Posted: April 21st, 2010 | Author: julie | Filed under: Western Addition/NOPA | Tags: Western Addition/NOPA | 15 Comments »
In the reception area at the nursing home
Western Addition
Tuesday afternoon
***
ONE OF SAN FRANCISCO’S LONGEST RESIDENTS
Rosemarie’s story, as told by her daughter Donna.
Rosemarie was born in El Salvador in 1912. Her Scottish father ran a coffee plantation. Her Salvadoran mother died in childbirth. The first years of Rosemarie’s life were spent with family friends, while her older sisters were educated by the nuns at a Catholic convent. Eventually the family was reunited. Then, their father decided that they should relocate to San Francisco, where he felt that a female could have greater opportunities.
Emily, Mary, and Rosemarie, who was then 7 years old, were put aboard a ship to depart for San Francisco. Their father planned to join them at a future time, but when Rosemarie looked down at her father and brother from the big ship, she felt that she would never see them again.
The sisters arrived in San Francisco on July 4th, 1919, Independence Day. Rosemarie remembered seeing the fireworks upon their arrival. They were able to settle into a flat, and Emily and Mary were able to obtain work as seamstresses. Unfortunately, their father died from a heart attack, so they were on their own in a strange new place. They received some life insurance money that they used for a down payment on a house on Shrader Street in the Haight Ashbury District, where there was a school nearby for Rosemarie to attend. At that time, the hill behind the Haight was still unsettled. A lady with goats lived there and Rosemarie had the chore of going up the hill for goat’s milk.
The 1920s were happy years, and Emily and Mary were liberated women, having a great time with their younger sister in tow. Later, they were joined by another sister, three nieces, and a family friend, all arriving from El Salvador. The house filled up with females. When the 1930s and the Depression hit, times were hard. In the house on Shrader Street, however, everyone made the most of things, managed to share what they had and enjoy life. Rosemarie learned to repair nylon stockings. The stockings were in short supply, and folks were willing to pay to have them repaired.
Rosemarie eventually met Don, who she fell in love with and married. At that time he was a photographer by profession. During the 1940s, their life together was colorful, spent with their many friends that were artists, photographers, dancers, and musicians. To dance through life was one of her greatest joys. Don introduced her to his love of the outdoors, and they had many camping adventures all over a wilder California. In 1947, their only daughter, myself, Donna, was born.
During the 1950s and 1960s, Rosemarie ran a small business repairing clothing. They did invisible weaving repair, made buttonholes and covered buttons and various other repairs to clothing, including repair to support stockings. The business was located next to a watch repair business in the old Emporium Building.
When Don passed away from complications from Alzheimer’s disease, Rosemarie moved back together with her sisters, who were then living in the Sunset District. She cared for them in their last years, and then continued to live in that house for many years. Various family members and friends lived with her during that time. I guess that it is a family tradition.
Although she was not generally a traveler, she made two trips to Alaska to visit myself and my husband Paul, and our two children, Golden and Alicia. Her main motivation to make the trips was to spend time with her grandchildren.
In the 2000s, Golden decided to join her in San Francisco. He looked after her until two years ago when she fell and broke her hip and was moved to a health care facility. Rosemarie is now 97 years of age, and still has her inspirational strength, vitality, and wisdom.
Posted: November 25th, 2009 | Author: julie | Filed under: Western Addition/NOPA | Tags: Western Addition/NOPA | 1 Comment »
Dear San Francisco,
My name is Sadie. If you see me on the street, don’t make any sudden movements. It freaks me out. I am a Mama’s girl, she is paws-down the awesome-est human I have ever smelled (and I sniff like it’s going out of style). The rest of you humans are okay as long as you can keep your voice at a reasonable level and not be too hyper. If I sniff you over and you’re chill, I’ll hook you up with a nose bump or two. People love them. They are cute.
The thing is, you city folks recognize how blonde, adorable, and perfectly apartment-sized I am. But deep down, I’m a hound dog, y’all. Mama rescued me back in the day from a farm off a country road in North Carolina. Don’t get me wrong, the farm was dope. But you can only handle ticks in your ears (and sleeping outside) for so long.
