Monday, June 15, 2020 I have joined the Weather Underground. Not the militant radical one found here: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Weather_Underground, but this one: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Weather_Underground_(weather_service), an internet-based weather service that uses weather information from volunteer weather station operators. Although both originated at the University of Michigan, that is where the similarity starts and ends. Since I was aContinue reading “On joining the Weather Underground (www.Wunderground.com)”
Author Archives: rbwalton
Cats will be cats- Now
Returning home from my workday, I readied myself to work through my list of things to do before it was time to start dinner. I glanced outside and saw something in the backyard I could not quite identify. Maybe one of the cats had gotten into something. It always was easiest to blame the cats.Continue reading “Cats will be cats- Now”
To Old Friends and New Friends- Now
This is about friends. As I have gotten older, and maybe because of some things that happen from time to time in my life, I get into moods where I ponder the imponderables I might be better off forgetting. No, maybe that last bit is not true. I would never want to forget anything, especiallyContinue reading “To Old Friends and New Friends- Now”
A brief interlude on the bay at sunset- Then
It was a rare date night with my new girlfriend, Sarah, not for lack of trying, but more for lack of money. Our Trip to Ghirardelli Square was via the Golden Gate Transit Ferry. It was more romantic than it sounds, especially for a couple of high school kids on a limited budget. It wasContinue reading “A brief interlude on the bay at sunset- Then”
Memories of Young Love: The Day a girl I called told me her House House was on Fire
I was busy with newspaper and yearbook obligations as a junior in high school, and I was hoping for something to happen in the romance department. I had been doing a few columns with my long-time friend Paul for our school newspaper. He tended to be more of a serious reporter type than I was.Continue reading “Memories of Young Love: The Day a girl I called told me her House House was on Fire”
Developing an interest in photography- Then
I needed something to set myself apart in high school. I had already mentioned that I had long hair, and eventually, I grew a beard to go along with the look. But that only went so far. I was interested in photography, and I knew the yearbook people were seeking photographers. I was in. PhotographyContinue reading “Developing an interest in photography- Then”
Nobody ever said this would be easy. . . Now
(About the picture- Even if it is an accurate representation of how my mind still feels cluttered at times, even writing on a laptop, I would never have so much distracting me from my coffee.) There are times when writing is easy. An idea just pops into my head. I start writing, and before IContinue reading “Nobody ever said this would be easy. . . Now”
More bumps in the night- Now and Then
The night creeps in, again. Why is that anyway? During the day, I am fine. Life is as it is, and I go with the flow. Then the sun goes down. And I start to doubt everything again. Have I done all I should do? If not, will I get a do-over? Will I thenContinue reading “More bumps in the night- Now and Then”
She was playing real good, for free- Now
The harpist sits at her table outside. She is there playing and smiling at people as they come inside to get coffee. There is nothing set out yet for donations, although a basket sits on the table near her, covered with a colorful piece of fabric. There are only a couple of people sitting thereContinue reading “She was playing real good, for free- Now”
What are those bumps in the night . . . – Now and then
Everything is magnified at night. Noises that at any other time would go unnoticed turn into threats in the middle of the night. What was that noise just now? It has to be nothing. I run through my internal data bank of known sounds, trying to categorize what we have in here that would makeContinue reading “What are those bumps in the night . . . – Now and then”
Memory is the Key 