March 19, 2013 12:55 AM
by JHF
in
Personal
{ }
Windy today, a fine haze from blowing dust, 50 °F
Follow the mountains that-a-way and eventually you’ll come to Denver, I suppose. That’s another reason why living out here is like being on the ocean. With cities so far apart, they feel like islands; a road trip is a voyage. Just look at the way the earth rolls and swells in this shot—not too long though, you might get seasick!
When I was just a lad, our Air Force family traveled to Germany on an ocean liner, the U.S.S. Geiger, via the Military Sea Transportation Service, the pre-1970 name for the Military Sealift Command of the U.S. Navy. This was how you got there at the time, believe it or not. We left New York just like you see in those old movies, with the passengers waving to people on the dock. I saw the Statue of Liberty on our way out. The whole next day was beautiful, and we played shuffleboard in the sun.
A short time later, we ended up in a bloody hurricane. I learned a lot about being on a ship, though. Things like how every door had a latch for securing it open, so it didn’t swing and hit you when the vessel rolled. Most furniture clamped firmly to the floor or wall. The metal dinner table tops had raised edges to catch escaping spoons, and during heavy weather, the staff wet down the linen tablecloths so the china didn’t slide. Soon almost everyone was sick, though, and hardly anyone showed up to eat. I lasted longer than most—the dramamine suppositories would come later—and had a chance to poke around the nearly empty public areas. The large windows along one side of the ship where they showed movies in the afternoon were blocked off with some kind of curtains, but of course I peeked: great black mountains of moving water, taller than the ship!
The return trip four years later was by airplane, only not the way you’d think. The propellor-driven four-engined Constellation took many hours to fly to Reykjavik (Iceland), then on to somewhere in New Brunswick (Canada), and finally to New York City, its piston engines droning loudly all the way. I remember my mother changing my baby sister’s cloth diapers on the plane, but not the way she managed it. Back into the soup it goes, rolling under the waves.
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Tags:
family,
history,
home
March 18, 2013 11:20 AM
by JHF
in
Blog News
{ }
No T-shirts or mouse pads, though. What kind of a man do you think I am?!?
All right, here you go: from now on, every JHFARR.COM post image—the big one, anyway—can be yours to hang on your wall. (Except this one, obviously.) I’ve set up a pro account at SmugMug, and you can always access the gallery at the “Buy Photos” link in the nav bar at the top of the page. I’ve also placed “Buy This Photo!” or “Buy This Image!” links at the bottom of every post since Dec. 25, 2012. These take you directly to that post’s featured image purchase options—plain, mounted, fancy, you name it—in all kinds of sizes. The print shop I’ve chosen (for now) is White House Custom Colour in Minneapolis/St. Paul. (Yes, they spell it that way.) They do very high-quality work and charge me more, but I’m holding the line on profit as we try this out.
You can even order coffee mugs! I think they could be quite special matched with the right picture, especially the black ones. The markup on these quite minimal as a present to you all.
Tags:
capitalism,
New Mexico,
Taos,
telephoto
March 18, 2013 12:59 AM
by JHF
in
Taos
{ }
Sometimes it’s right in front of your face
Things are looking up around here. All that snow is gone now, and the mud is almost firm enough to walk on with your good shoes. (Do people still have those?)
It’s been a long, strange year since the old lady died. I passed out what was left of her money, and time went marching on. I was pretty much elated, actually, what with not having to worry so much, until it got cold and crazy like it always does and stayed that way forever. Until now. We drove to Albuquerque the other day and nothing I saw bothered me. I was proud I knew the way. All my parts were tied together. My hair was blowing in the breeze.
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Tags:
el Norte,
home,
love
March 12, 2013 12:08 PM
by JHF
in
Taos
{ }
Telephoto shot from 200 yards down the road
The title and text previously associated with this image have walked off into the woods and vanished, so this is what you get—and is it not a wondrous thing? In fact, in just a day or so, you’ll be able to buy it and every other photo on this site. Stay tuned for the announcement, this is going to be fun!
UPDATE: Apologies for the lack of posting. I’ve been working on the photo price list for SmugMug, and an Albuquerque trip is on the agenda for Friday (today). There should be something happening here directly. Seventy degrees F this afternoon in Taos! – JHF
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Tags:
Taos Mountain,
telephoto,
winter
March 11, 2013 11:39 PM
by JHF
in
Spirit
{ }
Two days ago, down by the acequia
It’s talking to me now, this excerpt from an old piece. Maybe some of you remember it:
The next morning I went out into an open grassy space between the buildings. There wasn’t a soul around. Carefully I wound the fuse wire into a perfect spiral and loaded the Jetex. I lit the fuse, waited for ignition, and let go: incredibly, beautifully, my custom-built flying wing hissed off and up into the sky! It climbed perfectly in a straight line, turned gently in the breeze, and circled even higher. I couldn’t believe how well it flew. When the Jetex quit, the plane slowly and majestically descended, gliding safely to the ground. It had been a magnificent flight, witnessed only by myself. Even then, I knew this was something special: taking pieces from a model plane, building another aircraft spontaneously from scratch, attaching a solid-fuel rocket motor, and having the darned thing actually fly! Not only fly, but fly higher and better than anything I’d ever built before.
I was ten and a half years old. In the original, I remembered that my dad—an Air Force pilot—didn’t believe me. Now I wonder if he couldn’t take the competition.
Flattens all the straw men, brothers. Bet they heard the rumble down in hell.
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Tags:
father,
healing,
history
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