Despite my modest beginnings, I made my way to the the city by the bay and, as it turns out, I’m pretty fancy. Go on, Google me — I’m what you might call a “comfort retriever,” the rather charming hybrid breed of Cocker Spaniel mixed with Golden Retriever. So boo-yah to those chickens back on the farm that were all flappin’ about saying I didn’t belong. No, I didn’t belong you stupid hens! And how’s that smelly shack treating ya?! I’m currently lounging in a warm hardwood flat and sleep in a BED. Try to peck me now!
I take my Mama on walks several times a day. First thing in the morning and late at night are regular strolling times. Give me a friendly holler if you see me, but don’t get to close to my Mama. Or I will go from cute city dog to ruthless guard dog in less time than it takes to say “bite me.”
Smoochies on the face,
Sadie
***
Sadie lives with her beautiful mama, Megahn, in NOPA. You can see the two of them together here.
Posted: November 6th, 2009 | Author: julie | Filed under: Western Addition/NOPA | Tags: Western Addition/NOPA | No Comments »
At Central Coffee Tea & Spice
On Hayes
Monday afternoon
In 1996 I arrived as a young European tourist to stay indefinitely, to see how things go out there in California. And they did go. Everything from there on is now part of my history and created in this town. I am realizing more and more why I live here.
San Francisco is the town that has allowed me to flow through all my live changes, providing me with endless opportunities to try new things, grow and emerge out of my shell at every stage in my live. It is the town that catches me when I fall and just when I lose sight of direction waves me into consciousness with its absolute beauty and from there offers the next opportunity, the next chapter.
This is the city in which I moved through several stages in my personal life with relationships beginning and ending, picking up my tears on the local park bench or letting my hair get brushed with a stroke of wind during a long embrace at the beach. This is the city in which I was once arrived as an illegal alien and I felt for the first time what it meant to fight for something that you truly want and become a legal resident to claim and hold my entitlement to be one with this town.
This is the city who honored me with titles such as a nanny, a bar tender, a student, an artist, a dancer, a single individual, a woman, a foreigner, a manager, a divorcee and a unique individual. This is the city in which I learned what it meant to say good bye over and over again when friends move away, leaving you behind in the arms of the city to find myself at a local bar and the next story sitting near you on the bar stool if you just listen closely enough. This is the city in which I was a poi spinner for one moment and a burlesque dancer for another, a pottery maker for about second and an acting student forever. This is the city in which I got a piercing and danced to break beats into Burning Man and back.
This is the city in which I went from poor to rich and back down into current unemployment while all along feeling a never changing level of wealth due to calming strokes of happiness by the endless buzzing town corners. This is the city in which I discovered my first grey hair and found myself looking at strollers wondering what the motherly hands of the city would offer to me. This is the city that keeps me just scared enough to move and evolve up and out into the unknown.
This is the city that asks me to recommit my relationship daily when forcing me into a mind battle between the reasons for staying or following my home sick heart to be with my family who lives far away – the city always wins.
Posted: November 2nd, 2009 | Author: julie | Filed under: Western Addition/NOPA | Tags: Western Addition/NOPA | No Comments »
In a hallway
Somewhere in NOPA
Sunday morning
***
There was a fullness of life I felt happening here one cold, wet, December trip several years ago. I was visiting Lauren, my muse and oldest best friend who moved to the city directly after finishing her undergrad at UVA. I was a wide-eyed girl from North Carolina on my first trip to California. A venture which marked my second time being west of the Mississippi River.
I made that trip to San Francisco to understand why (oh why!) my beloved best friend ditched our post-college plans of living together in New York City for this far out city by the bay. Before graduation, she called me in Raleigh, NC, asking and encouraging me to join her. “So what do you think about San Francisco?” Lauren finally says. My full and instant reply was, “I think it’s in California.”
The West Coast was a foreign concept to me. More than that, I had a mother recovering from a life-threatening disease and my only grandmother faced serious health issues as well. Lauren moved west without me, but with a promise that I would visit as soon as I could. A few months later she was settled into her dark and cozy Pacific Heights attic apartment, and I made good on my promise.
