A Sentimental Journey

My friend Inger 

This blog is not exactly about my Judy book, but is concerning a woman’s life and as women’s lives are my interest, I had to write about my recent trip.

My Swedish friend, Inger is coming back for a trip forty years after returning to her home country in 1971. She is bringing her daughter, Marika and three of her grandsons and a friend, Brit-Marie. They will be in San Francisco for three days – do I want to join them? I am so excited, we had been friends since we met in the late 1960s when our husbands had played cricket together in Los Angeles and then later when we all moved to the Bay area. We spent many long Sundays during the summers sitting in various cricket fields watching out for our small children. Inger had three children, Kenneth, Marika and Marcus, while I had Carolyn and Adrian. After my children were grown, I often flew to Sweden when visiting my mother in England and I had met her grown-up children and their children.

Initially we were going to stay in a hotel but one of the sisters who were helping organize the trip found a lovely big house we could rent in the city. Vicki and Marie had been neighbors of Inger during the five years she lived in San Francisco; Marie and Marika being first best friends. When Vicki finished high school, she followed Inger to Sweden, and stayed with the family for six months before continuing her adventures in Paris, Turkey and eventually finding and marrying her husband from Lebanon. Exotic is a great word to describe Vicki! All these details of our relationship with Inger came out during the days we spent together.

Marie and Vicki, were brought up in San Francisco and used to driving and exploring the beauty spots and so were the guides. Both had wandered into the hinterland of California but their hearts were still in the city.

Marika, being the super mother she was, probably organized the trip. Not only was she bringing her mother, Inger, two sons, Michael and David, and nephew, Dennis, but a lovely new friend to me, Brit-Marie. They flew into Seattle, where they had relatives and started the journey south and I watched their journey on Facebook, stopping at  Spokane,  Pilot Butte, Bend, Crater Lake, Oregon, Grants Pass, Folsom State Prison before arriving in San Francisco.

Marie, a merry soul, lives in Folsom and so they stopped there and convey begins again collecting me from Vacaville. This means people will come to my house – I am writing a book and the place is covered with papers, I throw them into a bedroom. 

They all pile into my little house – three ladies and three young men - overlooking the golf course and the geese. Marika, with the sparkling dark eyes of her father: same as when she was a little girl. the eyes don’t change. She introduces me to three young men standing before me observing me with their calm Scandinavian eyes and good angle-saxon names, Michael and David her sons and Dennis, Marcus’s son. My goodness how will I tell them apart-I worry I will get their names wrong? We drive into San Francisco on route 37 and enter over the Golden Gate Bridge. It is a glorious Sunday and there are cars everywhere, we pause and Marika, David and Brit-Marie walk the bridge. We will meet outside the gift store, (yes a gift store for the bridge) and Dennis is with Inger.  He is Marcus’s son and has a flock of hair–Ha!–I can see him as a six year old “Dennis the menace”  “You are cute,” I say; he winces. Good I have identified one of the boys!

Dennis, Inger and Michael

We make our way into the city and find our house on 23 Street on Noe Valley, near Castro.  Yes, it does have 57 steps up to the front door and Inger and I scramble up them as best we can.

The plan was for us to go out to dinner when Vicki arrives but Marie announces that we will have dinner in tonight. “Thank Goodness,” I say. One climb up the steps a day is enough for me. We explore the house-there are three big bedrooms upstairs and the master bedroom in the basement. The boys opt for the master and the ladies take the upstairs. The house has been completely refurnished, new floors, doors, kitchen and bathrooms – with a hot tub in the back garden which the boys appreciated one evening.

David, Dennis & Michael

The only thing was it must have been remodeled by giants, all the kitchen cupboards and micro wave were too high – luckily they had supplied a step ladder. AND there was not kettle for tea and one had to use a saucepan.  Not a very good quality one either and poor Brit-Marie received a very bad hand burn. Never mind she recovered.

Vicki burst in like a dynamo, elegantly dressed with long flowing red hair and the party began.

