good people

Good People

back in the 60's in San Francisco there were concerts, be-ins, sit ins, protests, partying, learning we are the same and re-birth of critical thinking….and change came about, struggles yes, but put to rest the ole "that's the way it is", ain't gonna change" always been this way" and gave it a true perspective to see
It was flawed thinking…the people truly are the power..empathy and compassion…
Back in jr. high, I had one good friend, my road dog Bart….we thought much alike and had but a
Love of sarcasm and humor…and we, our own clique…
He said to come over for dinner one day….I lived downtown (another story) so it was an adventure to a new area.
We arrived by muni bus, they are still around today they have cables that latches onto electric wire tracks overhead, if a driver overshot the turn, the cables came off and the driver would go and pull the cables down then reattach them (bad kids would either ride for free hanging onto the cables in back or pull them off stopping the bus) Bart lived behind the General Hospital, literally on Potrero Hill. We walked a couple of blocks to the bottom…..I saw there was an unknown Lombard street, Vermont street one less curve but much more hairpin turns, since not in the ritzy Russian Hill area or with landscapers it was one of those hidden treasures. So looking up, what appeared to be the stairway to heaven, we started the march up the seemingly endless stairs… after what seemed a gym class torture we arrived at his street all too near the top..we ambled along to his house and entered by the downstairs door-Bart's room was there and we dumped our school books down (this was before backpacks) and then headed up the stairway…I was…
Awestruck to see abstract oil paintings…booksand there were mechanical metal things (I learned were antique coffee grinders) we hit the living room and there were big couches (but not your better home and garden variety) with large pillows, coffee table with magazine's-perhaps the New Yorker and others, books and cool artistic nick nacks, more paintings oil and prints, framed pages and books here and there…as we got to the center of the room, Bart's dad, Mel, came out from his office of sorts…
Related image

And shook my hand, I was looking at his van dyke…I never thought a parent would have one…they gotta be commies…the books, the abstract art…the cool but different furniture…the un-better homes and gardens setting, and looking past Mel, his office was a library and his desk with books and papers.
So there are commies??? But then I knew Bart and he was no commie…these images that have
Been dumped upon me all these years..didn't fit…still a bit suspect we headed to the kitchen…and I think we drank some water…the kitchen had a nook for us to sit in and was bright and looked onto the backyard…at that time and age we could care less about the backyard…..
Sitting in the living room I was still a stranger in a strange land..I was not used to homes and with books and paintings ..and then I picked up a magazine, the New Yorker, and began to read it….Bart's mom got home and I met Sally, very nice and dressed in a casual way that was cool and not how I envisioned mom's to dress, just very casual but she just came home from work….later I was to learn she was a clinical psychologist…I had known that Bart's dad worked at the Chronicle newspaper…as I lived down the block and it was a bad area making the tenderloin look innocent..there were a few liquor stores so you had winos as part of the street décor and there were drag queens hustling around the several blocks and just one step into a Fellini –John Walters film…cops busting people occasionally but goes back to the "accepted" crime areas…lived in a one room hotel room, tiny kitchen, small bathroom…
Roaches were a given and I used to catch mice in traps and throw the dead remains out the window…needless to say I never told anyone where I lived..and Bart never threw that in my face
And we fought like brothers…that was never brought up as a wedge.So if we came from school, Bart would go visit his dad and I would go home. Later he would take pictures for the Chronicle as an independent photographer in his teens. So I guess there was a walk on the wild side about me but
I survived.
Bart's mom Sally, started dinner and Bart help set plates and whatever else. Mel was in his office
And I still looked around the living room as this was all new to me and my pre-conceptions.
Dinner was ready and we all sat at the dinner table. The food was good and I was treated as family
As I said Bart's dad worked at the Chronicle, he was the book reviewer, which explained the book there
To a degree. The thing that was different is we ate the salad after the dinner, that was new to me
(although in all honesty, even this was an experience to me in terms of living where we did-not that I didn't have meals but just different) .
Then, they used one of the mechanical grinders and ground coffee, and brewed some, and we drank
At the dinner table, and we conversed…what we did-Mel talked about a book he read…Sally vaguely mentioned a client, Bart and I about our school day, and then it started and went to what was going on in the world and locally…and I was mesmerized and even could ask or say something-my mom was well read and smart but one sided in both opinion and conversations-so this was new mental ground for me
And I got to drink coffee, which has followed me ever since. I heard not only facts about things going on in the world, but Mel and Sally would present their viewpoints and they didn't always agree..and we could put in input…but we tended to listen..but would ask questions and share our views points once in a while…and Bart always called his parent Mel and Sallyas opposed to mom and dad, and I never did ask why or if I did and don't remember.
Their views were different but they brought up both sides but would dismiss with facts the idiotic ones and still they would be difference of opinion
They treated me like family and I had immense respect for them..even though they were not the mold of a typical American family..they were not Communists. They worked and contributed to the community
And never made me feel awkward because of where I lived or my circumstances.
As we were drinking coffee Bart's sister, Joi, came in had a late dinner and was nice to me….as
I learned later that Joi was gay, it really meant nothing to me, she was kind, Bart's big sister
So that was that.
What I had heard about people from a narrow one-sided source proved to be meaningless…
I may have only been about 13 but there are lessons that I carry with me today….never generalize
And thanks to Bart's family who got me on the road to critical thinking……and showed me both kindness and empathy, and how to have a conversation, and how to voice your viewpoint with
Facts…not what you heard…..and humor and wit…that was part of their gift…