Seen on TriMet, MAX Yellow Line this time for people watching.

I'm making up a story here. When she boarded the MAX Yellow Line train, the lady sat in the only empty seat and turned tightly to her right, holding herself so that she didn't accidentally look at the boys beside her or what leaned between the legs of the one with the black hair. That lady had a brother who loved his skateboard back in the 1960s when they were new to the world and much shorter, narrower, rolled on a different sort of wheels. It's been over fifty years, and she still can't look at a skateboard, it matters not that these days skateboards look nothing like they did back then. If she glimpses a skateboard, hears one clackety-clacking on the sidewalk, and the break in her heart freshens with her awareness. Yet her reaction has nothing to do with those changes and all to do with the fact that her beloved brother, drafted into the US Army, came home from Vietnam in a body bag.

2014 Festival of Flowers, No. 2

In the sunshine on a Saturday, a sprinkler and a boy. Nothing else needs to be said.



The same photo, cropped.

First visit to Disneyland, Day Two, Post No. 5

The Bubble Gun Story, as photographed by me while in line at Soarin' Over California, a really neat ride that even has scents to enjoy, a favorite for many who visit Disney California Adventure. I made up all of these captions beneath the photos.



The man in the hat reaches for bubbles spewing from the boy's bubble gun, to the delight of the little boy. Meanwhile, over at the right edge of the photo, it almost appears that the other little boy is drinking from his bubble gun. Surely not!



The man keeps his hand out even after all of the bubbles have floated beneath it. Looks sort of like he's saying, "Gimme five!" to the boy in the Athletics' T-shirt.



The boy squeezes the trigger and bubbles spew into the air, catching the sunlight. Meanwhile, over at the right edge of the photo, the other boy's shooting bubbles, too. In between the two boys, there is a young woman who I figure must be their big sister. She looks too young to me to be their mother. What do you think?



Ah, boys will be boys! It's a bubble shoot out! Wait! Has the man said something alarming that the young woman has overheard? I prefer to think that he said, "It's great that they brought the bubble guns with them because watching the bubbles helps me pass the time in this long, long, line."



Yes! Smiles all around as everyone continues to enjoy the bubbles. I say, "Thanks, boys!"

First visit to Disneyland! Day One, Post No. 4

While we ate our late lunch at the French Market Restaurant, New Orleans Square, Disneyland, every which way we turned provided a new opportunity to watch people as they enjoyed their meals and the live music. We had time to hear each of the two bands play two sets of different kinds of jazz. The band in the top photo, the Royal Street Bachelors, played a style I found labeled online as jazz standards--smooth-sounding, good-memory-inducing music I had grown up listening to on radio and television and in the movies. It was during the second set of one band's performance that something happened which provided one of my favorite memories of the trip.

When the boy in the blue T-shirt, with somewhat unruly, thick hair wearing wide-rimmed glasses whose lenses magnified his eyes, walked toward a table, his attention glued to the bandstand, I remember thinking, "He's mesmerized by these men and the music they're making." His mother called him to his chair and put their food down onto the table. I looked away, knowing that I'd look again in a few minutes;  his intensity commanded it. Once he'd finished his mac and cheese and the red grapes in a separate bowl, I saw the boy's mother encourage him to go ahead and get closer to the band; she pulled out her cell phone and filmed the musicians. The boy stood up and walked into the open space between the bandstand and their table, standing there, watching and listening. When I realized that he had started to sing along with the music, my heart swelled. Here stood a young boy making a connection with wonderful music, all the while being captured by his mother, making an unforgettable memory for the two of them. And he knew the words!

I too sang along as I had to most of their tunes, and when the boy looked to his left and noticed me, he watched, it seemed, to make sure that we were saying the same words. Neither one of us was loud enough for anyone else to hear. Once the song ended, everyone clapped for the Royal Street Bachelors. The boy and I still looked at each other, and I spoke to him, "You like this song, don't you?" "Yes," he replied. I was choked up and about to lose it when I held my arms out to him and asked, "Could I give you a hug?" He walked into my arms for a quick hug; I saw his mother smiling as I looked over his shoulder.

My only regret--I cannot remember which song we had enjoyed; nor can I remember whether or not any member of the band sang the lyrics or if it was instrumental only. I have looked a several lists of jazz standards online and still don't know for certain. The song might have been "You're Nobody Till Somebody Loves You" or "Someone to Watch Over Me" or "Make Someone Happy" or "Dream a Little Dream of Me." I am not worried about not being able to remember the song. I have no trouble remembering that boy and I knew the words.

Back to the Waterfront Blues Festival, July 5, gotta wonder how long he lasted

I imagine about the time he ran out of running room 'cause the crowd grew and grew, he ran out of gas, too. Cute little guy in his Syracuse Athletics shirt.