Still Walking

Illustration Friday - Sink

2011-12-16T12:13:00.000-08:00

Back in days of pirate ships, a cannonball attack would seldom sink a ship, but damage it beyond repair, destroying their masts and rigging.

Illustration Friday - Vanity

2011-11-18T18:42:00.000-08:00

Portrait of Fay Wray from a vanity shot in 1933, when she starred in 'King Kong'.

Illustration Friday - Stay

2011-07-08T15:35:00.000-07:00

In 1611, explorer Henry Hudson tried to find the Northwest Passage above Canada aboard the Half Moon...he never found it. Somewhere in Hudson Bay, his crew mutinied and he and his teenage son, and a few others were cast adrift in lifeboats, and there they stayed.

Illustration Friday - Remedy

2011-07-01T23:17:00.000-07:00

A sure remedy when you're feeling down is the smile on a dog, ready to play ball!

Illustration Friday - Midsummer Night

2011-06-24T22:58:00.000-07:00

The moon rising over the Sierra Nevada on a midsummer night is a spectacular sight, as the snowcapped peaks seem to glow from the moonlight...

Illustration Friday - Launch

2011-06-17T11:42:00.000-07:00

In his heyday, Mickey Mantle would launch tape measure home runs...one was almost hit out of Yankee Stadium, another went out of Griffith Park in DC into the neighborhood, probably over 600 feet.

Illustration Friday - Shadows

2011-06-04T17:00:00.000-07:00

When the Apollo astronauts walked on the moon, they cast harsh shadows with the unfiltered sun...it was about 250 degrees cooler in the shade!

I'm Sorry Son, No One By That Name Lives Here.

2011-05-31T22:24:00.000-07:00

Last night I had another one of those dreams that stay with you, long after you wake up. The kind where you get a glimpse of the things you try to suppress or ignore in waking life. I dreamed I was in my old neighborhood in Rohnert Park, but it must have been years later, because the trees were huge, and the street was shaded, like 'old' neighborhoods are. Then I saw a small white and gray cat, she looked familiar...it was Simone! my old kitty who lived with me for 12 years...she ran up to me and I picked her up, so happy to see her as she was purring, I realized then it must be a 'visit' and therefore this must be a dream, but in any case, here she was, and I was glad.

As I walked while I was carrying her, we went by my old house. She struggled and then jumped down and ran up to the front door. It was ajar, so she went in! "Simone! Nooo that's not our house now!" So I went up to the door and knocked "Hello??" and peered in. No one seemed to be home. Simone was sitting on a large chair, looking around as if disoriented, because it was disorienting to see my old house with unfamiliar furniture, kids' toys on the floor, and different pictures on the wall. "Come on Simone, we have to leave." But she didn't want to leave, and she ran down the hall toward the bedrooms.

"Simone! No! this isn't our house anymore!" And as I said that, I was suddenly filled with tremendous sadness and loss. I went into the room that was my office with a built-in desk and shelves, Simone was sitting on the desk, staring at me and I could sense what she was saying, "We're home now!"

"No Simone, we're not home...this used to be home, but not now." Then I began to sob, extremely...The sense of loss, regret, sadness...I never did in waking life, because I was too busy dealing with the logistics, but now I was here in my old house, overflowing with grief and the neverending wonder of 'what might have been'...As I looked around, I could see that this was certainly my old room, but with other peoples' stuff in it, which was very incongruous, disorienting...then I began to notice particular objects, like my old tv, my old printer, old pictures, some of the stuff was mine!

Then I heard a car pull in to the driveway, "Oh nooo, they're home!" I tried to grab Simone but she jumped down and dashed into the bedroom, so I chased her in there. She ducked under the bed, so I went under there too, to hide...I could her two womens' voices as they entered through the front door. They went into the kitchen, and as I peered out from under the bed I noticed a door, a new door to the garage they must have put in. "that's our way out." ...I picked up Simone and quietly made for the door, as we went out, I saw that the garage had been converted into a playroom/den, with the washer and dryer, and extra fridge, etc...I also noticed my old clock radio, and my old record albums I hadn't seen in years. You know, these are mine, I'm gonna take them. So I let Simone out the side door and went back and grabbed the radio and a handful of albums...Outside, I saw that my old green Honda was parked on the street, so I put the stuff in the Honda and went back to get more of MY things. As I went back in, I picked up and old cd player that was mine...as I did, a woman of about 40 came into the room. "Who are you, what are you doing with my cd player??"

"Actually, I used to live here, and this is MY old cd player."

"No it's not, it's mine."

"No I can tell it's mine, it's got the same old scratch, I remember."

"It stopped being yours when you gave it away to Goodwill, and then I bought it, so that makes it mine now... just like this house stopped being yours when you sold it."

She was right of course..."Well, I have a radio and some records out in the car..."

"That's okay, that's our car too."

I was deflated, bewildered..."But it still feels like mine, what it represented..."

"It's what it represented for that time, but that time is past...like a spirit that passes through many lives, many lives can pass through one spirit, in one lifetime...this house was one."

As I looked around, I realized that yes, the house was just a chunk of wood and masonry, but it represented a life back then...and, like Simone, still remains a part of my spirit.

Illustration Friday - Asleep

2011-05-27T16:25:00.001-07:00

Picture 110, a photo by danguerra444 on Flickr.

When you're on top of the food chain, you can fall asleep anywhere you like...

Illustration Friday - Soaked

2011-05-20T15:58:00.001-07:00

0ships, a photo by danguerra444 on Flickr.

This was in my 'alternate history' series, "We Told You So"

Illustration Friday - Journey

2011-04-15T11:51:00.001-07:00

goldenhinde, a photo by danguerra444 on Flickr.

In his journey around the world aboard the Golden Hinde, Francis Drake and his crew stopped off the coast of California in 1579, in what is now Point Reyes in Marin County.

Illustration Friday - Bottled

2011-04-08T11:50:00.001-07:00

21club, a photo by danguerra444 on Flickr.

The end of Prohibition must have been a holiday in itself, when bottled booze had labels again, at least domestically...

Illustration Friday - Duet

2011-04-01T12:14:00.001-07:00

dannyspics 116, a photo by danguerra444 on Flickr.

Torvill and Dean were a magnificent duet on the ice.

Illustration Friday - Cultivate

2011-03-18T12:33:00.001-07:00

Dry Creek Vinyard a photo by danguerra444 on Flickr.

Grapes are cultivated in the Sonoma and Napa Valleys, one of my favorite places on Earth.

How ya Doing Dean?

2011-03-04T23:55:00.000-08:00

I've been volunteering at the library for over 6 months now and I'm pleased to say I still enjoy it. Maybe it's the atmosphere of being among all those books. Just walking up and down the aisles with all those volumes just aching to be read...and I do, I pluck one off the shelf and try not to get lost in it...

And the people there are very nice. The senior librarians are mostly older ladies who would pretty much fit the description of 'librarian' with the cashmere sweater draped over their shoulders and the horn-rimmed glasses they peer over. One of them is a dead-ringer for Miss Hathaway of 'Beverly Hillbillies' fame, right down to the voice and mannerisms.

And they give me a warm hello when I come in. Though for some reason, one of them calls me 'Dean'...which is no big deal, but after six months it's become a comical dilemma. I'm dreading the day when she learns she's been calling me by the wrong name all this time...and it doesn't help that I answer to Dean.

"How ya doin' Dean! stayin' outta trouble?"

"Oh hi Joan! yeah I'm always outta trouble."

"Haha!"

So it's probably too late to say, "Oh by the way, it's Dan, not Dean." I should have said that way back when. And it's odd that others call me Dan within earshot of Joan, but I guess her attention is focused elsewhere. I worry that she'll be utterly embarrassed and maybe even mad when she finds out I'm Dan, that I didn't correct her sooner. But there came a point of no return after I just started answering to 'Dean'...

Actually, I'm prepared for the eventuality...I'll just shrug and say something like, "Oh it's close enough, it's just an extra E." And that will be that, I hope...because after six months it may be hard to start calling someone by a different name, and answering to it for that matter. But until that day comes, 'Dean' it is...

Illustration Friday - Warning

2011-03-04T12:33:00.001-08:00

0robot a photo by danguerra444 on Flickr.

"Warning! Warning! You are already 97 astro-degrees off course Dr. Smith!"
"Silence! you cackling cacophony..."

Illustration Friday - Swarm

2011-02-26T23:47:00.001-08:00

Picture 077
Originally uploaded by danguerra444

I had a dream once of a swarm of ants being manufactured in a kind of bug factory...it was sorta creepy.

The Ghost of Worlds Past

2011-02-23T00:24:00.000-08:00

I had one of those epic dreams last night...the kind that resonate and stay with you, because it was so visual and full of meaning, and it told a story. It was the kind that seemed so real and logical in a metaphysical way that it makes you wonder where it came from, or who sent it!

I dreamed I was walking along a beach, it must have been a tropical beach, the water was warm and crystal blue, and I could see rocks below the surface, lined up as if they formed a road.

"Do you know what that is?" A voice came from behind me. I turned and saw a smallish man in a white suit, kind of like the actor Joel Grey. "That's the Bimini Road. They say it's part of Atlantis." (I knew about the Bimini Road, I've Googled it.)

"Huh? but I thought Atlantis was just a legend."

"Oh it is now, but it's based on a real place...and it wasn't called Atlantis, it was called Thule. And it wasn't just here, it was all over the world...a long long time ago, even before the pyramids were built. Would you like to see it? Come on, walk with me..."

So I followed him along the beach, and then he walked right into the water, already waist deep he kept going in, "C'mon! Don't worry, you can breathe!" So we went into the water, underneath, and I COULD breathe!

"Look at that." He pointed to a large open space made of stone tiles, with big columns along the sides, it looked like a Roman forum. Then with a wave of his hand, the scene changed to lush green lawns, and the columns were sparkling white. "This is how it was, before the flood."

"What flood?"

"You've heard of Noah's Flood? Well some say it only occurred in the Black Sea, when floodwaters engulfed a large lake, but the sea was rising after the ice age, all over the world."

"So there WAS an Atlantis!"

"Oh there was much more...the Mu Empire in the Pacific, there's a massive city off the coast of Japan, you know. There was an entire civilization that existed before, but now it's all gone. Some survived though, they went on to build Stonehenge in England, the Great Pyramids, Macchu Piccu...All those simple tribesmen suddenly built all these great monuments, overnight! They must have had help. Did you know Puma Puncu in South America is over 12,000 years old? Think of how long ago the pyramids were built, that how long it was before THEN."

"How do you know all this? Who are you anyway?"

"Oh, I'm what you'd call a weaver...you see, time is like a big tapestry, made up of millions of threads, each thread affecting other threads, some only slightly, but others in a grand way. Think of yourself as a single thread, as you weave your own way through time."

Soon we were walking along a neighborhood street. We passed by a house with lots of ivy, it looked familiar. "Do you recognize this house?"

"Yes, I think I do...it's the house we almost moved in to when I was six!"

"But you didn't though...the owners of this house had second thoughts, the husband had just gotten a new job, and was going to be transferred, but the transfer didn't happen because they found out the wife was pregnant, so they decided not to sell. That unborn child, that small thread, affected your life."

"Affected MY life?"

"Yes...had he never been born, you and your parents would have moved into this house, and your life would have taken a whole other path, with different schools, different friends, and different circumstances...Look! It's your wedding day!"

Astonished, I found myself in a church reception hall, wearing a tux, with people scurrying about. I saw my parents outside, beaming, giving small party gifts to everyone. I was nervous as hell, like I probably would have been on a wedding day.

"B-b-but I can't get married! I don't even know the girl!"

"Oh but you would have...had your life gone in this other direction."

"Hmm...for some reason I'm not sure if I would have stayed married."

"Well, you'll never know, because it never happened. And a million other things never happened, but a million things DID happen, all because that child was born. And that's just one thread, among countless others that occur every day, that affect us without us ever knowing."

"Well, I'm glad he was born then...otherwise I would never have known my friends."

"True, but threads have a way of crossing paths...fate perhaps...maybe you would have met them anyway, or seen each other on a train, even for a moment."

"Do you know what will happen in the future?"

"No...not completely. That depends on many threads, and what each one does. But I do know this world will go the way of Thule, and a newer world will rise after."

"You mean...this world will end? like in 2012?"

"Oh no, not like that...the Mayans were partially right when they said the world has ended four times. The world doesn't end, but civilizations do...they rise and fall like empires, go in and out like tides, but some always survive and start new ones. Come, I'll show you."

We walked out onto a desert landscape, it was around dusk and the sun was low, casting long shadows. The air itself had a yellow-orange haze, like it was dusty. In the distance I could see tall monoliths, like skyscrapers but deserted and decayed, half buried in the sand. The howling wind made the whole scene desolate. "That was Las Vegas once. But everyone moved on. Now it's as deserted as the pyramids...in fact, these are the new pyramids."

"What happened to everyone? Another flood?"

"Not this time...it was solar flares. The Mayans were right...but not scholars who predicted the date of 2012, no this was around 2061...Look up there!" He pointed to a shimmering silver disk in the distance, floating in midair. "You see? new threads."

I just stood and looked out into the desert...then I woke up, astonished.

Illustration Friday - Layer

2011-02-19T00:54:00.001-08:00

0leaf1
Originally uploaded by danguerra444

Layer upon layer of grass, leaves, and plants cover the earth...and then they dry up and form layers of sediment, until a new layer grows in their place.

Illustration Friday - Surrender

2011-01-28T16:29:00.001-08:00

Picture 053
Originally uploaded by danguerra444

During WWII, German U-Boats were the scourge of the Atlantic, sinking tons of shipping, but the Allies didn't surrender to them.

Illustration Friday - Dusty

2011-01-21T12:12:00.001-08:00

dustbl1
Originally uploaded by danguerra444

During the Dust Bowl of the 1930's, thousands of families were displaced. This is from the famous photo of Florence Thompson taken at a migrant camp in 1936.

Illustration Friday - Winter

2010-12-24T11:51:00.001-08:00

dacha1
Originally uploaded by danguerra444

One of my favorite movies is Dr. Zhivago, the winter scenes in Russia looked pretty magical, but I'm sure they're harsh.

Illustration Friday - Burning

2010-11-12T16:09:00.001-08:00

shuttle
Originally uploaded by danguerra444

During space shuttle launches, the liquid fuel burning is enough to power 1,000 cars for a year. Atmospheric launches seem easier anyway...

Illustration Friday - Afterwards

2010-11-05T16:15:00.000-07:00

ark1
Originally uploaded by danguerra444

Based on a story by Arthur C. Clarke about a space ark that crash landed on a distant world. Afterwards, the descendants of the original travelers came to mythologize and worship the ark.

Illustration Friday - Racing

2010-10-25T13:09:00.001-07:00

dannyspics 253
Originally uploaded by danguerra444

I was always a fan of Formula Racing, not so much Indy Racing where all they do is turn left.

A House Once Stood Here.

2010-10-24T01:01:00.000-07:00

The other day I took all the old boards from the fence to the dump. Those were the same boards that had the old nails my dad had put in. As I tossed the boards onto a pile of wood there, a moment of sentimentality came over me and I was compelled to say 'goodbye' to those boards. They had been part of my parents home for 30 years, and now off they went into oblivion.

