Wrigley

I am not sure why, but I have become far too invested in the fate of Wrigley and his companion, Geoff. The two of them live atop the shopping-cart-cum-home of their human, Sam Pike, at various locations along Market Street.

Yes, I said their "human": Wrigley and Geoff are two large, beautiful red tabbies who live their lives on the streets among San Francisco's homeless community. Wrigley's even a poster child of sorts: his picture appeared on the front page of the San Francisco Chronicle with an article about homeless outreach programs in Downtown/SOMA.

Wrigley and Geoff appear to have accommodated themselves quite well to life on the street. Sam has made them a home of clothing and blankets heaped high atop his cart. When it's rainy (or too sunny), he even adds a sheltering umbrella. Wrigley most often perches on top of the blankets; Geoff, more retiring, hides beneath the top layer. For safety, both are fitted with halter-style leashes that tether them to the cart while still allowing reasonably freedom of movement. Of course, what cats needs movement when he has a soft bed?

As I said, I have become somewhat obsessed with their well-being. When there appeared to be a new push coming to clear the homeless from the paths of shoppers, my first thought was for Wrigley. Would "they" take him away from Sam? Or try to. I suspect that one of the reasons I'm so obsessed is because I'm touched by Sam's loyalty to his cats. He has told me that he would take advantage of some of the city's outreach programs except that they won't take Wrigley and Geoff as well. A ray of hope: apparently it is possible to have cats declared assistance or companion animals, which would open some of the shelters to them, and Sam is attempting to pursue this possibility. I can't imagine how he manages his already-difficult life when any attempt to access help or shelter threatens to tear him away from his feline family. Scratch that; it threatens to tear him from his family, no qualifier necessary.

An Unexpected Pleasure

Who knew that San Francisco could even improve the basic experience of going to the post office?

In most cities, having to go to the post office engenders major bureaucracy-avoidance behavior. Do I really have to go down there? Find a parking space? Wait in line for an hour before an unhappy (and therefore, unpleasant) postal worker does what is laughingly called "wait" on me?

I just mailed my Christmas presents today. Deep in the heart of the Financial District, ten days before Christmas, at noon on a Friday: it took me less than ten minutes. Only two people preceded me in line and there were six service windows open. You do the math.

And I mean it when I call them service windows. (I more typically refer to such locales as disservice windows. I don't know what sort of happy juice they put into the workers' coffee at the San Francisco post offices, but that's how I want my tax dollars used. The woman who helped me was friendly, polite, even open to humor.

Even parking is, oddly, less of a problem than it is elsewhere. San Francisco actually has enough post offices that you can usually walk to one, thus obviating the need for parking. At least for my life: I have easy access to post offices both at home and at work. I admit that my home post office is less fully staffed and often has a line (especially near 4 pm). Since it's near the Haight, I also encounter some "interesting" characters in line. But they're harmless and sufficiently grateful for the shelter to be reasonably well-behaved.

So a very Merry Christmas to you from a most unexpected location: your nearby San Francisco Post Office.

San Francisco Values. . .

"San Francisco values" may well be the most lasting phrase popularized by the 2006 mid-term election. Much ink (virtual and otherwise) has been spilt attempting to define the phrase, to differentiate it from its conservative counterparts, and to understand why politicians think it will frighten their constituencies into voting for the right.

In my not-so-humble opinion, the crucial difference is grammatical.

In "family values" or "traditional values," the word values is a noun, a time-frozen, carved-in-stone, immutable thing.

In "San Francisco values," values is a verb. San Francisco values tolerance, diversity, freedom—as well as craziness and consumerism (witness the fuss over the recently expanded downtown Shopping Centre).

San Francisco values many things and believes in taking action on its beliefs. We call for impeachment where it is needed; we at least try to keep the military from recruiting our children. Action by the people, individually or en masse, is scary to the Karl Roves and Dick Cheneys of the world. The only values-based action they're comfortable with is de-valuing whoever disagrees with them.

I made it!

I've wanted to live in San Francisco my entire life.

• When I was applying to college, my mother said those hippies were too crazy.
• When I was married, my husband said those houses were too expensive.
• When I was a single mom, my daughter said the big city was too scary.

The week my daughter left for college last fall, I moved to THE CITY.

And I am never going to leave.