It's only fitting that, wandering around San Francisco, the city where the Love Generation took hold, I found stores still rockin' the 60s vibe. Yes, yes, I know, 60s-era clothing styles got a little updating and became fashionable again. I was thrilled--I love the styles. Just didn't think the . . .
A trumpet plays a mournful tune nine floors below, then I hear a bagpipe. A bagpipe? Breaking glass tinkles like a discordant piano, then crashes like cymbals. It's recyclers smashing bottles at the end of the night. Every so often waves of laughter and conversation float upward as small groups . . .
I'd moved to the San Francisco Bay area just the year before when a guy I'd met took me out on the town. It was a cold, wintry night in San Francisco, so we stopped in late at the Buena Vista to warm up with an Irish coffee. Maybe you didn't know that Irish coffee was invented in San Francisco at . . .
Wandering around San Francisco one day we saw constant reminders that it pays to keep your eyes open and pay attention to your surroundings. When we saw this sidewalk stain we all stopped to look, and, of course, shoot photographs of the phallic symbol, before walking on, only to encounter this: . . .
The thing about San Francisco is that it has countless faces ... and many moods. I've been there innumerable times when the sky was inescapably blue and the sunshine as golden as the hills. But I think I appreciate the City most in the fog, when its mood and romance envelope us. The other Saturday . . .
It's summer and bathing beauties are enjoying a dip in the San Francisco Bay area. These are circa 1937 WPA murals at the Beach Chalet in San Francisco and they depict Depression-era life in the city. A dip was an easy way to keep cool. But, I wonder, why did they need to keep cool in a city that . . .
I awaken in the dark in a hotel on Powell Street and look at the clock. It's the middle of the night downtown and even in the late dark the city throbs and hums. Outside my window, glass crashes into metal as liquor bottles are recycled to make room for the next day's empties. The truck motor . . .
There's no place like The Castro (district) in San Francisco, not even Greenwich Village (which is hallowed ground, thanks to the 1969 Stonewall riots that began the rebellion against repression and police raids against gays. Honestly, it boggles my mind that police were concerned about gay men's . . .
Sometimes the Fog City isn't foggy at all. Sometimes, the day is so spectacular that you almost expect the Chamber of Commerce to come out to capture the sights for tourism brochures. For example, these birds, enjoying a brief respite in the sun, before either winging away or getting into someone's . . .
Many San Francisco mornings start with fog. It's why the place is sometimes called Fog City. The fog wreaks havoc with my fine, curly hair which I take great pains to straighten every morning, but I don't care. It's moody and evocative and it fits in with the way I live in my head. I've done some . . .