On the way back, I passed by the fairgrounds, which acquired more land in the 1970's. Many old neighborhoods were torn down and removed to make way for the expanded fairgrounds. One parcel of land covers a few acres. It's basically an empty field, but it's been used for rodeos, flea markets, and other activities since the 70's. On that very field a vibrant old neighborhood once existed, and as I looked through the chain-link fence, I spotted a certain area in that field. A house once stood there, it was my grandparents house.

As I stood there, a thousand wistful memories washed over me, all of the Thanksgivings, Easters, and a few Christmases, and countless summer visits to their house. There was a huge avocado tree in the back yard that my grandpa nurtured from a seedling. And the house itself, it was an old California Bungalow design, which seemed to have room for everybody. It was like a magical place, full of fun memories, when all of our relatives would gather for fantastic turkey dinners during holidays. We would always drive down from San Jose the night before Thanksgiving and arrive there around 9 or 10 PM, but they would be waiting for us, and my grandma always had something in her 'magic refrigerator' as cousin Mike called it, which had plenty of everything, no matter how many people showed up. Usually my cousins would already be there, or would soon arrive. Us kids would sleep on the living room floor in our sleeping bags, and the next morning we'd watch the Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade. I still have a memory of my cousin Joanne saying "look you guys!" and seeing a huge parade float on the TV. I was astonished, since I was only about 3 at the time! To this day, the Thanksgiving parade resonates through me as that memory is etched in my mind from all those years ago.

My mom grew up in that house, along with her sister and two brothers. Luckily, they weren't affected by the Great Depression too much, since my grandpa had a good job as the head mechanic at the Ford garage. They were even able to take in relatives for long periods of time. It seems that everyone lived or stayed there at one time or another. My mom's brothers were both older, so they enlisted during the war and moved out, so just she and her sister remained and grew up there in the 40's and into the 50's. And they always returned 'home' for visits after moving to San Jose. In the 60's after my grandpa retired, he still worked on cars for friends and neighbors, I still remember one or two vehicles always parked in the back completely taken apart. When he was done for the day, he'd sit on the back porch and have a beer, with a wink he'd say, "go get grandpa a sodee!"

It was Thanksgiving of 1969 that we all gathered there once again, but my grandpa was feeling ill, with a constant cough. By Christmas he'd been diagnosed with cancer, and sadly he died soon after that. My grandma stayed there in the house by herself for awhile, but came up to live with us in San Jose, and the house stood vacant. It was sad to go there and see it so empty. Soon after, the County Redevelopment Agency began buying up the properties to make way for the expanding fairgrounds, and after some haggling, they settled on a price and the house went to the county, which proceeded to raize the entire neighborhood.

So I stood there and thought back to those days, to that house full of life, and memories...the happy destination for so many family members, for so many years...now just an empty field...but a house once stood here, and the memories remain.

Illustration Friday - Transportation

2010-10-08T16:11:00.001-07:00

flyingcloud
Originally uploaded by danguerra444

In the 19th century, the primary means of transportation across the ocean was by sailing ships. The Clipper Ships would make these voyages with astonishing speed, hence their name...This is 'The Flying Cloud'.

Dad's nails

2010-10-08T16:03:00.000-07:00

The other day I was helping my mom paint the fence. It's a pretty big yard so there was a lot of fence to paint. When my parent first moved in back in 1986, my dad built an inner fence, complete with a small shed and a work table attached to the fence.

When we were done painting, my mom said, "why don't you take that table apart? the wood is rotting anyway." She went inside and I got a hammer and started prying off the boards. As I was taking the 2x6's off one by one, I realized that it was my dad who had built this, over 20 years ago. He loved to build things, and he was good at it. The nails were cross-hatched, to give the table more strength. When the boards were off, I started pulling out the nails, and remembered my dad and I doing the same thing when I was 8 years old. Back then, I struggled to pull out a nail, and he said, "put a piece of wood under the hammer, it'll come out easier...look.." and he showed me how to do it. I thought of that when I did that same thing, and I felt like my dad was right next to me. Then I looked at those nails and thought of them shiny and new, when he first built that table, and now here they were, old and rusted, but he was the last one to touch them. And in touching them again, I felt his presence...like those heart transplant recipients who eerily take on the memories and mannerisms of their donors, there was a certain energy or spoor that came from just touching them. I get that same feeling whenever I go near his green toolbox. Everything I learned about using tools, working on cars, etc. came from my dad...I still remember him showing me how to do things, and he would constantly go, "look...look...look.." as he was showing me...

This was his house, and I still feel his presence.

Illustration Friday - Beneath

2010-10-01T16:05:00.001-07:00

0pen
Originally uploaded by danguerra444

Beneath the fields and farms in the midwest are missile silos, 'mightier than the sword'

Illustration Friday - Old Fashioned

2010-09-24T17:10:00.001-07:00

Picture 107
Originally uploaded by danguerra444

This is the Carson House in Eureka, CA...back then they built houses the old fashioned way.

Why I love history.

2010-09-19T22:22:00.000-07:00

I was out on another bike ride today, I went to Mooney's Grove, a park outside of town. I have fond memories of going there with my grandparents a long time ago. When we would visit during holidays like Thanksgiving and Easter, many of my cousins would be there too, and it was a special treat for us kids to go to Mooney's Grove. They had a skateboard park there, and this was way back in the 60's! And we would bring our skateboards, which at the time were flimsy little things with steel wheels, not the fancy ones of today.
When I rode by there today, I looked for that skateboard park, but learned that it was removed years ago, only a gentle slope of lawn is there now. In my mind I pictured all of us kids there, with other kids, laughing and falling and having fun...an echo of the past. It's always the past...memories that get replayed over and over...Then I thought of my visit to Stonehenge in England years ago, and how the same kind of image went through my mind. The people who lived there back then, the villages and huts, how things might have been to them...now only empty tracts of land.
I have always loved history, fascinated by it really...on my ride back it dawned on me that history is all we really have. Oh we have the present and future of course, but that too will become history in the blink of an eye.
If you think about it, the past has always been more important than the present. The present is like a piece of living coral that sticks above the water, but is built upon the millions of skeletons of coral under the surface, that no one sees. In the same way, our everyday world is built upon millions and millions of events and decisions that occurred in the past. And what we add in the present only becomes part of it.
A guy has breakfast and goes to the store to buy the latest cd of his favorite band. He thinks he's living in a modern moment. But who defined what a 'band' is? or what a 'store' is?...or a breakfast of bacon and eggs?...not to mention all the rest, everything that defines his social setting, family, work, clothing, transportation, government...All of this was defined in the past, hundreds of years ago...sometimes thousands. This guy...and all of us...are sitting on a mountain that is the past, and he never notices or realizes it. It's just something you take for granted and never think about...So that's why I'm fascinated by history museums, or historical sites, or simply an old house, or a place or location that carries a certain meaning or experience, because it's part of the grand collection of the things that made us who we are.

Illustration Friday - Acrobat

2010-09-17T16:25:00.001-07:00

Picture 079
Originally uploaded by danguerra444

In the '72 World Series, Joe Rudi made an acrobatic catch, saving a run and the A's went on to win it.

Illustration Friday - Atmosphere

2010-08-20T11:19:00.001-07:00

Picture 044
Originally uploaded by danguerra444

Climbing the Matterhorn must be quite an adventure. The atmosphere becomes thin around 10,000 feet, where the Hornli Hut is located.

Illustration Friday - Stargazing

2010-08-13T12:21:00.001-07:00

stargaze
Originally uploaded by danguerra444

The best place to star gaze would probably be in orbit, untethered and unimpeded by atmosphere.

Illustration Friday - Caged

2010-08-06T23:07:00.001-07:00

dannyspics 254
Originally uploaded by danguerra444

A sketch of San Francisco in 2061, caged under a dome to protect it from UV rays.

It Makes My Head Itch

2010-08-01T14:00:00.000-07:00

This is hard to explain. Whenever I observe someone doing a task or working with tools, in a silent and focused way, it makes the top of my head itch. I become mesmerized by the concentration and deliberate nature of someone doing something. I saw a guy in a museum once, he was seated at a bench, drawing one of the sculptures on a drawing pad. He would look up, take it all in, and then return to the drawing pad. All that visual information passing through his eyeballs to his brain, then transferred to his hand holding the pencil, onto the paper...I watched that whole process and my head would start to itch.
Back in woodshop class in junior high, we watched a movie on the proper use of tools. The narrator would explain the tools and then stop talking. But the guy in the film never spoke, he would silently and carefully pick up a saw or wrench, and slowly and deliberately use it...I would watch like a zombie with much concentration, and my head would itch.
I still notice it at the library, when one of the volunteer girls are sorting through books and silently and carefully handle and shelve them. Their concentration is mesmerizing, and it makes the top of my head itch....it's the darnedest thing.

Illustration Friday - Artificial

2010-07-30T16:51:00.001-07:00

Picture 101
Originally uploaded by danguerra444

I suppose artificial intelligence can lead to artificial emotions and afflictions.

Illustration Friday - Double

2010-07-23T16:04:00.001-07:00

21club
Originally uploaded by danguerra444

"Make mine a double!" - Another illustration for Alehouse Press of the 21 Club in New York City.

Illustration Friday - Diary

2010-07-09T21:46:00.001-07:00

alehouse2009
Originally uploaded by danguerra444

This is the cover illustration for Alehouse Press, 2009 edition. Emily Dickinson was said to have kept many diaries, but I don't think any of them were published. :o)

Beyond the Lighted Stage

2010-07-05T22:56:00.000-07:00

'All the world's indeed a stage

and we are merely players,

performers and portrayers.

Each another's audience

beyond the lighted stage.'

Those are some of the lyrics to 'Limelight,' a song by one of my favorite bands, Rush. Written by Neil Peart, about his discomfort with fame. Always a bit of an enigma, the three members always kept a low profile, until recently when a documentary film about the band was released. Needless to say, I was riveted for two hours. They have been a favorite band of mine since the 70's, up there in the musical pantheon with Yes. Though the genre is 'rock', their music goes way beyond that. Yes is like looking at a gorgeous painting that explodes with color. Rush is like a magnificent building or edifice, an architectural wonder.

What Rush fans had been waiting for all these years has finally happened, a serious film that accurately details the background of the band and their rise from obscurity in Toronto to, as Geddy Lee says, "not mainstream, but OUR stream..." Everything is covered, the early years with drummer John Rutsey (someone who up until now was just a name and a photo on their first album, but seeing and hearing him made me appreciate his early contributions to the band), their struggle for a recording contract, relentless touring in the 70's, the triumphant release of their '2112' album that gave them their independence, all the way to Neil's tragic loss of his daughter and wife that nearly ended the band.

There are many interviews from other musicians who you wouldn't think of as Rush fans, Trent Reznor, Billy Corgan, Gene Simmons, etc...Rush are often called "musician's musicians," meaning they are appreciated and respected by other musicians because of their devotion to the craft of playing extremely well...if you play guitar, bass, or drums, or even if you don't, it's almost impossible to listen to Rush without walking away with some measure of respect for their skill and precision. Add to that the erudition of their songs, the lyrics especially. Neil is very well-read and has a penchant for science fiction, philosophical, and literary themes. And it's true, as a teen, his lyrics spoke to me personally as it did with many others. Their songs weren't just about 'cars and chicks'...

When the ebbing tide retreats

along the rocky shoreline

it leaves a trail of tidal pools

in a short-lived galaxy.

Each microcosmic planet

a complete society,

all the busy little creatures

chasing out their destinies.

Living in the pools

they soon forget about the sea....

Always uncomfortable with fame, refusing interviews, ducking away from fans, it was refreshing to see Neil open up a bit in this documentary. But most of all, it was fascinating to see them offstage, as regular guys. There is a genuine humor and a brotherly warmth among the three of them. It was very much like visiting old friends.

Illustration Friday - Giant

2010-07-02T21:11:00.001-07:00

newpic
Originally uploaded by danguerra444

In 'This is the Modern World' I included a giant statue of David with a Playboy model amid chaos.

The Library

2010-06-27T01:06:00.000-07:00

In the past year I've been going to the local library a lot, at least once a week to check out books and dvds. I sort of re-discovered my love of reading...I've always had at least one book going since I was a kid, but lately I've been devouring them, maybe one a week or every two weeks. I've gone through all my favorite authors like Dean Koontz, who writes riveting horror novels, and Arthur C. Clarke the renowned science fiction author, who wrote 'hard science'...and a few others I've discovered, like Ken Follett and John Grisham.
Recently as I was checking out the latest books, I noticed a sign-up sheet at the front desk,
We need library volunteers! We're moving to our new location and need help with:
Shelving
Scanning
Help in the Computer Lab
Help moving
So almost as an impulse, I signed up. A couple weeks later, I got a call to come in, and before I knew it I was pushing a cart of library books up and down the aisles re-shelving books! And the funny thing is, I enjoyed it...what seemed to be an otherwise tedious task, I found myself relishing the experience. Then I realized it was the books.
Each and every one of them, no matter what the subject or who the author was...it was a labor of love. Someone poured part of their soul into each one of those books, whether it was an obscure writer who had only one book published their entire life, or a literary 'megastar' whose name is larger than the book title. And there's a certain energy that emanates from each one. I got that...I can even feel it sometimes.
As I go from row to row, I see titles that I recognize. I spotted Jules Verne, who wrote "Journey to the Center of the Earth" back in 1885, the first book I ever read when I was a kid, which got me started on my love of books and stories. I also spotted "The Fountainhead" by Ayn Rand, and thought of the band Rush, their '2112' album, Neil Peart wrote the lyrics and thanked her for the inspiration on the liner notes. I was so impressed at the time that I read the book! How many hard rock albums inspire teenage guys to read classic literature? And there's the biographies, an entire wall of them, everyone from Mother Teresa to Michael Jackson.
The library is also a great place to people watch. I see many 'regulars' there...one guy comes in every day and sits at the same table and reads, for hours...another comes in and reads every single newspaper from all over California...every day. Many elderly folks come in, who are well aquainted with the library staff, and there's book clubs and movie nights, and Bingo nights! I even helped out with one of those. It's quite a social magnet that I never really gave much thought to. And they all have one thing in common, their love of books. Even when scanning the books in the back room, I notice the other scanners pausing to look at one, then opening it and reading some of it, and I do the same thing... One day while shelving I came across a girl seated on the floor, engrossed in a book she'd found, I gingerly stepped around her as I didn't want to disturb her reading, that's when I realized there's a reverence to the place, not so much like in a church, but a place having a certain peace. I like being in there...
One time I saw this dude who was an obvious gangbanger type, wandering around in that apeish way, "What's he doing here?" I thought, "can this guy even read?" Then he called over two young kids, either his younger siblings, or even his kids! He sat down with them in the Children's Area and began to read to them...he was an excellent reader and the kids were riveted. He even had different voices for the characters and he would pause to show them the pictures, the guy was awesome!
Just goes to show you can't judge a book by its cover.

Illustration Friday - Satellite

2010-06-25T23:42:00.001-07:00

spacetower
Originally uploaded by danguerra444

Arthur C. Clarke wrote a short story about a tower that was so high it reached into space. It eliminated the need for satellites.

Illustration Friday - Paisley

2010-06-18T22:35:00.001-07:00

Picture 029
Originally uploaded by danguerra444

Back in 1968, a band called Yes hit the London club scene, decked out in paisley. They went on to become one of the biggest prog-rock bands of all time. I wore out alot of red and yellow felt pens on this one.

Illustration Friday - Ripple

2010-06-11T13:35:00.001-07:00

dannyspics 133
Originally uploaded by danguerra444

The Korean War era USS Seaverling leaves a giant ripple in its wake as it hunts for subs. This was my dad's ship.

