SAN FRANCISCO: We got here – Maggie the Cat and I made it to San Francisco! She’s even been to Starbucks for her very first time, in the Los Angeles airport. I liked it better than she did.
Here are some notes on the past few days, for you – and also for me, to make sense of it all.
Weds. June 16: Resale shop picked up office furniture in the morning; I closed on the sale of the condo in the afternoon and then spent the evening packing every last thing I was responsible for. Went to bed early, fell asleep quickly, work up two hours later and repacked some stuff. Sigh…
Thurs. June 17: Movers arrived at 9:10 a.m. and were impressed with how organized I was. I accepted all the compliments and then lay on the couch, exhausted, until they needed to shrink-wrap it for storage. They carried out and loaded the last of the 117 boxes (!!!!) about 3:20 p.m. Then Gerry and Tom arrived, cheerfully took out the last of the trash for me and helped me load my stuff in their car.
They drove me to the Drury Airport Hotel, which I chose because it is across the street from Lambert and because they take cats. In our room, I took Maggie out of her little crate. She looked around the room and got back in the crate. (It was a LOVELY room!) I decided I needed to hang out with her for awhile before going next door for dinner. Finally she started exploring, coming back from time to time to where I was lying on the bed dozing, to express her concerns about our adventure. Then she settled in under the dust ruffle on the bed. I heard munching. She was eating half a Cheerio some other guest had left behind. I gave her a cat treat, put her in the bathroom with food and water and left, in search of something more filling other than half a Cheerio.
Had a DIVINE dinner at Lombardo’s – great family owned place (they also have a Lombardo’s at the Drury Hotel at Union Station and Carmine’s downtown) with delicious food. It was only 4:45 or so, so I got to know the young man at the next table, who just moved from Quincy, Ill., and wants to be a firefighter. We spoke of many things. Then I headed back to the room, showered and went to bed, exhausted, about 7:45 p.m.
Fri. June 18: With a mildly sedated Maggie in tow, I arrived at the American Airlines desk (I flew free; her ticket was $100) at 7 a.m., where we learned our flight to Chicago was cancelled. They decided to send us to Los Angeles instead, there to transfer to another flight to San Francisco. Saw a woman from my water exercise class and then was seated next to a woman my age wearing a blue tie-dye shirt with a peace symbol on it. Love this part – her name was Glinda! The good witch and I had a lot of fun talking on the flight, plus I got to see the Painted Desert and the Grand Canyon from the air! Very cool. Once in LA, we had a three-hour delay before we finally took off for San Francisco.
But you know – eventually we did get there, and I actually recognized Santa Barbara and Monterey Bay from the air. At last we were in Joel’s car (and care) and headed for the home of Susan Fox, my daughter-in-law’s mom, who kindly offered to put us up for a bit before the transfer to Joel’s. Maggie meandered around a lot at first and then seemed to settle in. Me too – slept soundly.
Sat. June 19: Joel and I set out with a list of six open houses at one-bedroom apartments in the Glen Park neighborhood and two other locations. The first was too small. Way too small. The second was even smaller, and had three flights of steps down to it. The third was a possibility, though it was not very interesting. The fourth, the most expensive on the list, was really bad – crummy and dirty.
We drove around looking for “For Rent” signs and saw none in the neighborhood. Heading back to Joel’s for lunch, driving through what is known as Upper Cole Valley/Twin Peaks, Joel pulled over to park and pointed to a sign across the street: “Open: Large 1-Bedroom with View.” I popped out and went into the building.
Long story short: The view is astonishing – three big living room windows from high on a hill look north, to Marin. You can see the city. You can see the Golden Gate Bridge. You can see Point Bonita. You can see the PACIFIC OCEAN!!! The view literally took my breath away – I gasped and tears ran down my face. So much for not letting on to the manager that I liked it. We talked at length. The apartment is in a quiet six-unit building, 725 square feet, lots of closets. Not much charm – no hardwood floors or bay windows or the look of San Francisco on the inside – but did I mention the view???
I went to the car and asked Joel to come in and meet the manager and look at the place. We decided to go home and eat lunch and think – was it too soon? Had I seen too few? What the hell was I thinking? I hadn’t even been in town for 24 hours! I told the manager I would be back in touch either way. Patricia was at home – back from a business trip – and the three of us discussed the pros and cons. Then we all three went back to the apartment. They encouraged me to go for it. (Did I mention how much I love these two people?) I put a hold on the apartment, with money up front.