The refrigerator is full of food; Marie has brought basics with her. She and Marika go out for food from Castro Street and we have the first of our many meals together. I get to talk with Dennis, and he tells me about his childhood and how Inger, his grandmother, was the constant thing in his life after his parents separated. What does he want to do I ask, always the university counselor. He doesn’t know.  He has spent time in Norway and one senses the restlessness in his soul. He is a US citizen from his father and wants to try his luck in the States. I can see he has his grandmother in him. After all, she immigrated to New York years ago to seek her fortune. Vicki is sitting between us telling her stories of all her adventures in Europe and at one point, I comment that she is gregarious. Dennis doesn’t know this word and he puts it into his memory.  

Marika’s two sons are on the other hand, are settled in their work. Michael is a carpenter, like his brother, Patrick not on the trip. There is lots of work in Sweden remodeling houses. The younger son, David, is an electrician and loves his work. I tell David I am amazed that they can take a month’s vacation all at one time, but he tells me it is expected that everyone HAS to take their vacation. I talk with both of them often in the morning while we are waking up. I wondered how I would deal with people in the morning, I don’t wake up feeling very jolly.  Luckily everyone seems to feel the same way. Marika, Inger and Brit-Marie were usually up first making tea or coffee. Then me, the two sisters and finally the three boys would drift up into the living area. Michael likes Jon Stewart and plays games on his ipad. Everyone has their phone and keep up to date with their friends. Samsung is the phone of choice and seems efficient. 

Inger, Marika, Marie and me

A city tour is planned for the next day. We pile into cars; Inger, Brit-Marie and I are with Vicki, with the long hair. Marie is driving her best friend, Marika, and the three boys. Up on hill and down the other-all these iconic, well known avenues and streets, Golden Gate, Van Ness, Lombard into Telegraph Hill to Coit Tower.

The last time I had been to Coit Tower was 50 years ago.

We head southeast toward Filbert, into Lombard, Columbus, Bay, Franklin, Lombard, Lyon to the Palace of Fine Arts. It is beautiful there, I want a house overlooking the lake. Then lunch at Garibaldis on Presidio. Next we head off for Twin Peaks. An absolutely, beautiful clear day with spectacular views of the city and sea beyond.  The final stop of the day is the home Inger lived in for five years. Vicki and Marie had lived around the corner and they remember routes to school and the adventures they had in the neighborhood.  Glen Park School.  

I have been to SF many times and it often seemed to have a charming, if shabby perhaps seedy quality, but all that is gone. All the beautiful Victorian houses, built since 1909 have been restored and looked sparkling in their splendor. I was told that the dot-com millionaires of Silicon Valley have bought many.

We return home and Marie has found another friend, Carol and she joins us for dinner. Inger had baby-sat her son many years ago.  

Marika is fascinated with prisons and jails and wants to go to Alcatraz, but all the boat trips are full. The town is full of computer science people and sailing people, the Yacht races have just finished. So we drove down to Fisherman’s Wharf and caught a cable car up through the city to Market Street and Nordstrom- up the escalator to the top floor.  Time to eat again at the Brisco Café. The boys, Marika and Brit-Marie go off to shop while Vicki, Inger and I have a cocktail.

Inger with her 3 grandsons and daughter

We gather together again and catch a bus along Market to the Ferry Bldg. and up to Pier 39.  Inger, Vicki and I walk along the Embarcadero while the others check out Pier 39. There is Stephen Dreyfuss, a sax player at the top of Pier 39 and I bought his CD. It is now 6 pm and the temperature is 70 degrees with no wind-a most perfect day.

 Next were West Indian drummers, then 1970s music and finally we found a bar with a jazz quartet, Charlie McCarthy and his group (my son remembers seeing them years ago in Bay area). Vicki should be my public relations person, she tells everyone about my Judy book and invites a blonde cyclist to join us. He wants to take photographs of me, we decide he is a little odd and I dump him to talk to the musicians.

Last stop is Ghirardelli for a desert.By this time I have decided to adopt Dennis as a grandson and Inger is happy to share this honor with me.

No one wants to trip to end but Vicki must get back to her business, Marie to her family and work and Inger and family ever onward.  They are going on to Huntington Beach for ten days.  "Huntington Beach!" I say. "Come and join us" they say and this will be the next blog.