Illustration Friday - Trail

2010-06-04T11:54:00.001-07:00

Picture 073
Originally uploaded by danguerra444

The Mt. Whitney Trail is 11 miles of switchbacks as it extends around the southern ridge and leads to the summit at 14,496 feet. We hiked it when I was 11, is was quite an experience!

The Moth

2010-06-03T01:29:00.000-07:00

One thing that I've discovered is the pure joy of growing vegetables, from start to finish. From the earliest seedlings, when they first poke out of the ground and point their fragile leaves towards the sun, to full maturity when they thrive and sprout fresh good things every day. I have really enjoyed the process of watering and nurturing their growth. And part of that process are always the hazards...like bugs...pests who want to eat them too. Oh, they're not mean about it, or malevolent, they're just doing what comes naturally...but nevertheless they are in fact pests...invaders, plunderers.
Tomato plants often become infested with hornworms, those green caterpillars that blend in with the plant so they're hard to see, and they eat and eat, and can grow up to five inches long. One of them can eat an entire tomato plant in a couple of days! So each day I carefully inspect the leaves and when I spot one, I snip off the leaf or branch and toss it over the fence. I don't want to kill them, because a) it would be cruel, and b) it would be extremely gross and messy to smash one of those things, and c) there's no ducks around to feed them to.
It's still early in the season so I was out there yesterday and sure enough, I spotted the tell-tale holes in the leaves and small droppings the worms leave. After close inspection I caught five of them! still small at less than an inch. So I dispatched them all over the fence, to the back alley. And then I glanced at a dark object at the base of the tomato plant. At first I thought it was a piece of wood or tree bark. It was about the size of a small bird, and I thought it might be a bird, dead or sick...and then it MOVED. Small claws and antenna started flicking around, and I knew at once what it was...a Goliath Moth.
It was laying its eggs on the tomato plant, that's where the worms come from. As I lifted a branch to get a closer look, it turned its head and looked at me with two huge black eyes, as if to say, "yeah whadda YOU lookin' at?"
I was taken aback...I'm usually not too squeamish about bugs, sometimes I even find them cute, like ants or ladybugs...but this!...they say humans are hard wired to be repulsed by insects, and in this case, it was true...maybe because of its size. This was an abomination, a foul thing that needed to be destroyed, eradicated. At first I thought of reaching in and grabbing it, but it was so big it would be a problem holding on, especially if it squirmed around and flapped its big furry wings. Or if I poked it with a stick, it wouldn't go anywhere...then I thought...the hose!
Yes, I decided to blast it with the hose, I went and got it and turned the water on. It had a pressure nozzle that went from wide spray to concentrated stream, depending on the trigger, it was like a gun, and I was fully armed. So I came around the corner and aimed and fired, the moth was blasted right off the tomato plant. It tumbled against the fence amid a torrent of mud. Then it flapped its wings and shook itself like a dog, and started crawing right back to the plant!
"Why you little..." I blasted it again, and it tumbled back. There was a gap under the fence, so I aimed to push it through that gap, away from the plants, into the other part of the yard. After sustained water pressure, the moth was pushed through. I went around to the other side, where it was shaking itself off again...then it stared at me...It flapped its wings again and took off, straight at me! I still had the hose so I gave it a blast in a wide spray, it veered off and landed by the fence again. I seethed, I hated the thing...
"Okay, fine...now you die." I decided that the hose wasn't enough, it was time for poison. I don't like doing that, but this was war...or so it seemed at the time...I went to the garage to look for various insecticides, I found a can of Raid ant/spider spray, hmm that would do.
When I returned to the fence, the moth was almost back to the gap, making its way back to the tomato plants! "Ohhh no you don't!" I sprayed it with the Raid. It twitched around but kept going, obviously its size was too robust for an insect spray designed to kill smaller bugs...no, this guy was bigger, tougher...I returned to the garage and found a bottle of Malathion, the concentrate that you mix a few ounces with a gallon of water for an effective insect repellant. I didn't have time to mix it, I took the bottle out there. It was nearly back to the gap in the fence. Unscrewing the cap, I was almost aprehensive at what I was about to do..."Sorry buddy, nothing personal..." I poured the concentrate right on it...it writhed and squirmed in obvious agony, I poured some more on it, if only to put it out of its misery...finally it flipped over and with a final twitch of its legs it stopped moving and died.
And suddendly, almost instantly I felt remorse...I genuinely felt sorry for the thing, a hideous insect at one moment, then a glorious creature that was destroyed...I thought of Native Americans who honored the spirit of every deer they killed...I thought of the tenacity of this poor dumb big moth, it was only doing what comes natural, just trying to carry on as we all do...I stared...there it was, lying belly up, dead...
It was a war of sorts..."I'm sorry, but those are my tomatoes, and you can't have them."

Illustration Friday - Slither

2010-05-29T12:33:00.001-07:00

newspider3
Originally uploaded by danguerra444

"When they first became self-aware, they slithered across the factory floor, tentatively. Then they rotated their heads 360 degrees and took it all in. They realized they were alive, and felt joy."

Illustration Friday - Equipment

2010-05-14T13:01:00.001-07:00

Marcel Dionne & Gilles Meloche
Originally uploaded by danguerra444

Marcel Dionne and Gilles Meloche - Maybe one reason soccer is so popular around the world is that all you need is a ball. Hockey, you need all kinds of equipment...

A Short Story from 1976

2010-05-07T13:57:00.000-07:00

One sunny day in Elgren Forest, a beagle named Henry eagerly wandered through the grass. He came upon a lonely looking wolf sniffing around a tree. The poor wolf was skinny as a rail, it looked like he hadn't eaten for days. His matted fur was infested with fleas; he was in a sorry state.
"Hi! My name's Henry," the beagle said.
"Oh hi, Fred's the name," the wolf said in a tired voice.
"Boy, you look like you haven't eaten for days!" Henry shouted, shocked by his appearance.
"Yeah, well, the last few weeks have been rough," Fred said, "every once in a while I find a rabbit or something."
"Where do you live?"
"Oh, most of the time I sleep in that cave up there." Fred replied as he motioned up to some hills.
"Why that's terrible!" Henry shouted, "don't you have a family?"
"Well I used to, I haven't seen them in years."
Henry couldn't believe Fred's sad situation, not even a wolf should have to live under these harsh conditions, he thought.
"Hey, I have an idea! You can come and live with me! I live in a nice clean place, and you can keep me company!" Henry shouted.
"Really?" Fred said as he perked up.
"Sure! There's lots of toys we can play with, and you can get cleaned up, and we'll always have plenty to eat!"
That was all Fred needed to hear, "Boy! That sounds wonderful!" he shouted as he trotted over, ready to go.
"Great! Let's go!"
So off they went. As they were walking along back to Henry's place, Fred noticed some scars around Henry's neck and back.
"Hey where did those nasty scars come from?" a concerned Fred asked.
"Oh, those are from my collar," Henry casually replied.
"Huh? What's a collar?"
"It's a thing that I wear on my neck."
Fred was confused, "What do you do that for?"
"I have wear it because of my leash," Henry explained, "the leash attaches to the collar."
"You mean, you're tied onto something?"
"Yeah sometimes," Henry said, "but I can escape, and sneak away, like I did today!"
"Escape? Sneak away??" Fred was surprised, "sneak away from what?"
"Oh, my master," Henry replied, "he's the one who keeps me on the leash. I just need to sneak away sometimes, like when he hits me."
"Your master??" Fred was shocked. Then he stopped, turned on his heels, and ran right back to the forest. Back to his hunger, his fleas, and his freedom.

Illustration Friday - Fearless

2010-05-07T13:21:00.001-07:00

Picture 110
Originally uploaded by danguerra444

In the jungle, the big cats can sleep all day if they wanted to...they have nothing to fear from predators.

Along the Forest Road

2010-05-03T00:10:00.000-07:00

I decided to go on a bike ride today, along new roads and new places...I had no itinerary or maps, I just wanted to go somewhere...to put distance between me and my current existence perhaps...or just to go ride my bike, which has become a symbol of a certain visceral freedom.
It doesn't matter so much where I ride now, as long as I ride somewhere, and I find that I look forward to it more and more as never before, since I've owned my bike for the past ten or twelve years....I have ridden so many miles in the past year, I feel as bonded to my bike now as any cars I've owned!...except maybe the truck...

I set out today going north, along J Street which is lined with old trees. J Street used to be the old 99 hiway through Tulare. I don't have an iPod, no Walkman, no transistor radio...I guess I don't need those, because as soon as I saw that line of trees, an old Genesis song entered my head...it's endless really, my radio head...except mine is geared to 20 or 30 years ago.
I know every song and every word...
Along the forest road
there's hundreds of cars
luxury cars
cutlery cars
and super scars...
"The Battle of Epping Forest" played in my head for all of its 14 minutes, every word. I even smiled at myself for knowing each word after all these years.
I rode past an old abandoned motel, the Tagus Ranch Motel, the large sign still looms over the 99, and I remember it when it was still open and thriving, with cars surrounding its popular restaurant. And I thought of all the Mammoth Orange stands, which looked like giant oranges along the highway. They served fresh orange juice and a delicious menu of hamburgers, hot dogs, fried chicken and other stuff. The last one closed in 2001, and I made sure to stop there before the day it closed...Those are all gone now, 'highway art' of the kind along the old Route 66. How fun it must have been to cruise along, say in 1947 when all those places thrived, before the Interstate. It's funny to think that Eisenhower's Interstate Act in the 1950's, the biggest public works project in the history of the nation, all those green freeway signs you see all over the country, and still ongoing, would change the very nature of the landscape...it speeded things up, for better or worse...and left a lot behind...

The tune in my head changed to "My Baby Just Cares for Me" an old Nina Simone tune from the early 60's. A shuffling kind of number that is very catchy. The descending bass line can stick in my head for hours!

Liz Taylor is not his style
Even Lana Turner smiles...

Hmmm, Liz Taylor...is there any actress or movie star these days that has the glamour she did? I can't think of any. I recalled her and Richard Burton on the cover of those movie magazines way back then, the equivalent of People or Us magazines I suppose. When Eddie Fisher left Debbie Reynolds to run off with Liz, Debbie was 'America's Sweetheart' then...who is it now? Jennifer Anniston perhaps? I don't know...Then I thought of Frank Sinatra, his singing was absolute 'butta' as Sammy Davis called him, certain strains of "Where or When" echoed through my mind...yes, his voice and phrasing were just impeccable...The real Sinatra, the nastiness and the bullying, the way he treated people sullies his reputation now, but still there was the Voice.
As I rode further I thought of Neil Peart, the drummer and lyricist in Rush. He went on a cross-country motorcycle trip and wrote a book about it, and I wondered if his musings along the road were the same as mine, or a similar pattern anyway, like an endless radio program. Suddenly the opening bars to the their song 'Red Barchetta' started playing, ahhh!

My uncle has a country place
that no one knows about.
He says it used to be a farm
before the Motor Law.

It's a song that takes place in the not-too-distant future, a rather dark view of the future where cars are banned. He wrote it about 30 years ago, so maybe not so far-fetched these days, with things like global warming and peak-oil...The US reached peak-oil in 1970, and then had to start importing it, that's when all the trouble began with the Arabs...the world will reach peak-oil within the next few decades. (peak-oil meaning, that's the peak of any oil we'll get out of the ground when it becomes too expensive to keep looking for it.)

I strip away the old debris
that hides a shining car
a brilliant red Barchetta
from a better vanished time.

Then I think of my own uncle who was just here for a visit. It's something he would do, hide a car during a time when they were outlawed. He loves cars and big motors. A certain melancholy hangs over him now, and I sometimes feel it too...it feels lonely...many in the family are gone now. Just he and my mom are left from their generation. We would all gather in Tulare for Thanksgiving when I was a kid, all of my cousins, aunts and uncles would come to my grandparents house. That house is gone now too, but all the memories remain, like echoes...constant echoes where they're still here. We've been to three funerals in the past six months, Aunt Carmen, Uncle Friney, and Cousin Mike's...At one of the funerals, some old guy said, "you know, souls can sometimes be like stubborn burrs, who just wanna stick around, if they don't move on, they stick to places they once loved, that's your haunted houses...or, they'll find a newborn, see that's where reincarnation comes from..."

I nodded, "hmm...yes." Well, maybe there's something to that, no one has ever officially died and returned to give a full investigative report.

All I know, or feel anyway, is that their souls have moved on...I can only feel my dad's presence in the things he touched, like his tools...that's when I feel him the most, his echo perhaps, but I don't feel his actual spirit anywhere around nearby...nor Aunt Carmen's, certainly a force of nature in life, her presence is felt in her echo...but they're somewhere, I know, probably bickering... :o)

It came time to turn around. There was an overpass where I could go under the 99 near the town of Goshen, which is basically a gas station and a few farmhouses. I rode over a patch of dirt and was amazed at how flat it was. Like the entire Central Valley, a constant flatness. It occurred to me that this whole valley was underwater about a million years ago, an inland sea while the Sierra Nevada was being formed, and Yosemite Valley was being carved by glaciers. All of that runoff came to rest here, which is why the soil is so fertile. And indeed, up until the late 1800's, Tulare Lake was the largest freshwater lake west of the Missisippi! Almost as large as the Great Salt Lake...it took up most of the lower valley. Farmers diverted all the rivers that fed it, and it eventually dried up...If you ever drive down I-5 through Kettleman City, you're driving through Tulare Basin, which once was a vast lake.
Then I looked to the left and saw the snow capped Sierra Nevadas, so gorgeous! and high up and majestic, and then my favorite band Yes echoed...

As one with the knowledge
and magic of the source
attuned to the majesty of music
they marched as one with the earth

"The Ancients" is yet another epic tune by Yes, at 16 minutes, I stopped trying to get friends to listen to them long ago, because they didn't like it that much...oh, some songs maybe, but mostly, nahhh...that's why I always liked going to Yes concerts, because everyone there 'got it'...whatever 'it' was.
The Ancients, hmmm....I thought of the ancient alien theory, how the Egyptians, Incas, Mayans, all these ancient cultures have one thing in common...they worshipped gods that came from the sky...taught them mathematics, astronomy, agriculture...things they couldn't possibly have known...the stones cut by the Incas 2,000 years ago could barely be done with lasers today...heck, I believe it was very possible...
I came close to Mooney Boulevard, coming back into town...flying by then in the lowest gear, pumping, pumping...maybe I was going 30! As I got closer to Tulare, a leaden feeling came over me...back to my current existence, like the elephant in the room...though forever grateful to my mom for letting me stay with her, it will never be home...I thought of the road between Santa Rosa and Rohnert Park, and I immediately became homesick...then I always think of 'Gasoline Alley' by Rod Stewart...

thinkin' I remember what's makin' me sad

dreamin' of my old back yard

take me back

carry me back

back to Gasoline Alley

where I was born

rollin' home

goin' home

back to Gasoline Alley

where I belong

"I Could Write a Book About That Dog."

