No posts these past few days as I have been in Huntington Beach with kids and grandkids. In between family time I have read Dickens’ Bleak House. Many strange and mad characters in that book. Victorians all I concluded; until I looked around me in Huntington Beach and saw the following two whose story I tell. (more…)
Posts Tagged ‘Huntington Beach’
At the address in the photo above is an amazing collection of public art. On the outside walls of the Huntington Beach Civic Center are painted tiles of birds. These tiles were saved when the old shopping mall across the way was torn down. These tiles were part of this grand old shopping center–from a time when money could be spent on art not artifice. But when the center was pulled down to make way for bigger shops that would attract the richer, younger crowd moving into the surrounding areas, luckily the tiles were saved and placed on the walls of the Civic Center. (more…)
I have moved on from countries and companies. I have left (and re-entered) countries. I have left companies and joined the principals in other companies. I have, in a word, moved around. At 67, I spend no time cogitating on these past decisions. With so long a history of making decisions and moving on, I have so much to regret that I would go crazy thinking what would have been had I not made those many decisions. It is futile to regret a past decision that may have been the wrong decision. (more…)
I am in Huntington Beach, California and thus California Dreaming. Or at least living the dream that is Orange County—a bastion of white, Hispanic, and Vietnamese wealth, power, and privilege. The Bentley now stands outside the small townhouse where once (fifteen years ago) there stood a cheap American car driven by old people, now dead. The hue of colors at the pier is vast–although, thankfully, there are still young ladies in bikinis (of all hue) on roller-blades bedecking the streets. As my son once said: “Dad, no man should be enabled to fall in love so often during a mere walk down the street.” (more…)
When I was a kid on a mine in South Africa, the day after Christmas was truly Boxing Day. The excitement of presents subsided and we got to play with the new toys at leisure. There was no TV so we truly sat quietly and read the new books Santa had brought. The servants were off for the day and our parents, every reluctant to cook, simply spread the left-overs from which we picked as fancy and appetite dictated. The sun shone ever-bright and we dipped yet again into the mine swimming pool and got ever more burnt to produce today’s sun-scorched skin and cancers. (more…)
A few photos taken on a bike ride along the Santa Ana River between Huntington Beach and Newport Beach in Orange County, California. First, a view of the concrete channel clogged with silt just as this great, normally non-flowing river enters the ocean.
Then the bridge. I am always fascinated by bridges–I once dreamed of being a bridge design engineer. I did not and instead went into mining, but I still thrill to a bridge.
The sand and silt settle in the concrete channel and before the onset of the winter rains, they have to remove soil and vegetation so the floods can flow.
We rode some ten miles up the river and into Santa Ana the town where there is a park and lots of kids ambling along.
As my cycling companion peddled along.
And we stopped to watch model boats in the pond.