There’s only one thing I–or anyone else for that matter need to do: Start Listening!
End of Story. . .
Why Am I Talking? — W.A. I. T.
What would life be without Shuffle?
Here I am looking at art with my ipod shuffle ready to go. . .
And on the soccer field stretching after a jog around the fence. . .
I can’t figure out why we had to go to big bulky phones, just to have music. These were cheap, portable, and easy to switch tracks and volume–without looking. Sigh.
New Year’s Eve Free Ride
Halloween is a few days away as I write this chapter, and it’s a Saturday and already I have seen costumes last night, and even earlier in the week. But the holiday season vibe is picking up and everyone is in the change of gears of the season. The air is crisp and clear. The trees and grasses are making themselves known in the warm still afternoon air by the scent they let out as we walk by.
I don’t know about you, but when I recall working on All Hallows Eve, and driving through the Castro on the 24 or the 33, my brain jumps ahead to the next disaster, New Year’s Eve. For some reason, especially on New Year’s Eve, there is the prevalent thought to let it all go. But now, not having had a drink in 27 years, and not really missing it at all, I begin to see a false promise about New Year’s Eve. What the heck is the deal for a calendar click, and why does it call for a drink?
To celebrate the New Year. Oh, yeah. But you might find that transit operators have a different idea about it if working on New Year’s Eve! Perhaps this title should read, “You Get What You Pay For.” If Muni is free from 8 p.m. on, what do we know from experience about things that are free? Such as the futon frames we see scattered on our sidewalks, or the Christmas trees on the corner on January 7th? Worthless. Those riding home at 9 p.m., great deal. But as 10:30 p.m. approaches, and folks are headed out to party, the buses become not unlike the 8x in Chinatown, packed. And so on to the most memorable story I have about New Year’s Eve, or should I say, New Year’s morning, at about 2am.
There on the island on Duboce, just outside of the tunnel, stood over 100 people taking every square inch of the island. And this is a two-car island. With overflow intending passengers waiting on the curbside sidewalk. But trains leaving downtown and the Ferry Plaza fireworks were exiting the tunnel and going out of service to return to the barn at Balboa Park. The cars were full and dumping off more people to wait to go out to the avenues and the Sunset. Muni’s free service ended at midnight that year, and only the regular motor coach N Judah service remained. One standard diesel bus every half hour. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out that one standard forty foot motor coach every half hour, does not cover those coming from two-car light rail vehicles every ten minutes.
I was pulling-in on the 22 line and gasped at the huge crowd waiting at Duboce and Church. Once again relieved that I was a crosstown line. And to my horror of horrors, I looked left at Market and saw a new operator driving an outbound N Judah motor coach on Market, ready to make the turn to Church and then left to Duboce. Oh my God.
If ever there was a ninth level of hell this was it. She had a relatively empty bus, as those downtown were taking the underground to head away. If I could relive this moment, I would have run to her coach at the light before she turned to Church and warned her about what lay ahead on Duboce. Take the Haight Street route and don’t look to the left! Put on your neutral face and pray you can make it through the stop sign! I never knew what happened, but suffice it to say it was not pretty.
This operator, who ever she is, should win some kind of hero’s medal of honor for having to make her next stop. I read in the paper the next Monday about complaints about owl service, but nothing, nothing, in writing the day after, could do justice for the battle cry that must have gone up when she made the turn to the island. All I can say is girl, you deserve a vacation to Hawaii or some other fantastic place. Whew! It was really cold that night, and I wonder how her next trip went. Peace be with you!
A Pool, A Jacuzzi, A Cold Plunge
I find swimming to be a somewhat more tedious an exercise than say, running or hiking, but I do love it when I feel my upper body–arms and my chest–flush with blood and elevated heart rate when I pull myself up the ladder. The dip in the jacuzzi at 104, with strong jets and clean water puts me into bliss.
I love the patterns of light on water, but more importantly–the refractions on the bottom of the pool from the sun. I also like cutting through completely calm water and making a wake. Hockney eat your heart out! If I don’t want to work at swimming–floating on a raft is relaxation with a capital R!
Finally, for all you hardened campers–there’s always rocks!
Just cut the crap and get to dancing!
Leaving on a Jet Plane
Daily writing prompt
Share a story about the furthest you’ve ever traveled from home.
I got angry that the pool was closed at my favorite gym in October of 2020, so I moved to be closer to the beach. I moved from San Francisco to Honolulu, and spent the rest of Covid in Hawaii, the most remote island chain in the world.
