I Miss San Francisco

Missing pieces: The 10-day challenge

Today is day four of a 10-day writing challenge. There is not too much to say about the challenge as the only requirement is to write and publish for 10 consecutive days. That in itself is enough of a challenge as my usual cadence is three to four a week.

My application to the San Francisco Art Institute was accepted. I also received an acceptance letter from The California Institute of the Arts in Oakland and although my grandfather was an alumnus of the latter, I decided on SFAI mostly for financial reasons and the school entered my life as the final chapter of my relationship with SF.

My history with the city starts with the roots of my family tree. Both my great aunt and my grandfather were born in the city shortly after the 1906 earthquake. Auntie never had a birth certificate having been born in a tent in North Beach while city hall smoldered in ashes. My grandfather, aptly named Art, would go on to become art director at the SF Examiner just as the stock market was crashing in ’29. In synchrony with major events, he retired on independence day of the nation’s bicentennial.

My childhood was peppered with visits to the city. When the central valley heat overwhelmed Sacramento in August we would head for the bay to visit Art and Dorothy in Albany and base day trips to the Steinhart Aquarium, DeYoung Museum, and the numerous green spaces of Golden Gate Park. I often spent a week with my grandparents with trips to The Emporium at Union Square, The Press Club, and Alioto’s Fish Grotto at Fishermans’ Wharf. In those days there were no tourist gift shops and the harbor was filled with purse seine fishing boats, the sailboats, and sea lions decades away.

The air of San Francisco is perhaps what I miss most. The moist foggy mornings rehydrating parched nostrils. The pungent yeasty smell of baking sourdough bread. The waterfront is filled with fishiness from both raw and cooked seafood. The ozone…

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