B. Gabriel Helou
Truly, One Hell of a Guy
Miscellaneous images from my life for the inexplicably curious.
Sometimes, a good pun is hard to resist.
Arriving at a wedding reception in Pensylvania's beautiful York County, I took a moment to pose in a field with the rolling hills behind me.
Sharing a comment with a friend at one of the FCB's annual Valentine Dinner/Dance events.
I was just wondering if anyone wanted to go for a walk after dinner. Or watch a movie. Or something.
Posing for a portrait that was made for my grandparents, who were still thrilled by their first grandchild, even after two years.
Several of us at this wedding reception had pliers. (It's a techie thing.) Mine were the smallest pair . . . but don't you dare underestimate them!
Most groomsment get a pen or a money clip as a thank-you gift from the happy couple. I got a scythe. The groom knew I'd been wanting one for use at Hallowe'en, so when he saw this, he told his fiance, "Trust me. He'll love it." I did. (And I still dress up as Death at Hallowe'en.)
"WHAT CAN THE HARVEST HOPE FOR, IF NOT FOR THE CARE OF THE REAPER MAN?"
-- Death, from "Reaper Man" by Terry Pratchett
I often take pictures of other people taking pictures. This time, it's my reflection in my office window.
We enjoyed being married so much, we did it twice.
I dressed up for a Linux convention and was surprised to be the only person at the convention to have a red hat. Amazing, considering that Red Hat Linux is one of the most popular Linux distributions.
Movement III (Song of the Blacksmith) from Gustav Holst's Second Suite for Military Band in F major, in case you're interested. The program for this concert is available at the FCB website.
Most of my summers, for the first 25 years of my life, were spent at my grandparent's place on the west shore of Houghton Lake. This photo was from the summer of 1970, just after we'd moved back from England.
Posing after one of the FCB's winter concerts. (One of the many times we closed the concert with Leroy Anderson's Sleigh Ride, apparently.)
Taking a moment to relax at a baptism party for Emily Ifverson.
Making Syrian butter cookies. Think of it as "Middle-eastern shortbread" and you'll have a good approximation. Except, of course, these are better.
I was experimenting with some photographs one evening. This was taken in my basement office at home and is one of my favorites.
My grandparents had me sit for a portrait. My grandmother still had this hanging on the wall over four decades later. She was wonderful. (My parents have it on one of their walls now.)
Back when I had more hair, this is what would happen when I didn't cut it. I have no idea who took this photo, but I'm in the lighting booth at Roscommon High School. (Which suggests the photo was taken by Vern Barber or Tom Resnick.)
(It is apparently football season . . . and probably homecoming week. The badge in my hair was most likely one from from Houghton Lake High School. I had a habit of playing the "panto villain" traitor and letting myself be boo-ed by the cheerleaders. Or anyone else, really.)
As a member of the Dorsai Irregulars, I often help out with security operations at Anthrocon. At the D.I.'s party at Anthrocon in 2016, artist Lar DeSouza showed up with a stack of paper and a pen and started turning out caricatures. I was lucky enough to get caught in the crossfire.
Some friends of my parents took our family to The Olde Bell, a lovely old inn located in Hurley, Berkshire, England. My school uniform was the closest thing I had to a suit that fit (I had grown six inches that year), so that's what my parents had me wear.