whispers from the beyond
Since moving back to the Bay area and relocating to San Francisco, I've been subtly pulled by a soft undertow to things. I suppose it started in one of my long peregrinations across the City's neighborhoods and stairway walks and found myself in an extraordinary locale: the Starr King Open Space in Potrero Hill.
[ This was from the late winter of 2023, which explains the warm clothing, brilliant blue skies, and the southwesterly orientation of the setting sun... ]
I loved how bright the space was, truly living up to its 'open' naming; and here's the thing... it's not a large space at all, just a city block in size. But it graced a hillside behind an elementary school (also named after Starr King) with neat little paths and rock faces interspersed with scree and bushes, seats both man-made wooden and stone, and a gorgeous vista of the Mission, Noe Valley in the middle distance, and Twin Peaks beyond. And the whole effect of the space was of an expansive welcome.
And then I Googled who it was named after and, since then, have run into sites and places elsewhere in the City that speaks to the extraordinary history of the man, Thomas Starr King. He was only 39 when his life was cut short by diphtheria and pneumonia on March 4, 1864... but by then, what Starr King had accomplished in a relatively brief span cemented a legacy that would be long-lasting, and profound.
[ From my walk up Franklin St. this afternoon to the Western Addition, and my bank there (a local credit union). Starr King's sarcophagus is by the sidewalk next to the First Unitarian Universalist Society of San Francisco. ]
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