Whatever Happened to Mr. Wolfram?

Do you write your name on your belongings? We used to do this all the time back in the day.  We’d write our names on our books, on our record albums, on our baseball gloves, and on just about anything we valued and wanted to keep. Our Moms even sewed our names into our clothing. I guess the idea behind the practice was that if you lost something whoever found it could and would return it to you. I think we’re more cynical today. Sadly we don’t expect the best from people anymore. Nor do we keep and value things for years on end. We buy new stuff. Out with the old and in with the newest and the best, right. 

But what about your cameras? Do you put your name on them? Well, Mr. Wolfram did. He printed his name and address in ink on the inside of the brown leather camera case:

Edmond T. Wolfram

249 Sydney Ave.

Malverne New York

TR. 5 SEC. 8

He also wrote TR. 5 SEC. 8 on the inside of the Instruction Book and neatly etched his name and a number on the aluminum plate at the bottom of the camera. How do I know and why do I care? Well, I am now it possession of his 1950’s era Pony 135 Model C.  I didn’t exactly find it. I bought it on eBay, but still I wonder about Mr. Wolfram and how he and this camera parted ways. It obviously was important to him. Did he lose it? Was it stolen? Did he sell it and buy a new and better camera? Did he pass away only to have his children sell it after finding it  on a back shelf in his closet? I may never know but I did do a search for him on ancestry.com.

I do a lot of work on ancestry and have my family tree here. Typically, the information available on a public tree is only shown for people who have passed away. Any living individuals included in your family tree show up as private and can’t be accessed by anyone who hasn’t been invited to view it. The same is not true for the records you can search on the site. The 1940 census is available and completely searchable. Obviously, there are people living who were enumerated then and if you know their names and where they lived, you can find them along with their address and other family members in the same residence. You can also search selected high school and college yearbooks for a person’s name and if you’re lucky you may get a photo or at least a listing and a class year. There are other databases where you can find living people such as U.S. City Directories, which are mostly scanned phone books, and U.S. Public Records Index, 1950-1993, Vol.1. Even I show up in that one. Privacy concerns? Nah, these are public records. You may think where you lived and when should be private, but that’s just not the case. 

So what about Mr. Wolfram of Sydney Avenue in Malverne, New York? I found an Edmond Wolfram in the 1959 Malverne High School Yearbook. He was in Homeroom 316. In the homeroom photo he’s wearing glasses. His hair is parted on the right. He looks neat and he’s smiling. It’s not a broad smile. It’s quite subtle but it’s a smile nevertheless. Does he look like the kind of kid who would write his name on his camera. Youbetcha. I’m pretty sure he’s my guy. 

What else did I find? Not much He may have moved to Texas. That’s it. I have to idea if he is still alive but I certainly hope he is. Wherever he is I’d like him to know I’m taking good care of his camera. If he wants it back, I’ll get it to him so spread the word. 

(Originally published on Weebly 1/1/2018 -

http://www.nearlylostphotography.com/blog)

Dig A Pony?

Everyone needs a project, right? After two 365 Day challenges and a less than successful monthly challenge this year, I’m trying a different sort of project for 2018. I’m going to shoot some film and I intend to use a different vintage film camera each month. I plan to blog about each camera and share my photos on our Nearly Lost Photography Group Facebook page -

https://www.facebook.com/groups/163578837716595/

For far too long now I‘ve been buying vintage film cameras with the intention of learning about them and trying them out. Most of these have been inexpensive eBay finds. There’s not a Leica among them so I’m not out thousands of dollars. Sadly, however, I haven’t followed through. These beautiful old gems have been sitting on shelves, forlorn if not completely forgotten. 2018 is their year. 

The Kodak Pony 135 Model C is my January film camera project selection. It may not be the best choice since it focuses using a distance scale. Yes, that’s it. A distance scale with 11 markings from 2.5 feet to infinity. Whether or not my pictures are in focus depends entirely upon how well I can judge distance. Let’s just say that will be challenging.