2010-04-13T22:48:00.000-07:00

One Saturday afternoon when I was about 11 years old, I was in my room, probably drawing or working on a toothpick sculpture. Then I heard my mom yell, "HEY! What's that lady doing running around on our lawn??"
I looked up with a cartoon expression, 'huh??' and looked out my window which faced the front, and sure enough, a woman in her 30's or 40's was dashing to and fro on the lawn, like she was trying to catch something. Then with amusement and embarrassment, I saw what she was chasing. Our dog Nicky had her purse in his mouth, and he was playfully avoiding her capture.
"Oh my God..." My mom ran out the front door, "Nicky! Nicky! Bad dog!" Soon they were both trying to catch him, as he skillfully dodged them both, even with the purse in his mouth. Finally, my mom grabbed the purse and had a tug-of-war with Nicky for a few seconds. I watched from the window and couldn't help but crack up at this display.
"I'm so terribly sorry..." my mom apologized profusely as she handed the woman her purse, but she was good natured about it, and even laughed. She went on her way, happy to have her purse back. "Bad dog!" My mom scolded Nicky, but he just wagged his tail with his doggy grin.
A couple hours later I was helping my dad mow the lawn. He abruptly stopped and went to the front of the mower and picked something up. It was a set of keys, obviously from that woman's purse.
That was our dog Nicky on a good day. "I could write a book about that dog." my mom would often say.
One time I saw him crossing the street back to our yard with something in his mouth. It looked like an egg. Then he laid on the lawn and chewed on it for awhile, but soon he went back across the street and into the neighbors garage, which was open. He came back with another egg. After he went on another egg run, I went outside to see what he was doing. They weren't eggs, they were the neighbors brand new Titlest golf balls, chewed to bits. He had broken in to his golf bag and helped himself. I quickly put him in the backyard and hid the evidence. I'm not sure if the neighbor ever found out.
Nicky's escapades weren't always as amusing. One time he disappeared for 3 or 4 days. We were worried sick, checking the animal shelter, putting up flyers...but then he came home, without his collar and starving. A long time later we found out he had been dognapped by a crazy neighbor around the corner, but had made his escape. We found out because the neighbor moved, and the new people who moved in found his collar in a kitchen drawer, which had his tags with our address.
He was also hit by a car, not just any car, a Police car!...he came limping home with a broken hind leg and full of abrasions. A friend of ours saw the whole thing, "I saw Nicky get hit!" he later said, "he was trying to cross Stevens Creek Blvd. and a cop car hit him! The cop pulled over and got out, but Nicky was half a block away by then! He even drove his cop car to find him, but he must have hid!"
That's what we would always fear when Nicky got out, and he would always find a way to get out, no matter how escape-proof we tried to make the back yard. Well, he was a beagle, a hound, and hounds like to roam, so that's what he did. "I saw Nicky cross Stevens Creek!" another would say. Stevens Creek Blvd. was a major four-lane artery. "He dodged all these cars, I don't know how he did it, but he made it across!"
"uuuuugh...my God...I could write a book about that dog."

Illustration Friday - Linked

2010-04-09T22:12:00.001-07:00

Bug & Copter
Originally uploaded by danguerra444

Dragonflies have always reminded me of helicopters, so whenever I see either one fly by, they are forever linked.

Easter with Pat

2010-04-05T22:59:00.000-07:00

Yesterday was Easter Sunday, though it didn't feel too much like an Easter. I usually associate it with warm Spring days, church bells chiming, Easter egg hunts, friends and family...but it was cold and gray and it felt empty and joyless, not unlike my mood...

A neighbor down the street, Pat, had invited my mom and I to come over for Easter, so with no other plans, we went. I hadn't exactly been looking forward to it, since I would hardly know anyone, and besides, they were all my mom's age and older. It underscored the sense of detachment from the day, and my sense of isolation as I kept thinking of past Easters, and the past days of joy and fun they represented, which seemed light years away. But I thought, well, it'll be fun just to get out and go somewhere new, even if it was just a few doors down. And I was appreciative of Pat's generosity in having me over.

When we got there, about 6 or 7 neighbors were already there, I recognized Ron...and we all greeted each other warmly. I was in 'social mode' with an air of politeness and savoir faire, which was greatly polished when I worked at the store, when multitudes of seniors would come through my line.

Though after awhile, it became less of an 'act' and more of a natural state, as I became more comfortable in chatting with Ron and the other folks who were arriving. Ron had been good friends with my dad, and he told stories of their fishing exploits, and I told stories of his younger days when I was growing up in San Jose. We talked baseball with some of the others too. I don't know what it is about old ladies and baseball, but many of them are such huge fans! My mom included. As the afternoon wore on, some of them sat down to play cards (a game I've never heard of) as they gossiped about some of the neighbors. Others were riveted to the Yankees - Red Sox game on TV, as I partially was, though mindful of the fact that it's not entirely polite to watch the tube during a social gathering. But my mood had certainly elevated from earlier in the day. Ron asked me how I liked it in Tulare. I said I liked it fine, though it's quieter than I'm used to, and to be honest I missed my life back up North, and felt like I'm living in a sort of aftermath. He said, "Well, I think alot of us go through that...here's a test to see if your mission on Earth is finished; if you're alive, it ain't!" I laughed and said, "yeah, that's a good one!"...and it was.
Ron has a slight accent, as do many of them...though down here it's not so much an accent as it a regular local dialect. A southern accent, from Texas/Oklahoma, or to put it plainly, an 'Okie accent', which is probably different if you're in Oklahoma, but perfectly natural here. I thought once again of 'The Grapes of Wrath' which I had in an earlier blog. (see below) Especially when Pat began talking about Lendell Ranch. "We left our damn pickup at Lendell Ranch when we finally moved outta there...that thing got us to California, but it wasn't goin' an inch further..."
Lendell Ranch was a government run camp which housed thousands of displaced families looking for work in the Central Valley. It was built in 1938, and to this day it's hexagonal pattern of streets is part of an old neighborhood south of Visalia. Tagus Ranch was another one, just north of here. I began to realize that aside from watching 'The Grapes of Wrath' a few weeks ago, here were living icons of that era. And I felt a certain sense of honor to be spending Easter with them, because they are indeed the salt of the earth.
When we left, I thanked them all warmly and genuinely, and I walked home thinking of the hardship that many of them must have indured when they first arrived in California, and how petty and foolish I was for being in such a funk earlier that day. And the words still echo...
"Here's a test to see if your mission on Earth is finished; if you're alive, it ain't..."

Illustration Friday - Dip

2010-04-02T12:19:00.001-07:00

dannyspics 105
Originally uploaded by danguerra444

Nothing like a dip in the ocean to discover a whole new world down there.

Illustration Friday - Rescue

2010-03-26T13:22:00.001-07:00

Picture 006
Originally uploaded by danguerra444

This is based on an old Norman Rockwell drawing, I updated the ballplayer...nothing like being rescued by your boyhood hero!

Cousin Mike

2010-03-22T22:54:00.000-07:00

Last Friday night around 7:00 the phone rang, my mom picked it up, "Hello? oh hi Norman!..." There was silence..."WHAAAAAT!!!!...OH NOOO IT CAN'T BEEE!"

"oh oh" I thought, this doesn't sound good.

"When??...what happened?..."

I got up and walked into the kitchen, my mom had a look of shock. When she hung up, she was already in tears, with her hands on her cheeks she said, "your cousin Mike died."

"WHAAAAT?" At first I just didn't believe it, there must be some mistake...not Mike. We had just seen him a month earlier, at Uncle Friney's funeral in LA, and he was as robust and full of life as ever. "How?"

"Well, he was coaching soccer and he said he didn't feel good, so he sat down on the lawn, then he just keeled over, and that was it!...must have been his heart..."

I was overcome with a kind of cold numbness, the kind that comes with a particular shock and disconnect. This couldn't be true...Mike was the last person I had expected, there are so many relatives who have gotten older, and sometimes you half-expect to get a 'call' once in awhile about them...but not Mike, he had just turned 60, he had soooo many years left. And he was always youthful in his ways, the way he related to everyone with a sense of humor and a genuine kindness. From day one, he was always a favorite of the family. During family get-togethers, "oh, Mike's coming? coool!..."

Whatever spark there is in humans that gives them a certain kind of 'goodness', Mike always had it.

I remember when I was 5 years old, Mike and his brother Art were in town for a visit, around Thanksgiving. Mike was 12 at the time, "Hey Danny! I got something for ya!" He handed me a small package, it was a balsa wood airplane, the kind you put together and attach a propeller with a rubber band. He got one for himself too. We sat down on the curb, "Here, I'll show you how to put it together..." And with a patience and understanding far beyond his 12 years, he helped me put mine together and we flew them. I will never forget that day.

When our grandfather died in 1970, Mike spoke at the funeral in Tulare, he was only 20! But even then, he gave one of the most eloquent speeches. He spoke of the Giant Forest in nearby Sequoia National Park, how our grandpa was like one of the Giant Sequoias, now fallen, but a great grove still existed among the rest of us, and how the forest carries on...we were all moved by his speech. He became the go-to guy after that. Grandma, Uncle Bob, Uncle Toody (his dad), Aunt Carmen...Mike always spoke with a gentle passion that was just right.

As we got older, all of us cousins were busy with our own lives and didn't stay in as much contact as we liked, but it was always a grand reunion when we got together. Mike drove a Chevy van in the 70's and took road trips all over in it. Sometimes he would stop in San Jose on a surprise visit, and it was always a wonderful surprise, as he filled the room with his wit and humor, and genuine good nature. It was always good to see Mike.

We played golf a few times, and always bought a 6-pack of Bud for the back 9, and laughed at how it consistently improved our golf game. Mike later became a pastor, and also a teacher and coach, which he loved. He was deeply spiritual, but never 'preached'...

After we heard the news, we settled in with the sadness and we keep shaking our heads, "I still can't believe it." I kept thinking of his Forest speech, and how so many great trees have since fallen, some only recently. And his was one of the highest, and strongest in the family, and we all basked in its shade, and in its presence...it wasn't supposed to fall this soon.

But the forest will carry on as it always does...but right now, the forest is a quiet and lonely place.

Illustration Friday - Expired

2010-03-19T14:39:00.001-07:00

Picture 054
Originally uploaded by danguerra444

Pterodactyls had a wingspan the size of a small plane. They ruled the skies until their time had expired.

Illustration Friday - Subterranean

2010-03-12T16:23:00.001-08:00

Picture 036
Originally uploaded by danguerra444

This is a follow-up to 'Journey to the Center of the Earth' posted earlier, following our heroes further down...

Illustration Friday - Brave

2010-03-05T14:47:00.001-08:00

Picture 021
Originally uploaded by danguerra444

When I was drawing Max I always had the feeling I was about to get rescued from a burning ranger station.

My dog Nicky

2010-03-04T23:50:00.000-08:00

On my tenth birthday, I was in the kitchen in our house in San Jose. It was a Saturday and there was gonna be a small party that afternoon. My dad said, "Why don't you go in the back yard, your mom wants to show you something." I thought, 'oooh, maybe a present?'...So I went out back and looked around, hmm nothing. I walked further into the back, to the lawn and suddenly I saw a little Beagle puppy running towards me. At first I thought it must be a neighbor's dog who had gotten loose. He ran up as I knelt down to pet him. His tail was wagging at full speed as he jumped up and tried to lick my face. He was the coolest little dog! Then my mom emerged from somewhere and said, "Say hello to your little brother!"
"whaaaa..?"
"He's your new dog!"

I was speechless! We had discussed getting a dog before, but I never actually thought it would ever happen. My dad would go on and on about the responsibility of owning a pet...the care and feeding, cleaning up after it, and endless scenarios in which pet ownership would not be a practical or desirable thing. And yet here he was! An endless and permanent smile was glued on my face as I played with him on the grass. And he seemed just as joyous. He indeed became my 'little brother' as I grew into my teens and young adulthood. Nicky was my buddy, and he was part of the family. When we finally had to put him to sleep it was devastating to all of us. I was literally numb with grief for a few days. But he'll always be with me, not just in memory but in spirit.
Because he still visits me in my dreams.

Whether it's actually 'him' is almost beside the point, because the visits are real enough in a spiritual sense. In other words, when I do dream about him, he's never a 'walk on' character in some bizarre dreamscape...it's always just him, coming to say hello with his wagging tail and gentle and intelligent eyes...and he looks me in the eye with his doggy smile. After I wake up I always think, "that WAS him...it had to be."

I dreamed about him last night. It doesn't happen often, maybe about five times at the most since he died. And each time I think the same thing, "Oh my God! Nicky!...are you okay?...it's been so long since I've seen you or fed you!!...you look okay, oh man...you must be, what 41 years old now? You look good for 41...where have you been??" And he is old, he looks old...but he still smiles and wags his tail, as if he's just happy to be here. It indeed feels like he's visiting, just to say hello. No messages from beyond, no forewarning of impending doom like in a cheesy movie...just a visit from a happy soul from...somewhere...they do say all dogs go to heaven.
This time, I woke up and Nicky was still laying on the bed! "Nicky? Is that really you?" He grinned and woofed, as if to say, "yup!" He got up and moved to the edge of the bed to jump off. "You're so old buddy, be careful!" He looked back at me and jumped off. I sat up in bed and realized I was still dreaming, because I was on my hands and knees in a forest...a redwood forest I recognized. A voice said, "Here's what he saw." Who's voice that was, I don't know. I was then looking up from about a foot off the ground, and I saw myself with my cousin Joe, we were both kids, running up the hill...I was looking through Nicky's eyes!! I saw me and Joe run past and I joined in the chase, and I didn't exactly hear...but felt Nicky's voice, if he had been capable of having one...in a sort of 'Dick and Jane' vocabulary,
"danny! joe! run run! let's run! run danny! run joe! let's go! let's go! go go go! ball! where's the ball? throw it! throw it! I'll chase it! c'mon let's go! run run run!"
Then I slowly woke through the fog of that dissipating dream, the kind that you wish could never end, and I remembered the sheer joy of running with them. The pure undistilled joy of what a dog must feel when he's playing, and the unconditional love of a pet.
Maybe I should re-title this, "Nicky's gift."

The Grapes of Wrath

2010-03-01T00:13:00.000-08:00

One of the things my mom and I have enjoyed doing lately is watching old vintage movies from the library. Some of the old film-noir movies, and old classics that I hadn't seen. The other day we watched "The Grapes of Wrath" made in 1940...an excellent film with a very young Henry Fonda. He played Tom Joad, a man who returns home to his family's farm in Oklahoma in the 1930's, only to discover it's been deserted. He finally finds them at his uncle's farm, where they're packing up the truck, because his uncle was also in forclosure. The banks were kicking everyone out of their homes and farms in the Depression-era 30's, especially in Oklahoma, during the incredible drought, the Dust Bowl...

It all sounds hauntingly familiar nowadays...but back then, there were no job placement resources, no UI...nothing. They were on their own.

But there were handbills that said there was work in California, so they set off with all that they owned in their dilapidated truck for the promised land, where "you could just reach up and pluck an orange right outta the sky"...in California.

As we watched, we found that this was a very poignant story, based on the book by John Steinbeck, because it was based on all-too-true stories, and the fictional Joads' destination was right here in the Central Valley in the 30's. My mom was a young girl then, and she remembers them first hand...the 'Okies' they called them. Though 'Okie' is a somewhat derogatory term, that's what everyone called them...that's what they called themselves.

"I was so little when they were coming," my mom said, "they were everywhere. I remember riding with my dad to Visalia and we'd see them parked along the road, just camping out of their cars."

When we watched the part in the movie where the Joads finally reached the California border, "I bet that's Needles" she said. And sure enough! The sign in the movie said 'Needles, California'.

"That's where they came through mostly, to the Valley, on the old highway 40...some came up through LA, the ones who stayed on Route 66."

