t deserve to be in Paris. Okay, maybe Paris, Texas, or Paris, Illinois (yes they exist).

I’m waiting for Clara, my Aperture Tours guide who will take me on a three hour night photography excursion. My night photography experience is limited, hell, almost non-existent, because in America a photographer carrying around a tripod at night might as well be wearing a sign saying, ‘mug me please.’ Safety at night with a thousand dollars worth of photo equipment is one of the many topics that Clara and I will talk about during our walk.

Cora and I have been in Paris for four days and I’ve fallen in love with La Ville-Lumière. Don’t try to tell me that Parisians are snooty and hate Americans. They’ve been the friendliest, most accommodating people I’ve met anywhere. They might hate our president, and rightly so, but if they sense that you’re a sane and un-MAGA’ied American, and during your stay you’ve been tossing around some ‘bonjours’ however poorly pronounced, then you’ve become a member of the club.

Turning to look out on the Seine towards the setting sun, the clouds are irresistible. There’s enough light that I don’t have to set up the tripod. Just steady the camera on the bridge.

Lens-Artists Challenge # 388: 8000 Miles in 10 Images

Paul

24 comments

March 9, 2026

How do you render over 8000 road miles down to a small handful of photos?

That’s the challenge presented by Ann-Christine. To describe a trip in 5 to 10 images.

May 2021. COVID was just barely loosening its grip, enough that people were starting to come out of hibernation. My daughter and her two children were living with my wife Cora and I. Maybe it was the stress of the pandemic along with the home confinement that started the argument between my daughter and I, that compelled me to decide, “I need to get away.” It took less than a week for me to put together an itinerary that covered sixteen states.

Cora and I packed two suitcases, a cooler, our dog Lexi, and her dog bed into a rental van and hit the road, southbound from San Francisco to pick up iconic and quirky Route 66.

Established in 1926 as the highway to get from Chicago to Southern California, Route 66 was a nearly 2500 mile long ribbon of promise for Americans looking to achieve the dream of owning their own business. For a while the dream had been fulfilled, until the 1950s when a new Interstate Highway system bypassed a number of the towns and businesses along what had been known as the Mother Road.

Grand Canyon
From Flagstaff, Arizona we took a brief detour from Route 66 to see the Grand Canyon. While the view is indescribably spectacular, my lasting memory is seeing tears of wonder in Cora’s eyes as she looked out over the rim.

The Boat, The Beach, and The Bridge. Make Up a Story.

Paul

6 comments

March 5, 2026

It was during COVID times, when the options for escaping home confinement were few and far between. Anything indoors besides home, not so sweet home, was closed. The San Francisco streets were mostly deserted, so much so that coyotes were making themselves at home downtown.

Crissy Field Beach, on the shore of San Francisco Bay was wide open. Or maybe I should say “wide” and “open.”

It was in early January, following days of rain that I staged my own breakout and went for a walk on the rain soaked beach. The day was less than idea. In one direction, Alcatraz was invisible behind a gray mask of fog. One could only assume that the Rock was in its proper place in the middle of the bay. In the other direction the Golden Gate Bridge wore a wispy gown. In normal times one might complain. In COVID times you took what you could get.

It was less a walk than alternately splashing through the little puddles and weaving around the ponds of rainwater and tidal bay water. A romping Old English Sheepdog, who had a bath in his future, seemed to be looking for the biggest puddles slosh through.

And then there was this boat. Seemed serviceable, if beaten by both time and weather. A rope tied to the bow tethered the little craft to – nothing. Looking at the boat one could make up any number of stories. Before 1963, it could have been the subject of an escape from Alcatraz story. For me it presented an interesting photo opportunity.

I returned the next day. The weather had improved enough that the bay had shaken off its shroud and a few people had taken their sailboats out. The little beached boat was still there except the rope that had tethered the boat to nothing had been cut.

So, what was the story behind the little boat?

Beats me. Make up your own.

Saturday February 28, 2026.

Paul

6 comments

March 2, 2026

In Washington Square Park the street bound are unfurling from their makeshift bedding, rubbing beards, stretching and shielding the morning sun from their eyes. Dogs are fetching balls on the green and in the shadow of St. Peter and Paul Church the Chinese matrons in colorful garb are practicing their Tai Chi.

At venerable Original Joe’s the morning crew is busy wiping down the outside tables getting ready for the Saturday crowds. Same at The Little Red Window. Same at Tony’s Pizza. Same at Mario’s Bohemian Cigar Store.

At Victoria Pastry the sun baked outdoor tables are all taken.

Liguria Bakery started selling their focaccia at 7:30. Ninety minutes later the sign on the door says, Sold Out. You don’t go to Liguria at 8 on Saturday morning expecting to bring the family a slab of rosemary-garlic focaccia unless you’re into receiving verbal flagellation, “What do you mean, they’re broke? You useless fuck. You couldn’t get your ass out of bed earlier to get in line at 7:00?”

