Definition: Concentration

Definition: Concentration
Originally uploaded by chacal la chaise.

Can you tell it's summer yet? Usually Kinley's is full of college aged students working singly or in groups, and "grown-up" business types grabbing a quick (or longer) lunch. Or me, the "grown-up" student, off for the summer, grabbing a quick lunch while reading the RSS feeds, and surveying all from behind my MacBook.

Fire :: Via Aventura arroyo

About 8:35 p.m., a 911 call reporting fires in the arroyo behind our home. Many of us went out with hoses to help put out the fires until the fire trucks arrived. All was over in about 30 minutes, but there still is a lot of dry brush in the arroyo; this could happen again until the monsoon begins in earnest. Thanks to EPFD for its fast response.

Update: 07/07/2007. Believe it or not the monsoon season began the very next day. For a while, the season was a decent rival to the floods of 2005, but towards the end, it just petered to a small series of afternoon sprinkles. However, because it was a rather long lasting rainy season, the mountains and this arroyo were very green.

Brighter Planet\'s 350 Challenge

Brighter Planet's 350 Challenge

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A flag for the Fourth

A lot my flag images were usually captured at the Fort Bliss National Cemetery on Memorial Day. However, there are a couple of flags I discovered while driving around or walking in the Sunset Heights neighborhood near UTEP. I first found this window covering over ten years ago when I used to volunteer for the El Paso County Historical Society. Walking around the multi-layered yard, I finally made it to the back rock wall and peered over to see this flag. On this day I had my Holga and quickly snapped the picture. I'm glad I did because the next time I looked over the fence, it was gone. Perhaps patriotic window coverings last as long as like a sun shower in this town. Or maybe the owner found a better crib.

Chalk the Block

While I had fun taking the pictures (and also preparing a group of the images for Flickr), a lot of what I saw was truly worked "inside the box." Those artists who chose "color" outside their blocks were truly the most interesting.

Belated Father's Day Picture

First, and this is way late for Fathers Day, is a picture my grandmother, Ruby Ione Jackson, took of my dad, Terrel Alison Jackson (Alison comes from his uncle Al.) I believe he was already working at today's subject when she took the picture using his camera. It's one of those few times where the photographer was photographed. And while this is late, and perhaps a rerun of a previously posted image (it was either explained here, on Vox, or on the Flickr page, I love it. Love ya dad. Love ya mom.

Today, the El Paso Times blog entry from their "morgue" is about the company where my parents worked and later retired. And while the archivist blogger invariably works a poor metaphor to death, she does cover many interesting and valuable historical topics that could be covered if the El Paso Historical (Hysteria) Society ever had a blog. And I don't see that coming anytime soon. But I digress.

Although my parents went to El Paso High, they didn't know one another until they met at the Popular. I guess I owe the Schwartz's a debt of gratitude for enabling our city's myriad of classes and ethnicities to meet, shop, and work together beneath the umbrella of their wonderful emporium. ;)

ANYWAY, the Times' history blog should, in general, be required reading for anyone moving here--the land of "Sun, Salsa, and Soldiers"--as the city now proclaims itself. (bleah!) And on the topic of buzz phrases to sell this pile of sand, I guess the "Capital of the Border" campaign is now caput. Also, here is a good wrap up of this topic by Barry Popik.

Overall, adding his picture here also reminds of how much I enjoy using Flickr. Here I am, away from the source of my photos, but having an archive parked within this ever (usually) reliable web application. To me, this is what makes the Internets so special--accessibility and communication and storytelling opportunities.

L and J Cafe

Ahh. A great place for a Mexican dinner is always the L & J Cafe near the Concordia Cemetery, located near the I-10/US54 interchange (aka the Spaghetti Bowl.)

Once you get past the noisy revelers at the bar, decorated with every beer neon sign known to man, the tiny landmark boasts one of the best Mexican cafes in the city. As usual, MJ had red enchiladas with onions while I tried the chiles rellenos for a change. Recently, the restaurant was transitioning their menus--photocopies of their previous menu with new slightly higher prices. But last night, new and beautiful menus were given to us which complemented the friendly and historic atmosphere, as well as their food--chile hot and delicious. And the bar…was just as noisy, crowded, with groups of friends and coworkers, glad to be together on a Friday after work.