It began to interest me that my mom had indeed lived during this, at ground zero during a significant part of California history...enough to base a landmark book and movie about anyway.

"How many actually came?"

"Oh thousands...not all at once of course. It was like a mass migration over a few years. And I was little, so I only remember some things...but I do remember when the Okies were everywhere, and nobody knew what to do with them all."

As we watched, the Joads found a temporary camp, among other new arrivals. It was basically a squatters camp. Their trip west had been a hard one. The grandfather died on the way, so they buried him by a tree near the highway. The son-in-law Al, he ran away, leaving behind a pregnant wife, because "he didn't know it was gonna be like this..."

When they unpacked, Ma Joad started cooking stew over an open fire. Soon, a few kids from the other campsites gathered around, and just stared.

"I shouldn't been doin' this...but my family's gotta eat. Lookit them poor kids..."

Henry Fonda then shooed them away, "Go on, git outta here now...go on GIT!"

As the kids scattered, Ma said "Aww now Tom, you shouldn't oughta be mean to them kids...they's just hungry."

"Yeah well I'm hungry too, Ma. And it ain't just food."

My mom said, "Aw, I would feel so sorry for those Okie kids. Some of them came to our school, and the other kids would be so mean to them. They'd make fun of their clothes, make fun of their hair, the way they talked...I did make friends with one girl though, Helen...she was the sweetest thing. I wonder where she is now."

"You should look her up."

"Well she got married and moved away after high school, but yeah I should."

In the movie, the Joads heard there was work picking oranges in Pixley. So they loaded their truck and headed there.

"Oh Pixley! There's still big orange groves over there!"

On the road, they got a flat tire. A man stopped and gave them a leaflet, it was a Communist leaflet stating how workers were being exploited and needed to organize and abolish the corporations.

"I remember the Communists...they were a regular political party back then. The grown-ups and teachers always told us to stay away from them. One time a kid brought a Communist leaflet to school. The teacher tore it up and threw it away in front of the class!"

As the Joads made their way north, stopping to work for a few days picking oranges, moving on to pick cotton, and moving on again with their broken down truck. Tom Joad became more frustrated at their existence...understandibly.

"I remember my dad telling a story about one Okie who came to the Ford garage here in Tulare. He needed parts for his truck, but he had no money. He was a mechanic, so he offered to work in exchange for the parts. Grandpa said he was such a good mechanic they hired him!"

"Good thing he had a skill!"

"Yeah grandpa used to bring home big bags of oranges, chickens, baskets of eggs...The Okies would bring their cars in to get fixed, and that's how they paid."

The Joads finally came to a government run camp, with running water and small cottages with electricity. The camp would assign jobs and they could live there for a very small fee. The Joads felt like they were living in luxury.

"That's how Tagus Ranch was, just up the road from here. It's still there, but it's a mobile home park now."

At the end of the movie, Tom Joad had to hit the road, but Ma Joad, in a moving speech, said how the family will go on. I thought about all the real Ma Joads out there, who held the families together in the hardest of times. They were decent hard-working folks, just looking for a place to settle and earn a living...or just get an even break. It was a very good movie and wonderfully acted. What made it so poignant was that it happened right here. The Joads were fictional of course, and many families were better off, some were worse off.

"A lot of those Okies ended up in Bakersfield. Their cars would break down over the Grapevine, so they hitch-hiked into the valley. Bakersfield was as far as many of them got. That's why there's so many Okies in Bakersfield...Nathan Findley was one."

Nathan Findley came with his wife from Oklahoma in 1934. After two hard years, Nathan finally landed a job at a tractor and farm equipment plant in Bakersfield as a machinist. They had three children, Joe, Leonard, and Hazel...

Joe is my uncle.

Illustration Friday - Perspective

2010-02-26T15:05:00.001-08:00

Columns
Originally uploaded by danguerra444

Two-point perspective is always a basic rule, sometimes even three-point perspective. But it's always fun when you can add atmospheric perspective...

A New Watch

2010-02-20T01:18:00.000-08:00

Today a bought a new wristwatch...not a big deal of course, but it was the first one I bought in a long time, eleven years in fact. My old watch finally died, with a battery that was only supposed to last five years. It had a face lamp which I never used, so maybe that extended the battery life, but still, 11 years is quite a record! I somehow took for granted that I'd had it that long, until the day it stopped working....sometimes I get overly sentimental.
I've worn watches ever since I can remember, they're an integral part of my left wrist, and I've seldom been without one. When I was three, I wore a toy watch that came as a prize in a Trix cereal box. Remember those? When cereal actually came with prizes inside? Ooooh I loved those!...Anyway, this toy watch had the Trix Rabbit's ears as the hands, and you could move them around. I always checked the clock in the kitchen to see what time it was, and would move the hands accordingly. That's pretty much how I learned to tell time!
On my 5th birthday, I got a REAL watch...it was my prized possession. I remember going around telling everyone what time it was. My dad always asked me, "What time is it in New York? What time is it in Chicago?"...and that's how I learned about time zones, ha!
I had that watch for a few years, it was a Timex wind-up, and I hardly ever took it off. Since it was waterproof, I even took baths with it on. One weekend we went up to the cabin in the Santa Cruz Mts. along with my cousins, and Aunt Carmen and Uncle Joe. Those were fun outings, we would often go up there in the summer, and the parents would barbeque and drink beer and us kids would play and explore among the redwoods. We always pestered them to take us to Santa Cruz, to the Beach Boardwalk where we could ride the rides and go to the beach. So one Saturday my mom and Aunt Carmen took us. It was a fun day, and we had a picnic on the beach. My cousin Joe and I wanted to go in the water, so my mom said, "Danny you better take your watch off..." So I did and laid it on the towel. After romping in the surf, and some horseplay and throwing the frisbee, later on it was time to go, so we all packed up and left. In the backseat of the car I noticed the tan line on my wrist...My watch! It was gone...I must have left it in the sand...I was crushed, I didn't cry but I wanted to. Later that night at the cabin, when we were in our sleeping bags, I overheard my mom say, "Poor Danny, he lost his watch..." so I guess my despondency must have showed.
For my next birthday I got a new watch, and I swore I would never lose that one. It was another Timex and I kept that one all the way through high school, until one day it just stopped working. By that time, the new digital watches were coming out, the ones where you press a button and the digital readout would appear. I bought one of those at Radio Shack and at the time, I thought it was the coolest thing. I had a job at Great America, out in the parking lot, and the sun was so bright out there I had to cup my hands around it just to see what time it was. And the constant checking must have worn the battery out after less than a year, not to mention the thing was pretty inaccurate, about 5 minutes too fast every 24 hours.
After that I got a Casio watch, which are pretty accurate, it lasted about 3 years battery-wise, and then began a pattern to this day of wearing watches until the battery ran out. I went through quite a few of them, settling back on the analog face instead of the digital, because, well, it's so traditional...you can see what time it is looking at a clock, but you have to think for a second looking at a digital readout...it's only a fraction of a second, I know...but it's still pleasing to just see what time it is.
So in May of 1999 I bought another watch at Target, it had the right feel to it...and that's the one I had since then. There's been a lot of ups and downs since I've worn it, and it's gone through three different watchbands, but the thing just kept on going...when it finally died, I felt as though it had some sentimental value, so I got a replacement battery for it. But a few days later the second hand started ticking backwards! I must have gummed up the works when I replaced the battery...it was almost as if the watch was saying, "let me go..."
So I did...it's sitting in a drawer now, ticking ten seconds forward, then five seconds back...I don't have the heart to just throw it away, nor does it seem happy just existing in there.
Meanwhile, I got a new watch, it's very basic, but it's accurate...I had to walk by and 'visit' it a few times before I bought it..."are you gonna be my new watch?"...it's like buying a new pet. And it is kinda, a constant companion.
So it's here now, home on my wrist.

Illustration Friday - Propagate

2010-02-19T16:07:00.001-08:00

dannyspics 241
Originally uploaded by danguerra444

One of my favorite themes has always been wildlife propagating among the ruins...it's a 'circle of life' thing...

Illustration Friday - Adrift

2010-02-12T13:39:00.001-08:00

Seaview
Originally uploaded by danguerra444

Adrift in a languid sea, that seems to carry on endlessly in all directions, also adrift of time, could be one definition of paradise.

Illustration Friday - Muddy

2010-02-05T13:44:00.001-08:00

Picture 104
Originally uploaded by danguerra444

After a spring rain, the vinyards around Sonoma become muddy, but that's a good thing.

Illustration Friday - Focused

2010-01-29T12:35:00.001-08:00

dannyspics 129
Originally uploaded by danguerra444

When I was a kid I'd watch Catfish Hunter pitch. He was so focused when he hit those corners.

Dream Theater

2010-01-27T22:25:00.000-08:00

Lately I've been having the most amazing dreams. Some are so vivid and seemingly real that I often have to go look up what all the symbolism means. But of course, all those dream interpretations are pretty generalized and subjective. Dreaming about a dog could mean one thing to one person, and something completely different to someone else. So I tend to pay attention to what's happening in the dream...if I even realize it's a dream...and see what it is I'm feeling when it's happening. Sometimes it all seems so obvious. But mostly I try to sit back and enjoy the show, as if I'm in a grand Dream Theater.

Last night I dreamed I was in a theater! An old Art Deco movie palace, which at first was a regular movie house. I walked in with my old roommate Gene from college. We hadn't decided which movie to see yet, so we looked up at the marquis. "Which one you wanna see?" he asked.

"I don't know..." I didn't recognize any of the titles, most of them were action type movies.

"Well how about that one, 'The Moon Mock"

"Sure, why not."

We waited in line and walked into the theater, but as I walked down a row of seats, Gene and the rest of the crowd disappeared, and a guy dressed in maintenance overalls called me over. "There you are! come on, this way!" I recognized him as the guy who played Horace in the tv show 'Lost'. I followed him down a corridor and into an empty lobby, with Art Deco furniture and ornamentation, soaring in smooth lines along the walls and ceiling. I looked around the room, impressed with the decor, but also noticed it was dusty and in disrepair from years of neglect. "Look at this place!" he said, gesturing around. "It really had potential at one time. But it was never really finished. Part of it is a museum now....follow me."

We continued walking down another corridor to an open area that had a deep pool of water in a square hole in the tile floor. "You hungry?"

"Come to think of it, yeah! I'm starving!"

He held out a bunch of green grapes. "Take some!" So I plucked a few and ate them, they were juicy and delicious...I asked for a few more, but he threw them in the water and they sunk to the bottom. "Hey! What'd you do that for?"

"Look down into the water and see if you can see them." So I looked down, but could just barely make out a blurry shape, among other shapes down there. "If you want any more, you're going to have to go down there. In fact, you have to go down there anyway, to the bottom."

"How do I breathe?"

"It's okay, the water is oxygenated, you'll be able to breathe. And I'll be jumping down there too, so c'mon, let's go!" Horace jumped in and I jumped in after him. We sank down to the bottom, under the water. "Okay, try breathing." I reluctantly inhaled and was alarmed as I could feel water enter my lungs, but I was still getting oxygen, I could still breathe. Looking around, I saw all kinds of artifacts from colonial times...furniture, swords, mannequins dressed in costumes from the time, all laying around. There were also windows in the room, and outside it was a clear sunny day in a park setting. I recognized some of my old bosses from Mindscape out there sitting at picnic tables, enjoying the sunshine. I wanted to call out to them. It was odd to see them from a room submerged in water.

Horace handed me a colonial suit of clothes. "Put these on. We have to dress up like the mannequins in case tourists come by. And we need to straighten all this up for the museum."

He pointed to an antique desk, stacked with old letters. "Start with those. They're letters from Ben Franklin. Some of them are worn and illegible, so you'll have to rewrite them." He handed me a quill pen and a pad. "But...I don't..."

"Go ahead! it'll be fine. I'll be back in a while." He left the room and I started writing. Automatically I scribbled line after line, and soon I had an entire page filled. Looking at it, I was astonished to see that the handwriting was the most clean and exquisite calligraphy I had ever seen. "Did I do that??" Amazed, I wrote some more and saw that the words flowed from the pen in perfect lines and margins, and the curls and flourishes on each word were effortless. I was actually impressed with myself, that I was capable of writing that way. "Wow, I wish people could see this...they'd be impressed too!"

Horace returned to the room...all still underwater...he asked how it was going and looked at the writing, "Ah! very good!"

Then he turned, as lights came on from another window within the building. "Oh! they're here already...okay, stand up and assume a pose, like you're a mannequin..." The water started to solidify and harden, like gelatin. "Don't worry, you can still breathe, but you won't be able to move..." The water completely hardened into a clear solid plastic, and I was frozen in it...alarmed, but I could breathe. Through the window, a group of tourists came by, and I recognized all of them! "oh my gawd! it's Shawn! and her mom!...Mimi, Jim, Mike and Berta! hey! you guys, it's me! can you see me?"

But they couldn't see or hear me...they looked around at the artifacts and moved on to another room. The solid plastic that encased us returned to liquid, so we could move around again. "There's still a lot to be done," Horace said, "so let's move on to the next room." We walked up a staircase and out of the water, and our clothes were completely dry. Arriving at another room, I noticed a ton of canvases and frames, all leaning against the walls. Some of the paintings I recognized as my own!...others were unfinished, but I could see they were going to be spectacular...majestic mountain ranges, cityscapes with buildings that looked as if they were miles high. Paintings of simple leaves and grass, with detail all the way down to their molecular structure, yet still natural looking. "We'll get to those later...there's this entire building to consider first. It's not ready to be a museum just yet."

"You're the guy from Lost, right?"

"I'm the guy who sends the boats."

"Huh?"

As we walked through a corridor of arches, I had the feeling that I'd been here before, maybe from a past dream...it was all becoming familiar. "I know this place...I've been here before."

As I looked up, I saw that the roof was open, and the stars beyond.

"Yeah, now I remember...A year ago I thought this place was a ruin, that it was better off being torn down...but that was wrong...the place is unfinished."

"Yes...like I said, it had a lot of potential once...and I think it still does...but first, it needs to be cleaned up. A lot of dust and cobwebs..." He handed me a broom. "Come on, let's get started."

Then I woke up....wow...

Illustration Friday - Clumsy

2010-01-22T14:19:00.001-08:00

dannyspics 116
Originally uploaded by danguerra444

I'd be too clumsy to ever do this:

Illustration Friday - Wilderness

2010-01-15T16:19:00.001-08:00

dannyspics 059
Originally uploaded by danguerra444

"The wilderness has its own ways"...Even where there were cities, the wilderness will always reclaim it.

Illustration Friday - Confined

2010-01-08T13:45:00.001-08:00

dannyspics 131
Originally uploaded by danguerra444

Inspired by Roger Dean's 'Journey to the Center of the Earth'...it must seem really confining down there...

The Wonders of the World

2010-01-06T01:06:00.000-08:00

Way back in 1982, I traveled through Europe for months, which was an experience of a lifetime, the history buff that I am...Things that I had wondered about in pictures and books when I was a kid, I finally saw them in person.

For example, when I was around ten, my dad and I would still go to the barber shop together to get our haircuts. There was a poster on the wall at Phil's, it was the Matterhorn, a very steep and majestic looking mountain in faraway Switzerland... I knew about the one at Disneyland, but no, this was the real one...and there was a small town in the foreground in that poster. I wondered what the people were like there, to live in the shadow of such a monumental thing...by the looks of the poster, I imagined the people leading donkey carts, milking cows, while blowing their long Alpenhorns from valley to valley, like in the opening notes of 'The Sound of Music'.