Then the three of us went out for celebratory drinks -- iced tea for P and smoothies for J and me. We had a toast to the future – I’ll know Monday or Tuesday if I got it – and then we went to their house to get ready for a wonderful dinner at the Tadich Grill (I was there 29 years ago with Joe Schneider…) with Mary Kay (Joel’s aunt who is in town for a conference), her friend Gina, and Susan.
Not bad for my first day in town, huh?
Sun. June 20: Woke up convinced I have made an excellent choice, got a good price, and want to go buy a shower curtain right this minute for My New Place. Only of course it’s too soon. Susan went to church and I walked to the grocery store and got some food for us. Maggie is sleeping in the sun. I’m sitting here by her, grinning.
Sunday, June 20, 2010
Saturday, June 12, 2010
Good Food and Good Fortune(s)
Next week this time, I will live in San Francisco. I won’t have an apartment yet, of course, but I will likely be out looking!
A few posts ago, I wondered aloud how to leave all the people here that I care about. Now I know – at parties, over coffee, during lunch, throughout dinner. I have not eaten a meal at home for nearly three weeks! Every gathering, no matter how small or large, has been wonderful, warm and loving and reassuring.
And the gifts! Along with a boat-load of “We’ll miss you,” I got an “I am proud of you.” I got a “Good for you – this is a bold step, and you can do it.” And I got a profound observation from a friend. First, he noted that he wants in front of him what he likes and what he knows. Then this: “You have an interest in and curiosity about all 360 degrees, and San Francisco can offer you something at every point on the circle. This is a great move for you.”
One dear friend surprised me with a family-themed photo frame, a gift for the future. My Five Favorite Female Friends popped for a last-minute massage with Yue Ma at the J, a gift for right now. My water exercise buddies bought me an exquisite leather-bound journal from Italy. My Jewish Chinese medicine man gave me contact info for two of his friends in San Francisco. “You’ll like both of them – be sure to call,” he said.
And everybody who has met me for coffee, lunch and dinner these past three weeks has picked up the tab, so I have saved a lot of grocery money while out eating orecchiette a la Nonna at Paul Manno’s Café, the fabulous burger at Cardwell’s, roasted chicken at Mai Lee, a selection of small plates at Remy’s, homemade whole wheat bread and great guacamole at Carolyn’s, gyros at L’Ecole Culinaire, the pork chop at Duff’s, Sicilian deep dish pizza at Adriana’s, shrimp and fresh vegetables at Macaroni Grill, grilled pork loin at Beth’s, a taste of Tim’s flatbread at Robust, meatball pizza from Dewey’s, and lots of skinny vanilla lattes.
When not eating, I’ve been darting around picking up medical records, emptying the safe deposit box, making copies of my rental application, returning books to friends, shredding old receipts, filing new receipts, exploring San Francisco neighborhoods on CraigsList, getting my hair cut and – ever so occasionally – packing. I even had a job interview, for a freelance gig in San Francisco. I got it!
And I took time to meet for coffee with a friend who has been thinking about moving to the Bay Area for a couple of years, at least. “Just do it,” I said. Then I emptied my purse of tiny crumpled fortunes, fortunes I’ve been collecting from cookies for months, fortunes that seemed to encourage me to Go West. “Take my fortunes,” I said. “They can all be true for you, too.”
A few hours after that coffee date, I was at an appointment. I picked up a book in the waiting room and leafed through it. The book fell open to this: "The most difficult thing is the decision to act -- the rest is merely tenacity. You can do anything you decide to do.” The quote was attributed to Amelia Earhart. When I got home, I sent it to Greg, as follow-up to the little stack of fortunes. The quote echoes the theme of the sign-off I use at the bottom of my emails:
“Twenty years from now you will be more disappointed by the things that you didn't do than by the ones you did do. So throw off the bowlines. Sail away from the safe harbor. Catch the trade winds in your sails. Explore. Dream. Discover.”
Mark Twain said that. You know he’s right.
A few posts ago, I wondered aloud how to leave all the people here that I care about. Now I know – at parties, over coffee, during lunch, throughout dinner. I have not eaten a meal at home for nearly three weeks! Every gathering, no matter how small or large, has been wonderful, warm and loving and reassuring.
