Homeless and Holidaymakers

 

We drove towards the hotel, and as we neared the address, we noticed more and more homeless people on the sidewalks. The weather is beautiful here in San Francisco, but what do these poor people do when it turns?

This morning, I walked to Fisherman’s Wharf. I walked alone with memories, so many memories of visiting The City first with Judy, Mom and Dad as a child, and many times since with various combinations of family.

Again, so many homeless people. Everywhere.

I passed a stand with a sign: Go Bananas! A lady handed me a beautiful banana, which I enjoyed as I continued walking. Someone trying to do something to help.

On Pier 39, so many tourists browsing the shops, looking for ways to spend their souvenir money. Lots of cowboy hats being sold, and sweatshirts and ball caps. I had a bowl of clam chowder. As good as ever.

I stood on the edge of the pier, watching as seals and sea lions frolicked in the bay, as those primeval pelicans swooped past in formation, all between us and Alcatraz, the notorious prison which I visited many a year ago with Mom, Dad, Doug and Robbie. A woman posed for her man, smiling brightly, Alcatraz in the background.

I thought of the stories we were told when we visited Alcatraz, about the desperate prisoners, who could hear the sounds of laughter and life across the water, trying to swim to freedom towards the bridge. Many became meals for sharks. So much sadness.

I sat on a bench and looked at the Golden Gate Bridge. My grandma’s favourite song was ‘I left my heart in San Francisco’, crooned by Nat King Cole. I sang it softly under my breath, remembering. Wondering if it was such a different place then, or not.

Back in my hotel room, there is a fairly frequent serenade of sirens. A huge contrast to the beauty and peace of Big Sur, where we were on Sunday and Monday morning.

That’s another story.

The earth is the Lord’s and everything in it. I have seen a bit of everything today. Lord, have mercy.