My 10-day stay spanned New Year’s Eve, allowing Lauren and I to celebrate our 24th birthdays together and take advantage of some treasured time off from our newly acquired jobs. It rained every day of that trip. Getting around was messy and difficult. The four steep flights of stairs up to her apartment were a real kick in the ass at the end of our long cold days touring the city. I was uncomfortable and unsure of myself in this new place… feelings with which I was not familiar. The change was invigorating. I felt alive.
I went back to North Carolina. I took with me a larger view of my country and a knowledge that one day, I would live in San Francisco.
Three years later, my appetite was whet for change and challenge. The seed planted during that cold, wet, December visit, came to its fruition in the form of a west-bound cross country trip in the Spring of 2008. I had my dog, a great resume, and a friend with a futon in San Francisco.
Now I live here, San Francisco. I still feel uncomfortable and unsure of myself at times, as the city continues to stretch me and force me to grow. But I am living the dream of my imagined life. This life is full of challenging work, in a city ripe with possibilities, surrounded by an ever expanding band of friends and colleagues that challenge me to become my best self.
Posted: July 31st, 2009 | Author: julie | Filed under: Western Addition/NOPA | Tags: Western Addition/NOPA | No Comments »
On Sutter Street
NOPA
Saturday afternoon
my name is roo and i love and hate pigeons! don’t know but i have to be near them! i love sniffing poop and also i always want cheese and i will sit and wait until you give me some of that carnitas. the days that mom and dad get burritos are the best because then maybe there will be carnitas also it is good when dad barbecues because then he gives me burger but it is not as good as carnitas. i follow your feet. i have to lick this thing right now. i will follow your feet even closer if you have carnitas! that looks good to lick. let’s go for a walk i want to see if there are other dogs that are really big like me who might want to let me hump their sides. BURRITO? barkbarkbark. do you want to run down this hall with me? i am running down this hall right now! HA HA HA! i wonder if there is cheese down there. is that a cat? i love and hate cats! i don’t know but i have to be near them! i smell meat.
Posted: July 30th, 2009 | Author: julie | Filed under: Western Addition/NOPA | Tags: Western Addition/NOPA | No Comments »
Outside the Macedonia Baptist Church on Sutter
NOPA
Saturday afternoon
***
i grew up in this city, skinning my knees on geary, pecking with trepidation at dim sum, skipping around the richmond district to fetch after-school candy, swaddled in fleece at nightgames at candlestick, sleeping on my floor of my parents’ bedroom for weeks after the ’89 earthquake, visiting my mom’s office in the haight, and my dad after work in the embarcadero, sneaking into filthy bars in north beach without even the pretense of an ID. the spread of the city, all right there. an embarrassment of riches.
my parents still live in the house my sister and i grew up in, a statuesque shingled masterpiece near the presidio–near enough that you can smell the eucalyptus. after high school i left, because one must to truly appreciate, for seven years. i went to college in connecticut, where i embraced the snow, slipped on the ice, cursed the distance, and pined for my city. i went to law school in north carolina, where i was intoxicated by the spring blooms, the uneven sidewalks, the drawl, the sweet tea. it was a social experiment and i loved it. but still home is home is home, and after graduating i did the most natural thing in the world and drove my life straight across the country back to where i belong. i ended my torrid affair with the south. i believe it is hard to grow up in san francisco and end up anywhere else.
i practice a very san francisco kind of law, at a very san francisco law firm. i am one of what i can only imagine is a very select group of litigators who occasionally wears a crinoline under a full skirt to work, with my red and occasionally black nails and sky high heels. then i come home, take it all off, put on ratty shorts and a giants hat, and take roo on a long walk. i prefer to do so in the fog. i love it when this city is brigadoon. it is all very, very san francisco. this is who i am as an adult here.
i was born in 1980 at the alternative birth center at mount zion hospital in lower pacific heights. and that’s all very san francisco and appropriate. i now live in that neighborhood, where each block is an adventure. i explore my city, camera in hand, and i rediscover it. there are few things more gratifying than showing this city off to visitors, walking from neighborhood to neighborhood, noting how they segue into each other, and how their smells and sidewalk art and denizens match and clash.
i ride the bus in this city, and it informs and pushes me. to ride the 22, and sometimes the 1, is to have my romance with this city challenged from every angle, but isn’t it a real relationship, to ride the 22 at 11pm, and still consider san francisco one of my truest loves?
