FOG DREAMS

Sights in San Francisco:
Mural outside a Duboce Triangle cafe in San Francisco

The mournful blare of a foghorn woke me at 2 A.M. recently. I listened for each deep resonating boom and imagined I could see the ship moving under the two bridges on the Bay towards the Pacific Ocean. The sound grew fainter with each blast until suddenly a deep silence filled the space of the horn. Now that I was awake I thought of other times when I woke up at 1 A.M. to find our street peaceful, unusual for a city street. No car noises, no street cars, no garbage trucks, no people talking late into the night. By two o'clock, the city is stirring. The ship, releasing its anchor and sounding its horn, became the first indicator of a new day. An airplane takes off every day at that same hour. I thought of all the people already busy with their day as I pulled the covers closer.

  

On a street in San Francisco

The ship seemed to disappear when distance silenced its horn. The ship had passed under both bridges, then avoided the Potato Patch just beyond the Golden Gate. The Potato Patch is a spot where the waves churn in a rolling, rocking motion because of the shallowness of the area. (This is the only time I've felt seasick while sailing.) The name may have come from the potatoes found floating in the ocean after potato boats capsized in the Patch back when sailing ships were the norm.

Duboce Triangle mural

Hearing the foghorn disappear into the fog reminded me of a writer friend, who has spent the last eight years sailing between continents. She, her husband, a small crew, and their cat are returning from the Mediterranean across the Atlantic to the Caribbean where they will catch a plane home to California. She has posted videos on Facebook each day of their journey. Watching them, I recall the first European explorers who set out to cross oceans, not knowing what to expect to find, looking at nothing but water across the far horizon, waves slapping against the sides of their boat, no thought of rescue. Luckily for Gemeaux and her crew, the days have been sunny, they have a store of fresh produce and catches from the sea for provisions, and they can chart their progress on digital instruments.

As I thought about these images, sleep came back. My day won't start for several hours. I am glad we live on a quiet street in the City.

You can follow Sheira's journey back home here:

https://gemeaux.us 

Rest in Peace, President Carter. A good man to a great man of kindness and vision for a better tomorrow.