It’s hard not to be happy to be flying to a tropical island in the middle of the Pacific. The natives were friendly.
But now that things, socially, are back to normal, I replaced Covid with Island Fever. Now I’m back on the mainland.
One thing remains the same: seeing the whales jump out of the water and wave.
Home Sweet Home
Practical and Spacious Home with a View of Buena Vista Park
Describes the practicality and spaciousness of the home, along with its attractive view of Buena Vista Park, appealing to users looking for a functional and scenic living space in San Francisco.
At first blush, I’d think I’d like to pick a house with rich, plum-like colors such as this one on Hayes, kitty-corner from the famous, “Painted Ladies.” But one thing any future homeowner needs to know about buying in San Francisco is–think about practicality–first. Especially in an old drafty wooden home.
For example, look at the number of steps just to get to the front door. Do you really want to carry your groceries up these steps? What about if you have a car? Garages are nice to keep your windows from being broken–especially around Alamo Square. And what about the tree? The blooms match the color of the paint job, “Ooh-la-la,” but these blooms unload tree pollen in the air after the rainy season, so be prepared to sneeze-proof your home’s insides with extensive filtration devices, probably on each floor. The tree blocks your view of the park and is on the north side, where you least need the shade–in fact, sun would be badly needed–and no one can see your Christmas tree in December. Displaying your Christmas tree for the holidays, is a big deal in San Francisco, especially if you live in a Victorian–and especially if it’s a Queen Anne era Victorian–with a cupola to place the tree for all to see on a street corner. No, this house is NOT an example of a dream home even though it looks beautiful.
Now we’re talking! Look at the light coming in here, and see how much space there is! Buena Vista Park is across the street, and you’re in the Haight for the best street fair, and lots of shops.
You have nice square shaped rooms–not narrow rectangular ‘hallways’ off of a hallway, like in railroad Victorians. Now this is practical;
Hello? Would there be any conflict with too many cooks in the kitchen? I think not.
Oh, there’s a coffee shop downstairs! . . .and I even like the color.
Who am I . . .and what do I really like about Ess Eff? Tap the magenta button above.
A Walk Around the City
I keep getting filled with joy when I walk around San Francisco, just as I did before I left for a staycation in Hawaii. I loved going to the beach in Waikiki during Covid lockdown restrictions because the beaches were empty and the snorkeling views were full of plentiful fish. I guess the state fish of Hawai’i, humuhumunukunukuapua’a didn’t get the message from the Centers from Disease Control to wear any masks! They were already at home.
I also am filled with joy in discovering new heart sculptures around the city. I just found this new one at my medical clinic, which is easy to walk to and get an x-ray or lab test. In Oahu, they tore down the walkable clinic and moved it over an hour away on the freeway in the hills. I am filled with joy in being able to get to medical care really fast and within a short hop on the bus. Indeed, I also have joy in riding Muni around in SF.
I also like seeing the flowers and lush flower boxes on the street and also take joy and stopping to take pictures. In both California and Honolulu, color and beauty abound.
The sunsets in Waikiki are hard to beat. The sun is angled perfectly for sunsets. Getting out to walk in the healthful red sun waves is great nourishment for the body and skin.
Truth is wherever you live, there’s beauty all around. The hard part is to make the time to walk and stop and smell the roses.
Take care.
I Sing the Song of a Trolleyman
Song of the Trolleyman
By Driver Doug
“I’ve seen them all:
Young and bold
Appear like a spark,
Then depart as I start
To read the latest tag
In the back rag
By the half-drunk can
Wrapped in a bag.
The ancient ones,
Full of mold and scold
Or just plain old,
Short and fat,
Or pleasantly plump.
Mind the start, mind
The bump.
As I walk the dog and creep away
From the curb; do not disturb,
Says the pass around the neck.
“Wait till I sit!”
(Prevent a fit.)
That says, I made it Up the steps!
“Step up, please!”
“Yes sir, yes ma’am!”
I’ve seen them all:
Short and fat,
Thin and tall,
Soft, rosy cheeks,
Eyes of merriment,
Eyes of distress,
Eyes of joy,
Eyes that are coy.
Yokes and cuts,
Blokes and mutts,
Bosoms and bubble butts,
Grannies, Mujercitas
On the Mission.
Grasping sometimes,
Clutching the rail.
