Camera Possessed

 

Camera Possessed

Noel Laflin

12-4-23

 

A little over half a century ago, my father found two old cameras in a dusty box lying on Ruby’s garage floor.

 

Being in charge of our next door neighbor’s wish to clean things up before the sale of her home, my dad asked Ruby whether she wanted the cameras. She said they were both his if he so liked as she did not even recall owning either. They most likely had belonged to a sister that had moved out years before – but even that was just a guess on her part.

 

One was an old 35mm Ziess Ikon – circa the early 1950’s, still in a well-worn leather case. The other was a vintage Kodak folding camera, produced sometime between 1914-1927. It took a moment or two to locate a slightly beveled button on the Kodak which opened the front and allowed you to withdraw the lens on its bellows and lock into place. It was like a cool puzzle box in a way.

 

Upon inspection, it turned out that there was still film in the German made Ziess Ikon, so on a whim, my dad took it to be developed. The prints came back showing scenes from Knott’s Berry Farm’s Ghost Town and, strangely enough, photos of a familiar looking asphalt company situated along the Santa Ana River. What proved strange is that asphalt facility is where my father worked. It remained a mystery as to who had taken any of those random shots, especially as to where my dad worked. It always spooked us a bit when we wondered about it aloud.

 

What became even more mysterious were the missing shots that I took of an old graveyard in Minnesota later that summer. All the other photos from that trip had turned out, but the old creepy cemetery frames were mere blanks.

 

I decided the camera was haunted and never used it again.

 

But the vintage Kodak became a friend that accompanied me to summer camp a couple of years later and documented the building of an old log cabin. I figured that if we were building something that looked old, that I should shoot its progress with something equally old.

 

I had also built a small dark room at camp that year and developed 8x10 black and white prints late at night. The familiar warm images of the cabin and other favorite sites at Ahwahnee taken by the old fold-out antique Kodak were a joy to behold as they came to life in the developing and fixing trays.

 

If I had been shooting with the haunted camera there’s no way I would have spent nights alone, in the woods, sequestered in a small dark closet with whatever it did or did not decide to show me.

 

Both cameras now reside in a box on a shelf in my garage. They have been there for years - especially since the advent of the digital age.

I am pretty sure there’s no undeveloped film in either one, but wouldn’t it be cool if there was? If so, I hope it’s in the old Kodak and not the haunted zeitgeist disguised as a camera.

Day's End

 

Day’s End

Noel Laflin

11-21-23

 

As we walked up the trail and rounded a bend, the sunset came into view. Irvine Park, its foothills, and all beyond were overshadowed by the white, red, grey, black and pink in the sky above.

 

It was a keeper of a moment.

 

When it was totally dark a short time later, multitudes of toads and crickets sounded off, and owls started to hoot.

 

We parted ways at the base of the trail – Kyle wanting to explore the creek bed, and me, wanting to head home and get some supper.

 

It was a dark hike to the car, but on a road I knew well.  I stopped at a favorite rock in a low retaining wall to capture a photo of all the fossils contained within. Holding the phone just inches away and hoping for the best on such a dark night, I clicked. The flash did it justice.

 

My phone dinged with Kyle telling me he could hear a screech owl. The kid was always a sucker for owls. Me too, and I must admit that I was a bit envious as I had not laid eyes on one for more than a year.

 

Then, as I finally approached my car I, too, heard an owl overhead in a sycamore tree. As I drew closer, a timer must have kicked in as all the park’s outdoor lighting suddenly flicked on, which startled that owl in the tree above. With a mighty screech, a great horned owl shot out of the sycamore, just feet away, and quickly sped off over the lagoon and into the night.

 

The owl-sighting drought was suddenly over.

That, too, was a keeper of a moment.

 

 

Young Explorers

 

Young Explorers

Noel Laflin

11-13-23

 

A group of preschoolers and their moms caught me searching the rock walls around the old boathouse this morning and asked if I had found anything interesting as they saw me bending down this way and that way - occasionally zooming in on something - in this case, searching for fossils hidden in stone.

 

I told the teacher what I was up to and this excited her greatly. She asked if I could show everyone an example of a fossil, so I was happy to do so. There was a good one close by and others that I pointed to across the lagoon in another wall.

 

I told her it was like a treasure hunt finding the rare rock that some thoughtful mason had cemented into place decades ago just so that someone (like us, I added) might someday come across and marvel at, just as we all were doing right now.