And the gifts! Along with a boat-load of “We’ll miss you,” I got an “I am proud of you.” I got a “Good for you – this is a bold step, and you can do it.” And I got a profound observation from a friend. First, he noted that he wants in front of him what he likes and what he knows. Then this: “You have an interest in and curiosity about all 360 degrees, and San Francisco can offer you something at every point on the circle. This is a great move for you.”
One dear friend surprised me with a family-themed photo frame, a gift for the future. My Five Favorite Female Friends popped for a last-minute massage with Yue Ma at the J, a gift for right now. My water exercise buddies bought me an exquisite leather-bound journal from Italy. My Jewish Chinese medicine man gave me contact info for two of his friends in San Francisco. “You’ll like both of them – be sure to call,” he said.
And everybody who has met me for coffee, lunch and dinner these past three weeks has picked up the tab, so I have saved a lot of grocery money while out eating orecchiette a la Nonna at Paul Manno’s Café, the fabulous burger at Cardwell’s, roasted chicken at Mai Lee, a selection of small plates at Remy’s, homemade whole wheat bread and great guacamole at Carolyn’s, gyros at L’Ecole Culinaire, the pork chop at Duff’s, Sicilian deep dish pizza at Adriana’s, shrimp and fresh vegetables at Macaroni Grill, grilled pork loin at Beth’s, a taste of Tim’s flatbread at Robust, meatball pizza from Dewey’s, and lots of skinny vanilla lattes.
When not eating, I’ve been darting around picking up medical records, emptying the safe deposit box, making copies of my rental application, returning books to friends, shredding old receipts, filing new receipts, exploring San Francisco neighborhoods on CraigsList, getting my hair cut and – ever so occasionally – packing. I even had a job interview, for a freelance gig in San Francisco. I got it!
And I took time to meet for coffee with a friend who has been thinking about moving to the Bay Area for a couple of years, at least. “Just do it,” I said. Then I emptied my purse of tiny crumpled fortunes, fortunes I’ve been collecting from cookies for months, fortunes that seemed to encourage me to Go West. “Take my fortunes,” I said. “They can all be true for you, too.”
A few hours after that coffee date, I was at an appointment. I picked up a book in the waiting room and leafed through it. The book fell open to this: "The most difficult thing is the decision to act -- the rest is merely tenacity. You can do anything you decide to do.” The quote was attributed to Amelia Earhart. When I got home, I sent it to Greg, as follow-up to the little stack of fortunes. The quote echoes the theme of the sign-off I use at the bottom of my emails:
“Twenty years from now you will be more disappointed by the things that you didn't do than by the ones you did do. So throw off the bowlines. Sail away from the safe harbor. Catch the trade winds in your sails. Explore. Dream. Discover.”
Mark Twain said that. You know he’s right.
Saturday, May 29, 2010
Pack It Up
Three weeks from today I will wake up in my new city – San Francisco.
I will be living out of my suitcase, and much of what will be in that suitcase will belong to Maggie the Cat, as I know she will need her blanket and her toys and her scratching mat to comfort her in her new surroundings. Fortunately, friends will arrive in my car a couple of days later, and with them will be a second suitcase full of things to comfort me – and extra clothes and shoes, of course.
The rest of my stuff – what little there is – will go in storage until I sign a lease on an apartment. Remember the 46 boxes of books I gave away over the past year? Somehow, I still have enough books to fill 14 boxes, though two of the boxes are really small. Of those books I’ve held onto, only three will go to new homes. The rest are now in boxes, taped shut and labeled and sitting in rows in the empty dining room.
Yes! Packing has commenced!
Talking about packing has filled up a lot of time in the past three weeks while I was writing instead of packing. The writing was welcome, several assignments I agreed to take on before proceeding to pack. A week ago Friday, I finished the last assignment at 7:30 p.m. “That’s it,” I said to myself. “No more working until I’m settled into my new place.”
On Monday, I decided I really needed to write one more article, get the July HealthWatch feature finished so my editor didn’t have to find someone else to do the job. Found a suitable subject. Interviewed her. Wrote the article. Turned it in on Tuesday. “There,” I said to myself. “That’s the last of the writing I have to do for now.”
On Wednesday, I packed. On Thursday, another editor at a different publication asked me to add a short insert to a profile I recently completed for her. Writing the insert required contacting the subject of the profile and asking just a couple of questions. Of course, I said -- glad to do it. Called the woman, got her thoughtful response and sat here typing away.
