The Life in My Years

An anthology of life

My San Francisco is a series of posts that describes my own personal relationship with The City. My San Francisco pieces might be photo essays; they might be life stories or they could be commentaries. They might be a combination of some or all three. My impressions aren’t always paeans to San Francisco; it’s a …

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“I don’t get why this is so fucking difficult.” That was the gist of my daughter’s text message to me last Saturday morning. What was it that was so fucking difficult? A new transmitter for her diabetes monitor still had not shipped and without the transmitter the monitor was just useless hardware. Monitors can give …

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Ramshackle looking cafe/diners dotted the area.  Places like Susie’s, family owned and looking sketchy on the outside and maybe a little greasy on the inside offered simple fare and good service

The City doesn’t beckon us back; we simply waiver and then cave.  And so a few short months later I’d fallen in love again.  That’s how it goes.  It’s love/hate/love. 

You passed them by as they left and you looked the other way, awkward, nothing to say.  They were already gone, ghosts who’s memories haunted the productions lines.

There’s something heretical about buying a few cans of Spam, a frozen pizza, toilet paper and a sixer of Coors Light and then asking the checker, “Oh and can you ring me up a six foot noble fir please?” Some things just have to remain sacred. 

“I have been looking on, this evening, at a merry company of children assembled round that pretty German toy, a Christmas Tree. The tree was planted in the middle of a great round table, and towered high above their heads. It was brilliantly lighted by a multitude of little tapers; and everywhere sparkled and glittered …

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In April of 1869 a fire broke out at the 800 foot level of the Yellow Jacket Mine killing at least 35 miners

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