You Can Never Go Home

It was rather slow at work yesterday, so after reimaging a PC that had come back in, when it was finished I fired up Windows maps. I never realized that the app had a street view like Google, so for kicks I flew over San Francisco and dropped in on my one-time home.

I'd visited downtown several times via Google (getting totally lost and not recognizing a thing any more), but for some reason I'd never ventured into my old hoods. It was near lunchtime and I was hungry, so I decided to take a peek at some of my old haunts.

I got sad very quickly.

You know you're old when you can't find any of the places you used to visit on a regular basis because they've been sold, repurposed, or completely torn down to make room for yet more overpriced condos.

Sparky's on Church Street is one example that lept out at me. Microsoft's street view was from 2014 and the place seemed to still be in business, although the vegetarian place just up the street seemed to have changed hands. Knowing Google's views were more recent I switched over and to my disappointment saw that Sparky's was now closed and the space was marked "for lease."

This of course led me on a web search to learn it's fate, and I discovered it's been closed nearly four years, most recently shut down by the Health Department for various violations. (TBH, not surprising.)

So then I "wandered" up Market Street. Sweet Inspiration was also gone. When I lived in the City, that was the preferred spot to meet up with someone you just met from AOL or one of the many gay BBS boards before actually getting down to business. (Yes, Virginia, I'm that old.)

Streetlight Records, while still appearing on the 2014 street view image on Google, is gone.

Just like downtown, Upper Market was basically unrecognizable to me. The spot formerly occupied by Tower Records (which was obviously in distress when I left the City in 2002) is now a CVS Pharmacy. The hole in the ground at the corner of Market and Noe was now (finally!) filled in with new housing. My favorite Chinese place in the Castro, House of Chen—which I'd gone to almost as many times as Rosie's Cantina*—was on street view, but a further search revealed that it too, had been shuttered.

Don't even get me started on Castro Street itself.

Let's just say that by the time I tore myself away from this virtual visit, I was heartbroken to see what had happened to my city and the neighborhoods I had called home. A lot of unresolved emotions were triggered, and I was forced to admit that the sixteen years I lived there were not really as happy and carefree as I'd like to remember; there was a profound loneliness underlying my time in The City (explaining some of the questionable choices I'd made and equally questionable things I'd done while there) and I really have no desire to ever go back.

I used to say that there are two San Franciscos that live in my consciousness: the one that lives in my memories and the one that lives in my dreams (aspects of that place are always off the rails). But I fear I must add a third; the City I no longer recognize.

I discussed this with Ben last night, and he pointed out that the changes that have happened in Phoenix since our return from Denver are just as jarring when you step outside the insulation of daily life living here. No doubt we would both be shocked if we'd returned now, not having lived through the ongoing changes of the last five years, and I'm sure that if I'd somehow remained in SF, the changes I see there now would also seem just as natural.

 

*I thought I'd posted about Rosie's some time ago, but apparently that was in the blog that I'd deleted before we moved to Denver. I'll have to post it again…

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