The sky is overcast, the air is cool and a little crisp and there are dry leaves on the damp ground. Though it is the dead middle of December, it feels like autumn, my favorite season.
I am in mourning because I am leaving North Beach to move to a flat in the Upper Haight and I will miss it's beauty. This walk is a bit ceremonial for me. I wanted a chance to drink her in as I start to say goodbye...
As I come to the top of the park where St. Peter and Paul's cathedral stands erect, keeping it's watchful, fatherly eye on the addicts, the vagrants and the children playing in the park (yes, they are all at play today), I come upon a series of trucks and trailers lining the side of the street. The trailers are labeled "Costume" and "Makeup" and I discover they are shooting a film here today.
My imagination starts to wander... what kind of story will be told of my neighborhood?
The large industrial trucks, with back panels raised, are filled with cameras, cords, and lights. The film crew, shaggy haired men dressed in black, are lined up and down the sidewalk, smoking cigarettes and talking excitedly to one another.
I pass by the last truck on the block and this one looks markedly different from the others. It is longer and black. I eagerly peek inside for answers.
It is packed with three vintage cars. Beautiful maroon, navy blue and emerald green 1940's era cars. "Of course," I think to myself, "a period film!" This is the perfect neighborhood for this story. I glance around me and notice the storefronts of North Beach that I pass everyday. But now I squint and try to look at them through the eyes of a storyteller...
I see the gilded window frames of the Goorin Bros. Hat shop, circa 1895, filled with textured, handmade fedoras and berets. (http://www.goorin.com/hat-shops/san-francisco-north-beach)
And next door to it, my very lovely Cafe Divine, which occupies the corner space of the Italianate Dante building. Elderly Italian patrons in tweed jackets and tourists in windbreakers sit outside at the roundish tables, sipping their red wine. (http://www.cafedivinesf.com/)
And then, of course, the elegant little Mario's Bohemian Cigar Store Cafe. (http://www.northbeachshop.com/pages/marios.html)
A young man in a green hoodie leaves one of the trucks with a tripod under his arm at his side, and starts to jog toward me. He slows down when he nears and points to the corners of his mouth as he turns to me, painting a smile onto his face. I catch his eye. He wants me to smile. I smile back, and, satisfied, he continues on.
My head hangs down in contemplation. A hint of my grin remains as I near my apartment. I wanted to turn back and tell him "thank you"...
Thank you for sharing your smile. Thank you for noticing my mourning, darkened eyes. Thank you for giving me a taste of your joy. I can tell that he is excited about the story about to be told here, just like I am.
Dear North Beach,
You have been a warm welcome, a captivating muse and a good friend, and now I am moving on.
Not "but." And.
It's a very important distinction.
Your truly,
Rachael
4 comments:
you are going to love the upper haight! we will be neighbs.
Closer to me! Good move!
That was one of the most romantic love letters I've ever read. Thanks for sharing. NYC still has tons of love for you.
future roomie, feel free to mourn, but know that it is going to be lovely over here.
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