I charged up my Nikon kit last night, hoping in a warped way that the effects of the storm Lee would lead to big seas and resulting dramatic images. To my chagrin (photographically anyway), Lee gave Southeastern only a glancing blow. When I am in Newport, I feel at home. My family emigrated there in the late 1800’s or early 1900’s. From unfortunate circumstances, my Mother and her sisters were taken away from their mother, and grew up in an orphanage far from Newport. I am left with shards of memories, many coming from my late Uncle Bill Buckley with whom I met often for lunch, and each time he imparted memories of the family to me. My grandfather Francis P. Buckley was a taxi driver, both horse and buggy and motorized. My great grandfather Patrick Buckley was an entrepreneur, operating several Irish markets on Aquidneck Island. Uncle Bill gave me some pictures of him standing in front of a market in downtown Newport. He had a big handlebar mustache, and leg of lamb hung on the storefront’s hooks. I also have a picture of my grandfather standing next to his horse and buggy with some unknown people sitting in the carriage. I found the location of the home where my mother grew up last year. It was a three decker, with a small store on the first floor. It is a few blocks up the hill east of the Franklin Spa. It was torn down, and a period home was built on the site by the local high school students learning construction. I learned this from the occupants who pulled into the driveway while I was standing outside. I have tried on Ancestry.com to find links to more of my relatives, but all I get is a dead end after my grandmother Margaret Furey. I am sure there are many relatives of mine still in Newport. There is a golf strain. I know I am related to Newport’s John and Joe Burke, now deceased. John was a great golfer, winning 6 Rhode Island amateurs and inducted into the Georgetown Athletic Hall of Fame. The golf genes bypassed me! His brother Joe was the long time golf pro at the exclusive Newport Country Club. Uncle Bill told me I am also related to Patrick Horgan, who played briefly on the PGA Tour. There was a lot of talk of Aunt Babe. I have letters from an Uncle Harry who lived in Washington DC. Beyond that, there is not much else.
This is a long post, and if you made it this far, god bless you! The light near the coast was flat and the seas were benign. I did unexpectedly come across a neat sand sculpture at Third Beach in Middletown, a town adjacent to Newport. It depicted Neil Armstrong’s walk on the moon. I got there just in time, as it was just beginning its reclamation to the sea.
From the gear side, the D850 remains a miraculous camera. These images were taken with the 70-200 and 24Mm F 1.4 lens. I used some different presets for the images (Ted Forbes’ wonderful ones), depending on what I felt worked. There is more saturation than the norm for me, but on such a dreary day I found myself craving color. The osprey is a big crop. This marvelous bird of prey is a wonder to behold.
Until next time, L.
