Two days after the horrific crash at the West Portal Muni Stop--I guess the L Taraval going West to the Zoo--there was a vigil at that spot, and I really don't think there was a dry eye.  There were also sobs. Under each letter of SF GRIEVES, there was a photo of the man, woman, and child who were killed when a 78-year-old woman (my age) crashed through a Muni stop. The father was a 40-year-old Brazilian, Diego Cardoso d Oliveira, and the mother was Matilde Moncada Ramos Pinto.  Their toddler son was Joaquin.  Ramos Pinto de Oliveira.  At that time, we didn't  know that the fourth victim, the baby  Cauê was in intensive care.  He died later too.  The caregiver for the children, sobbing, placed a vase of white flowers on the memorial.

 

I hate to drive--I much prefer to take public transportation and walk.  But I couldn't very well ask my guests to take public transportation to the Portola District, especially when one of them has a physical problem that makes it difficult for her even to walk to a bus stop.  So on March 16th,  I was driving like the stereotype of the "little old lady," which I'm now qualified to be.  I drove to Maxine's in Noe Valley, and Maxine drove us from there to  Imperial Gardens and then back to her house, where I took my turn again.  Just as I was approaching the roundabout on Dewey near Clarendon, a police alert flashed on my iPhone,  saying to avoid the area from Claremont to Wawona.  I saw that someone had tweeted that a driver hit and killed two people.  I drove slower still.

 

Kevin Fisher-Paulson's columns are always engaging because of his wit, warmth, and wisdom.  Today's resonated with me in a special way, so even though I'd just started cleaning out my closet and need to clear the way for Gloria Concepcion and then Dana, I wrote him an e-letter.

Dear Kevin,

I just read your column "Climbing past fear of heights, with a little help from friends."  (They could have added "And Eleanor Roosevelt.")

I'm very impressed that you made all those steps.  I'm also relieved that you didn't wind up like Roof Cow.

I have vertigo when I'm in high places without an enclosure. But I can make it if someone takes my hand or if I have some physical contact with another person.  I was in the dome of  St. Peter's in Rome, and I my Camino partner went ahead of me.  The only way I could go on was to touch the backpack of the person walking in front of me.  Of course, he was alerted to the "fact" that I was trying to steal something, and I was--just a little help in making it on.  I was quickly cleared as a thief.  But I do think sometimes of the metaphor.  Connectedness matters!

There's a crosswalk on Bayshore leading to Bernal Heights, but the number of encampments made it hard to see.  A person there directed me and even took me to the beginning of it.  I told him I had a fear of heights, and he offered to walk across with me.  I took his arm, and he kept telling me  "You're almost there."  When we got to the other side, I gave him all the cookies I'd made for the friends I was joining in Bernal Height, and then I gave him a $20.  Some good deeds do go unpunished.

I'm still going through my books, step by step, book by book, listing the ones I'm giving away and thinking of you and your 1000 books goal.

Tina