A weakness for palm trees

  The Vermont photographer Richard Brown confessed a weakness for birch trees.  I seem to have one for palms.  Flipping through my pictures of Southern California, a good number of the better ones seem to have palm trees in them.

   On our last trip to Northridge, in the parking lot outside a mall, I get what seems to me a worthy shot of some tall palms in silhouette against the orange and blue sky of the rising sun.  An hour later, when my older brother sees it on Instagram, he notes that it looks like the album cover for the Eagles’ Hotel California.  And he is right.

   I wonder if I took the picture because it connected in some subliminal way with my memory of the album cover.  Something like the connection that I still have with 70s music – the music of my teens, the music that got stuck in my head before it got too full of adult things.  You leave your teens behind, but part of you is always stuck there, in the time where you first had music of your own, and learned to drive, and fell in love.  The time when you learned that you not only could, but you must, go your own way.