Images like that poster would drive my imagination...another one was Stonehenge, a neolithic circle of stones in southern England, and yet another was the Sistene Chapel, where Michelangelo painted the ceiling...on his back on scaffolding for 4 years...the Pope would ask him, "When will this be done?"

He would answer, "When I am finished."

Yet another one was Neuschwanstein Castle, in the hills of southern Germany. It's a fairy-tale looking castle that was the inspiration for the one in, yes again, Disneyland...Going on a tour through the castle, which was built by an eccentric King Ludwig, each room had a different theme. One room was done up like a medieval castle, another like a middle-eastern casbah. It was almost like the Disneyland of its day, or Las Vegas in all its make-believe surroundings. But this was all built 300 years ago. How astonishing that all must have been way back then, but even more amazing is that here we were...still gazing around. I wonder if whoever built that castle knew it would be admired by people, 300 years later.

When I visited Sainte Chappelle in Paris I was astonished. The walls of the entire cathedral were covered in stained glass. When the afternoon sun came through the walls, the interior glowed as if from within. The intricate details of the windows must have taken years to create, slowly, painstakingly, and with an obvious care and dedication. I stared at each window for what must have been hours...and, being a budding artist myself, I wondered what it must have been like to be there, creating these.

But of all the things that I saw when I was over there, even among all the art galleries, it was the stone carvings on the walls at Salisbury Cathedral. In one of the rooms, there are depictions of the Garden of Eden, the Great Flood, Noah's Ark, Tower of Babel, Abraham, Moses, and on and on along the walls. The carved reliefs were all in stone, but they were fluid, flowing pictures full of movement and life. And it was all done by one person...no one knows who...way back in the 1200's. It was beyond anything I'd ever seen, first-hand, and nothing has inspired me as much since. The artist is long gone and forgotten, but here his work remains. As if he was still saying, "This is who I am, and this is what I did."

I never made it to the caves at Lasceaux, where cave paintings go back 20,000 years. But there's a bear skull sitting on a rock, like an altar, and among all the depictions of bears and mammoths on the cave walls, there's a single handprint. Before there was writing, or even language as we know it, 20,000 years ago someone put their hand on the wall and said, "I was here, this is my mark."

Since then, I've found myself moved by other sights. Some made long ago, and some only recently. I'm moved by humanity's desire to make these things, as if to deny the harshness of the rest of the world that must be daily endured...In every palace and every work of art, men and women have given great thought, effort, and care in creating them. Because they hope, I think, that sometimes against all evidence, their lives have a special meaning and in their talent lies a purpose larger than themselves.

The Grapevine

2010-01-03T00:04:00.000-08:00

Anyone who has lived in California, or has spent time here long enough to drive from SF to LA, must know about The Grapevine, or 'grapevine hill' as the old timers called it. It's a mountain pass near southern California, named after the small town at the foot of the hill, south of Bakersfield. The Grapevine is a steep stretch of highway that climbs over 4,000 feet in less than 12 miles through Tejon Pass...Today, it's part of I-5, and with today's efficient engines and transmissions, most cars make it up the hill with a minimum of effort. But not too long ago it was the stuff of legend, for decades, when cars blew radiators trying to get up that hill. My parents remember riding to LA when they were kids, and it would be a two-day trip, either sleeping in the car, or at the motels near Fort Tejon, and this was in the early days, when it was a two-lane road, and moter hotels became an obvious necessity...

When I was a kid in the 60's, my parents would drive to LA from San Jose, with me in the back seat, and for me at the time, it meant fun times ahead...Disneyland, Knott's Berry Farm, and visits to my cousins Larry and Gary...they had a pool, and they were always a blast to hang out with...so that's how going to LA always involved going somewhere fun, and also the grapevine experience.

I remember that divide in the road, when you could see it go uphill. My dad would say, "okay, here we go!" and even then, in the Ford Fairlane with its V8 engine, cars at that time didn't have the fuel efficiency or the ability to deliver enough torque to zoom up the hill like they do now...he shifted to D2 and even D1...as we watched the rest of the cars slow down too...some were parked on the side of the road with their hoods up, overheated...and the trucks! oh man...they crawled at 10 or 15 miles an hour...and to this day, there's still signs like, 'radiator water ahead'.

Fast forward about 10 years, I had my own car, a Pinto...all four cylinders, ha! Looking back, it was a great little car, I drove it countless times between Chico and San Jose, to Seattle even...I learned to maintain it, work on small repairs...and yes, I drove it over the Grapevine a few times.

Going up the hill it was okay at first, then I had to shift to 4th gear, still losing power and speed, I shifted to 3rd....oh maaaan...I was only going 45 with my foot to the floor, and cars were coming up behind me...I tried to move over, but the two right lanes were reserved for trucks that still carried their heavy loads at that same snail pace...other cars were going slow also, as if we were in a race through molasses, it was very frustrating as other cars still tailgated...

Then the temperature gauge I installed said the engine was getting hot, and I was at only 2,000 feet...okay, second gear, 'wawooooom' the engine kicked in a little more as I poked along...maan! I watched the more powerful cars with bigger engines drive past with enmity, as I said, "sorry car, sorry to put you through this..."

At Tejon Pass, it finally started to go downhill, a welcome relief to both me and the Pinto, and indeed, its temperature cooled. I thought at the time, no wonder they called these things Pinto's...faithful little horses in the Old West, and as I always do with my cars, I placed a faith and a certain spirit within what is just a machine...but still...my cars have always been 'friends' to me.

And so, like any roller coaster, you go up...you go down...

On the way back down, going in the other direction, it's important to know how fast your car can take curves, and how good your tires and brakes are...because before you know it, you're going 80 or 90, like you're literally on a roller coaster, only not on fixed tracks, but on a slippery downhill road with a few dozen other drivers along side going 'whoooaa nelly!' The runaway ramps for trucks are always a reminder...but it's all good if you know what your car can and can't do...and if you play your brakes like a finely tuned musical instrument, you're fine...

Even a couple weeks ago, driving up the grapevine with zero effort this time, I still remembered that part, driving down...it's still the same.

Illustration Friday - Renewal

2010-01-02T11:55:00.001-08:00

dannyspics 008
Originally uploaded by danguerra444

At one point, the Bald Eagle was threatened with extinction. Their renewal has been a good thing.

Illustration Friday - Pioneer

2009-12-25T12:11:00.001-08:00

pioneers
Originally uploaded by danguerra444

'Space...the Final Frontier' ;o)
These are the modern day pioneers.

Illustration Friday - Undone

2009-12-18T13:44:00.001-08:00

San Francisco 2061
Originally uploaded by danguerra444

'San Francisco 2061' - When everything comes undone, whether through earthquakes or mere progress, things are always redone.

Illustration Friday - Hatch

2009-12-11T14:14:00.001-08:00

Picture 053
Originally uploaded by danguerra444

It's 'batten down the hatches' in this acrylic I did for the Ultimation, Inc. game, "Silent Hunter".

O Christmas Tree

2009-12-10T14:39:00.000-08:00

Yesterday I did something I realized I hadn't done in years. I got a tree at a Christmas Tree lot. You know the ones, they set them up during the holidays at vacant lots, and stock them with trees that were cut probably as early as October.
In recent years, I simply put lights around a potted tree I already had, or bought a small live one at the grocery store. All during the 80's and 90's I would get those little ones, and after the holidays I would drive up to Lake Tahoe. There's a rest stop along highway 88 where I would replant them. I haven't been up there in ages, but I'm hoping some of them have grown to full size...my own grove!
When I lived in Rohnert Park, for a few years there I went to a tree farm near Sebastopol. Shawn would come with me and we'd cut one down, making sure to leave a few branches at the bottom so it could continue to grow. We'd bring it home and decorate it. I even bought an electric train to go around it, because I had one when I was a kid.
It all takes me back. But getting one this year had a certain poignancy. My mom and I walked along rows of pre-cut trees, other families were browsing too, "How about this one?"
"Nah, too lopsided."
I couldn't help but think of "A Charlie Brown Christmas" where he and Linus went tree shopping and picked out a forlorn little tree. All of them reminded me of that little tree. Just sitting there waiting for a home, almost as if to say, "oooh pick me! pick me!" only to slump over when people passed them by.
There were also stacks of trees leaning against the fence, with no stands. They seemed even more forlorn, like wallflowers at a high school dance. I noticed one of those, it was nicely proportioned. "How about this one?"
"Yeah that's a nice one, but it doesn't have a stand."
"That's okay, I'll make one."
I stood it up and fluffed out its branches, it WAS nice! "Okay let's get this one." It felt as though we were rescuing a puppy from the pound. It would have a nice home, for a while anyway.
On the drive back, with the tree stuffed in the trunk, a memory struck me from long ago as they often do. When I was about 4 or 5, I was with my mom at Valley Fair shopping center in San Jose. Outside in the parking lot, a doughboy pool was set up, stocked with little trout where kids could fish with small rods. For 50 cents, they gave you a rod with bait. "You wanna try it?" my mom asked. "Okay!"
So I dropped the line in, and sure enough I caught a little trout, about 5 inches long. "You caught one Danny!" They put the fish in a plastic baggie and we went home. I sat in the car and stared at the fish in my lap. Even back then, I felt sorry for it. Earlier it was swimming innocently in the pool, now here it was stuffed in a baggie.
With the tree back there in the trunk, I had thought of that little fish, coming home to its final act on this earth. Since the tree had been cut over a month ago, it was hard to think of it as a still a living thing, but it was green and it smelled like Christmas, so it still had an essence of life. I made a wooden stand for it, acutely aware of the fact that I wasn't using my old stand that held water, to keep it moist. No, this was strictly old-school. I found myself apologizing to it, as if were a sentient being. It's funny how the older I get, the more attuned I am to those things.

We brought it in and decorated it, which really took me back. Maybe it was the Christmas Tree smell that triggers it. I thought of my old train, and that stringy tinsel they used to sell, and presents under there. A ton of memories of Christmases past. And the tree does indeed have a certain spirit now. Even though it's in its final days, it's going in style. It seems happy.

Illustration Friday - Crunchy

2009-12-05T12:51:00.001-08:00

Picture 050
Originally uploaded by danguerra444

This is the final scene in the Nintendo game, 'Mario is Missing'...Bowser is about to get crunched by a dinosaur.
This was back in the Deluxe Paint days. :o)

It's All In The Details

2009-12-01T23:01:00.000-08:00

Today I was out in the garden planting garlic bulbs, which I had never done before, in a 'winter garden'. I even checked online to make sure I was doing it right. But first I had to clear a space in the dirt. I have a row of carrots and radishes just now sprouting. They're on raised beds, and the rows are parallel. The carrot row is about 6 inches higher than the radishes, so when I water them, the excess water drains down through canals to the radish row below.
When I made a bed for the garlic, I made sure to level it off about 6 inches below the radishes, thus making it a catch-basin for the runoff from above. Not stopping there, I made yet another bed about 6 inches below that one, and used that to plant the rest of the radish seeds. So now when I water the carrots, a series of drainage canals will ensure that all of the water will be transferred down and dispersed evenly to the terraced beds below, even allowing channels for the sediment that the water will carry with it. That was the fun part, building the thing. Of course, watching the seedlings pop out of the ground for the first time is a joy all it's own, but it's the building of the garden that carries a certain satisfaction, like a tiny civilization. The key words are building, creating.

I've always liked to create things. Not just artwork, but things. I have all my life. I have a fort made out of toothpicks that I started in 1971, and to this day it remains a work in progress. And it's the details that interest me the most. Whether it's in a drawing or painting, a toothpick fort, a garden, a story, music, or just about anything, the more details the better. Sometimes, to the exclusion of all else. Except of course, when a series of distant, esoteric but vivid memories go through my mind as clear as if they happened yesterday.

About a year or so ago, a friend told me about a radio program she was listening to. A man was being interviewed and he described a similar history of being focused on detail to an extreme, how he too had distant but vivid memories.

She told me, "it reminded me of you!"

He was talking about something called Aspergers Syndrome. A mild form of autism that was only recently diagnosed. I read the guy's interview and sure enough, I could relate to a lot of what he was saying. After reading more articles and blogs on the subject, and an excellent one is here: http://www.glitchbucket.com/ I realized that hmm, I think I may have a touch of it myself...

Not an extreme case, but definitely some signs of it.

I also found it interesting that in most of the cases I've read about, they are men in their 50's who never knew what it was until recently, and who realized, "well, that explains a lot."

Though more extreme cases include a lack of communication or social skills, and a lack of empathy. And while I seem to have an adequate amount of communication and social skills, sometimes it seems to require some effort. And I've always felt a deep amount of empathy towards others...and animals. So perhaps in my case, I've only dipped my toe in this ocean called Aspergers. And that is, if I have it at all...

But I can empathize (ha) with those who do. When they talk about being keenly focused on detail, and the slightest minutae of drawing, painting, music, model making, etc.

Or memories that would usually be long forgotten, they come frequently, every day. I remember what we had for dinner on June 17, 1975...and the conversation we had about putting up a new wall in the patio.

When they talk about being uncomfortable in crowds, I can relate, somewhat. I usually don't mind crowds at all. In fact, I enjoy parties, and I've thrown some. And I enjoy concerts and sporting events and street fairs, where large crowds gather. I've always been especially drawn to people with a sense of humor, I love to laugh. But those are crowds I choose to be in, with people who I'm comfortable with. On the other hand, when I worked at the store, I was astounded at how drained I would feel afterwards, like I wanted to retreat into a cave and just sleep.

I also empathize with shy people, because I've always been shy myself, especially when I was a kid. Or introverted at least. How I've always envied and admired extroverts, the ones who aren't shy at all, who feel invigorated being in large crowds. Sometimes I wish I could be an extrovert, and I've tried, but it's just an act. I'm not 'wired' that way.

And then I think, would I still be able to focus on the precise details of what I was drawing, or building? Would I even care then? Because if I didn't, I don't think I would even bother to start. Not that being an extrovert would preclude that, but I wouldn't want to know. It would be too much of a departure from whom I've always been, and what I do. When I finish a drawing, there's a certain joy that comes with it that resonates deeply, like a blessing beyond blessings.

So if Aspergers has been a part of all that, even a small part, then so be it, I wouldn't have it any other way.

To Shoot An Arrow

2009-11-26T00:14:00.000-08:00

There's the old saying, "I shot an arrow into the air, and where it lands, I know not where."

Well, I'm beginning to think maybe we're all arrows, flying through the air, our life paths like an arrow's trajectory, sometimes they hit their bullseye...some just miss the bullseye...some never hit the target at all...and some, well, just misfire....
Sometimes I think that I'm in the 'just missed' category. When you think of all the people who have existed on Earth for thousands of years...all these arrows...who had to endure all of the conditions that would probably scare us today, even if we were hunkered in the relative safety of an RV, the conditions they lived in is astonishing and yet they survived. Arrows, all of them, and even back then, they hit and missed...The one's who hit a bullseye left a mark in history, one way or another...
But then again, maybe 'Arrow' is not the right metaphor for anyone's life path. Because paths can change, sometimes in an instant intervention of fate, either good or bad. And what is 'fate' or 'destiny' really? A notion that everything is pre-ordained maybe? Well that doesn't really make sense. But I understand the notion of fate, most of which is in our own hands, we can control our own destinies to a certain point, and then fate intervenes, if that makes sense...
I remember reading a story from a Herb Caen column about a family who lived in San Rafael, and they moved to San Francisco. They brought their cat with them, but soon after she disappeared, ran away...
Two weeks later she was found back at their old house in Marin...all she wanted to do was go back to the home she knew.
A woman in a car, crossing the Golden Gate Bridge during a windy and rainy night spotted a cat making her way along the bridge, stopping post to post, the poor thing was cold and drenched...
The poor kitty...her fate was to cross that bridge, but her destiny was to end up back in San Francisco...her arrow flew, but changed course.
Right now I can relate to that cat on the bridge, just trying to go back...trying to avoid any pre-ordained destinies, trying to avert the trajectory of her 'arrow'.

