Imagined City

 

Christmastime. 1958. San Francisco.

That's where I'm spending time these days, though I wasn't there in 1958. My most recent trip to San Francisco was with my husband a few years ago. I also spent a lot of time there in college (visiting a boyfriend) and studying at American Conservatory Theater.

I imagine the city looked like a whole different place in the 1950s, and I'm also imagining it was cleaner, or brighter, or with even bluer skies. I probably have an idealized version of the 1950s in my mind and all those black and white photos from the past don't help.

A wonderful friend from the city gave me a video walking tour this year. It was on a beautiful day and the city looked beautiful as always. I think of it as the most radiant city in America, and always will. 

The reason my friend gave me the video tour is the same reason I'm spending time there; it's where book three of the Beat Street series is set. My lead character is looking forward to going. Her hopes and dreams for the trip are huge on the train ride out.

Some parts of the trip exceed her expectations; others, not so much. But on this late July day, with jungle-hot tropical weather permeating everything, Christmas in San Francisco sounds perfect at 66 degrees. 

The other thing I like about the city is that the weather doesn't seem to change much--though I hope climate change isn't making it hotter. Here in the Midwest, we've had at least 20 days of 90-degree weather and the air feels as heavy as a weighted blanket most days.

I'd wanted the summer to be about COVID ending and life getting "back to normal" and hadn't seen the whole Delta virus mess coming. I hadn't anticipated such heat and the smoke from fires in Canada and out west sending smoggy days our way.

Spending time in the San Francisco of my imagination helps me leave some of the extremely upsetting things happening in the present day. Helping my lead character through the minefields of her life is easier, at times, than dealing with my own.

If I could just make the fires stop and the weather calm down and the virus go away--I'd be a whole lot more powerful than I am. Since that will never be the case, I'm left with my imagination and a middle-grade novel that's just beginning to come together.

Christmastime. 1958. San Francisco.

Sometimes you just need somewhere you can go.