With the smile of a mile,
The old Filipino men-
“Of Mac Arthurs’s song:
‘I will return, I’ ll be back,’
Their ball caps proud.
Or wait for the next bus,
If too large a crowd.
A Gemini refrain:
“Girls, these buses are like men
In life;
Don’t worry,
There’s always another one coming along!”
“Hey, that ‘music is too loud!
Turn it down!”
With a trolley man’s frown—
Stare, actually,
The Muni, stone face
Reaching that far-off place
We go to … we go
To return to sane,
To alleviate the pain
Of a thousand greasy wheels,
Of a thousand scratchy windows
Of a thousand aimless fluids
“Transmuted by a thousand asses
Sitting on a thousand dirty seats.
I sing the song of the Trolley Man.
Oh, you got your
Sunflower seeds
On the floor
By the door.
Cigarette butts,
Bubble gums wrapped,
A transfer in a thousand dirty pieces,
A day pass, Golden Arches remnants,
Taco Bell, dipping dot hell,
Coffee cups, coffee lids, coffee stirrers,
Needle bent, Condom spent,
Tiny zip-lock bags once containing
A fifteen-year relapse.
To keep the tweak (or)
The wake up (for),
To keep the freak At Bay
(Or) The Marina
(Or) The Trans bay
(Or) The Ferry Plaza”
“(Or) Wherever, whenever the hell
They go.
Like cockroaches when the lights come on.
I see all, give a ride
To all.
I am the Trolley Man.
The walk of shame in the morning after,
The dark, bug-eye glasses,
The hide of the passes,
Or
The hall of fame after winning another game,
A high-five as victors!
I am the vicar, the mayor, the
Bus Driver,
Who picks you up
Or wakes you up,
At the end of the line.
Engine, engine 49
Going down the Van Ness line.
If the trolley goes off the track,
Do you want your money back?”
“Last stop people!”
I go no further
Than the truth
Of your ability to read
My head sign,
My sun sign,
By design.
Shall I put up Garage?
Isn’t it great
To put in a request?
I’ve ordered a grande refill
Sitting at my table
At Starbucks.
The current ambiance:
Off-day convenience.
Ah, the buzz
Of the only pleasure left.
No punctuation worries,
No schoolmarm duress
Of creative process.
And so I sing the song
Of the trolley woman”
“Of the trolley man
From the barn,
Where expert operators
Remain.
Potrero,
Which is Spanish
For little field
Or meadow—
A patch of brown grass
Near a freeway by-pass,
A hillock, actually,
Near Union 76 gas,
Firm on Serpentine
Like a Chinese fire drill—
The New Year’s Dragon.
Do we gracefully
Glide
Down the old Mission trail.
Hidalgo’s brave stand
From Hermosillo and Sonora
All the way to Yerba Buena
Towards the Mission of San Rafael.”
“Delores, do we glide
Our sixty-foot trolleys
Side-by-side
With lo-riders, Subarus,
And asshole SUVs
With TCP stencils.
Trafico,
Trafico,
The Ebb and Flow:
Keeping our pride
And our asses
Away from the curb.
Not to lose the wires,
Not to drop our poles,
And so it goes
The operators
Of Potrero in
Turns and twists
Born from new lists
To exist,
Not resist.
To be re-grooved,”
“Retread, reworn,
Re-shod anew—
To Sit Back
And Watch the Show!”
Excerpt From: Douglas Meriwether. “The Dao of Doug 2: The Art of Driving a Bus: Keeping Zen In San Francisco Transit: A Line Trainer’s Guide.” iBooks. (Link button above)
I do my blogs to show that there is a way to love what you do, make money, and be able to keep at it by using spiritual meditative practice, in my case, by carrying a pocket notebook from Walgreens in my shirt pocket–and writing down my day’s adventures. This I turned this pocket notes into a book and share them with whoever is interested. Viola! I’m Driver Doug and my Path, my Dao is open to anyone, anywhere anytime.
How would you design the city of the future?
We’ve seen planned communities built such as the one in Columbia, MD–heralded in the seventies as a “garden to grow people.” James Rouse bought up undeveloped farm land between Baltimore and Washington, DC, and sixty years later, urban planners still use aspects of this template in their current design plans.
We also see strip malls being replaced with faux downtown style shops centered on pedestrian islands separated from a parking lot broken up into smaller zones, rather than the huge lots of yore, but I’m hoping those who respond to this blog approach this topic along the lines of including what has worked in cities throughout history–instead of using new tracts of undeveloped land contained as a separate “city-state.”