 

She asked the age of some of the examples and I told her millions of years old. She laughed and said they were obviously older than her. I told her I had her beat on that front, too.

 

I am hoping some future Indiana Jones was part of the young crowd today. With an enthusiastic teacher like this leading them across the park, it's definitely in the cards.

 

Eureka! Found Once More

 

Eureka! Found Once More

Noel Laflin

11-7-23

 

It took a couple of hours and three different scouting expeditions, but I finally located a cool looking rock that I first came across nearly three years ago.

 

It caught my attention the first time as those striking feather-like white markings stood out against the brownish red of the rock. I remember they kind of glistened in the sunlight as if to say, hey, look at me - I might be millions of years old but I still got it!

 

They are not fossils, but instead, really interesting looking crystallized mineral formations. The rock most likely tumbled down Santiago Creek from quite a number of miles away, based upon what I have subsequently learned as to where it might have originated in the Santa Ana Mountains.

 

Subsequent to its discovery, and to disguise its presence to others, afraid someone just might want to take it home with them (going to need a heavy duty backpack in order to do so), I turned the heavy rock upside down so that it would blend in with the other eight gazillion river rocks here in the area right off the creek bed. And in heavy flooding times, even where I stood, became part of the creek bed. The rock having landed here, God only knows when, is testament to that mighty force of nature.

 

Thus, turning it upside down so it looked like so many other rocks seemed like a good idea at the time, but would prove challenging in the long run, as already noted.

 

Fortunately, after those three failed attempts to locate it again, an off-chance photo hiding in Google photos, which showed some crucial landmarks, was most helpful in finally finding the elusive rock yesterday afternoon. Even then, it still took a while as trees tend to grow and the landscape alters, even in just three years – not to mention there were a lot of rocks that bore much in common. Let's just say there were few stones left unturned in the venture.

 

Finally, upon discovery at last - a jubilant eureka moment to be sure - I noted that the fire blackened rock was now split in half (maybe crunched when heavy trucks and tractors worked over this area a couple of years ago as burned out trees from the 2017 fire and subsequent thick overgrown brush were removed), but the section of stone that I wanted to see again was still pretty much intact. And because of the splitting, the cool looking interior is now visible, which wasn't the case before.

 

Once satisfied with a successful conclusion to this great adventure, I re-hid the rock and this time posted a feathered sentry to guard it.

 

So, the next time I get curious enough to want to view this little natural treasure again, all I need to do is find that bird and have him tell me where the hell, exactly, have I re-hid it?

Set in Stone

 

Set in Stone

Noel Laflin

11-4-23

 

I love walking through Irvine Park with friends and taking them off the beaten path to sights that I find kind of cool, like with David and Melanie here a couple of weeks ago.

 

To the unsuspecting eye (like mine, until one day something different caught my attention), they are simply seated on an old stone retaining wall put in place by WPA masons in 1938. How do we know the year? Well, a few feet from my friends, in the top of the wall, are names of some of the guys who apparently fashioned this old boundary marker (Bob, Mack, and George), and one fellow by the name of Leo White who was kind enough to engrave the year ('38) into drying cement, right below where he printed his John Henry (or LEO in his case). Seeing names left to dry in the mortar like this isn't usual throughout the miles of low retaining walls built within the park (although there's another fine dark rock containing great marine fossils alongside a different road not too far from here and at the end of that wall, standing in three inch high letters is the name Noah), but I figure these workman thought this particular location was far enough off the beaten path that no supervisor would take notice. Or, maybe it was their last day on the job - or, maybe Leo White was the supervisor and maybe it was his last day with the WPA - maybe Noah's too. Ah, there's countless speculation, so who knows.

 

But, I digress, as usual.

 

So, upon closer inspection of that lighter colored rock situated between Melanie and David is history caught in stone itself, once you get down low and look more closely. And then, Presto! Look at all those fossils!

I realize that this is just part of my nerdy nature, but I find that things like this are right up there (or down there, in this case) with colorful peacocks perched in tall trees and graceful hawks soaring high above the foothills.

 

That's my philosophical take on it, literally set in stone, in this instance, anyway.

