It has been almost 40 years since I first traversed Golden Gate Park, en route to an apartment in the Richmond District, more than 6000 miles from home. For some reason, I recall the corner of 25th Avenue and Geary Boulevard, streetlights that probably should have been brighter, the Doggie Diner on the northeast corner. It was late at night, after a transcontinental flight, preceded by a three-month journey from the former Soviet Union.
Unlike much of San Francisco, the Outer Richmond, west of 18th Avenue, home to the Alexandria theater, on the northwest corner of Geary, has been resistant to change, to the waves of gentrification that have rolled through the City for the past 40 years. Perhaps it’s the fog, although but for the summer months, where subtropical moisture is the norm, the Richmond is as pleasant a neighborhood as any, and September and October, the heart of Indian Summer, are nothing short of spectacular, as you walk, west, toward Ocean Beach, and the chilly waters of the Pacific to escape heat that may oppress virtually every other part of the Bay Area. But for Sea Cliff, the Outer Richmond was, and remains, working and middle class, no frills, without aspirations of any sort. West of 25th Avenue, it is almost entirely residential, with two-story homes differentiated primarily by the choice of exterior paint color, some more adventuresome than others. Some newer construction exists, but if you drop me off on the corner of 41st Avenue and Anza, less than half a block from where I lived during the mid-1980s, in 50 years, I have a high level of confidence that it will be largely, if not entirely, unchanged. Walking past my old duplex, about a year ago, it seemed as though nothing had changed, except for a relatively fresh, but, in my humble opinion, less attractive coat of paint.
For ten years, I lived not more than six blocks from Golden Gate Park, the jewel of the avenues. I can recall, east to west, visits to the Children’s Playground and the seemingly long, cement slides, practices and matches at the Golden Gate Park Tennis Complex, pedal boats around Stow Lake, hikes up Strawberry Hill, visits to the De Young Museum and the California Academy of Sciences, pickup volleyball on Speedway Meadows, model boats, pensioners, and tai chi practitioners at Spreckels Lake, bike rides, runs and walks around the Polo Fields, and soccer at Park Chalet. While in high school, I remember one particularly cold December, for San Francisco, where one of the lakes froze, and at least one person (not me) felt emboldened to test the resolve of the ice. Who prevailed I cannot recall.
In the past few weeks, I have visited Golden Gate Park twice, once for a 5K fun run and other for a visit to the Academy of Sciences, where, while much has changed, the African Hall has remained the same. While I find each visit new in some incremental respect, it is, as expected, very familiar territory, generally unperturbed by space and time, impervious to the vicissitudes of the day. I find this strangely reassuring. At the same time, I wonder which parts of this park I have yet to explore, or if I have explored these parts, has this exploration been adequate and sufficient to experience the essence of this part. Put otherwise, is there something (important) that I may be missing? With Golden Gate Park, at least, I am confident that no rock of any stature or substance remains unturned.
Comments welcomed.
The Peninsula Hiking Club 