the summer after my sophmore year in college i was supposed to live in los angeles ((insert hissing noise here)) and i had a plum job in the entertainment world. my mom had recently recovered from an illness, and the minute i got to LA i knew it was wrong. i returned to san francisco days later, despite the fact that i was, in essence, alone in the city with my parents and our cat. none of my friends, the faces that defined the place for me until that summer, were there. and that summer i nested in the city alone. i worked at a book store and i ran the steepest inclines and i redefined what this city is to me. i would drive home, late at night, when the traffic lights on pine are flashing and there is no stopping, and i could feel the city living in me. it was then that i became an adult in san francisco, in a mature relationship with this remarkable place.
i grew up here, yes. i had a childhood that is filled with drives to berkeley, landings in sfo (where you think, you truly think, the plane is going to land on water), japanese food downtown, the roses in golden gate park, the windows of mom’s office looking out onto the haight. but i did not know, then, how lucky a duck i was. it is a proud thing to be a san franciscan, and a native at that. but i don’t think i had context for just how remarkable this place is when i was young. it was simply home.
it took leaving. it took, even, loving another place, to realize that san francisco is where i come from but it is also where i belong. it took reacquainting myself with the city on my own, away from the trappings of my childhood spent here, to realize it is my city through and through. and to belong here is an honor, bestowed on the many, because that is how san francisco rolls.
Posted: April 6th, 2009 | Author: julie | Filed under: Western Addition/NOPA | Tags: Western Addition/NOPA | No Comments »
in NOPA
Friday afternoon
***
We belong somewhere like this.
Those were the words I wrote in an email to my husband, Brent, inspired by San Francisco on my first business trip to the city. Several years passed and my passion for the city intensified, eventually spreading deep through Brent as well. We were sick with desire to pick up and start over with the cold fog on our bags. But at the time, we were a newly married couple with mortgage payments and careers firmly fixing us in Raleigh, North Carolina. I’ve learned in life that when you really want something… I mean, really, deep down inside of you want something, things have a way of working out. In some strange twist of fate, San Francisco opened itself up to us when my company offered me a new position and the opportunity to transfer to the Bay Area. In a matter of a few weeks and many boxes, our house was sold, our cars too… our belongings either packed away in the attics of our family or sold to someone off craigslist.
We were minimal. Only the bare essentials were placed on a truck and headed for Baker St., San Francisco. Arriving here was like exhaling. I’d been so fearful for so long that somehow our impossible stroke of luck was going to fall away and leave us short of realizing our dream. The mornng of our move, we flew out on the first flight from RDU, our two small dogs in carriers under our seats. We slept on the floor of an empty apartment for three days until the moving truck made its way to our door.
Our tiny new apartment was a mere fraction of the size of our former home, and yet it felt like a kingdom to us. The Victorian ceilings were high enough to hold all of our expectations. The old uneven hardwoods supported our dancing feet and the old furniture we dragged in off the street. We explored our new neighborhood like wide-eyed children. We absorbed everything. Everyone. In two months time, I went from never having ridden a city bus to navigating from one neighborhood to the next without even looking up.
Our relationship and trust in one another grew exponentially in our new city. We discovered new places, took winding rides to the top of Twin Peaks and to the edge of the Cliff House. I smelled and breathed and viewed everything on the back of my husband’s motorcycle, never needing to say a word, feeling his energy and mine and that of the city abounding. In the beginning we were euphoric.
And then as time passed, we began to feel comfortable. We slept through grocery carts clanging past our windows and people laughing loudly at 3am. We learned where to find a killer barbeque sandwich, delicious Pho, and the best hardware store to purchase paint. We began to know people. Shop owners, neighbors, new friends. Our dream was growing into a solid new life. Brent found work as an art assistant for an established San Francisco artist and his music has been welcomed by venues and patrons across the city.
San Francisco has changed both of us. Every day we throw back the covers, open the blinds, and expect to be charmed. We close our eyes each night, with expectations met. We are living in San Francisco deliriously, passionately, feverishly… because it was true all along. We belonged somewhere like this.