Memorial Day 2008

On Saturday, mj and I went to the Fort Bliss National cemetery in advance of Monday's ceremonies. While routinely go to visit and check on the condition of both the graves of my uncle and in-laws and the entire cemetery, we went Saturday in order to see if the various civic groups were able to plant the tens of thousands of American flags into the now hard and gravel crusted ground--Memorial Day patriotic salute to those buried at the cemetery. What we saw was an attempt at something that had obviously outlived its environment as a high percentage of the flags stuck in the ground early Saturday morning had fallen onto the dust by that afternoon. Maybe stands could be made for them next year.

Overall, the flags' wooden dowels are no longer suitable for the cemetery's new "xeriscaped" environment. Perhaps the Boy Scouts or other civil minded groups will fashion stands for the flags so they don't immediately fall onto the dust and rocks next year. Overall, however, those flags standing were interesting and pleasant sounding as they waved in the wind. Together we spent about 45 minutes attempting to stick/bury/stand fallen flags into the ground again, and saw how easily the flags had once been placed into what had once been a grassy ground cover. Dirt on the flag's masts showed how far into the ground they had once been placed, which was between 3-5 inches; whereas now, we were lucky to get them an inch into the ground.

Sadly, we also saw many more large spaces had been prepared for more graves. It does not seem to end.

Circus Patriotism

UPDATE: 10 DEC 2014
For some unknown reason, I saw today that the sphinxes are back to being an all-white or ecru surface. They may have been painted over, or perhaps they were faced due to their being next to the new baseball field. All I will say is that I couldn't be happier. See picture below for a glimpse of their original state.

For now, all we can ask is why.

Back in the day, my grandfather and uncle were Masons and members of this Scottish Rite Temple on Santa Fe Avenue, across from the new History Museum. In fact, I believe my grandfather probably helped paint the building at one time or another. He initially became a Mason after the Shriners aided the family and my father through a hip ailment that was diagnosed when he was 12. Dad was in the hospital for over 9 months, had to relearn how to walk, and missed a year of school. At the time, the hospital was where the police station is at Five Points (Piedras at Montana.) In the years that followed, my grandfather always supported all the Masonic and Shrine fund raising (circus tickets, etc.)

My great aunts told me that they all worried my dad would not be able to walk after his operation--essentially the hip was fused to the leg. But now, dad still walks, albeit with a limp, and tells me about all the places they lived during the Depression as my grandfather, T. A. Jackson was a painting contractor, who later owned a motel on Alameda--The Glenwood Motel. Years later, my grandfather worked with my uncle and the company became T. A. Jackson and Son. They painted a lot of beautiful buildings and homes in downtown El Paso, Rim Road and Kern, Coronado Country Club, Mission Hills, and the Upper Valley. I don't think they would have especially liked this new paint job, although Clinton would have probably laughed at the sight of them now.

After my grandfather died it was just Clint Jackson, Painting Contractor. Clinton continued with the business until he retired in the 1990s. He died last summer after a long battle with emphysema and a painful and debilitating cigarette addiction to unfiltered Camels. His funeral, as was my grandfather's, was officiated by both their military branch and this Lodge. Clinton and T. A. (and my cousin Janet, Clinton's daughter) are buried at the Fort Bliss National Cemetery. Thomas Allen served in WWI; drafted in its second wave. But he contracted malaria (most likely during training in Louisiana), and never left the country. As for Clinton, he joined the navy when he was 16; served for a short while in the South China Sea as a cook, and came back to tell a lot of stories to his buddies at his favorite Doniphan Street BBQ joint. I never heard them; all I remember were his steely blue eyes, his way of drawing Chinese-styled letters, and that he was very tall (6'4").


In the end, I wished the Lodge had left these two gentle sphinxes alone. For as far as I know they had never been tagged or damaged--now they are red, blue, gold, and beige and look like they are ready to lead a circus train into town--perhaps in front of what now is police headquarters. At least I have several images I took with my Holga, Agfa, and digital cameras. They show them uncoloured and calm.

