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Along the Ridge
Mountain Ridgeline, California – circa 1970

Road Trip

I did not have a car when I was stationed at Ream Field NAS in Imperial Beach, California. However I managed to get invited for a road trip to the mountains. I regret not keeping a journal during those years, and my recollections of where we went are spotty. All I have are some photos. However I have a distinct memory of the ridgeline. The clouds would flow over the ridgeline and evaporate almost instantly as they reached the drier eastern side. It was a beautiful thing to see. I was surprised how cool it was for Southern California, but my knowledge of mountainous areas was limited.

I also remember being very hungry . They had brought bologna sandwiches with white bread which normally I would avoid but with that cold weather it tasted really good. I was happy that I had brought my camera, this is one of my favorite analog photos.

I was the outsider

At this point of my life I had been in the Navy for almost two years. Boot camp took a few weeks followed by a year of school in Memphis, Tennessee. In all that time I spent the majority of my time with my fellow sailors, my “shipmates”. Most of us had joined the Navy not as a career choice but as an alternative to the draft. I received my draft notice in July of 1968. That is a topic for another posting. I had a lot in common with these men, especially since we all were living under the same conditions and circumstances. There was no social hierarchy among the enlisted non-lifers that I knew.

However I felt quite lonely on this road trip. I knew one of the girls from Connecticut but the other people were strangers to me, people who lived in apartments, not barracks. They were free to go where they wanted, when they wanted. I was always aware of being owned by the government. If I had listened to John Prine a little bit earlier I would have recognized myself as “Donald” in his song Donald and Lydia which ironically was written about the time this all took place.

Looking back at that time, I remember a real sense of melancholy about being an outsider in my own country. I remember that these people had no interest in asking me about how I felt about being in the Navy. Perhaps they felt it was a just another job or life choice. I wished they had asked some questions. But in spite of that it was an opportunity to do some photography.

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