AFTER Thoughts

So much of what we hold in mind from childhood resides in captured images that record moments in time that in turn become occasional or favored/featured objects of our gaze/attention through the years.

Around midnight on May 31, 2025 I took a detour down a multi-warren rabbit hole via that familiar basket of old photos mentioned in my long post here. Deceptively compact, it holds 30 or so different batches of photos, including three stacks of “loosies” (one in particular a real oldies/goodies compilation from which I pulled the above selections); mostly it’s stuffed with vintage photo print envelopes containing sets of images from specific events — vacations, family gatherings, etc.

I went through the loose stacks and then blindly grab-bagged one of the print envelopes, a green and white speckled number emblazoned with the tagline, Send more than words… EVERYONE LOVES PICTURES. (It happened to be the pics from that first Hawai‘i trip, what are the odds.)

Such a time back then, having to turn in our film rolls at the local photo print shop and await their return so our mind’s-eye memories might be fixed for posterity.

As I consider all of this now — life, photos, memories — through the lens of my mom’s recent passing, my interest is less in seeing myself than in seeing her… and seeing her. Between her physical photo archive and her rather prolific digital selfies collection, I have ample opportunities to do the former. And likewise to engage my now wide-open third eye in service to the latter.

Following her physical departure I have been struck daily by how present I feel her with me — as though enveloped by her stardust, both physically as I sort through her things and spiritually as I continue to sense her soul alive in mine.

Truly a blessing.

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Veronica and I got married in Cabo in October 1997, and in early 1998 we gathered with loved ones for a fabulous wedding party in Los Altos.

Shortly after we met, she came to work with me at my auto brokerage business in Palo Alto. Her contributions were immeasurable. She collected money I was owed, took over the books, ran the office, and helped me in every imaginable way to manage and grow the business into an incredibly successful venture. She was truly a one-of-a-kind human being, beautiful inside and out.

We had a charmed life, drove some very nice cars, took fantastic vacations, and shared great friends and of course family. All of our associates in the automotive industry loved her. She brought a positive outlook and wonderful energy to everyone who knew her.

Following our amicable divorce in 2004, we continued working together for several years, after which we remained good friends always.

Heaven has gained an angel. May her memory be a blessing.

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I really just needed to pin this fortune I came across while sifting through a collection of office supplies that is museum worthy. My mom was prepared for any desktop developments, and she’s now left me likewise. As I was working today at a post I’ve set up in her place, I was grateful for (and made use of!) the stapler (well, there are three), paper clips (lifetime supply), binder clips (same), scissors (four pair), and calculator (one deluxe battery-operated model, Texas Instruments made in Japan).

Anyway, if you knew my mom, you know that the fortune pictured above could not more accurately reflect her outlook on life.

And knowing my own inherited commitment to random magic — and to fortune cookies as a source of same — I can imagine how delighted/inspired/validated she must have felt upon cracking this one open.

Based on the seemingly unintentional location where I found it, it’s hard to date... but likely sometime in early 2010s.

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