That is what I will remember, not this fraud of circus patriotism painted by a smirking charlatan on Mothers Day 2008.

Isola :: Texas Sphynx
This was a new camera for me when I captured this Masonic Sphynx.
The little german camera has no light leaks.

Serenity resides inside a fuzzy mauvy box with door

This week the Writing Center Assistant Director provided me with a carrel near the center entrance. There are three carrels in a row: my director’s, mine in the middle, and another to the right that I think is empty. When I arrived the next day, I immediately noticed her assistant had made a nice label with my name and the title Webmaster for the door. Very sweet—I must take a picture of that side of the door too.

Besides being next to the UWC, we are also inside what was the old tutoring and learning center, inside the 3rd floor, inside the larger library building space, inside the UTEP campus, inside the city limits of El Paso.... Basically, i am at the center of a very large matryoshka or Russian nesting doll.

Speaking to another PhD student who is now a candidate (he also has a carrel), I said I was not going to put anything on the walls. But since then, I have reconsidered because there are four walls. I could put things on the sides and nothing on the wall I face. If so, I think I will resurrect my old cube posters from my corporate worker bee days. All meant and specifically selected to mock a fledgling corporate culture stillborn.

There is a Rage Against the Machine circa 1999-2000 poster based on an old Marxist worker design, an Emigre Not Caslon poster (the company's "official" font was Caslon), and a few more things that could brighten the place. I also need my halogen lamp; the fluorescent buzzing above my head give me a headache and the light is very dim.

Yesterday, as I emerged from that womblike space, I decompressed. I believe everyone initially comes out looking like a mole, squinting and stretching, reacting and acclimating to the larger outside space within a space. Overall, I experienced a trancelike feeling as if I were working inside a cave; but a square cave with mauvy-tan fuzzy walls, a door with a little window, a bit of headroom, and a little bit more light than one would presumably receive inside a "regular" rock cave.

It is a serene place, when I'm inside my cave with my screen glowing and pink Skullcandy headphones that help silence the voices outside these walls.

However, there might be an added benefit. I might just relearn pre-calculus and algebra because there is a whiteboard on the opposite side of the wall I face. Everyday young men gather to deconstruct various equations and theorems. They pound on the board with their dry-erase markers, laughing. They discuss their numbers and signs and symbols, while sitting at a large table. They speak an intense combination of English and Spanish. Overall, they sound as if they are having a good time learning math. Now who’d thought that was possible!

Mr. and Mrs. Daisy driving home on a cold Thanksgiving Day

Today's image is a film photo I snapped one summer morning when I was in high school. It reminds me of the sunset I saw this evening. At the moment, I hear the rattling of rearranging dishes in the kitchen as MJ fits the remaining containers into the dishwasher while I catch up on my email. As always, and for many years now, he cooked the turkey, the mashers, and pies, while I clean up and organize what little is left to do (and sneakily read a bit of Sontag's On Photography. Earlier, I helped my parents reconnoiter out my neighborhood so they could make their way to I-10 and on east towards home. I turned, after seeing them enter I-10, and saw a brilliant scarlet sun sit on a purple flat mesa. The brilliance sat on the horizon for what seemed 10 minutes, though I know it was for just a couple. Incredible colors.
Unfortunately, I forgot to bring my little Nikon L11 with me.

Earlier, after dad got lost trying to find my house, I quickly located them. Too bad they didn't just turn around when he made the first mistake after he got off the freeway. But, no matter; they have a cell phone and called. I found them, a bit ruffled and when I got them to my house they were settled for a visit, and then we ate, talked, and now, they are safe at home again.

As for Curtie and Shannon, they are "segway through the boeuf bourguignonne" or some such at Florent, while the Judge, stayed in her dorm to work time and a half. Tomorrow she'll treat herself to a meal away from campus. This morning she awoke to find it snowed overnight. Here, we got a lot of wind that dropped the temperature.

A strange Thanksgiving, but able to give thanks for each other.