Alison

On the Wisconsin Street stairs
Potrero Hill
Tuesday morning

***

My parents met in San Francisco in 1966.  Mom was at San Francisco State and dad studied at UC Berkeley. After they got married, they lived in a tiny apartment on Haight Street with one room and a Murphy bed.  A few years later, they joined VISTA (Volunteers in Service to America – sort of a stateside version of the Peace Corps) and moved to Kentucky to teach English in rural Appalachia.  Realizing that they liked the rural life, they came back to California and settled in Quincy, a tiny mountain town two hours north of Lake Tahoe, where I was born and raised.

I came to San Francisco in January of 2000, just after Y2K failed to destroy the world. After college I had moved from Davis to nearby Sacramento to get my teaching credential at Sac State.   But Sacramento and I just didn’t mesh.  After one semester, I was miserable, lonely, and lost.  On a whim, I thought of San Francisco.  It seemed like a place where I might find my way again.  Perhaps I was subconsciously drawn to the origin of my parents’ story (and, therefore, mine), or lured by the image of a breathtakingly beautiful, diverse, multicultural, vibrant, creative, real City where a small town girl could spread her wings.  Through Craigslist, I found two great roommates and an apartment at Baker Beach in the Presidio.  I was ready to begin my grand San Francisco adventure.  Then I got sick.

The disease was called IGA Nephropathy, the effect – rapidly deteriorating kidneys.  Every night I hooked myself up to a home dialysis machine that did the work of my failing kidneys.  I walked gorgeous Baker Beach so many times – slowly, because I was often exhausted and weak – feeling that my life was on hold, and wondering what the future held.  After nine months on dialysis, I received a kidney transplant.  My quality of life improved dramatically, but something of my carefree youth had vanished forever.

When I completed the teaching credential program at SF State, I got a job teaching music at Hoover Middle School in the Sunset District.  At the very first faculty meeting, I was nervous but full of the idealistic enthusiasm of a new teacher.  I was one of several new hires at the school, and our principal opened the meeting by asking the staff to introduce themselves. Everyone dutifully stated his or her name and subject.  Except John – he stood up and did an impromptu song and dance about math.  I thought to myself, “I want to get to know that guy.”  (I like my men goofy.)  Five years later we were married.

Sometimes I think about leaving the city and moving to a small town like the one I grew up in.  Something in my soul longs for the beauty of mountains and tall pine trees and, mostly, a tight-knit community.  But then I take a walk and realize that I am already surrounded by beauty. And community? Mine is firmly anchored by school (John and I both still teach at Hoover) and the many students, teachers, and families who have enriched my life in immeasurable ways.  Somehow the city I moved to on a whim became the place where I battled a life-changing illness, met the love of my life, and gave birth to my daughter.  I’ve walked most of the neighborhoods in the city, learned the names of the unusual trees that line our streets, joined a taiko drumming group, gazed upon views that left me speechless, whiled away the hours at a café, spent a lazy Sunday with my husband and baby daughter with no thought but, “I’m so happy.”

I live here.

***

You can see a slideshow of Alison’s photo shoot here.

Catherine

Near 19th Street
Potrero Hill
Monday afternoon

***
Le mystère

Today it’s been 9 years since I moved from Paris to Pacifica, and then San Francisco. I left Roissy Charles de Gaulle Airport on November 09 and arrived one day later, after 2 planes broke and the last one missed our last connection in Pittsburg, on November 10th. Since then, for nine years, every single day I walk outside and meet somebody new, wherever it is, whoever they are, no matter how short our interaction, they systematically ask me the same question: “what brought you here?” This is why I decided to write this, and to participate to Julie’s project. To tell you my story about why “I Live here: San Francisco…”

I came here for love.

In 1998 I fell for an American man in Paris, he was on vacation, extremely long karmic story short: I commuted two years from Paris to Redwood City, “Deadwood City”, before deciding to leave everything I had built and adored to live with him in California. We bought a house in Pacifica, I got married in this red silk dress, and here I was, the Parisian girl on a coastal retreat. None of my French friends could believe it! Me neither.

At first I thought I will not survive. I could not even look though the windows: all these small houses and the big ocean were so scary too me. I was looking desperately for high energy, crowds, and tall buildings! Despite my job in San Francisco, I felt so isolated, dying inside. Then step by step, I met incredible people, developed new true friendships. I began yoga, enrolled in a 3-year Feng Shui program which I graduated from and uncovered my spiritual path. I founded Your French Accent, my “Decorator Extraordinaire and Beyond” consulting company. I learned so much during these Pacifican years…

When we divorced in very good terms in January 2008, I decided to stay in California against all odds, and moved to “The City.” I picked or actually I got picked by a studio on Potrero Hill, the place where I always wanted to live since I discovered San Francisco. I saw this apartment waiting for me in a dream before it got even posted on Craigslist! I got it despite the other 13 applicants. I moved close to the railroad, close to 280, and the noise and the pollution welcomed me as a longtime lost friend. I was back to my own life of a joyful city girl: I was back to Moi, better!

Here I learned more. The gentleman on the pictures is a close friend who I very rarely see but who opened up my heart on a new world of possibilities, revealing a part of my soul that I never acknowledged before. This is why I asked him to be part of this photo shoot. When I met him, he told me: “Catherine, you are free, nobody can claim you as his own, and nor can you claim anybody either. Now live your own life, and enjoy, fully.”

After more new beautiful heart filling karmic encounters on the hill and… a lot more meditation and introspection, I finally integrated that no love has to be possessive and exclusive to be real and durable. I understood that the biggest act of love is to set the person you want for yourself totally free. I realized that watching the seeds you planted grow on their own is more important than to gate a dry garden. It feels so good! My love and my respect for every person in my life, past/present/future, is sincere and intact, for ever.

Voilà. Now you know my story. I came here for Love. I came here for me… I have absolutely no clue where I will be in a month, a year. Times are shaking and with this boots I bought in 2000, I am walking through ruins and miracles. But you know what? Today, I live here: San Francisco. I mean: I LIVE here, and I am thankful for every second of it!

Namaste. Be good and never behave!

***
You can see a slideshow of Catherine’s photo shoot here.
Catherine’s website is http://www.yourfrenchaccent.com/
Her vlog is http://www.frenchshuicafe.com/

Julie

Potrero Hill
Friday morning