Everyday News

For many years I lived in or at the verge of San Francisco's Mission District -- 28 years more or less. There are some wonderful publications that cover the neighborhood; two of which are El Tecolote, which covers Latino issues citywide, and Mission Local, which I still read even though I no longer I've in the area.

The news this week is familiar:

* An energetic women's march in Dolores Park.
* A 48-year-old woman was found dead in a car on Alabama Street.
* A graffiti message: "Queers Never Die."
* Big Mouth Burger is still open for business.

This part of the city is one that seems to transition constantly -- from Italian to Irish to Asian to Laitino to Techies -- and at its best it remains a mixture of all the city's diversity and vibrance. Artists love it if they can afford to stay and for aging residents like me, thank god for rent control.

There are tons of coffee houses and taquerias and bars. It's a flat part of town so easy to walk around, unlike much of San Francisco. Homelessness is endemic.

When the New York Giants abandoned the Polo Grounds in the '50s, they moved here, to the Mission, to play major league baseball in the minor league San Francisco Seals' stadium. The Double Play bar on Bryant and 16th has a replica of the old ballpark's dimensions on its walls.

Neighborhoods like the Mission have been hard-hit by Covid-19 and the economic crisis. Unemployment is high; sirens are commonplace as police, fire trucks, and EMTs race through the streets, often to one of the hospitals nearby -- General Hospital and Sutter Health's Mission-Bernal campus (the old St. Luke's).

I spent plenty of time at the Mission-Bernal facility last year, where I received great care and friendly support. Thank god for our health care providers.

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Who knows whether our inner city neighborhoods will survive in their current form once this pandemic subsides, assuming that eventually happens. The headlines say work on possible vaccines proceeds at a breakneck pace and why not? Major profits await the drug company that ends up patenting a preventative cure.

Every time I see those global numbers of Covid-19 deaths, I shake my head. Having lived and traveled extensively in Third World countries, I'm sure many cases remain undiagnosed and uncounted.

Even in the U.S., public health officials acknowledge that nobody can be sure of the virus's toll, because most people have not been tested and at least some have perished without a Corona-V diagnosis.

But mere numbers are like sports scores -- irrelevant without context. From what I can see, most of us realize we are under siege and unlikely to completely resume our normal routines until we feel strong assurance that it is safe to do so.

The protests against police violence and racial injustice continue and policy changes are cropping up here and there. The calls of "I can't breath" echo across the land and perhaps, perhaps, real reforms will begin forming George Floyd's positive legacy.

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I'm reaching Facebook's 5,000 friends limit and will probably hit up against it this weekend. That limit is something I don't understand, but I apologize in advance to anyone who gets rejected as a result of the company's policy. There is also a "follower" option; apparently there are no limits to that category of connection.

My posts are public to anyone who cares to read them can. I try to read all comments and respond when I am able to.

All of us are missing something or someone during this crisis. Many family visits have been postponed or cancelled; cross-country trips have been foregone; flying is a rarity for most; vacations have to be close to home; summer schools are suspended; summer internships have evaporated; night
life has diminished; many gyms and parks remain closed; and on and on.

Is it enough to be grateful to still be healthy and alive? Maybe, in the words of that immortal Jack Nicholson movie, albeit in a different setting, this is "as good as it gets."

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