 

So, thanks Leo, Bob, Mack, and George, or whoever was thoughtful enough to leave us this fantastic stone cemented in plain sight for all inquisitive enough to find. There's none other quite like it anywhere else in the park - none that I have found so far, but, hey, you never know what future walks through thick forgotten brush might uncover.

 

Nerdy minds just want to know, and as they say (or me, anyway), no stone shall go unturned.

The Logical Choice

 

The Logical Choice

Noel Laflin

10-15-2023

 

Forty years ago today, on a warm October Sunday morning just like today, I spied a billboard just outside of Mimi’s Café in Tustin. It said, ‘New Condos,” with an arrow pointing east.

 

I needed a new home as the landlord at my apartment in Costa Mesa discovered that I was housing both a dog and a cat and that either they or the three of us would have to leave. It seemed to me that our combined leaving was the logical choice.

 

Curiosity got the better of me as I followed signs along E. 17th Street that led to a new development just at the base of Panorama Hill, way out in East Orange. It was so far out of town that roosters could be heard crowing throughout the old El Modena neighborhood.

 

Unshaven, dressed in a ratty t-shirt, shorts, and flip flops, I toured the models and discovered a unit that I might just be able to afford.

Within two hours I was writing a hot check, all the while explaining to the banking rep that this retainer would be good by Wednesday. He just smiled and said to postdate it.

 

By Tuesday, I had begged, borrowed and cajoled my way to come up with the down payment, and then persuaded my boss to write a preposterous letter saying that I would be due a bonus at the end of the year. The bank said I needed said bonus to swing the deal. The boss agreed to write the letter on the condition that he be invited to the housewarming. He also reminded me that there really was no bonus coming my way at the end of the year.

 

Escrow closed in twenty-six days and by Thanksgiving I suddenly found myself with a new home, and a thirty-year mortgage. But it all made sense, I told my four-legged friends, as I had been born in Orange, after all, so why not try it out again after a thirty year absence. Besides, I further informed them, there were no rules in the association's bylaws restring any kind of pet.

 

So, we had made a successful escape and began a new adventure.

 

This was a fine starter home, I reassured the dog and cat as we wandered both inside and out - we might actually stay here for the next three-to-five years.

 

Although that turned out not to be the case, as I extended my stay (by just a bit), the boss did come to the housewarming. He got roaring drunk but told me I had made a fine investment.  We toasted to that.

 

And as also promised (sadly), there was no monetary bonus by year's end – just the dawn-breaking crowing of roosters - oh, and wild birds - lots and lots of birds of all sizes - most of which I had no idea as to what they were called. But that particular lack of knowledge would be remedied over time.

 

And it turns out that the smallest of those birds like it here as much as I do.

 

And apparently David likes it here too, as he has enriched my life for the last twenty-three years in this place we, together, call home.

 

But the little guys outside (the ones who eventually replaced all forthcoming dogs and cats), like to remind us that we're ALL in it together for the long haul now - so don't even think of escaping to somewhere fancier, or so they chide me each time I refill the feeders or show them a new photo of them looking rather regal.

 

Am who am I to argue with such pretty logic, whether it be large or small?

 

 

A Golden Moment

Noel Laflin

8-25-23

 

A weird thing happened when Tropical Storm Hillary passed through on Sunday, as our musical clock, which had been silent for way too long, came back to life in a surprising manner.

 

It's been a faithful clock, spewing out musical tunes every hour, on the hour, for nearly thirty years - until it just seemed to give up the ghost almost a year ago.

 

Nothing we tried could fix the problem so I figured the wiring was shot inside. It still kept time, as the pendulum kept a steady rhythm, but the little guys with golden hammers wouldn't rise, bells did not ring, and none of the six classical tunes would play.

 

But, as already noted, the much feared storm arrived, humidity rose, and out of the blue, so did the little guys with hammers, and presto, the music was back!

 

David and I both whooped with joy, just as Jesu, Joy of Man's Desiring began to play.

 

It's the little things in life that give us joy, including little golden men and their little golden hammers banging out a little golden Bach.

Wolf House

 Wolf House

Noel Laflin

8-22-23

Fifty years ago a friend of mine sent me a letter with a leaf pressed between the pages. She said it was from Jack London State Historic Park, collected near the ruins of the Wolf House. I had never been there, but she knew my passion for Jack London and thought it would be a nice touchstone for me to have.

