Neal was born in Martinsville, Virginia in 1948, near his father’s relatives, then moved to Lincoln, Nebraska in 1950, near his mother’s. Then all three moved again and found themselves at the southern crescent end of the Santa Monica Bay in Redondo Beach, California by the fall of 1953; here he stayed until 1979.

“unexpectedly profound”

Let’s go to the Old Dominion for today’s photo, Minister’s Office, Pembroke VA “The function of prayer is not to influence God, but rather to change the nature of the one who prays.”  ― Søren Kierkegaard Kind words of the week on Vista Del Mar from Kirkus Review: “An English teacher’s debut memoir about how a…

“incandescent”

    Old South Redondoans surely recognized last post’s photo as the playground steps of South School, PCH and Avenue A. Remember the big tree there? Went down in the late 80s-early 90s.  This time around, Avenue H guard station. Today’s kind words from distinguished poet Maurya Simon, author of The Raindrop’s Gospel and many other…

waiting for our historian

  BOOK LAUNCH! 1078 Gallery, June 2, time TBA (early evening) Thrilled to announce the launch of Vista Del Mar in Chico – hope you all can come! Today’s post – kind words from Mark Jarman of Vanderbilt University, author of many books of poetry including Bone Fires: New and Selected Poems: “Those of us…

a “beautiful banality”

“A fascinating combination of memoir and photo essay centering on the beautiful banality of everyday spaces….” Christian Kiefer, author of The Animals Thanks to Christian for such kind and discerning words. Vista Del Mar, a memoir of the ordinary Due out June 1 Today’s photo: tattoo artist’s hearse detail, Pembroke, Virginia, March 2000. image from…

The Big Mo

It’s a wonderful pleasure to announce the coming publication of Vista Del Mar in late May, 2016 on Counterpoint Press. Besides the story, the book will contain almost 100 images both from the photo project that inspired the writing,  as well as family snapshots spanning many years and locales. As we approach the release date, I’ll…

“Who is she waiting for?”

the slightly mysterious grandparents, one century ago… In January of 1913, in Lincoln, Nebraska, Nell’s father died, age 63. The children, said the funeral notice, were “privileged to be with their father and administer to his comfort during his last illness.” Was this departure a signal, a permission, or an enabling? The young people of…

Straight On

I’d have a rental car and drive through places seeing what would catch my eye, park, jump out, set up the tripod, and take the picture. In Redondo, a sense of being on home ground and the proprietary feel that accompanied it shielded me from paralyzing self-consciousness, but in other locales the long-seeming ritual of…