Love, As Always, Pete

The Weekly Letters, by A. Pedersen Wood

September 5, 2007

Dear Everyone:

Back in October, 1989, we had a little earthquake we like to call, “Loma Prieta.”  It originally registered 7.1 on the Richter Scale.  Later it was revised to only 7.0.  Even later it was “downsized” to a mere 6.9.

It caused numerous elevated sections of freeway to collapse and even took out part of the eastern span of the Bay Bridge, which connects Oakland to San Francisco.  For a month, no Bay Bridge; and for those of us who worked in San Francisco and lived here in the East Bay, it was a challenge.  They got the Bridge back together with the intention of repairing it, or even replacing the eastern span altogether later.

For the last 18 years, the politicians have squabbled over how to do just that.  It has gone from plans to build the most advanced and beautiful new bridge to just slap some concrete onto pylons and be done with it.  Last year, over the Labor Day Weekend, they worked on part of the Bridge, closing it in one direction.  The result:  Traffic jams everywhere.

So this year, they started getting the word out:  The Bay Bridge would be closed for the entire Labor Day Weekend in both directions.  We first heard about this in April.  Signs.  News agencies.  Full-page ads.  Commercial announcements on cable.  For months, they’ve been telling everyone as far south as Los Angeles and as far north as I don’t know, that the Bay Bridge would be closed for the entire Labor Day Weekend.

Guess where “Jeannie” and I wound up going last Sunday (in the middle of the Labor Day Weekend.)  Right:  San Francisco.  And here’s why.

A couple of weeks ago, “Frankie’s” youngest daughter, our niece, “Liza” came to San Francisco to start her new job.  She stayed with “Jeannie” over the weekend and they spent some time looking for a place for “Liza”, as she prefers to be called, to live near her job.  “Jeannie” didn’t view any of the choices with much favor.  Then it was time for “Liza” to fly back East for some training.

She returned last week and, by some miracle, found a woman with a house in the Sunset District, who rents rooms out to young people, mostly college students, but not exclusively.  A student had just left earlier than expected, so “Liza” could move in on Sunday.  All we had to do was get her, and her luggage and brand-new, second-hand bicycle, into San Francisco.

The bike meant that we would need to take my car, since it had more room.  As it was, the bike would not fit in the trunk; so we put everything else in the trunk and “Liza” sat in the back seat with the bike, minus the front tire, sharing the space with her.

“Jeannie” drives more around the Bay Area than the rest of us, so we appointed her Navigator.  She decided the best course of action was to drive south on I-680, then cut over to I-880 south of Oakland, taking State Highway 92 across the San Mateo bridge, then up I-280 into San Francisco.  Except for a short wait at the toll plaza, everything went swimmingly.

Speaking of swimming, (although I wouldn’t recommend it) “Liza” now lives just two blocks from the Pacific Ocean.  In fact, she can see it from her bedroom window on clear days.  As we were admiring the view, “Jeannie” asked if I could smell the ocean air through the open window.

My reply:  “No, I smell fresh paint.”  Which was also a good sign.

We went out for some lunch, picked up a few “necessities” for “Liza” and returned her to her new abode.  I made sure to get her new address and add her cell phone number to my records.

“Jeannie” and I returned to her place with just one stop to fill the gas tank in my car.  For a day when the Bay Bridge would be closed all weekend, we did fine.

As for the Bridge, the bridge-fixer-people did such a good job that they finished 11 hours early.  Kudos.

Love, as always,

 

Pete

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