We had thought to visit Muir Woods, across the Golden Gate bridge from San Francisco, but events multiplied and time dribbled off into unplanned pleasures, and we dearly wanted to visit Heidi and Jack on the coast below Santa Cruz, so we took command of our nostalgia and road maps and went to San Francisco.
Not all of San Francisco; just the part we love most: Fisherman's Wharf. Ahhh!
I wrote one of our earlier visits there into a poem by which we told our friends we were going to marry: "Like Daisies in the Summer Sun".
I remembered that it had been with George and Jean Miller that I first ate at Fisherman's Grotto #9; the first sit-down restaurant on the Wharf, which had opened in 1935. My first visit had been about 55 years ago. We ate there.
"City Lights bookstore is up that way," Mari said. I agreed that it was, and that she was multiplying events. We both knew that. We both knew that Muir Woods was across the Bridge that way, and that Heidi was the other way, and that we were caught in time.
Instead, we saluted Russian Hill, and the Hungarian restaurant in Ghirardelli Square up on the hill that is no longer there, where once we had eaten. We always lament its absence, in order to remember its pleasure.
We saluted the fog--summer staple--and Alcatraz Island--glad it was closed as a prison; now something to look through the cushion of history.
Then we walked back to the car, toward Heidi, down the coast. It turned out to be not only Heidi and Jack, but Dylan, too! Sometimes one just gets lucky!
I wrote one of our earlier visits there into a poem by which we told our friends we were going to marry: "Like Daisies in the Summer Sun".
I remembered that it had been with George and Jean Miller that I first ate at Fisherman's Grotto #9; the first sit-down restaurant on the Wharf, which had opened in 1935. My first visit had been about 55 years ago. We ate there. 
"City Lights bookstore is up that way," Mari said. I agreed that it was, and that she was multiplying events. We both knew that. We both knew that Muir Woods was across the Bridge that way, and that Heidi was the other way, and that we were caught in time. 
Instead, we saluted Russian Hill, and the Hungarian restaurant in Ghirardelli Square up on the hill that is no longer there, where once we had eaten. We always lament its absence, in order to remember its pleasure. 
Then we walked back to the car, toward Heidi, down the coast. It turned out to be not only Heidi and Jack, but Dylan, too! Sometimes one just gets lucky!
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| Jack, Heidi, Dylan, Conrad, Mari (Photo by Heidi) |
That is how lucky one sometimes gets!
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