OnAWalk With Judy
[This is the second piece in my series OnAWalk With… where I ask friends, strangers, and anyone in-between to take me on a favorite walk of theirs. Send me a note at onawalking@gmail.com if you’re interested in taking me on a walk with you.]
Produce was the topic of conversation when I walked into my neighbor Judy’s apartment. Our other neighbor Janet was already there, and each of the women was offering the other kale and basil. “Janet’s wonderful” said Judy. “She feeds everyone.”
“Well I like to feed the old people,” said Janet. “Then I have to remember that I’m also almost an old lady.”
“What’s the age threshold for officially becoming an old lady?” I asked them.
“Eighty” they answered simultaneously and laughed.
Judy gathered up the necessary layers for a summer walk in San Francisco, said goodbye to her birds and turned on the radio to keep them company, and off we went. Janet had pesto to make so she wasn’t able to join.
Judy has grey curly hair, sparkly eyes (both metaphorical and literal as she was wearing green eye glitter) and seemingly boundless energy. We walked out of our cooperative housing and into the neighborhood. Part of the reason I wanted to do this series was to see San Francisco from other people’s perspective — to notice something new even in a familiar place. I had plenty of that on my walk with Judy.
Our first stop was the Old Holy Virgin Cathedral, a Russian Orthodox Church. I’ve biked past this plain, white clapboard church more times than I can count but never been inside. Since it was Sunday, the doors were open, and a woman with a headscarf beckoned us in. “It is quite different inside” she said.
Boy was it. This simple church structure was resplendent with gold on the inside - niches with altars and portraits of stern looking saints and gold crosses and intricate tapestries. The old-fashioned religious iconography was in stark contrast with the rather modern, abstract stained glass, which cast soft purple and yellow light everywhere. An incredible gem hidden in plain sight.
As we left the church, Judy beckoned me over to the side, where various varieties of roses grew. We stopped and literally smelled the roses before continuing on.
A block or two later, we passed another treasure that I’d only noticed since coming back to California — a many-story tower made of bit of metal and glass in front of a beautiful, rambling Victorian house. When the wind blows, the metal and glass clink together like a giant wind chime. Judy had met the man who made The Tower. He also makes glass apothecary jars filled with found and donated objects which he adorns at the top with headdresses. Judy was going to take some people from our co-up to visit him and see the jars, but he cancelled, saying that he wasn’t feeling “connected to his jars” at the moment. “It happens sometimes, especially in the winter,” he said. That phrase — “not feeling connected to my jars” stuck with me for some reason. I realized later that it expressed a feeling I’ve had while in the midst of major depressive episodes, the biggest symptom of which is just feeling disconnected from everything I usually love. Disconnected from my jars. What a phrase.
We headed up the hill, cutting through Alamo Square and continuing on to Hayes Street where Judy spotted a little pile of free things that someone had left on the sidewalk. After examining the items carefully, including an old book of Masonic rituals and a thermos that we couldn’t open, she left them on the sidewalk for someone else to claim.
We turned and walked onto the Panhandle - the skinny strip of land that leads into Golden Gate Park. Near the middle of the Panhandle was our destination: the Panhandle Fitness Court. When Judy and I first arranged this walk, she told me she wanted to walk there and use the outdoor exercise machines. These types of machines were especially popular in Spain, and Andy and I saw them in Mumbai, but I’ve always been a bit wary of using them.
Judy said I’d be fine and started enthusiastically pumping iron while I delicately attempted to use the machines (I’m very accident prone, hence my hesitancy). A buff Eastern European dude in cammo pants had some suggestions for Judy’s technique on the arm press machine. “This is a great place to make friends! Everyone is so nice here and they teach you things!,” Judy said. Fair enough; I did find it less intimidating than a normal gym.
After a post-workout snack of tangerines, we headed home. Someone had taken the Masonic book from the collection of sidewalk items, but everything else remained in the pile. We headed up the hill and through Alamo Square again. It was particularly crowded overlooking the Painted Ladies (AKA the House from Full House); I noticed multiple instagram photo shoots. [As an aside — if you’re looking for a picturesque park in San Francisco with incredible views surrounded by beautiful Victorians that isn’t completely overrun with tourists, go to Alta Plaza Park instead of Alamo Square].
As we continued walking home, Judy told me about all the people in the neighborhood she’s met during her walks, including a Brazilian cab driver who shared his entire life story with her. As an introverted person, I’m always impressed by people like Judy who can strike up a conversation with just about anyone. She interacts with our neighborhood in such a different way than I do; walking with Judy made a familiar place unexpected and new.
Amazing how much we see from a fresh set of eyes! I would love to take a walk with you and Judy. She has a true gift getting people to share their stories with her.