I met an old man years ago. He was an artist and an illustrator who came regularly into the San Francisco lithography shop where I worked to have his handiwork printed and bound. He drew humorous and realistic illustrations of the highest quality, in a variety of media and styles, for an array of magazines, designers and other clients around the Bay area. Although his work brought him into San Francisco nearly every day, he lived by choice over the bridge and across the bay in Oakland.
One day, while we stood waiting for a proof to come off the printing press, I asked him why he chose to live in Oakland.
“Well now,” he began in a tone that made me suspect he’d used the line before, “living in Oakland, I can look out on the sun setting behind the Golden Gate Bridge and the lovely city of San Francisco draped over the hills. I can watch the boats circling Alcatraz and see the distant peak of Mt. Tamalpais poking up from the fog over Marin County.”
He quickly glanced slightly sidewise out of the corner of his eye to see if I was listening.
“But if I lived in San Francisco,” he said, “what would I have to look at besides Oakland?”
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jmac1949
Lisa Scroggins
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Deborah Young
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