THREE FEET TO THE WIND

The first human foot - still laced into its Converse All-Star sneaker - washed ashore in March. Then in June, Bob Stanley spotted a second foot - also a left, and belonging to a male - between the rocks and shore at Fervor Beach. By mid-Summer, a third left foot had been discovered along the same beach. Everyone in the town of Beals Point seemed to be having no difficulty in walking. No one had reported a missing foot. So, where were they coming from? Bob scanned the shore each day, hoping to find the answer.
© BILL BLAIR 2010

THE NICOTINED ROOM

After reading the complete poems of Avery Finch, Madeline Forrest felt sad. She lay naked on her green velvet chaise, recalling the last line of the poet's greatest work, Shell Shock Shoreline: "When at last against the rock my heart pounds". Tears began to stream down her cheeks. And as she cried, so did the room. All around her, the walls dripped down drizzles of brown nicotine stains. Souvenirs of a lifetime of smoking. What goes up, thought Madeline, must come down.

© BILL BLAIR 2010

THE EAGLES HAS LANDED

Juan Alcatraz was a master serenader. His repertoire was so great, he was known throughout Guadalajara as Mister Music. Ask him to play Stevie Wonder's "Boogie On Reggae Woman" and the cords immediately would fire up. "Like a Virgin"? Any song at all - no problem. Arriving for the Fiesta del Agave Azul, maestro Juan placed his fingers on the metal strings before belting out at the crowd: "Welcome to the Hotel California". Any time of year, you will find him here.

© BILL BLAIR 2010

RED HOODIE'S REVENGE

With a taste for revenge, Roger Soufflé had replaced the hockey puck with a replica explosive device. For the past six months, the Youngash triplets had teased the red-hoodied Roger - calling him names like "little red riding hood" - on his way home from school. Dr. Soufflé, his father, was an ace inventor with an eye for detail and an evil willingness to assist. None of the boys had noticed anything peculiar about the replica puck. In ten minutes, it would explode - finally making Roger's harassers see red.

© BILL BLAIR 2009

OVER EXPOSURE

It was the mattress fire, started by her cigarette, that alarmed the front desk, consequently calling firemen (and later police officers) to her suite at the Stapleton Hotel. Ex-stripper, Sherry Dupree, down on her luck - and up on alcohol - lay naked and passed out on the sheets. When the smoke had cleared, Miss Dupree was pronounced dead. Under her bed, the officers found a stash of 238 empty bottles of cheap spiced rum.

© BILL BLAIR 2009

MIRACLE at CYPRESS GARDENS

Young Shane McGillivray had waited patiently - his parents steadying him on his metal leg braces - on that July morning at Cypress Gardens. He'd been in line to meet the great healer, the Reverend Arthur Smyly. In line before him, Shane watched the fat lady waddle up the bridge to the Reverend, who pressed the palm of his hand - push-button style - into the woman's forehead. She dizzied and fell sideways, snapping the bridge rail before falling into the water. A trio of alligators quickly aimed their snouts towards her. There was a garbled scream (Shane's parents shielded his curious eyes from the blood spurts) as the crowd dispursed into mayhem. Reverend Smyly, himself in shock, stood frozen on the bridge. Shane's parents took this opportunity to guide him up to the healer. A laying of hands followed, plus a few jerks and twists from Shane - before a cure was pronounced. He left the gardens that afternoon, walking proudly - unassisted - with his braces under his arms.

© BILL BLAIR 2009

ANSEL ADAMS'S ACID TRIP

Ahead of his time, Ansel Adams met with a series of gallery rejections when he first sent out his wildly colorful images for curatorial critique. Responses like "loud", "horrific", "surreal", and "no thanks" filled his file folder. A friend, Imogen Cunningham, suggested he take up the artsy stuff - black and white photography. He did. And he never looked back. However, stashed in a cardboard box in the vault of the Zone-System Interpretive Center at Monterey, lies a treasure trove of saturated wonders from the shutterbug's early days.

© BILL BLAIR 2009