I had left plenty of time. The change at Millbrae takes only about five minutes. And there was  time for that and time for BART to be late. Or so I thought. But this is the end times, or more precisely, the era of social collapse, or probably something else involving the pandemic, the Republicans and so on. In short, BART was late. There is something in me that expects the world to run fairly smoothly. The transit systems are, in fact, systems. That things work. The center holds. And so Read more [...]

With Jane’s retirement I have been taking every opportunity to do things together, such as go out for coffee or breakfast of a morning. Like this morning. Which was naturally paired with a trip down to the Mission District branch of Bank of the West. But we dawdled. The morning went on its own way, exhausting itself in the process. Which meant that in the end I headed for the bank, and Jane wandered up a nearby hill with our dog. What is more urban than a subway? Yes, it is terribly convenient Read more [...]

It was 100 years ago when a car went sailing out of Natick Street and right into a tram on Chenery Street. The wreck was a big one, killing either five or seven people. I can’t recall. But it’s certainly part of neighborhood history. The sidewalks are narrow, and Natick Street itself is barely a street, more an alley, which means that going uphill it is impossible to see around the building and also to realize that drivers are oblivious to the limited view of pedestrians.  Of course, Read more [...]

I board the #36 bus almost in front of our house, the day beautiful, the prospect of lunch with a friend enticing. Yet, as the bus descends our hill toward the Mission District, so do my spirits. Just enough to notice. And why? Partly because on this particular day, at this particular moment, I am aware in a generalized way of loss. Mine. That I recall driving this very hill not that long ago. And general. I haven’t made all that many trips like this via bus in this era of eternal, or at least Read more [...]

When I fall silent for weeks, Gentle Reader, although it’s not exactly time to worry, it is time to infer, correctly, that something is going on. And that something might generally be described as the passage of time. I mean, aging is a polite way of saying that one is staring directly into the face of death, vis-à-vis the grim reaper. That sort of thing. So, I have been brooding upon this reality, which may not be such a bad idea. After all, such are the facts. And there’s another thing…that Read more [...]

Jane is leaving for her day with the grandsons, and as she departs, I do the same. I am encouraged in this maneuver by the low-level beeps emanating from my Apple Watch.  ”Time to roll,” the watch says. It has discerned that I am in a wheelchair and offers me this hourly advisory. Apple, being from Silicon Valley, home of the physically fit, which encompasses the liberal vision of the “differently abled”…is concerned about my quadriplegic cardiovascular health. One cannot help Read more [...]