We visited the Grammy Museum for the first time. We were curious before, but were inspired to actually make it happen when I saw a banner ad like this in my work neighborhood. Yeah, we’re unabashed Beatles fans.
The museum doesn’t allow photography inside, so I was glad I grabbed this shot outside immediately before the doors opened. It looked like we were going to have the place practically to ourselves until a busload of summer camp kids arrived in matching red tee-shirts from the far flung shores of Chino, CA. The kids had a blast without getting out of control. I especially enjoyed watching a little girl of about eight put on a headset and stand listening, wide-eyed, to a recording of “Father of the Blues” W. C. Handy (1873-1958). I just have to wonder how that moment alone with the music might resonate with her.
The Ringo exhibit was fun. There’s a lot of video and audio at the museum, and it’s occasionally frustrating because of overlapping soundtracks from various exhibits. We were trying to listen to one of other renowned drummers talking about how and why Ringo was great on a big flat screen mounted on a wall. The speakers were near the ceiling. It would have been okay if the sound level on all the interviews had been brought to the same level, but some where much quieter than others. Seems an odd oversight for a sound-based museum, but we’ve seen bigger goofs in longer-established L.A. museums.
Also enjoyed watching people walk up to the display case that housed Ringo’s Sgt. Peppers costume and eventually say the same thing we did: “He’s tiny!” His IMDB bio says he’s 5’6″. And not a burly 5’6″, let me tell you!
Oh, and another tip about the Grammy Museum. Go on a weekday and don’t pay the ridiculous parking fees at L.A. Live. We parked about two blocks away in a clean lot with an attendant. We entered before 11 a.m. and could have stayed until 6 p.m. for the $5.00 flat rate. It really pays to just take a chill pill and cruise the parking lots till you find a good deal downtown.
Okay, now for the snoop walk part of this post. I coined the phrase during the real estate bubble when we received weekly notices from real estate agents about the prices homes in our humble neighborhood were selling for, along with pleas for us to consider putting our place on the market. I walked around checking them out and calculating what ours must be worth, even though we didn’t want to move.
Hydra teases me about being snoopy sometimes, like when we walked around looking for a place to eat after the museum. I prefer to think of it as– let’s see–being artfully engaged in my surroundings.
While we ate at a tasty little Italian place called La Gran Cucina, I watched these two skateboarders do the same jump against a concrete buttress at the corner at least a dozen times. The guy in the front has a video camera in his right hand, see?
I just heard an NPR story about Lyft ride-sharing services and how they put these pink mustaches on their cars when they’re in service, so I felt like this was a celebrity sighting! Hydra was baffled at my enthusiasm. Yes, I know way too much about stuff because I am paid to be online 40 hours a week and I listen to NPR and, well, some info sticks in my brain like lint.
Actually, my photographing this little tableau on a ledge next to an apartment balcony overlooking our parking lot prompted Hydra’s comment about my snoopiness. I maintain that they wouldn’t put it out there if it were on some level for public enjoyment.