Already approaching 70 degrees (21 C. in the civilized world) life here in San Francisco’s North Beach is good. Very good.

On the other side of the world?

Not so much.

My San Francisco: The Black and White of It

Paul

10 comments

February 25, 2026

My San Francisco is a series of posts that describes my own personal relationship with The City. My San Francisco pieces might be photo essays; they might be life stories, or they could be commentaries. My impressions aren’t always paeans to San Francisco; it’s a beautiful city, but like any beautiful city, it has its dark side and its ugly stories. These pieces will always have one common theme; they are expressions of my personal San Francisco experience.

“To some extent, the cult surrounding black-and-white photography is based on nostalgia” – René Burri

Maybe Monsieur Burri has a point. I originally shot the image below from Embarcadero Center, looking up Pine Street. In color. I sort of despised it and so it languished in the archives for ages until I started dabbling in monochrome. On a whim I edited the image into monochrome and the first thought that came to mind is that it reminded me of something that I might have seen in an ad in the San Francisco Chronicle, circa 1959. I don’t love it, but I do like the nostalgic newsy feel about it.

Maybe my attraction to noir fiction, the dark, brooding crime stories starring anti-hero, hard boiled gumshoe detectives, is also nostalgia based. And so I guess it’s only natural that I gravitate to shooting photos in alleys and darkening the mood of the images. The image below was taken in an alley near San Francisco’s Financial District.

The image below of Jaspar Street creates a far different mood in the color version, in which the buildings at the end are quite colorful in pink and green pastels.

Lens-Artists Challenge #386: The Power of Juxtaposition

Paul

18 comments

February 21, 2026

juxtaposition
noun
jux·ta·po·si·tion ˌjək-stə-pə-ˈzi-shən

: the act or an instance of placing two or more things side by side often to compare or contrast or to create an interesting effect.

This week Patti challenges us to find images that invite the viewer to weigh objects in a photo against each other.

Banner photo: The juxtaposition of colors in a mustard field near Half Moon Bay, California.

In most cities it’s not hard to find examples of old versus new. In the image below the Golden Gate Bridge looms over Civil War era, Fort Point.

Below, an 18th century gravestone in St. Matthew’s Anglican Cemetery in Quebec City, Canada sits next to diners enjoying their meals at a bistro. Old and new. Alive and, well, not so much.

Below: In Krakow I found this interesting building that combined both old and new, as well as distressed on top of renovated.

The image below, taken from California Street illustrates the juxtaposition of old (the brick building in the lower right), the new (a mid 20th century building), and the newest (the Salesforce Tower). The image also shows San Francisco’s cultural history.

My San Francisco: Year of the Horse

Paul

9 comments

February 17, 2026

Banner photo: A Chinatown shop displays horses in celebration.

Today begins the Year of the Horse. I celebrate each Lunar New Year season by visiting Chinatown in San Francisco, a place that holds many lifetime memories.

Colorful, vibrant, bustling, ever changing yet at the same time never changing Chinatown is one of my go to places for photography.

On historic old Ross Alley I found young lion dancers preparing for the festivities.

Scene on the Streets: A Nation Divided

Paul

10 comments

February 13, 2026

The signs of uncertain times.

“. . . when a people or family so divide, it never fails to be against themselves.” ~ Federalist No. 4, John Jay. November 7, 1787.

” However [political parties] may now and then answer popular ends, they are likely in the course of time and things, to become potent engines, by which cunning, ambitious, and unprincipled men will be enabled to subvert the power of the people and to usurp for themselves the reins of government, destroying afterwards the very engines which have lifted them to unjust dominion. ” ~ George Washington’s Farewell Address. September 17, 1796.

“There is nothing which I dread so much as a division of the republic into two great parties, each arranged under its leader, and concerting measures in opposition to each other. This, in my humble apprehension, is to be dreaded as the greatest political evil under our Constitution.” ~ John Adams in a letter to Jonathan Jackson on October 2, 1780.

Somewhere in Southeast Oregon. “Let’s go Brandon” became a euphemism for “Fuck Joe Biden.”

“A house divided against itself cannot stand.” ~ Abraham Lincoln. June 16, 1858.

“Well, Doctor, what have we got, a republic or a monarchy?” asked Elizabeth Willing Powel of Benjamin Franklin, as the Constitutional Convention adjourned.

“A republic, if you can keep it,” replied Dr. Franklin. September 17, 1787.

Regardless of party or ideology, the question hangs.

Can we keep it?

Lens Artists Photo Challenge: What Astonishes You

Paul

10 comments

February 8, 2026

Banner photo: Austrian National Library Vienna. I’m astonished by man’s perpetual search for knowledge.

This week’s Lens Artist Challenge is almost limitless in possibilities. During my travels I’ve been astonished by nature’s handiwork and by the creations of man.

The natural power of water

The tranquility of water created by man

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