The Pony also lacks an exposure meter. It’s a completely mechanical camera. The good news is you don’t need batteries; the bad news is you get no help. You can set the aperture and the shutter speed manually but to what? There’s no EVF, no histogram display and no little linear display with a midpoint indicating the “correct” exposure. The only help you get is a choice of Bright, Hazy or Cloudy which might give you half a chance at being correct. However those weather cues are calibrated for two specific types of Kodak film, Kodachrome and Extachrome, neither of which are manufactured today. So I either buy and learn to use a handheld light meter or just give the old Sunny 16 rule a try. 

The Eastman Kodak Company manufactured this model from 1955 -1958. It originally sold for about $34.00 which would be in the neighborhood of $280.00 today. The Pony line was designed to be an inexpensive camera, but a step up from a box camera. Yes, it’s an oldie but, hey, so am I. I have it cleaned up and it’s ready to go. I hope you’ll wish me well and follow along to keep me accountable.

Happy New Year!

(Originally published on Weebly 12/30/17 -http://www.nearlylostphotography.com/blog/archives/12-2017

Blame Ozzie and Harriet

Too many cameras has been a familiar refrain for me these past few years. YouTube reviews and eBay bargains come together to form a perfect storm of accessibility and desire. I buy, I try, I sell. I really love to buy and sell cameras of all varieties, shapes and sizes. But lately I have been drawn to (okay obsessed with) Kodak cameras from the 1950’s. Now the camera snobs and serious collectors will happily tell you that with the exception of the Retina II (and I have one of those on a shelf somewhere) these are not particularly good cameras. Still I love the look and feel of them. I love their nifty brown leather cases.  I love what they represent to me - feeling of the 50’s. 

Remember Ozzie and Harriet? If you’re under 55, you probably don’t unless you watched the oldies channels growing up. The Adventures of Ozzie and Harriet was a TV sitcom that ran from 1952 to 1966. That was way before the term sitcom even came into common usage.  The show featured the Nelson family, Ozzie, Harriet and their sons, David and Ricky. 

See how cute they were? The show was a fictionalized version of their day to day family life.  Like all television families they had their little problems but somehow managed to resolve them before the end of each episode. I really liked Ozzie not so much because he was the star but because he usually wore a cardigan sweater with a tie. So cool. He had a soft voice and a nice smile. I wanted to grow up to be just like Ozzie, wise in a bumbling, self-effacing way. 

I also wanted his cameras. Yes, wouldn’t you know, the show was sponsored by Kodak. Ozzie did the advertisements at the end of the show. The audience, studio I presume, was still clapping when the ever calm, cardigan clad Ozzie came out to tell us about the latest and greatest innovations from the world of Kodak. The Signet Series. The Automatic 35. He showed us how easy they were to use and what they cost at our local Kodak dealer. I always figured he got to keep those cameras for free. Every week I watched those ads with great longing. I mean, who wouldn’t want to take 2 inch slides of their vacation and project them large as life to share with family and friends? I think I liked the Kodak promos as much as I did the show itself. 

If you’re interested you can find a number of Ozzie’s Kodak ads on YouTube. Here’s a link to one of my personal favorites - 

http://youtu.be/J8LIl9kEcHM

In 1960 when I was 9 the Kodak Automatic 35 cost $89.50! That was way out of reach for our family budget. It was not the kind of thing I could run out and buy for Dad on his birthday. Sigh.

Today on eBay I found one listed for $15.00 or best offer. You see where this is going, don’t you? I can now have the cameras I pined for way back then for pennies on the dollar. At any rate I blame The Adventures of Ozzie and Harriet for the large collection of Kodaks on my shelf.   Now what do I do with them other than dust them off periodically and admire them?

I’m going to learn to use them and take some photos. First up is the Pony 135 Model C. Stay tuned. 