Then I started laughing. Writing is easy. Not writing is so hard for me! I love working with words, choosing strong verbs, eliminating pesky adjectives, letting a subject’s personality emerge through quotes. When I finished the insert, I sent it off and sat around for awhile. “Well, no more excuses,” I said to myself. “Time to get back to packing.”
All day Friday, I packed. Then I cleaned up and went to a wonderful party. People I’ve known for 20 years, 30 years, 40 years, even 48 years (that’s you, Susan) were at the party, all gathering to wish me well – and gobble up the delicious food prepared by Gerry and Tom for the crowd. We all laughed a lot, Ken and Charlene sang and as far as I know, Ron was the only one who got weepy. What fun!
Today, the people who are buying the condo stopped by. They wanted to walk through the rooms, see where their furniture would fit, think about what they needed to buy. “It feels like home,” they said. “It’s a wonderful place and we will be happy here.”
I am happy for them, and I will be happy in my new city just three weeks from today. Of course, I have packing to do -- but first, I just had to write this.
I will be living out of my suitcase, and much of what will be in that suitcase will belong to Maggie the Cat, as I know she will need her blanket and her toys and her scratching mat to comfort her in her new surroundings. Fortunately, friends will arrive in my car a couple of days later, and with them will be a second suitcase full of things to comfort me – and extra clothes and shoes, of course.
The rest of my stuff – what little there is – will go in storage until I sign a lease on an apartment. Remember the 46 boxes of books I gave away over the past year? Somehow, I still have enough books to fill 14 boxes, though two of the boxes are really small. Of those books I’ve held onto, only three will go to new homes. The rest are now in boxes, taped shut and labeled and sitting in rows in the empty dining room.
Yes! Packing has commenced!
Talking about packing has filled up a lot of time in the past three weeks while I was writing instead of packing. The writing was welcome, several assignments I agreed to take on before proceeding to pack. A week ago Friday, I finished the last assignment at 7:30 p.m. “That’s it,” I said to myself. “No more working until I’m settled into my new place.”
On Monday, I decided I really needed to write one more article, get the July HealthWatch feature finished so my editor didn’t have to find someone else to do the job. Found a suitable subject. Interviewed her. Wrote the article. Turned it in on Tuesday. “There,” I said to myself. “That’s the last of the writing I have to do for now.”
On Wednesday, I packed. On Thursday, another editor at a different publication asked me to add a short insert to a profile I recently completed for her. Writing the insert required contacting the subject of the profile and asking just a couple of questions. Of course, I said -- glad to do it. Called the woman, got her thoughtful response and sat here typing away.
Then I started laughing. Writing is easy. Not writing is so hard for me! I love working with words, choosing strong verbs, eliminating pesky adjectives, letting a subject’s personality emerge through quotes. When I finished the insert, I sent it off and sat around for awhile. “Well, no more excuses,” I said to myself. “Time to get back to packing.”
All day Friday, I packed. Then I cleaned up and went to a wonderful party. People I’ve known for 20 years, 30 years, 40 years, even 48 years (that’s you, Susan) were at the party, all gathering to wish me well – and gobble up the delicious food prepared by Gerry and Tom for the crowd. We all laughed a lot, Ken and Charlene sang and as far as I know, Ron was the only one who got weepy. What fun!
Today, the people who are buying the condo stopped by. They wanted to walk through the rooms, see where their furniture would fit, think about what they needed to buy. “It feels like home,” they said. “It’s a wonderful place and we will be happy here.”
I am happy for them, and I will be happy in my new city just three weeks from today. Of course, I have packing to do -- but first, I just had to write this.
Wednesday, May 19, 2010
Somewhere a Place for Us
Sari lives in the Inner Sunset and speaks of the “neighborhood pride” there. She writes, “I agree that there are many times that it's foggy over here and sunny over on the other side of the city.” Micki lives in Pacific Heights, and warns about the fog in the Outer Richmond and Outer Sunset. Doreen lives “by the beach” in the Outer Sunset and loves every minute of it.
That’s what I’m up to – interviewing people about where they live in San Francisco.
I ask about the neighborhoods, the climates (the city has several “mini-climates”), the coffee shops. Is there a library? A bus line? What about a gym? I ask everybody I speak to who lives there. These conversations take place on Facebook, in emails and on the phone, but they are no different than my rapid-fire questioning of cab drivers, store clerks and people in the ice cream shop that I have pestered during recent trips to San Francisco.
