Raven’s Dance does.
Most houses don’t have an unobstructed view for 360 degrees; Raven’s Dance does. Most houses don’t turn slowly to change the view; but Raven’s Dance does. Most houses don’t have a mote, and one you can swim in; but Raven’s Dance does. Most houses pay dearly in taxes while Raven Dance’s view is free.
It’s night and each dot on the Sausalito hill to my east is a multi-million-dollar home (no exaggeration). And each has a million dollar view of the bay, or at minimum a partial view blocked by trees, neighbor’s roof, telephone wires, etc. But Raven’s Dance has the premier location at the center of it all. Lucky wealthy homeowners wake to their million dollar view while I wake to a trillion dollar view.
I make it a practice to return to RD in time to enjoy the sunset. Here the sun does not set into either the sea or behind a mountain; it sets into the fog.
Marc & Pam
Old friends from Boulder, CO, Marc and Pam Weiss, who have retired in Aptos, CA drove up to Sausalito. They were my guests on RD for the weekend and we sailed the Bay together — some of it in heavy weather. RD healed heavily under the strain of gusts under the Golden Gate Bridge. Marc, in his understated way, said he felt better after I assured him we were safe.
It was a good reminder for me since I have become so accustomed to heavy weather sailing that I consider it normal. They love being crew and time at the helm, so we split the workload (they did most of it). Later Marc was amazed that I could handle RD alone — something else I’ve become as accustomed to as walking into a library. They made our time together joy-full, and the weekend went all too fast. They drove me to the Legion of Honor museum in San Francisco, where we parted. Marc is thoroughly enjoying is second childhood… particularly his first sports car convertible.
A Best Old Friend: Harry Battin
Yesterday I had lunch at the famous Buena Vista Cafe with an old, dear friend and college roommate, Harry Battin. The easiest way to get to the Cafe from downtown San Francisco was via the Hyde Street cable car, but while waiting in line I discovered the ride now cost $7.00.
SEVEN DOLLARS! That’s outrageous. I used to ride it to work for 25 cents and I remember how incensed I was when the fare incensed to one dollar. But times have changed and the ridership has shifted from basic transportation for citizens to a maga-tourist attraction, and even at $7.00 the cars are full. I suspect they would be full at $20.00 per ride. After all it is a must-do if you visit San Francisco.
But I, being a frugal cruiser, chose instead to walk through downtown, through China town and to North beach.
Harry and I had a delightful lunch, mostly of reminiscing our college years, and my memory was jogged by things long forgotten.
Behind every old man is a young boy who wonders what the f*** happened.
Afterward we treated ourselves to ice cream and and enjoyed people watching.
Is this a great city, or what?
I asked Harry if it ever occurred to him that this might be the last time we are ever together. The question surprised him and he gave me a quick “no”.
My day was punctuated with the very best of Memorial Day Skype conversations with my two sons. I hit the hay feeling that I am lucky beyond belief.