Wolf House was a 26-room mansion in Glen Ellen, California, built by novelist Jack London and his wife Charmian London. The house burned down a hundred and ten years ago on August 22, 1913, shortly before the Londons were planning to move in. Stone ruins of the never-occupied home still stand, and are part of Jack London State Historic Park, which has been a National Historic Landmark since 1963.

I just stumbled across a photo taken 30 years ago with part of the ruins of Wolf House behind me. It had taken me a while to finally get to where that leaf had been collected.

And somewhere around here is that old letter and touchstone, too, no doubt.

Summer Storm

Summer Storm

Noel Laflin

8-21-23

This is a shot of a Cooper's hawk taken seven years ago today. I was pretty happy as it was the first time I was able to take a photo of one. I didn't even know what kind of hawk it was, so asked a learned friend on Facebook, and he promptly gave me the right answer.

Fifty-four years ago, right about now, three of us sat in a ramshackle cabin in the woods at Camp Ahwahnee waiting out a thunderstorm. As the shutters were open to let in the cool air, we first heard a whooshing flutter, and then watched, awestruck, as a large hawk (most likely a red-tailed) landed on a pine bow a few feet away from where we sat perched upon old bunk beds. I guess he or she was also taking a break from the thunder, lightning and pouring rain.

Neither Jerry, Addison nor I said a word until it flew off a minute later, each of us caught up in the moment of being so very close to such wild beauty.

As much as I like looking back on the Cooper's hawk from a few years ago, and taking pride in capturing a first time shot, the long ago memory of a summer storm, two good friends sitting across from me in a rundown cabin in the woods, and a most unexpected guest joining us for a few moments is even better.

Ashes

 

Ashes

Noel Laflin

8-2-23

Dear Don:

There's a very large rock in our garden that Tom and I moved here 40 years ago. We had to manhandle that beast from the greenbelt while moving slowly over mounds of dirt and debris, cross the street, enter the threshold of our new condo, bump step-by-step down the stairs (Tom played out rope that was attached to the handles of the sturdy dolly as I sat on my butt easing our cargo down the stairs. Bump, bump, bump. That alone took ten minutes, but worked out just fine in the end), maneuver carefully through a tight hallway (avoiding a large one hundred gallon fish aquarium), then proceed through the bedroom, and out the sliding glass door and into the garden. We finally chose a resting spot, unlashed the bungee cords holding it in place upon the hand trolley and tilted the rock over. It took all our strength to do so as the rock was big and heavy, weighing maybe a couple hundred pounds or thereabouts.

 

Tom called it Spirit Rock, as it ‘called’ to him when we saw it one night after its excavation near what would eventually become the community pool.

 

You can see bubbly pock marks all over it as it dates back millions of years ago when the hill we rest up against was once an active volcano, and this guy, along with so many similar but much smaller rocks in our area, were once cooked deep below the Earth, spit out in a fiery blast as lava flowed, cooled and bubbled as it did so, and  then laid buried for a very long time - until a couple of boys found it, marveled over it, and moved it, with some great effort and sweat, I might add 

 

When Tom died eleven years later, I took some of his ashes and buried them deep below Spirit Rock.

 

I did the same today with your brother’s remaining ashes so that the two friends might keep one another company.

 

In the coolness of the morning, I then planted a small oak seedling up against the rock. It stands about four inches tall presently. I grew the seedling from an acorn that I collected beneath a three hundred year old California Live Oak in Irvine Park last Christmas.

 

Tom had instructed me, once he knew his time was near, to spread his ashes beneath a similar ancient oak in Ojai, which six of us did. But as there were ashes left over from that day, I brought some home, just as I did Freddy's last August and put them beneath the rock.

 

I hope you approve of my decision. I originally thought that I would travel to the North Rim of the Grand Canyon and disperse the remaining ashes there. But I got to thinking, maybe I would never get there again, and then what?

 

So, as the old Spirit Rock lies just a few feet from the sago palm that once resided in a half whiskey barrel in your old home in Anaheim, I thought, this was a more prudent resting place. Your mom told me to take that sago, and who says no to Dory? That was 34 years ago, and the once small palm has grown and has been thriving ever since as it is in the ground now and well cared for. So, the proximity of palm, Tom, Freddy, and Spirit Rock made sense to me. And I can rest a little easier now as well.

 

I am guessing that both Tom and Fred rest easier nowadays too.