Tis hard to leave.” Rudyard Kipling was right about that one thing, at least. We are flying back to NC as I type this and I already miss the City. My dearest widower and I were accompanied by our teaching orphan (TO) and his adorable wife, which made the trip extra special. Our orphan’s wife is the ultimate Vacation Planner (VP). Without her, the three of us would have lounged around the resort and watched football. With her, we covered every district the City, walked every one of San Fran’s 43 hills, and watched football as we passed by a sports bar. Some other highlights:
- I drove across the Golden Gate Bridge twice, rejoicing that my driving and heights phobias are conquered. Thank you, Lord! I could have had a panic attack but so what? It was pure joy. Exhilarating.
- I am sure we passed a former student of mine, pacing back and forth while laughing hysterically and pantomiming cartoons as always. I remembered how hard he could punch me in the stomach (not deliberately!) when he was a teenager 30 years ago, so regretfully, I didn’t say a word. My widower, TO, and VP were grateful. It was no surprise to see this guy still doing the same things and he seemed “happy” as ever. As my student, he would laugh like crazy (no joke there) as he pulled me across the cafeteria in his attempts to escape. Linoleum is so slick but perhaps cleats would have helped me get a grip.
- The Haight-Ashbury district, once our home at the tail end of the Free Love era, has been gentrified a bit but is recognizable. My widower and I posed in the entrance to our former roach rental. We’ve been gentrified, as well. Peace, man.