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March 23, 2020: A SUNDAY WALK
I decided to take a looooong walk with the pups yesterday. In Golden Gate Park. But first, I have to GET to Golden Gate Park, which is up hill and down dale from my house. I hadn't done it in a couple of years. It took a while. On the way there I saw:
As I walked and ruminated on the considerable effort that someone put into this gift to the street, I felt comforted and calmed. But right now I'm thinking "Wait a minute! This means, 'Don't worry, eventually everything will be the same as before!'" And I am not willing to accept that. I've had it with our completely dysfunctional country. WE DON'T EVEN HAVE ENOUGH GOWNS AND MASKS FOR THE NURSES AND DOCTORS! I mean, where is that at? It's because ..... well, this rampage. We all feel the same. Preaching to the choir, right? But we have drifted SO FAR from a compassionate and/or rational society. (In fact, the only rational way IS compassion.) And we are not even COMPETENT anymore! Our health system not only does not serve everyone, it is so swamped with profit-taking that it didn't even do the most basic preparation for a pandemic which was inevitable.
And I agree with Bernie! NO MORE BILLIONAIRES!!! Why does ANYONE need more than nine hundred and ninety-nine million, nine hundred and ninety-nine thousand, nine hundred ninety-nine dollars and ninety-nine cents???!?
$999,999,999.99 IS ENOUGH FOR ANYONE!
AND NOT A PENNY MORE!
Anything above that goes to the IRS. Okay, okay. Maybe that's too extreme. How about 99.99% of anything above that goes to the government of the people of the United States. Because we need that money right now to help us get through this crisis.
Did you know that it's Reagan who drastically cut taxes for the rich? Yes, before Reagan, if you made over a certain amount, 90% went to the government. Something like that. As I remember, there were STILL a hell of a lot of rich people then.
But I digress.
I was having a beautiful walk without any of the boiling anger and frustration i'm feeling at the moment. Back to the walk, back to the walk....
Got to the park. And there they were. The Sunday drummers and dancers.
So many different drums and percussion instruments, the deep mournful sound of the didgeridoo... If there ever was a sound for this time it is that mysterious lowing.
And I danced and danced on the grass, by myself, with my pups. Always keeping six feet from everyone, I danced. I'm so grateful this ritual still goes on. Okay, maybe they weren't all six feet apart. But basically they were keeping their distance from each other. And certainly no one was sharing joints. This is something I can still do, just like before. Dance to the drums on Sunday afternoons in Sharon Meadow.
Nikki and Loulou zoomed around the meadow. They found a giant pile of dirt to fight on top of. Meanwhile, I was having an intense phone conversation with my cousin Diane about our families and our childhoods. I don't know. I don't really approve of allowing A Day in the Park get swamped by a phone call. But yet it was so good to talk. Not just chat. Really talk and listen, as one does more often now.
Left the park. Walked back through the Haight with its spectacular Victorians.
This is quite a striking paint job.
A poster to conjure with --
The Dark Gypsies
Ya gotta love the hippie homes.
This is a very special block on Waller St. of the most spectacular Victorians. I always bring visitors here. One time, my guests and I were standing gawking at the blue house and a car pulled into the driveway of . The people got out and invited us to come in and look around! Wow. Everything was dark wood, carved. Nothing had been modernized.
Something very pleasing about this one below. I always get a little frisson of pleasure when I pass.
Eloquent, don't you think?
And so over the hill and back home. Below is view of downtown. The Salesforce cigar dominates the skyline. Carolyn and I used to see the billboards for the company and try to figure out what the hell Salesforce DOES. We still don't know. But that's okay with us.
I'm not sure what style this is. It's not Victorian. Kinda faux Dutch farmhouse fantasy? I love it.
Below, you can see in the distance Mt. Diablo, the highest peak in the Bay Area. It's over 60 miles away.
Thank you, my blog friends, for joining me for my walk and rampage.