Soon, I really can’t go back.
Growing up in a suburb of San Francisco, I loved visiting the city, being whirled into a world of noise and excitement. Over the years, I walked across the Golden Gate Bridge, explored Chinatown, prayed at Mission Dolores, heard music at Davies Symphony Hall, and rode a trolley up and down the hilly streets.
I meandered around the Sutro Bath Ruins, stared at the safety pin “art” sculpture at the DeYoung Museum, and appreciated the whimsy of the street artists, most notably the “Bush Man,” who costumed himself as a bush near Pier 39 and startled unsuspecting tourists.
But what brought me the most to San Francisco over the years was the shopping, the chance to peruse a dizzying variety of clothes and other items.
We’d board BART, the local metro train, and be whisked down the tunnel under the Bay. We’d emerge at the Powell…
