After I got a quick 3ple americano at Peet’s last week, I threw my sturdy mug in my basket and off I went. I saw the posse of the local firemen that also happen to have a similar affinity with coffee around that time. It is just a tad after 7am.
I take different routes because I don’t like to have the same routine, but that happens all the time. I could be on divis, on hayes, on polk or on mason at any given morning just to add 3 miles before 8am. And just to go get coffee, even if I head right back home. Why not.
This particular morning earlier this week was just very nice. The weather was particularly high for a summer morning (mid60°s) and I got an almost choir-like ‘good morning’ from the construction crew on Polk near Jackson. As I was drifting off to space and looking at the clear skies waiting at the red light on California and Polk, I noticed this small old lady, walking towards me. I thought for a second she might have a cane and swing it at me for being a few centimeters into the pedestrian path. It has happened before.
Instead, I noticed her perfect red lipstick and with her biggest grin, she says to me:
“Good morning young lady”
“Why good morning good looking,” I replied.
I now have the sweetest happy feeling with a smile. She must be in her late 80s. Crossing California street and trying not to fall face first on the train tracks at the same time, seems like a huge challenge with only a few sips of coffee in my system. The surface is distinctively wet today.
Am I the only one under 30 without a smart phone?
I have an affinity with morning rituals. Reading the paper is one of them.
Enjoy reading them mostly from existing/sharing ones in local cafes.
Something I use to do with my dad in high school while listening to the radio.
The newsprint ink on my fingertips triggers that memory.
I am almost at Market and 8th, when a very old guy on one of those bicycles that look like the lovechild between a camping tent and a 1963 Swiss Army knife, with two wheels. He is wearing what has got to be the oldest reflective yellow vest, a couple of old milk crates as panniers and a ton of little junk and stickers around his handlebars, and all over his frame.
“Well, those twist knots, have not seen those around much – I had those in my bike back in the 60’s”
He said pointing at the Frenchie’s quick release front knobs. I chat with him for a second while he is drinking a little orange juice pack he had just gotten out of one of his many pockets in his vest.
“Good day” and he continues southbound on 8th street.
A full dose of good energy from two particular senior citizens on the streets of San Francisco.
It is now 8:10AM and I head downstairs