Usually, after pitching one neighborhood or another, the people I am questioning suggest I look on CraigsList to see what’s available. Look on CraigsList? For one year, I have been looking at apartment listings on CraigsList. I have looked at so many listings for so long that I can now recite some of them.
Among my favorites are the listings that offer spaces that have just one window (a converted garage), or narrow rooms and low ceilings or granite countertops but no stove. To clarify, those are my favorite funny listings. My true favorites, the ones that set me dreaming, have big rooms and hardwood floors and laundry facilities in the building – maybe even a parking place! The best of the lot have an ocean view, but here’s what I know about San Francisco – even if where you live doesn’t have a tremendous view, you can just go outside and look around and be amazed and astonished at what you see. It’s all worth looking at!
I will be free to sign a one-year lease on an apartment on June 23. I probably won’t, as at that point I will have been in San Francisco just four days – but I will be out looking. The best gift I have received from looking at CraigsList on many a night is that I know I will have choices, and most of the apartments have more than one window and they do include stoves. On the day I start looking, I suspect I will have just missed an incredible place at a great price – and I bet on the day I sign a lease, an incredible place at a great price will become available.
That’s how life works, but that does not mean that I won’t find a wonderful place to build a new nest. I will.
Where? I don’t know yet. Maybe in the Inner Sunset. Maybe in Pacific Heights. Maybe in the Outer Sunset or the Outer Richmond. Cole Valley, Noe Valley, the Castro, the Upper Haight, North Beach and Hayes Valley all have their charms. When the time comes, I will see what’s available, see what feels right and choose.
As I have sung repeatedly to Maggie the Cat: “There’s a place for us…”
And once I’m settled, I’ll invite Sari and Micki and Doreen over!
That’s what I’m up to – interviewing people about where they live in San Francisco.
I ask about the neighborhoods, the climates (the city has several “mini-climates”), the coffee shops. Is there a library? A bus line? What about a gym? I ask everybody I speak to who lives there. These conversations take place on Facebook, in emails and on the phone, but they are no different than my rapid-fire questioning of cab drivers, store clerks and people in the ice cream shop that I have pestered during recent trips to San Francisco.
Usually, after pitching one neighborhood or another, the people I am questioning suggest I look on CraigsList to see what’s available. Look on CraigsList? For one year, I have been looking at apartment listings on CraigsList. I have looked at so many listings for so long that I can now recite some of them.
Among my favorites are the listings that offer spaces that have just one window (a converted garage), or narrow rooms and low ceilings or granite countertops but no stove. To clarify, those are my favorite funny listings. My true favorites, the ones that set me dreaming, have big rooms and hardwood floors and laundry facilities in the building – maybe even a parking place! The best of the lot have an ocean view, but here’s what I know about San Francisco – even if where you live doesn’t have a tremendous view, you can just go outside and look around and be amazed and astonished at what you see. It’s all worth looking at!
I will be free to sign a one-year lease on an apartment on June 23. I probably won’t, as at that point I will have been in San Francisco just four days – but I will be out looking. The best gift I have received from looking at CraigsList on many a night is that I know I will have choices, and most of the apartments have more than one window and they do include stoves. On the day I start looking, I suspect I will have just missed an incredible place at a great price – and I bet on the day I sign a lease, an incredible place at a great price will become available.
That’s how life works, but that does not mean that I won’t find a wonderful place to build a new nest. I will.
Where? I don’t know yet. Maybe in the Inner Sunset. Maybe in Pacific Heights. Maybe in the Outer Sunset or the Outer Richmond. Cole Valley, Noe Valley, the Castro, the Upper Haight, North Beach and Hayes Valley all have their charms. When the time comes, I will see what’s available, see what feels right and choose.
As I have sung repeatedly to Maggie the Cat: “There’s a place for us…”
And once I’m settled, I’ll invite Sari and Micki and Doreen over!
Friday, May 14, 2010
Stay Tuned... to Mr. Tambourine Man
Going toward love – that’s what my 91-year-old friend and neighbor says I’m doing by moving to San Francisco. My son and daughter-in-law are there, as are all the wonderful members of the extended family I joined just 11 months ago when Joel married Patricia.
