I like my men, dogs, and cities with a certain scruffy charm.
San Francisco’s charming – but scruffy? Not so much anymore.
Don’t let the hoodies fool you: there’s expensive hair cuts and skin creams behind there, and the yoga pants are pricey too. Even the head shops are well-kept, and the vaporizers sleek and high-tech.
I met two men on Corona Heights, and our small dogs met, and matched. We stood around the bench admiring the view: the sharp diagonal of Market Street, the rainbow flag at 17th, the buildings punching up into sky, the bay shimmering and Mount Diablo beyond. One of them said “I can’t wait till the Salesforce building gets built!”
I had to ask him to say it again – sure I must have heard him wrong.
I snarled, “I’d like to tear ’em all down!” Then I told them about the drones I had seen being flown off Corona Heights: “Drones, can you believe it?” And he said “Drones, wow, cool!”
I was indignant, but even more, I felt the forces of this place rearranging themselves in a way that did not include me. I was not in favor of buzzing, whining machines in a place of wind and hawks.
But perhaps I’m irrelevant. Perhaps this place changes and moves on. Do you fight the tide, or allow the change, perhaps even move to a different tidal zone? Do I want to preserve what’s great about San Francisco, or am I just that old lady yelling at the kids to get off her proverbial lawn?
The morning had promised heat, but the fog was moving in, licking around my elbows and down my forearms, minty and cool. The air in San Francisco is more bracing than relaxing, and nothing stays still in this town.
With a Perspective, I’m Joy Maulitz.
Joy Maulitz is a San Francisco lawyer, poet and radio host.