Taking off for Spain tonight. It's a long flight, 14 hours. Meanwhile, inventoried more of the old home movies I had converted into CDs last night. This is The Bell men, my father Allen P., my grandfather Carl Marin and me, in front of Glenn Marvin Bell's apartment in Long Beach, California in 1963:
I remember telling everyone this was a movie camera and we need to move around. So my grandpa starts doing a Norwegian jig:
About this time I had a recurring nightmare: I was walking with my grandfather at Topcok Marsh (across from Needles, California on the Colorado River) and the path we were on was full of quicksand and I kept sinking in up to my waist and my grandfather kept pulling me out. A couple days ago I painted the memory of that feeling:
Daily Whipout #499, "Topock Marsh"
"History is the inaccurate narration of events that shouldn't have happened."
—Old Vaquero Saying
