March 31, 2020

The view from the Tenderloin

The View from the Tenderloin:
The last day of a very trying month. I'm not sure if I'm getting my retirement social security tomorrow or Friday, some months it's the first, some it's the third. Which ever day it is, I will take two money orders to my new building manager and get the keys to my place. A new apartment, in a new neighborhood (soma), and the the first time in two years, I'll be living by myself. Senior housing, and I am looking forward to it very much.
My morning walk provides me time to think and gather impressions. Also sing. I love to sing along with the music I listen to on my blue-tooth head phones. The empty streets provide a venue for that, I don't want others to hear. I got a bit sloppy in that regard today, someone caught my eye. When I took the head phones off he asked, with a sparkle in his eye, “what did you do with the money?” What money I asked. “The money your parents gave you for singing lessons.” He said it with a grin, and it spiked my good mood. I love this town.
These empty streets are spoiling me, I'm wondering if others feel the same. I saw on the news this morning that Oakland is moving their homeless into all the empty hotel rooms. I contacted Mayor Breed here in SF and asked if she would consider doing the same, I like her, but I'm not going to hold my breath. I haven't seen my little buddy with the personality disorder for a while now, and my thoughts and prayers walk with him, wherever he is.
Keep those dear to your close
God save the Republic

March 30, 2020

The view from the Tenderloin

The View from the Tenderloin:
A fine morning, the fluffy white clouds, blue skies and clean light giving an air of optimism and renewal. Without hundreds of thousands of commuters coming into the City these streets belong to the residents now, and they are coming out. Cautiously, many gloved and masked, but coming out they are. The frantic pace of new construction continues, I had one worker wave me to the other side of Market street, when I looked up I saw why. They were setting a platform on the edge of some new construction, and he wanted me out of harms way if something went wrong.
As I walked in front of a Walgreens, I saw a heroin addict bent over at the waste, as you often see happen. There was a very straight young white guy standing and watching, I stopped to chat, said it's heroin, and he replied that he knew. He said he was a police officer, waiting to go to work at the Walgreens when they opened. I talked a bit about how the homeless situation was exacerbated by those who should be institutionalized instead of wandering the streets. I talked briefly about my buddy with the pervasive personality disorder, how I had been advocating for him for four years now, and that he was currently out here. He thanked me for my efforts. He replied that the City Council did not agree with me, that they felt taking those people off the streets would violate their rights. It pains me that they feel that way, if, for no other reason than it puts both them and us in danger. I may be a fool, and an old fool at that, but I don't go out unarmed. I don't carry a gun, there are other ways, but I do it specifically for that reason. The hookers pimps and street dealers are all quite evident. The formal economy may be shutting down, but the underground economy is thriving. The pot clubs have cut their prices and are doing free deliveries. Same for the restaurants, the ones that haven't shuttered. Life goes on.
Keep those you hold dear close
God save the Republic.

March 29, 2020

The view from the Tenderloin

The View from the Tenderloin:

One of my neighborhood parks, (I have a foto, can't figure out how to add it) looking rather forlorn and empty. It was cold, breezy, and rainy this morning as I took my walk. The homeless, as it was still early, were still huddled in their tents, the lucky ones, others were under dirty blankets and sleeping bags. The oblivion of sleep, and dreams, preferable to the harsh reality of life on the streets. Grey and empty, a sad parady of the city I once knew.
This is the last Sunday in the Hyde street apartment I've occupied for the last two years and three months. The memories that are lasered into my mind are astonishing. I've known joy, love, hate, terror and wonder. I've dealt with heroes and villians, lovers and Demons. I've had epic battles with management over trying to shelter my homeless friend, that well has definately been poisoned. It's why I'm moving. I haven't seen my little buddy for ten days or so, and I try not to think about him too much. When I'm feeling rational and thinking clearly, it doesn't bother me too badly, but when that situation catches me off guard it's like being hit by a sledge hammer, the tears flow and I gasp for breath. I will see him again, I just don't know when. The demons in his head are well known to me, and I to them. When I get on them too hard, for too long, they drive him away. They can't keep him away though, I'm all he has in this cold world.
Hold those dear to you close.
God save the Republic.

March 28, 2020

The view from the Tenderloin

The View from the Tenderloin:
It's damp and chilly on this weekend morning, a good time for a walk. I cut through the neighborhood down to Market, down Market to fourth st., and then down to Folsom. I wanted to walk by the building I'm moving to next week, maybe just to reassure myself that it was still there, I don't know. Two point six miles there and back, then up two flights of stairs, and it wore me out a bit. I am, I need to remind myself occasionally, an old man of sixty nine.
Most blocks of Market have a cop car sitting in the middle of the sidewalk. Not sure why, there is very little activity. Just, as always, the dog walkers and the homeless, the most people I saw were waiting in line to get into Trader Joe's at Market and fourth.
The homeless. The people on the fringes of our society are always exposed during calamities. They are, in some strange way, heroes to me. Their stoic suffering, their vulnerability, touch me. They are at our mercy, and there seems to be little of that to go around.
“Why so unforgiving
And why so cold
Been a long time crossing
Bridge of sighs”
Hold those dear to you close.
God save the Republic

March 27, 2020

The view from the Tenderloin

The View from the Tenderloin:
On my morning walk-(I try to walk five miles a day) I saw an increase in traffic, both vehicular and pedestrian. Not a huge increase, but enough to notice. I went by Glide to look at the line of people getting breakfast. I like to sense the vibes, and try to read the faces. My beloved San Francisco is adapting, it is a magical place. These Pacific Rim cities are different from the cities and towns of the heartland, SF has more in common with Hong Kong than Omaha. When the shelter in place order came down, I had a chat with my building manager, and I asked him “what about the homeless?” He replied that he hadn't thought about them. Nobody ever does. I do. I have a close friend who is homeless, and is always on my mind. The sky this morning is a pale blue, the sun is shining, but the wind out of the north is bitter cold. The city and the cops are tolerating tents, that is a new thing. When I was homeless twenty odd years ago that was unheard of. When my homeless friend crossed my mind, as I walked back home, the tears came, I couldn't stop them.
God save the Republic

March 26, 2020

The view from the Tenderloin

The View from the Tenderloin:
I took my morning walk, and as usual, the empty sidewalks of Market Street had a twilight zone feel. These sidewalks-(as wide as many streets in Cedar Rapids) usually hold hundreds of thousands. Now they belong to the homeless, the dog walkers, those so poor they have to go to the churches that feed them, and bands of roving cops. The apocalypses. It's ghastly.
I can't stop wondering if I'm still vulnerable. As I've posted before, I caught it when it first arrived, brought it home and infected my two housemates. The feeling when it migrated down into my lungs was painful, and still gives me the creeps. I coughed my lungs out for several weeks, it was uncontrollable and exhausting. I'm sixty nine years old, but have an immune system made of iron- I shrugged off polio when I was a toddler. My two housemates came out of it ok as well, but were both surprised by how easily, and quickly,it went from me to them, and acknowledged that they had never had anything like it before.
God save the Republic.