Lightly lost in thaim


I took me decades to adjust to this image. 1970, onWashington Street, propabyl near Filene’s.

Southern Gospel music off Tremont Street right across from the Common.

Commonwealth Ave, Boston.For a time James and I used to move furniture in our van.many of these building were constructed before elevators and we would have to walk big heavy stuff, like a refrigerator, up the stairs.

Somerville, two three deckers in one building . Somerville has a lot of three deckers and I remember meeting families who had “inherited their rental apartment,” some were third generation renters in the same apartment.

Boston brick and windows

Cambridge, MA, one morning’s snowfall on top a a previous snowfall

In Boston’s North End, probably from an upper floor of a multi floored parking facility below couple walking to church on a Sunday morning.

Fort Hill, Roxbury. MA: Sometimes I would drive over, its was a days length by horse and wagon from Beacon Hill—so I have heard—sit on the hill, look at Boston, or towards southwest. There used to be a wrought iron railing above the ledge on the octagon, I was over there one early morning about 1971 aft3er a wind storm and I found a piece of the railing, I took it home and kept it for many years, even taking it out to California , but I don’t know what happened to it. It used to be quiet, not crowded and The Lyman Family used to live there.

Alameda Creek

And God said, Let there be light: and there was light.
And God saw the light, and it was good; and

God divided the light from the darkness.

Verse 3 Genesis King James Bible

Photographs are light, light is how humans, and much of life on Earth, see, we would certainly be in the dark without it.

Light is what photography is about . . .

Light, or perhaps better, light which has been reflected off a “thing”—carries a latent image from that thing . . .

When you can intercept the reflected light it with an appropriate medium you can create a photographic image—something humans can see— on the medium, an image which has “human meaning.”

Light is what makes it possible fo the human eye to see,, and human eyes make it possible to experience light in the universe.—that’s what evolution has created.

A photograph makes it possible to see through the eyes of another person, but while the photograph sees like the eye sees . . . People see how their mind interprets what the eye sees.

These images separate the medium from the human interpretation, to avoid the question of what is the difference between what the eye visually experiences and how the mind translates the visual experience to the person.

As a graphic technique the photograph has its own look and feel, and has its own rightful place, not as a piece of “reality” which must be fit into human words but in its own artistic achievement and right. as line, color, texture, and form, a thing which does not have be “real” or not real, but a “thing” in and of itself.


Filene’s Basement was the “ business model” for stores like Ross , Marshall’s or TJ max. It was two or three levels , two floors for women and one for men and other household goods.They bought up whole lots of end of year surplus from other retailers, fire, flood and other damaged goods and irregulars. I remember the crowds when the annually bought year end surplus from Brooks Brothers. Often the Basement floors were crowded, they had problems with theft in the women’s section so they took out the changing rooms— no matter, women would try on the clothes in the aisles.

After Mom’s stroke, she moved near me to a memory care residence. She had a hip operation and spent eight weeks in a nursing home-rehab facility learning to walk again. I was there for the therapy sessions,

I was fortunate to see my mother differently, Some say its like “role reversal” the parent becomes like a child and the child the parent, I don’t think so, the child is learning to become a human being, my mother was a human being learning how to cope with a problem she did not understand.and could not constructively communicate with anyone about it.

During the first weeks after her stroke she used to ask me what happened? She knew this was the way she was before, but no matter how hard she tried, she could not know or remember what “before” was.

The first 18 months we took her out for events, meals, walking and hiking, art festivals, stores, but after her hip operation her walking, which she loved dearly all of her life, was limited.

When I think of my experiences with my father, I did not ask him enough questions about who he was, I did not know him as well as a I could have, And I got to know my mother in a very personal way, secrets they kept from their children. but I never knew his secrets, or his personal secrets anyway.

There were things he only told me, and when he told them there were times I was hesitant to believe them, and after his death they came to be realized, and I never knew how he knew them..

It could have felt like banging the shadow of my head against a brick wall,, She was still daily confronted with problems ”not making a living or cleaning house— and learning from watching how she adjusted herself to her new life problems was a lesson in human creativity.

Gate gate, paragate, parasamgate Bodhi Svaha


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