When I’m on the Left Coast, will I renounce my beloved only aunt and all her children, who are scattered in several states? Of course not. Will I tear up the connections, turn in the membership cards that bind me to the extended family I have created for myself in St. Louis? No way.
Sitting at Judy and Scott’s table over dinner on Mother’s Day, I promised everyone there that I will never forget our many holiday meals together – that when I sit at new tables, I will even repeat some of the wonderful stories I’ve heard at Judy and Scott’s table over the past 35 years.
Since the condo sold, I’ve been to the Zoo, made plans to walk through the Missouri Botanical Garden and enjoyed several lunch, dinner and coffee dates with dear friends. The next four weeks are filled with more of the same, plus a couple of parties that promise to be fun as long as we all concentrate on enjoying being together and overlook that it may be the Last Time We See Each Other – at least until they visit San Francisco, which they all promise to do.
If we get teary – and we may -- well, I have a secret weapon. When my friend and doctor of Chinese medicine asked me what he could do for me when I popped in for an acupuncture treatment, I told him I needed energy and courage: Energy to keep juggling many oranges without making juice and courage to cope with emotional farewells. I have abandonment issues, I told him. My whole family died before I was 35 years old, and now by moving halfway across the country, I am abandoning people I love.
Exactly how do I do that?
I told Michael Max that I don’t know how to do what I am about to do, emotionally, physically or financially. But as my neighbor reminds me, I am going toward love. I am also going toward a massive body of water, water filled with the song of the humpback, water that rushes in to steal the shore and then hurries away, water that offers sound that calms me and fury (nothing pacific about it) that excites me. I’ve already signed up to volunteer one day a week with the Oceanic Society – writing and helping out on whale watches, as needed!
The first big body of water I met was the Gulf of Mexico, 40 years ago. We drove along the beach, and when the car stopped, I got out and walked right into the water. Home! I tried once before to move to a place where I could live by the sea – Bandon, Oregon – but the job I was offered there required a 60 percent pay cut. I know now that Bandon offers exquisite natural beauty but not so much a life of the mind.
San Francisco is a city with a life of the mind – many minds, from what I hear – but also rich culture, startling vistas, bustling neighborhoods and endless opportunities to grow and change. So yes, I am going toward love, but I also am going toward newness, a chance to begin again, adjust and improve. My dear neighbor is certain all that is possible – in my life, her life, all of our lives.
“I am not my story,” she said at dinner the other evening. We agreed that it is important to respect and learn from our pasts, our stories, but it is equally important, if not more important, to stretch, to move beyond, to write new chapters based on new experiences. Think exciting plot twists, introductions of unexpected characters, rich new material that shakes up everything!
As I go toward love -- and give in at last to the lure of the ocean -- I have no idea what words will form paragraphs on the pages of the next chapter in my story. I have picked out some music. Sing it, Bob: “To dance beneath the diamond sky with one hand waving free, silhouetted by the sea…”
Tuesday, May 4, 2010
California, Here I Come!
Good News: I sold the condo!
Some details remain to be resolved, but everything looks good and I’m already fond of the people who soon will dwell in The Salmon Sanctuary. On my list of things to do today:
• Buy new toys for the cat.
• Buy a Sharpie.
• Buy a new Cardinals tee shirt.
What a short list – and a grand day! I have just finished tons of work, and to celebrate, I applied for three freelance jobs based in San Francisco. Then I set about doing the errands on my list.
The reason I have so little to do was discussed at length in my previous post, so no need to repeat myself. I will take on more freelance, right up until when I leave (mid-June, maybe), but for now, all I have to do is watch the calendar fill up. Many people want to have lunch or dinner -- or even hold a party in my honor.
How cool is that? One party planner has asked guests to wear some flowers in their hair. Surely you remember the song! My hair is too soft to hold bobby pins holding flowers, but perhaps I could staple a gardenia to my head…
A friend who lives on the east coast, understandably, has not offered to take me to lunch or dinner, but he did send sage advice about going late to the Haight:
“First of all, you do know, of course, that there's a big earthquake coming. I mean the granddaddy of them all. No reason not to live there. But you ought to take it into consideration when you look for a place to live. When the next earthquake hits, a lot of buildings are going to fall down. A lot did the last time. It's easy enough to go online and study geological maps of San Francisco to figure out where the most damage is going to be done (to buildings built on fill dirt). So stay away from them. Then too, don't move into a building that hasn't been retrofitted to survive the earthquake. Some have; most haven't.