Not Just Bikes on YouTube is a great channel to see how bikes are used in Europe, especially in Holland–and how children and seniors alike ride to school or do shopping–because it’s safe. Road Guy Rob is another fantastic YouTuber who shows how dangerous ‘Stroads” have become, as he walks along a main Utah State Hwy. in Orem, UT, ouside of Salt Lake City–which as become a wide multi-lane suburban boulevard with traffic lights making it scary to be a pedestrian trying to cross on the complex left-turn cycles of a road that is trying to be like a street. Traffic volumes not unlike a thruway marginalizing bike riders and pedestrians. Certainly we all know these types of stroads in suburbanized counties bordering a larger metro area.
The area connecting Denver to Boulder, CO; Denton to Dallas, TX; San Jose to San Francisco, CA; and Lynwood to Olympia, WA–all have roads that have become stroads. The State Route 18 outside of Seattle metro going from Maple Valley up to Fall City, crossing I-90, is a perfect example of an area that needs the deepest thought about this topic in regards to the city of the future: how we improve this State route now, can make or break a future for this expanding populated area.
Fortunately, we have the history of Phoenix, which missed out of federal interstate monies in the fifties and sixties because no one living there wanted to become another LA. But the city governance did really cool things, especially when it came to a project bordering along Native American tribal land against an encroaching suburban tract.
Carmel, IN north of Indy, has also found the secret of safety in traffic circles instead of stoplights, and also did a helpful job (or jog) of it’s arterial by conveniently moving the road of off county property. In all these cases of highway improvement in Carmel, IN and Phoenix, AZ, the results are very eye-pleasing and with less conflict than in traditional stroads.
I guess what I’m trying to convey, at least for the US–is to take care when we try to widen or improve a large arterial, and make it safe to use an alternative to the car. Above all:
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Gratitude
My positive feelings come unexpectedly when I’m padding around my new apartment, or running into a friend in the street. Often, my atti-dude changes when I’m ordering a drink at a coffeeshop!
I’m grateful it’s possible to dine-in at a coffeeshop, even if it is a chain like Starbucks. Many folks are haters on the “too expensive” coffee, but my attitude of gratitude extends to who I’m with when I’m sharing an experience of having coffee with someone else. I’m happy to see Starbucks is re-adding furniture in the shop so I can rest inside instead of having to keep walking–as created during Covid. Plus the competition by locally run shops is also nice.
I’m grateful for my new utility bill from PG&E of 26 dollars. I just moved back to San Francisco from Honolulu–and my electric bill in Honolulu was over ten times higher because Hawaiian Electric left using coal for gas to make energy. As a San Franciscan of 29 years, it seemed sacrilegious to run my air-conditioner all day and even during the night-in order to sleep well in Hawaii–the past four years–on my Covid vacation since retiring. But I’m back to free air-conditioning here in San Francisco!
I’m grateful for new yoga classes in a facility that is full service, instead of an afterthought in an inexpensive gym chain. I enjoy the quality of the people training and teaching here in San Francisco, and I realize I don’t have to be concerned what other people think outside of California, or outside San Francisco. There’s always a reason things cost more here. And I don’t have to try to control or complain about wishing things were different. I don’t have to worry about social media postings about how bad things are here in CA.
This place is awesome! If I never see Katsu Chicken on a menu, or see macaroni salad on a plate, I won’t shed any tears. I am grateful for the restaurants that have survived the shut-down and the new ones that are opening.
My new closet is a walk-in and has a light that automatically turns on when I enter. My sink is brand new and has an adjustable sprayer at the faucet, and I have the original cabinetry–plus all new faux marble-topped counters in the kitchen and bathroom. I even have a new vanity as well as the old one. I even have a toilet paper dispenser–and all the electrical outlets work! I have a fire suppression system that is brand new and has a sprinkler system checked annually by the fire department.
One hundred and fifty two buildings in Waikiki over ten stories tall have no sprinkler systems or meet current codes for fires. The Maui fires did kinda freak me out–and a building fire next door to my building in Waikiki had me re-evaluate my evacuation plan. The new tsunami warning zones posted around town looked helpful, but the governmental agencies in Hawaii don’t really seem to be able to do anything–and that’s okay–because everyone seems okay with things the way they are. Today, I don’t have to rock the boat!
The Dao of Doug: A Bus Driver's Perspective 