Originally published on Weebly on 12/29/2017 - http://www.nearlylostphotography.com/blog/archives/12-2017

Wearing Purple

It's been a very cold spring here in Maine, but today I am finally retiring my winter shirts and bringing out the polos and tees. As I went through the pile, I saw my Walk to End Alzheimer's t-shirt from 2015. It says "The End of Alzheimer's Starts With Me" and it is strikingly purple. The very purpleness of it made me think of a poem entitled "Warning" by Jenny Joseph. I'll include a link to Jenny reading her poem at the end here, but I'm sure you've heard the first line - "When I am an old woman I shall wear purple." It's a poem about aging but also about choices and values. Notwithstanding it's overuse by greeting card companies, it's a darned good poem.

Of course, the connection between the poem and that purple shirt of mine takes me in many directions. I think of all the victims of Alzheimer's who cannot choose to wear purple or even know whether or not they are.  They are too often robbed of the opportunity to purposefully make new choices, to break away from the routines and "have-to's" and transition gracefully into old age.  Now I don't mean what may come first to your mind with that scary phrase "old age".  I'm thinking of that wonderful, joyful, and possibly wiser time of life where you calm down, slow down,  reflect and pass on what you've learned.

I can't help but think about my mother and the conversations we never had because of her illness.  I will always treasure the fact that she knew me, was happy to see me, smiled, and held my hand. But what stories might she have told me if she had had the opportunity? What memories might she have shared? What lessons might she have taught me at a time when I was finally ready to listen? We will never know.

We are getting ready for the 2016 Walk to End Alzheimer's - Lakes and Mountains Area on Saturday, September 17th. We are again walking for my mother, Trudy, and for all the other who are suffering with or have been lost to this insidious disease. Our Trudy's Team page can be found at  http://act.alz.org/goto/trudy

There's lots to be done yet - a thank you to all who supported us last year and have donated already,  a Trudy's Team Facebook page, a call for donations and team members, more blog posts. But for today I'm going to reread a poem and hope that with a cure all of us will have the chance to experience "old age" on our own terms.

Click here to see Jenny Joseph read her poem -  Warning

Easy To Be Hard

"How can people be so heartless? " I woke up this morning with that song lyric stuck in my head. Funny since I haven't thought of the rock musical "Hair" for decades. Yes, it's funny but rather apt in light of the current political scene. If you can gauge anything from a Facebook newsfeed, it seems a lot of folks are perplexed and dismayed by what is going on with the current presidential campaign. Such nastiness and so little civility makes you wonder "[h]ow can people be so cruel".

What I wonder is where are all the Baby Boomers. What has happened to us, the peace, love, dove generation? Shouldn't we be calling the shots? Aren't there more of us demographically? Well, not anymore actually. According to the Pew Research Center, the Millenials were projected to surpass us sometime in 2015. I think they did since an recent article in CNN Money claimed the most common age in America last year was 22. As a group we Boomers are losing our grip and perhaps our perspective. 

C'mon, there are still well more than 60 million of us and we know kindness. We know love. We know how to make our voices heard. So let's say something. Let's try to do something. 

Find your inner Woodstock. Dig out your Army Surplus clothing. Put on your Birkenstocks and wear some flowers in you hair.  Well, in all seriousness, at least speak up! 

With thanks to Galt MacDermot, James Rado, and Gerome Ragni, I will leave you with some  additional lyrics -

How can people be so heartless
How can people be so cruel
Easy to be hard
Easy to be cold

How can people have no feelings
How can they ignore their friends
Easy to be proud
Easy to say no

Especially people who care about strangers
Who care about evil and social injustice
Do you only care about the bleeding crowd
How about a needing friend ...

My First Guitar

My first guitar was a Silvertone H604 from Sears and Roebuck, probably the cheapest and most ubiquitous student guitar of the 1960's.  It was made by the Harmony Company of Chicago which sold approximately 350,000 instruments between 1964 and 1965. So much for craftsmanship and quality control.

Mine had a huge bow in the neck and, of course, there was no truss rod. The action was so high my guitar teacher had to file down the nut after telling my parents that might ruin the thing completely and that he couldn't be held responsible. It's a wonder my young fingers survived the stress. The case was canvas and after a few weeks the ends of the strings worked a hole right through it at the top. My mother repaired it with an iron-on patch. 

