Southern Fried Chicken in The Bayview 7/21/15

I love using my time to take Muni routes around the city and find it a fabulous way to see and hear what's going on. I use to do this while in graduate school, it fueled my thinking and writing time. 

Hungry for real Southern fried chicken, I made my way out  the  T-Muni line on Third St. to "Auntie April's" in the Bayview District. With closing time at 4pm, I figured getting there around 2pm for a late brunch and traveling in broad daylight alone would be fairly safe.

I boarded across from the Cal Train Station, there were a few others waiting, including a very large young black woman with two men. She spoke loudly peppering her expressions with numerous iterations of the "f-word".  We ended up sharing the same trolley car. She continued on loudly as if to attract attention to herself on purpose and at one point made a display of zipping up her jeans. I concluded she had a jean's zipper problem, you know those zippers that no matter what one does to try and ensure it stays zipped, it doesn't? I have a pair of those.

One of the men appeared to be a lost soul, skinny, potentially jumpy but still. He kept to himself while hugging a full unopened fifth of liquor under his jacket and a small brown paper bag. The other man appeared older, calm, quietly in charge.The young woman finally sat down. With earplugs linked to her phone, we listened as she sang  along pitch perfect to some rapper deliver a litany of  "f-laced" travails. We listened again when she replayed particular points that she admitted out loud to identify with---we learned the only thing she personally had not experienced yet and survived was cancer. 

I wanted to tell her that she had a nice voice. Instead, I decided it best to not engage. I listened and looked out the windows at the neighborhood along Third Street taking in how the area has changed, learning how we have changed.

The three of them left  the train several stops ahead of me. The young woman lugged a heavy canvas bag filled with various bottles of liquor. She happily boasted to two younger teenage girls she knew (and who had just boarded) that she planned to sell the bottles. I wondered where and how these bottles were acquired in the first place. 

I wondered why this young woman chose to live her life in this way---the way--- is what I imagine, the conclusions drawn about her life from this brief encounter on a Muni trolley in the middle of a sunny day in San Francisco.

After disembarking, I crossed to the sidewalk along Third St. heading to Auntie April's. This is not something I would do at night. The storefronts are bleak, two forlorn people sat on the sidewalk, their backs against a brick wall, literally. I walked past two healthy young males squatting near a corner storefront. Observing them, I found myself channeling 'don't even think about trying something'.  

Once inside Auntie April's, I relaxed. The waitress greeted me with a broad smile, she was warm and adorable. After bringing me a glass of unsweetened ice tea, I ordered the two piece fried chicken topping an original waffle. Yum. Made-to-order Heaven! 

A little old lady carrying a cane moved from one table to the window table near me. People who knew her waved as they walked by. April, April's Mother, and the waitress all checked on her. When she stood to leave, she turned to me and said "have a nice day". I thanked her and said "you too" and how much I liked her outfit, a cerulean blue sweatsuit like jacket and pants. 

Stuffed to the gills, I left the warmth of my Auntie April experience to walk over to the T line trolley stop. The sidewalks were clear except for a man holding a beverage can outside a corner store, maybe a bar. I walked past him with my hands on my hips, stretching my back and stood in this position while waiting for the streetlight to change. 

"Hey, Mama! Whatchu do'in standing all up with your hands on your hips?! "

I turned back laughing and walked towards him. "I'm stuffed, just left Auntie April's."

"You need to take a long walk then!"

"I am walking, right over to that T stop."

"I'm Johnny, nice to meet you", he smiled holding out his hand.

"I'm Nancy", smiling and shaking his hand

"You have a good day, now."

"You, too!"

Three Precious SF Moments 4/24/15

My Mother use to say that everything happens in Threes.

Out and about doing an errand on a breezy, cool, drought dry, and sun-filled day in San Francisco. Riding the #2 Clement St. bus on Sutter out of downtown, I came upon precious moment #1 looking out the window around the Larkin St. stop. As my day evolved, two more Precious Moments touched my heart.

Precious Moment #1: A man and best friend on her leash, a tiny black and white Chihuahua dressed  in an equally tiny hot pink warmer vest whose four paws were protected in teensy hot pink sneakers. A-dorable.

Precious Moment #2: For the second day in a row on the #2 Clement, I saw the same young girl riding the bus with a sweet yellow Lab service dog for the blind. Each day this mellow companion lay on the floor out of the aisle and under the seat by the girl's legs. I could not see if the Lab was a female or male, but on both days, this precious being made a point to find a comfortable position so it's snout lay on the girl's foot, wanting to feel her and be as close as possible to his companion. Once in a while, the young Lab raised up as if seeking affection, a pet or scratch behind the ear. I wondered if the girl was legally blind or helping to train the dog for someone else.

Precious Moment #3: A young Mother teaching her little girl how to roller skate in the wonderful little Sue Bierman Park located between Washington and Clay along The Embarcadero. The little girl appeared to be about four or five and was also dressed in a hot pink ensemble with matching hot pink and white durable plastic skates. I passed them on the sidewalk and as her Mom held her hand, I heard the little girl say, 'I want to to do it by myself’.

OK.

A few steps later, I turned around to see how going it alone went, Mom had walked over to put down a backpack on a park bench while the little girl bravely struggled to stand up again by herself after falling. Bless her heart.

Seven Years Later, What's Changed?

I have not dreamed that I sleep in a MUNI bus shelter since my post below in 2008. Suze Orman's worst nightmare scenario behind me. This does not suggest that I can actually afford retirement living in San Francisco or surrounding communities. Who knew the world would be in an absolute upside down mess?

Mayor Gavin Newsom now serves as California's Lt. Governor, I remain unclear what the Lt. does. Expect Newsom to run in the next Governor's race as Jerry Brown terms out. Kamala Harris serves as Attorney General and moved to Southern California. Harris will run for Barbara Boxer's U.S. Senate seat as Boxer retires.

Seven years later, my homeless neighbor continues shuffling up and down Nob Hill streets. He still looks frail and dirty. And I still wonder where he sleeps, how he eats---how in the world has he survived?

Snug as a bedbug in myMUNIspace

I slept snug as a bedbug on a foam mattress in a Muni bus shelter. Early morning sunlight cast a soft yellow glow around me. I didn't notice if it was one of Mayor Gavin Newsom's new three-sided "green" bus shelters. MyMUNIspace offered more shelter with three and one-half sides. Later, I stood in a dirty restroom taking what my Mother use to call a"spit" bath.

Fear gripped me down to my bones when I woke up. Is fear wrestling my subconcious dreams in the wake of a complete U.S. economic meltdown? Maybe. Am I beside myself at this mind-boggling trillion dollar debt we owe around the globe? Definitely.

Should I find a therapist or call Suze Orman? Consider me Suze's worst nightmare. I mastered Suze's list of 'do's and don'ts' long before this week's complete financial tsunami. FICO,SCHMICO. Suze, it feels way too late.

Then, I wondered.

Is fear cloaking the homeless man who shuffles up and down California Street, past Nob Hill's Grace Cathedral, luxury hotels, and dog walkers in Huntingdon Park? Sadness washes over me as I watch him from my seat on the cable car. He hugs "thin rail"arms to his chest, he carries nothing.

Yesterday, I began cleaning out things. Bits and pieces that I don't need, let alone have room for in my apartment. So, I'm taking all of this as a sign of change rather than a wake-up call.

And if anyone else out there experiences phobias about waking up with bedbugs in a Muni bus shelter, I'd like to hear from you. Who knows, maybe a C.W. Nevius column in The Chronicle about our plight could help others, too.