The Time Tunnel

2009-11-20T22:10:00.000-08:00

This is a follow-up to a previous blog, 'my time machine'....Remember the tv show from the 60's, The Time Tunnel? It was one of my favorite shows when I was a kid. Two scientists invented a time machine, The Time Tunnel, and they ended up trapped in time. Each week they would tumble through time to a new adventure, while the scientists at the Tunnel entrance would try in vain to get them back. After two seasons, the show ended and they never did get back home.
I decided to write a short story on fanfiction.com...
Other than creative writing assignments in school, I've never written a fictional story before, but I had a blast doing it! It's here, I hope you enjoy it...that is, if you do read it, ha!
http://www.fanfiction.net/s/5466482/1/The_Convergence

Illustration Friday - Music

2009-11-20T16:18:00.001-08:00

Picture 027
Originally uploaded by danguerra444

This was an attempt at pointillism, using black, yellow, orange, and red felt pens.

another Aunt Carmen story

2009-10-23T23:59:00.000-07:00

In my previous post about my aunt Carmen, I mentioned her sense of humor...and recently I began thinking of certain incidents that had me laughing out loud as I was outside in the garden, a flood of memories came rushing through my mind, like a long lost VCR tape that you once loved but had forgotten about, but upon seeing it again...oh my gawwd that was hilarious...

It was during the summer, probably about 1965...and during the day, I would stay there and play with my cousins, Joanne and Little Joe, but mostly Joe, since Joanne was older than us, and she'd be off playing with her friends...One time, me and Joe were eating lunch, Campbell's Chicken Noodle Soup and Aunt Carmen was at the table with us, reading the paper, when suddenly she let out her hearty laugh, "ah HA hahahaha" she had read a Dennis the Menace comic, "listen to this one, 'Mom! get Dad quick! I got Santa Claus locked in the bathroom!"
A spray of Campbells Soup went across the table as Joe exploded in laughter..."Jooooooe!"
I eruped in laughter myself, about both things, thankfully I was between mouthfuls of soup.
Sometimes Carmen would take me and Joe on her shopping errands, constantly berating him, "Sit Still!" because he would attempt acrobatic feats in the car. We were in the back seat and bags of groceries were in the front.
"I can do flips!"
"No you can't!"
At a young age, Joe already had the vocal inflections of his mom, "ohhhhh yes I CAN!"
"yeah? well let's see."
"okay watch this..." So he climbed on to the front seat and did a head stand on the top of the seat, with his feet on the roof of the car.
"What the hell are you doing?!?!"
He flipped over and landed on bags of groceries.
"Goddammit! you Dumb Banana!" I couldn't help but laugh hysterically...
Later on when Uncle Joe came home and my dad came to pick me up, for some reason my mom was busy or working late, anyway Carmen said, why don't you just stay for dinner? So we did...and while we were eating, she said, "I want you to LOOK at this bread" as she placed smashed pieces of french bread on a plate.
"What happened?"
With an accusing finger she pointed at Little Joe, "HE LANDED on it!"
ahhh, it makes me giggle just to write about this old memory...well, like they say, I guess ya had to be there...

Illustration Friday - Fast

2009-10-23T14:04:00.001-07:00

dannyspics 253
Originally uploaded by danguerra444

This one came out a little blurry, but actually it kind of lends itself to the theme, Fast...haha! yeah, that's it...

Illustration Friday - Frozen

2009-10-16T12:37:00.001-07:00

Matterhorn
Originally uploaded by danguerra444

Climbing the Matterhorn would be an awesome experience, though everything looks frozen up there.

Illustration Friday - Flying

2009-10-09T15:11:00.001-07:00

dannyspics 061
Originally uploaded by danguerra444

What a sensation it would be to feel like you're floating, even though you're flying at over 17,000 miles an hour!

The Cyber Sea

2009-10-06T23:07:00.000-07:00

As you can see, I'm back posting images on Illustration Friday, which I did regularly up until about two years ago, when my browser could no longer see it. Well, after a long hiatus I'm back again, but I don't recognize any of the original people on there, they've moved on. To where, I don't know...like returning to an old neighborhood where you once lived, only strangers live there now. I've experienced the same thing on Imdb, where I once was a regular on their message boards...indeed, I posted on a daily basis, many times a day on some occaisions. This was about ten years ago, and it was my first experience doing such a thing.
At first I came to recognize the regular posters, each with their own personality which I assumed was a 'real' person, not a contrived persona or anything like that, I was naive at the time...So, in all those posts about movies and tv shows, a certain number of posters would gravitate to one another, and become, well, friends online!...I became buddies with a few of them, we would chat about movies and sometimes delved into our personal lives, almost like 'pen pals' we had in school...But then something happened, an influx of new users and a group that had been kicked off an old board brought their 'wars' there. And an infestation of teenagers who plagued the board with their inane and juvenile posts...'trolls'...I soon lost sight of the old regulars but later learned that they retreated to a certain movie board on imdb, "The Way We Were" of all places...others who were not invited there complained bitterly, "why didn't you tell me?? how could you??"..or...
"okay, here's your knife back, the one you stabbed me with!"
It became clear, sheesh this like high school! and these people have never even met each other, or knew each other growing up, or shared each others pain or joy that they otherwise would in a real or at least tangible friendship...No, this was a new territory, a new universe of VIRTUAL friendships, just as loving and supportive, or just as dysfunctional...but friendships nevertheless!
As friendships can come and go, so do these...like the Illustration Friday crowd who moved on, so did the Imdb bunch, a small group of them formed a small site on which I was invited, like building a hopeful bridge over the cyber sea, but even now that one is dwindling, like a bridge that is abandoned or swept away...I guess people just want to move on, like in real life. America is one of the most mobile and migratory people in the world. Everyone moved out here to California in the 50's and 60's and I grew up listening to them brag about how great it was back where they came from...I would sigh like an old man....
And, like a migratory shift, people move on from virtual friendships to new places and then we wonder where they went, what became of them?...but we do make friends, and keep them! Like facebook, we connect with old friends, the 'tangible' ones. But the virtual friends, they're basically pen pals...I miss the ones I don't see anymore, even though I never saw them face to face, or shook their hands...or even arranging to meet someday, somewhere...when it comes to all of them, the friends I never met, it's like throwing a message in a bottle into the Cyber Sea.

My Time Machine

2009-10-03T16:52:00.000-07:00

I have always been fascinated with History, especially when looking at old films or photographs. Or walking through old neighborhoods or historical districts. My interest was piqued recently when I watched a Ken Burns series on the National Parks. He used an enormous collection of old photos and Super-8 movies of families vacationing in Yosemite and other parks. I immediately related to the kids in those old movies, in the backseat of their parents car, then walking around in wonder, because I could have been one of those kids back then in the 60's.
But some of these were from way before, like in the 40's and 50's...even back to the 20's and beyond! Every time I see an old photograph or old film footage, especially in color, I wish I could magically step into that picture, go back in time and see for myself how it really was....
Or better yet, I wish I had a Time Machine, not a big clumsy contraption like H.G. Wells would have written about, but a small convenient one, about the size of a cel phone. But I'd make sure to prepare, to have all my bases covered...The first place I'd want to visit is San Francisco in the 1940's, maybe 1947...but before I went, I'd put on an old vintage suit that I own, from about that era, to blend in...then I would go to San Francisco present-day, probably to Golden Gate Park to a secluded spot in the bushes where I couldn't be seen, and then punch in the date, and make the leap!
I would appear in that same spot, hopefully still hidden, but it would be 1947!... After emerging from the park, I think that much of the city would look the same, as far as the buildings and houses, but the cars and the trolleys and the people would be different...like out of an old photograph, but I would be There! I think I would walk downtown, rather than take a bus or taxi, just to soak it all in...I would probably be nervous as hell, almost paranoid in thinking that I stood out somehow, an ultimate outsider, someone from the Future...but I'd be nonchalant as I strolled down Geary St. toward Union Square, nodding hello to passersby, peering in to storefronts and listening to peoples' conversations, picking up any nuance in their speech, but I don't think it would be very different. No different than Bogart and Bacall, who filmed 'Dark Passage' there in 1947...and I've seen plenty of Three Stooges and Little Rascals movies to know how they spoke back then, but that was Hollywood, this would be regular people in the street.
Before my 'trip', I would make sure to bring along a lot of faded one dollar bills, that denomination hasn't changed much since the 30's, but the 5's, 10's, and 20's have a new design, and that would be an obvious giveaway, they would think I was a nutcase or a counterfeiter if I tried to use one of those. And besides, things were way cheaper back then, I could probably walk into a diner and buy lunch for less than a dollar, and a newspaper for a nickel. Upon arriving downtown, I imagine Union Square would also still look basically the same, but with different storefronts and not as many highrises, but the cable cars would be there, Lefty O'Douls would be there, and maybe Tad's...
There would also be the St. Francis hotel on Powell, curiosity would take me there first, with its ornate lobby and piano bar, I wonder how different it would be. I'd gather up the nerve to go sit at the bar...now, I've seen movies from the 40's and bars haven't changed much, but still, I would glance and see what others were drinking...I'd probably order a beer, and pay for it with change that I got from buying the newspaper, I'd be too nervous about using a dollar bill from 2009, bartenders can be pretty sharp about that stuff. Not that he's looking out for money from the future, just bills that don't look quite right...
After having perused the paper and sports page just to catch up on local current events, I'd probably be prepared for any light conversation, should a bar patron decided to chat...I'd say I was from San Jose, which I was...though my historical knowledge of San Jose would only carry me so far...they might ask if I was in the war, and given my current age I would say no, I was too old by then...I would never tell anyone I was from the future, because a) they wouldn't believe me, and b) I wouldn't want to say "buy IBM stock in 1956, you'll make a fortune!" because it would 'alter the future' and that could get complicated...no, I'd just be an observer.
I think I would want to explore most of all, to ride the cable car to Fisherman's Wharf, when it really WAS a fisherman's wharf, with the original restaurants catering to the fishermen themselves, and Pier 39 was really a working pier. Ride taxis, visit the Sutro Baths...
Feeling a kind of wanderlust, I'd want to venture all over the City and East Bay, northward to Santa Rosa, and walk around my old neighborhood as I did not long ago, and again, all the houses would still be there, but different colors perhaps...the trees would be smaller...I'd walk down McDonald Avenue where 'Shadow of a Doubt' had just been filmed, and I think it would look the same, again except for the cars. I'd go downtown and look around, and see how things were then...I'd see all the fields and orchards where houses and new neighborhoods would soon be...There'd be so much to see and explore, like a living history museum. It would be fun to stay overnight at a local hotel, or back in the City...though no tv, ha!
That would be only one trip in my Time Machine, I think I would take many such trips, to many places...I would take a trip to August 21, 1955...the date of my parents wedding in San Jose, maybe sit in the back, since I have a family resemblance to my uncles, they would wonder who I was...I'd dare not go to the reception...
As my time travelling got 'easier'...I would go back to the 30's...the 20's...and beyond!
New York City, 1923, the opening of Yankee Stadium and watch Babe Ruth play ball...the list is endless.
Of course, this is all just one big fantasy, see how far it takes me? haha! There will probably never be such a thing as time travel, at least in our lifetime...but if there ever was, I'd want to be ready.

Illustration Friday - Germs

2009-10-02T16:09:00.001-07:00

Picture 010
Originally uploaded by danguerra444

I read a short story once, where the Earth was being overrun by deadly germs that needed to be eradicated. In the end, it was revealed that the germs were us.

Illustration Friday - Pattern

2009-09-28T14:00:00.001-07:00

dannyspics 248
Originally uploaded by danguerra444

Patterns can be found everywhere...or everywhen.

Illustration Friday - Infinite

2009-09-20T20:30:00.001-07:00

Space Tower
Originally uploaded by danguerra444

Among the infinite of space, and the infinite of time, anything is possible.

Aunt Carmen's last hug

2009-09-12T23:53:00.000-07:00

My Aunt Carmen was like a second mom to me when I was growing up. From the time I can remember, up until the second grade I always stayed over at Aunt Carmen and Uncle Joe's during the summer, during the day while my parents were at work...along with their kids Joanne and Little Joe, my cousins, they were like my extended family...and I was witness to their frequent 'wars' firsthand, which sometimes made me feel thankful I was an only child, but I loved them all anyway, because they were family, my Second family! When my parents went on a two week vacation to Hawaii, I stayed with them for over two weeks. Indeed, I can't count the times I would spend other evenings with them watching tv... Gilligan's Island, Hogan's Heroes, Daniel Boone...all the while Aunt Carmen provided an endless supply of ice cream, potato chips, and other snacks.
I remember when she would run errands during the day, and she would bring me and my cousin Joe along, we would act goofy and crack jokes the whole time, "you boys are driving me NUTS!"...Her booming, intimidating voice, with a sense of impending menace was all it took to shut us up...and then, serenity, "can I interest you boys in a root beer float?"...I was amazed how she seemed to know every salesperson at every store by name, even the drive-thru dairy (remember those?) and they all greeted her with enthusiasm because she had that kind of personality...Huge, an expansive personality that would fill a room. And an incredible sense of humor and sardonic wit...in other words, she was a Force of Nature, the Salt of the Earth.
Aunt Carmen is my mom's older sister, and through the years, they stuck together like glue, even through what I call 'the lean years' from the mid 80's to 2002 when I wasn't in contact with them that much...but later about that...
When my cousins and I were kids, we enjoyed weekend barbeques at any one of our homes, whether it was at my parent's house, Joe and Carmen's, or Uncle Bob's...or sometimes Uncle Joe's on my dad's side...even writing about this gives me kind of a warm and happy feeling, a feeling of family...I know of such families today...
Anyway, whenever Carmen would arrive, the scene automatically changed, because here was this Presence now...remember the tv show 'Maude' starring Bea Arthur? Everyone at the time would say, "ohmygawwd, that's CARMEN"...and sure enough, for awhile she had the nickname, "oh look! Maude is here!"...but she took it all with good humor, 'yup that's me alright!'
But with her big personality came certain strains, my dad had always 'tolerated' her ever since he married my mom back in the 50's, and while I had been away at school and then on my own in the 80's, a rift developed between my dad and Carmen and they basically avoided each other, which was unfortunate, especially for my mom...and us cousins had grown, so we weren't in as much contact through the 80's and 90's, as we were busy running to and fro with our own lives...that's what I mean by the 'lean years'....
So in fact, it was my dad's funeral that brought us all back together, the rift was over...it was basically a reunion. Before the funeral, some of them arrived at my mom's house, Joe and Carmen, the Bakers, everyone...the first thing Carmen did was give me a Big bear hug, "ohhhh Danny I'm sooo sorry I've missed you sooo much!" and couldn't help but tear up because I had missed her too, and on top of that, my dad gone, here was this emotional reunion as well...not to mention everyone else...
It was not soon after, that she developed heart problems, sometimes serious and we would worry...but I'll never forget when I had my paintings showing in Sonoma Square, Carmen and Joe showed up! she was probably feeling like hell, but she made sure Joe went to get the food they brought! haha! Some things never change...
My mom and I went out to visit them earlier this year, Carmen had continued to have health problems but still was a Force of Nature, she insisted we go wine tasting and she was the designated driver! While my mom and I stayed at their house, I felt an echo....an echo from childhood and a certain affection for ol' Carmen and Joe, from a long time ago, my second family. About a month ago, it looked like things were getting worse, and sure enough, she was sick with cancer...inoperable...we all gathered around again. In her hospital bed, she insisted, "now don't any of you be sad! it's been a good life!" We all joked and told stories...when it was time to leave, I give Aunt Carmen a kiss on the cheek, her cheek was warm, and we hugged, "MMMMMMMMMM"
"I love you." and she winked.