“Get yourself an "I can survive the earthquake" kit. You can probably figure out the obvious things to put in it: fresh drinking water (which you need to replace regularly), spending money (small bills), food for two weeks (canned goods . . . Spam works well), backpack, etc. A few tools are handy too, such as a small crowbar that can be used to hit people over the head that are stuck under buildings screaming bloody murder and there's no way to get them out before the flames reach them.
“Remember, San Francisco is a city of weather zones. There are parts of the city that are always in the fog. It can be 20 degrees colder there than the rest of the city nearly all day long. The good news is, these places are cheaper. But then, they are cold and damp too. Places in the sun are much more expensive. Places over on the ocean side are cheaper and as long as they are on a Muni route, probably a better buy/rent. Funky areas abound around San Francisco State.
“Hang out in neighborhoods before you buy/rent. Spend time in them in the morning, afternoons, evenings, and then late at night. See if you like the neighborhood at all these different times of day. The city is weird that way . . . it changes by the time of day.”
All this makes me smile – even the part about the crowbar. It’s happening – I am moving to San Francisco! Here is what I said when I started this blog: “Some 42 years after the Summer of Love, I am moving to San Francisco, shredding the fabric of a comfortable life in St. Louis and stitching together something new. Will it fit?”
Stay tuned.
Some details remain to be resolved, but everything looks good and I’m already fond of the people who soon will dwell in The Salmon Sanctuary. On my list of things to do today:
• Buy new toys for the cat.
• Buy a Sharpie.
• Buy a new Cardinals tee shirt.
What a short list – and a grand day! I have just finished tons of work, and to celebrate, I applied for three freelance jobs based in San Francisco. Then I set about doing the errands on my list.
The reason I have so little to do was discussed at length in my previous post, so no need to repeat myself. I will take on more freelance, right up until when I leave (mid-June, maybe), but for now, all I have to do is watch the calendar fill up. Many people want to have lunch or dinner -- or even hold a party in my honor.
How cool is that? One party planner has asked guests to wear some flowers in their hair. Surely you remember the song! My hair is too soft to hold bobby pins holding flowers, but perhaps I could staple a gardenia to my head…
A friend who lives on the east coast, understandably, has not offered to take me to lunch or dinner, but he did send sage advice about going late to the Haight:
“First of all, you do know, of course, that there's a big earthquake coming. I mean the granddaddy of them all. No reason not to live there. But you ought to take it into consideration when you look for a place to live. When the next earthquake hits, a lot of buildings are going to fall down. A lot did the last time. It's easy enough to go online and study geological maps of San Francisco to figure out where the most damage is going to be done (to buildings built on fill dirt). So stay away from them. Then too, don't move into a building that hasn't been retrofitted to survive the earthquake. Some have; most haven't.
“Get yourself an "I can survive the earthquake" kit. You can probably figure out the obvious things to put in it: fresh drinking water (which you need to replace regularly), spending money (small bills), food for two weeks (canned goods . . . Spam works well), backpack, etc. A few tools are handy too, such as a small crowbar that can be used to hit people over the head that are stuck under buildings screaming bloody murder and there's no way to get them out before the flames reach them.
“Remember, San Francisco is a city of weather zones. There are parts of the city that are always in the fog. It can be 20 degrees colder there than the rest of the city nearly all day long. The good news is, these places are cheaper. But then, they are cold and damp too. Places in the sun are much more expensive. Places over on the ocean side are cheaper and as long as they are on a Muni route, probably a better buy/rent. Funky areas abound around San Francisco State.
“Hang out in neighborhoods before you buy/rent. Spend time in them in the morning, afternoons, evenings, and then late at night. See if you like the neighborhood at all these different times of day. The city is weird that way . . . it changes by the time of day.”
All this makes me smile – even the part about the crowbar. It’s happening – I am moving to San Francisco! Here is what I said when I started this blog: “Some 42 years after the Summer of Love, I am moving to San Francisco, shredding the fabric of a comfortable life in St. Louis and stitching together something new. Will it fit?”
Stay tuned.
Sunday, April 25, 2010
A Compliment to Savor
“Well organized.” That’s how the woman from the moving company described my stuff as we toured the condo so she could estimate what moving to San Francisco might cost me. Every time she opened a closet or walked into a room, the phrase “well organized” came up again.
