I took these "hang-gliding" photos of my late little bro' Ray maybe fifteen years ago, down at Mt. Laguna in San Diego County:
Ray was nuts about that crazy sport. He bugged me about coming down with him to San Diego County to take some photos. I finally relented. (Click on these pics to enlarge them.)
I do believe that Ray took this one himself with some contraption he built and attached to the end of one of the wings. Ray could build anything.
He'd take off on top of the mountain, and then I'd drive down to the landing zone. Meanwhile, he'd fly around like some genius-idiot pterodactyl.
Eventually, he came swooping down.
This time, he came in too fast. You can see him gyrating to slow down—or somethin'.
It's a lunatic activity, really.
More desperate gyrations.
Then: boom/crunch. I think he broke one or two bones. Don't recall exactly. I know we stopped first at a pizza joint with his gang. Lotsa beer. Then off to the hospital.
I think he used some friend's identity to get treatment. He had no health insurance. Naturally.
That was Ray all over.
Ray had a thing about night photography. I'd go out with him sometimes to take night pics.
One time, we took pictures of Disneyland fireworks. Lots of hookers walked by, as I recall. "Hey, baby."
One time—it must've been 1996—we hopped a fence to climb the hill above Dana Point Harbor and took pictures of the fireworks. I think this pic was one of mine, but it might be one of Ray's. I guess I'll never know. I had a Nikon. Don't recall what he had.
I remember the date, 'cause we went to see a movie afterwards, even though it was, like, midnight or something. It was the opening night of "Independence Day." We both thought it was a shitty movie. We laughed through the whole thing. Ray had a great sense of humor.
Two pics of sister Annie, circa 1957.
My mom. Not sure when this was taken. Late 50s?
This was likely taken about the same time. I found some others, too, that, um, I don't wanna show to the world, if you know what I mean. They're within the bounds of "cheesecake," I suppose (just barely), but, still, I ain't gonna show 'em to the likes of you.
The magnificent Ildy playing with the equally magnificent Attila, circa 1980.
Such wonderful creatures. I think about 'em all the time.
This was maybe 1957, when the King or the Prince—I don't keep up with royalty—came through the provinces (Canada). Everybody went nuts about it. Just some guy, I dunno.
People sure can be idiots.