May 4th, 2016

I’m heading off to see my son Barrett, his girlfriend, Danielle, and my dear friend, Sally Abbott, whom I met when we were in the 10th grade at Wakefield High School in Arlington, Virginia, just across the bridge from DC.

Barrett left his job in forensic finances in DC and moved to San Francisco in July of 2015, after being offered a job as director of finances at a start-up company. Except for the shock of the cost of living, Barrett loves being in San Francisco. He no longer minds working long hours because his work environment is relaxed and congenial, and the food is catered by companies that are health conscious. On the weekends he and Danni and some of their buddies go skiing, surfing, mountain biking, hiking, camping, and exploring around the gorgeous environs.

Danni left behind her life in northern Virginia, her family, most of her friends and her job in order to move out to San Francisco and join Barrett. In no time, she managed to find a job staging mansions for sale, a job which gives her room to exercise her natural artistic talents.

My friend Sally and I were part of a threesome that hung out together in Wakefield High School. The third person was Heidi Sparkes. We met in Mr. Patrick’s AP English class. We were colorful misfits, each of us having lived abroad and then returned to the States with a bigger perspective on life. Sally quoted the Upanishads and the Bhagavad Gita, having lived with her family in India, Thailand, and Burma where her father was assigned various positions in the Foreign Service. From the moment I met her, I knew we’d be life-long friends.

Heidi had just returned to the States from Paris. She dressed in her own unique and attractive Parisian style, totally out of sync with the de rigueur bland look in the States in the early 1960s.

As for me, I had lived in England for three years and was headed for Germany at the end of my sophomore year.

While Sally and I stayed in touch over the past 50 years, Heidi and I lost touch. Then, about two years ago I got a note on Facebook from a person called Heidi, asking if Rickie Merriam and Erica Elliott were the same person. She wanted to know if I was her classmate in the 10^th grade, the one she called “Pippi Longstockings” (from the children’s book with that name) because I had a braid and freckles, told wild stories that made people laugh out loud, and loved adventures. That sounded like me, I reckoned. Turns out her best friend, Jean Altschuler, was my former neighbor and one of the founders of the co-housing community where I live, called The Commons. In no time, Heidi and I renewed our friendship; she and her family became close friends of mine.

The flight to San Francisco was uneventful, fortunately. Danni met me at the airport.

Sally recommended I stay at a historic bed & breakfast near her apartment, called Inn San Francisco, the oldest hotel in the city. During the earthquake and fires of 1906, this was one of the few houses that remained standing. The city’s fire chief owned the home. No wonder the house didn’t burn down. The hotel feels as if I’m staying in someone’s home from the early 1900s with lots of charming touches, including freshly cut flowers in the bedroom and the bathroom and a most scrumptious breakfast, eaten in the gardens in the back of the house.

Barrett, his usual thoughtful self, took me to an all organic, vegan restaurant at the Embarcadero area, Pier 3, with a table right next to the window with a stunning view of the bay.

May 5th, 2016

While Barrett and Danni worked today, Sally drove me all over San Francisco and gave me a grand tour of some of her favorite places. In the 60’s, during the famous “Summer of Love,” I lived for a few months in San Francisco with my former husband, Jeff Elliott, who studied at the San Francisco Art Institute while I worked in a bank as part of the Antioch College work/study program. Jeff and I lived on Nob Hill in a one-room apartment for $300/month—now probably $3000/month. I’ll be writing soon about those wild college days.

Coincidentally, yesterday while sitting in the LAX airport, I received an email from a classmate during junior and senior year at Frankfurt American High school in Germany, who now lives just outside of San Francisco—the Honorable Judge Susan Illston, appointed federal court judge for the district of northern California by Clinton in 1995. I hadn’t seen Susan in 50 years—since graduating from high school. She wanted me to join her for a 50th class reunion in San Antonio, Texas in June. When she heard I was in the airport waiting to board my flight to San Francisco, we arranged our own mini reunion downtown near the Federal building where she worked. Susan hadn’t changed a bit, except for the color of her hair. She was still fully engaged in life, sharp witted, calm, confident and fair—the perfect judge.

When Sally heard that Susan went to college at Duke, she said, “You wouldn’t happen to know our good friend Heidi Sparkes would you? She hung out with us in the tenth grade at Wakefield High and then went to Duke for college.” Susan did indeed know Heidi. They were assigned to the same dorm at Duke. Small world. Susan commented, “Heidi was a free spirit.” And she still is.

Barrett, Danni, Sally and I will leave soon to spend a few days in Yosemite National Park, four hours east of San Francisco toward the Sierras. Sally rented a house in the valley for us. There will be no cell reception and no wifi. I wonder if Barrett and Danni will have screen withdrawal. I’ll be in touch when we get back.

May 6th, 2016

May 9th, 2016

Danni, Barrett, and Sally treated me to an Indian dinner for Mother’s Day. Now it’s time to head home. What a wonderful little trip. Spending time in nature is such a great way to deepen the bonds of friendship.  While in nature, it’s easy to forget your troubles and live in the present moment. Here’s to our Mother Nature.