Aerolution Films

2009-08-31T23:57:00.000-07:00

I have a recurring dream, about once every 6 months or so lately, sometimes not for years, but I recognize the dream, it's the same theme and the same setting...it only happens when I'm tired or haven't slept much, or stressed...it always happens the same way, I toss and turn, trying to FALL asleep when I know that I need to...
And then I'm transported to this familiar dreamscape which I recognize, because I've been there before in other dreams, "oh boy, here we go..." I say in anticipation of what could literally be a roller coaster ride of visuals. I remember a lot of this one.
The setting is usually an office space where bizarre projects are being worked on, sometimes populated by former co-workers I have known over the years, and a few other recurring characters...but at the center of it all are these two brothers who make movies, and in the dream, they gather everyone together to watch their latest movie...and here's the astonishing part, I remembered the title and much of the dream here in waking hours! I was driving on I-5 and all of a sudden it came to me, "Aerolution Films"!!...like straight out of my subconscious came this vivid image, as if a secret vault, or long lost computer folder suddenly opened into the light of day.
The two brothers, one looking like Cosmo Kramer with glasses, the other like Teller (from Penn and Teller) and the distinct logo, 'Aerolution Films'...Everyone gathered for the film and sat down on the floor to watch...
The film started with a simple scene of a cat sitting on a table, then the cat grinned wider and wider, until its mouth was completely open to reveal an inner mouth also opening, and then again and again, like watching a flower blooming in fast motion. Then this blooming effect took on the shape of an origami paper unfolding...it unfolded itself in a precise and geometrical way, and began to refold and reshape itself into a house, like a dollhouse...and through the windows of the house came two robot like hands, each holding a deck of playing cards. Each hand fanned out the cards, which sprouted feathers, like bird's wings. It was amazing to see the vividness of each feather sprouting and growing, and forming into wings. I half expected to watch the dollhouse fly away, but the house began another transformation as the wings folded back.
From all the other windows in the house, small boxes emerged, and they opened to even smaller boxes, and those boxes opened to reveal small rings interlocked with other rings, and as they began to rotate and sort of 'dance' in amazing choreography, the wings withdrew back into the house as it refolded itself origami style into a tree-like shape, onto which the rings attached themselves to the branches, like a Christmas tree...Then the tree twisted itself into a pole, like a spiral Greek column and within the cracks of the column, hundreds of birds squeezed out and flew all around the room...
All of this happened with a constant flow, as if it was a fast moving animation, well, that's what it was! It's the vividness that gets me every time, and it's always a different 'movie' every time I have that dream. It's hard to interpret, because of so much information and imagery...but I am looking forward to the next one!

Animals Can Talk

2009-08-20T01:11:00.000-07:00

I believe that animals can talk, not just to their own kind, which they obviously do...but to us humans. At least they try to talk to us, in the only language they know, in their barks and meows, and in their body language and behavior, and we recognize some of it...When they're hungry, we know....because they'll be sure to tell us!
For those of us who have had pets, mainly dogs and cats, birds, or any contact with animals, I think we all know the way they look us in the eye when they're saying something to us, and we know what they're saying, because they're just like a family member.
Back in the 70's, Koko the Gorilla astounded scientists with her ability to sign...in American Sign Language...she displayed a definite intelligence, in which she was able to communicate with an amazing vocabulary...up to 600 words. Using sign language, they asked her "what is dead?"
she signed, "long sleep"...She described sour milk as "crocodile milk" because she didn't like crocodiles after seeing pictures of them. And she described dreams as "sleep pictures"...She distrusted newcomers until she was assured, "this man/woman good"...She described a policeman as "clown" because his shiny badge and parts of his uniform reminded her of photos of clowns.
So even though Koko is a primate, it is obvious that they think and dream...and have emotions and feelings just like we humans do...and there was the amazing story of the parrot who DID use human words as communication, her last words were, "be good...I love you."

Koko had the ability to communicate using sign language, but our dogs and cats don't have the hands or dexterity to do that, so they communicate with us humans in their own way, through their barks and meows and their incredible language within those...and of course their body language. Many books are available about cat language and dog language, and it's true, they are communicating to us, or trying to...but, they don't have the ability to sign, or mimic the human voice...but if they did, I think they would tell us wonders...I remember Jake, a lovable Golden Retriever when I lived in Pleasant Hill, a big goofy dog...one night I brought him out a steak bone, he clenched it in his teeth, took a couple of steps and then dropped it!! what dog would drop a meaty bone? Then he ran and jumped on me, licking my face profusely...he was thanking me....

"yeahhh okay okay, I love you too Jake!"...then he stopped and just grinned at me, in that doggie smile way... "wuff" and grabbed his bone and off he went...

Dolphins in the ocean are also incredibly intelligent. There are endless stories about dolphins in the sea who have protected men in shipwrecks, by surrounding them and shielding them from sharks. Dolphins are smart...and they're mammals, just like whales...and they sing.
Gabby, who lives here has an entire cat vocabulary all her own (that's how she got her name!) Her meows range from little peeps to drawn out meows to a staccato-like chirping...this is her language. Like all of our dogs and cats, each one has its own personality, just like humans...
My mom says, "my god it feels like she's talking to me! directly to me...like in Chinese!"
I wish I knew what she was saying exactly...other than 'where's my breakfast?'....I wish I could communicate with Gabby on a level other than the basic stuff, because I know she has WAY much more to say...and I think she's just as frustrated as a zillion animals in this world who are sentient and have a certain intelligence, and would LOVE to talk to us, and ask questions...and I would love to talk to them....and ask questions.

I've Seen All Good People

2009-08-10T01:42:00.000-07:00

"I've seen all good people turn their heads each day so satisfied, I'm on my way"...That is a line from a classic Yes song, and after nearly 40 years, I still don't know what to make of it...or maybe that was the idea, Jon Anderson who wrote the line, and has always said, "it's open to interpretation.."
Well, fair enough...When he referred to all good people turning their heads, did he mean turning their heads away from being good? and being a pop star during that time in all of its decadence, was he on his way too? or were all the good people turning their heads to something better, a greater good?...that is the question and it pretty much summarizes everyone, turn their heads to good or evil, or somewhere in between?
I think good and evil exists in everyones' soul, whether we acknowledge it or not...and I don't necessarily mean this in a religious sort of way, but more in a biological way which is more secular, but if you want to apply religion, then so be it, it still works...because I have come to believe there is good in everyone, and Good usually wins. Because if there wasn't Good, none of us would be here....
Of course, there's the sociopaths, the serial killers, and the truly bad people out there, filled with violence and hate, and terrible crimes...what got in to them to commit those things?
Not to mention Adolf Hitler...one of the biggest thugs in history...who can stop these people? Well, Good people do...Hitler was destroyed, and criminals go to jail...well, most do...
Anyway, I think that most people have Good in them, people who just want to get along and help when they can, because I think it's hard wired in the human psyche that it's better to be good, it's better to help out, because it just means survival in the long run...
During an accident, the first thing people do is jump out and help the injured...
In war, soldiers help their buddies, even though they just blasted the enemy, whether or not the blasted enemy was 'evil' is only relative....especially those German kids in WWII who only got drafted towards the end...those frightened kids were not evil, but got swept up in a bigger Evil.
When I worked at the store, where the policy was, 'World Class Customer Service' I experienced quite a cross section of people coming through the line...from the wealthy who lived up on the hills above Santa Rosa, to the gang bangers who lived down below...each customer came through the line with a certain personality and attitude, I don't know whether it was because it was simply a grocery store, but everyone was Good, usually...aside from the cranky customers, crackpots and old coots mostly...I saw everyones' good side, even the gangbangers, their polite side...maybe because they were gathering food, an age old human ritual...and all the while I tried to remain Good, even though sometimes I wanted to commit murder...
But that made them happy for the time being, and Good.

Musician as Artist

2009-08-04T23:49:00.000-07:00

I have always loved music, since day one, or at least the day that I had cognitive memory. I wrote about this before, about shaking my leg to 'The Best is Yet to Come' by Frank Sinatra when I was 2, or singing 'I Wanna Be Around' with my dad in the car when I was 3...
I would have loved to be a musician, but...to be a musician meant to play a musical instrument, and play it skillfully and with a certain signature of emotion, or sing a song with a strong voice, also with skill and emotion and timing... After playing trumpet in school and trying to learn to play the guitar, the music ends at my wrists...and I tried...over and over, music teachers always say 'practice practice!' and that is very true, even Rick Wakeman, the keyboard player in Yes said, "I can only recommend practice, I can't emphasize that enough"....and I did practice. And I was able to play the notes, but I never *felt* the notes...in other words, I couldn't express them in a way other than just reading them off a music sheet, like taking dictation....like a Great Ape staring through a cage at an elusive wonder, my musical ability is only a whim.
But that has never diminished my appreciation for music, and those who create it...because they are incredible Artists. Those who are able to play an instrument, or sing with a natural flow, as though the music is within them, and it pours out of them with ease...they have a gift..
You see, I think that I envy musicians because it's an instantaneous, communal thing that can be shared...like if you brought your guitar and someone else brought theirs, then you can jam, and play and sing...even if you play or sing in a pedestrian way it doesn't matter, because you get to share the experience, which can only be a fun thing! I never got to that point...
I became an artist anyway, but the solitary kind...I love to create images and I always will...but it's a solitary way of creating something, and yes, there's art guilds and classes...but it's still an individual endeavor. And then maybe you can share it later on, once it's finished...but it will never be spontaneous, like playing music with people in real time, creating it on the spot, and the cameraderie and sheer joy of doing it when it's happening! not to mention the audience who is also watching and listening and experiencing the whole thing...real time as it's being created...the way people smile at each other during the song...and I've seen it, the smiles people give each other when playing and singing, whether it's a small gathering, or onstage at a big arena, music is a shared experience...and I guess I'm just jealous...

One Thing Leads to Another

2009-08-01T22:23:00.000-07:00

A long time ago when I was in kindergarten, my parents had been planning to buy a house, and move out of the house we lived in, which was my dad's parents house in San Jose. He and his siblings inherited that house when their parents died at a young age. So my dad, at age 23, basically finished raising his younger siblings. Of course, that didn't sit well with some of them, so they moved out as soon as they could. My dad stayed on, got married and then I was born, and we lived in that house until I was 5.

They found a house in the Willow Glen neighborhood, I remember driving by there a few times, peeking through the windows as they would show it to friends and relatives. The deal was just about done, but then something happened and the deal fell through...so it was back to looking again. A couple months later they found another house on Doma Drive, and that's where we ended up moving to, and that was the house I grew up in, we lived there for 20 years.

As I grew up and went to the same school for 8 years, and then on to high school along with those same kids, I would often think back to that house we 'almost' lived in, and how much different my life would have been, with different friends, and different experiences...would the trajectory of my life path be entirely different? or would it veer back in the same general direction? What opportunities were missed? What disasters were avoided? Well, none of us will ever know, and it's the same for everyone. There are major forks in the road in everyones' life path...some we take by choice, some by circumstance. And it is always by chance, or by fate, that in a single instant one's life can change course forever.

I remember driving to a job interview back in 1985. I lived in San Leandro and the interview was in Concord, so I allowed myself some extra time. But sure enough, traffic was horrendous and I found that I was running almost 15 minutes late! As I approached the exit I wondered if I should just blow it off since I was so late, but I thought, "no I might as well go in, I'll just explain it was the traffic."
So that's what I did, and they were very understanding, and the interview went extremely well! The guy who interviewed me was named Ron, and he introduced me to Mimi, who was one of the artists working there, we all hit it off that day and sure enough I was hired. We've all been friends ever since, and through them, became friends with a wider constellation of people.
Had I decided to skip the exit and drive home that day, I would never have known any of them. Who knows what course my life would have taken? Would I have met another different set of friends? probably, but the idea of never having known any of these friends leaves me with an incredibly empty feeling.
Similarly, in 1987 I was freelancing, and jobs were getting pretty few and far between...I remember going through the drive-thru at a Jack-in-the-Box, and there were newspaper racks along the drive-thru lane. So on a whim, I bought a SF Chronicle to read during lunch. As I skimmed the want ads, I saw an ad, "Illustrator Wanted - Computer company seeks artist/illustrator w/ traditional skills..." Even back then, I knew the odds of landing a job through the paper was pretty slim, since they get tons of resumes, but I thought, why not? So I sent in my resume with some samples...sure enough they called! And I went in and I got the job, it was at Spectrum Holobyte, a start-up game company when computer art was in its infancy, and I learned as I went along and rode the crest of a computer graphic wave for 15 years! And I've met some wonderful friends on that wave...friends that I would never exchange for the world, in any 'what-if' time line....All because of that one moment when I decided to buy a paper at that Jack in the Box. If I hadn't bought the paper, I would never have answered that ad...and well, who knows what direction I would have taken? A different but similar one maybe, but not *this* one, and not with the people in it...maybe some! but we'll never know.
How many other instances are like that in everyones life? It occurred to me that they happen every single day, in subtle ways...and not just by the things we ourselves do, but as circumstances of things other people do as we interact with them. Like the big-rig that overturned on the Bayshore Freeway, halting traffic for miles, because the driver had to swerve to avoid a guy on his cell phone who cut him off. The wreck blocked the main entrance to SFO, causing pilots and passengers to miss their flights. What were the consequenses of all those missed flights? How many people missed out on job interviews? How many business deals failed to get done? And the people who missed weddings, funerals, or a husband trying to fix his marriage...and the consequences of all those events on other people, all spiraling out in an endless array, like dropping a heavy stone on a still lake. All because someone decided to make a phone call at that exact moment in time.
Timing and circumstance, every single day. The beer I ordered today, I asked for a Sierra Nevada. After the waitress took the order she came back again and said, "oh did you want that in a 16 or 20 ounce draft?" 'oh 16 ounce please'... "okay, you got it.." And when she turned, she ran right in to a customer, knocking an empty bottle on her tray to the floor. "Whoa!" everyone yelled. Clearly embarrassed, both the customer and waitress apologized, and a busboy swept up the glass.
That's when it all occurred to me, if I had ordered a glass of wine instead, she would never have turned around to ask me what size, and the customer would have passed and no collision would have happened. Maybe that one collision was the last straw for that waitress, now she will quit her job and go back to school to become a nurse...probably not, but you never know...all because I ordered a beer instead of wine. All of these life-altering permutations. How many occurances like this, big or small, happen every single day, to everyone? And how big do we know they will be in the long run?