Organizing is easy when you’ve heaved out two-thirds of your stuff. The heaving – that’s not easy. I’ve written about it before, in earlier posts here. In today’s New York Times Magazine, Rick Marin writes about it, in “Lives: Objects of Accumulation.”
Marin’s dad has died, his mother is in a nursing home. An only child, he boldly goes into their home, filled with 50 years’ accumulation of stuff, and begins to sort and pitch. The project took him five 15-hour days, some of it spent discarding a drawer full of rubber bands, a closet where he found his grade school projects and rooms full of dusty, musty books.
I’ll pause now for a moment of gratitude from my son, because I have saved him 75 hours of toil by getting rid of so much of my stuff. (Note to son: I think this proves you owe me a four-day visit. I did the math using waking hours only.) When I’m in the nursing home – or have walked into the sea to go south with gray whales – he won’t have to do what Marin did. “Well organized.” That’s what the woman said about me when she looked at my condo.
Kay Ryan, poet laureate of the United States, addresses the topic of clearing out in a poem called “That Will to Divest,” which appeared in the April 12 issue of the New Yorker. Because I don’t have permission to print it here, I’ll just say that Ryan succinctly notes that the more stuff you get rid of, the more urgent it becomes to toss out most of the rest of it. Her poem includes this: “It gets harder…not to dismiss rooms, not to divest yourself of all the chairs but one.”
And why not?
Years ago, every time I announced I had bought a new pair of shoes, one male friend was incredulous. “You can only wear two shoes at any one time, and most likely, you will wear two that match,” he would say. The same is true of earrings – or was, until I started mixing up the pairs for an interesting look. I’m past that now, and I also own just 12 pairs of earrings. Even that seems too many.
“Want what you have.” That’s the mantra I repeated often after I took the buy-out from the Post-Dispatch. Then, when I decided to sell the condo and move, I discovered I didn’t even want much of what I had.
Now what I want is to live among family, the family my son joined when he married. Wonderful people, one and all, they wait patiently to welcome me in San Francisco while I wait in St. Louis for the condo to sell. The good news is that people are meandering through now, two or three a week, looking at the place.
Even better – I’m well organized.
Organizing is easy when you’ve heaved out two-thirds of your stuff. The heaving – that’s not easy. I’ve written about it before, in earlier posts here. In today’s New York Times Magazine, Rick Marin writes about it, in “Lives: Objects of Accumulation.”
Marin’s dad has died, his mother is in a nursing home. An only child, he boldly goes into their home, filled with 50 years’ accumulation of stuff, and begins to sort and pitch. The project took him five 15-hour days, some of it spent discarding a drawer full of rubber bands, a closet where he found his grade school projects and rooms full of dusty, musty books.
I’ll pause now for a moment of gratitude from my son, because I have saved him 75 hours of toil by getting rid of so much of my stuff. (Note to son: I think this proves you owe me a four-day visit. I did the math using waking hours only.) When I’m in the nursing home – or have walked into the sea to go south with gray whales – he won’t have to do what Marin did. “Well organized.” That’s what the woman said about me when she looked at my condo.
Kay Ryan, poet laureate of the United States, addresses the topic of clearing out in a poem called “That Will to Divest,” which appeared in the April 12 issue of the New Yorker. Because I don’t have permission to print it here, I’ll just say that Ryan succinctly notes that the more stuff you get rid of, the more urgent it becomes to toss out most of the rest of it. Her poem includes this: “It gets harder…not to dismiss rooms, not to divest yourself of all the chairs but one.”
And why not?
Years ago, every time I announced I had bought a new pair of shoes, one male friend was incredulous. “You can only wear two shoes at any one time, and most likely, you will wear two that match,” he would say. The same is true of earrings – or was, until I started mixing up the pairs for an interesting look. I’m past that now, and I also own just 12 pairs of earrings. Even that seems too many.
“Want what you have.” That’s the mantra I repeated often after I took the buy-out from the Post-Dispatch. Then, when I decided to sell the condo and move, I discovered I didn’t even want much of what I had.
Now what I want is to live among family, the family my son joined when he married. Wonderful people, one and all, they wait patiently to welcome me in San Francisco while I wait in St. Louis for the condo to sell. The good news is that people are meandering through now, two or three a week, looking at the place.
Even better – I’m well organized.
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