Despite all that, I wish I still had it. Sentimentality? Nostalgia? Yes, of course.  It was my very first real musical instrument and I loved it. You can see it here in this YouTube video where Daniel Guareschi plays one just like it.  I wish I had sounded this good back then when I played for hours in my room, but, sadly, I didn't.

Apparently, I was not the only person longing for the guitar of my youth. There were enough to convince the Silvertone Company to reissue the 604 in a new and improved form. 

You can read all about it here - http://www.silvertoneclassic.com/guitars/model-604604e/

Oh, yes, nostalgia and everything old is new again. Did you have a favorite something from your childhood that you wish you had kept?  If so, tell us about it in the comments.

I really miss that old guitar. It was even good enough for Audrey Hepburn in the film Moon River. 

Jammin' with my Ukulele

Ah, retirement! Once you get over feeling guilty, you have time to do a lot of things you just didn't get to while you were working. My plan was to focus on photography and I have (check out the new website  http://www.nearlylostphotography.com/ and the 365 Photo Challenge Facebook group https://www.facebook.com/365photochallenge2016/?ref=aymt_homepage_panel ). But a strange thing happened while I was scanning the local adult ed winter/spring course catalogue for photography related courses. There weren't any but just before I tossed it into the recycling bin, I saw "The Joy of Uke". Hmm. Of course, I registered and three days before the class started UPS delivered my new ukulele. As I held that little Chinese-made, stringed instrument tenderly in my hands, I saw my whole tortured music lesson history flash before my eyes. 

The saga began many decades ago when my aunt offered my mother my cousin Sandra's old clarinet. When asked if I would like to play, I saw a marching band uniform and fancy parades ahead and jumped at the chance. My dreams were shattered when the only available music teacher, our milkman, refused to take me on as a pupil because I was too young. No clarinet for me. But all was not lost since the possibility of becoming a piano virtuoso loomed the year we lived with my grandparents before our new house was available. My Aunt Mary's old piano was in the parlor and I was hooked once my grandfather taught me to play Chopsticks. Lessons were provided and I practiced diligently until, alas, we had to move into our new three bedroom 1960's ranch house in the suburbs. It had no parlor, so no piano for me. 

The next chapter in my musical memoir starts with the Beatles first appearance on the Ed Sullivan show. Yes, it was February 9th, 1964, and pop music was my new best friend. Who wouldn't want to play guitar like John, Paul, and George? I must have pestered my parents relentlessly because they bought me a little Silvertone from Sears and arranged for me to take lessons. Sadly, I can't remember my first guitar teacher's name but he had a 1950's wave in his hair and wore a fringed Grand Ole Opry style shirt. No mop top. No mod suit. No singing "All My Lovin'"or "I Wanna Hold Your Hand" for me. 

Still I was no quitter and for about three years I took my weekly lesson in a sad little room above a storefront downtown. My new music teacher introduced me to Mel Bay and his graded guitar method. Now I don't know if Mel Bay was ever in a band but my instructor played in a country western group. He must not have been a singer, though, because we never sang. Instead we worked our way through several grades of old Mel's system. I went from playing "The Merry Men" on the B string to cowboy songs, classical etudes and rousing ragtime tunes. I was a fancy little fingerpicker, but my dreams of rock stardom had faded away and died. Eventually, I just stopped going. 

Over the years since I have dabbled with guitars. I've taken a few more lessons and done a couple of workshops. There have been many starts and stops along the way. Nothing has ever really come together. Friends have occasionally invited me to jam with them, but that's always sounded so incredibly intimidating. I may have been able pick out "Valse Lente, op.33" but there's been no jamming for me. 

Fast forward to "The Joy of Uke" every Tuesday night in the brightly lit music room of the middle school. I sit with about 17 other eager students in front of our teacher who wears a silly Hawaiian shirt.  He calls us all musicians because we are tuning up, sight reading, and playing and singing together. The other night we worked through "I've Just Seen a Face" followed by "Hey, Good Lookin". Ironically, that's the Beatles meeting up with Hank Williams. Things are coming together nicely and I'm jammin'.