Sadie

Dear San Francisco,

My name is Sadie. If you see me on the street, don't make any sudden movements. It freaks me out. I am a Mama's girl, she is paws-down the awesome-est human I have ever smelled (and I sniff like it's going out of style). The rest of you humans are okay as long as you can keep your voice at a reasonable level and not be too hyper. If I sniff you over and you're chill, I'll hook you up with a nose bump or two. People love them. They are cute.

The thing is, you city folks recognize how blonde, adorable, and perfectly apartment-sized I am. But deep down, I'm a hound dog, y'all. Mama rescued me back in the day from a farm off a country road in North Carolina. Don't get me wrong, the farm was dope. But you can only handle ticks in your ears (and sleeping outside) for so long.

Despite my modest beginnings, I made my way to the the city by the bay and, as it turns out, I'm pretty fancy. Go on, Google me -- I'm what you might call a "comfort retriever," the rather charming hybrid breed of Cocker Spaniel mixed with Golden Retriever. So boo-yah to those chickens back on the farm that were all flappin' about saying I didn't belong. No, I didn't belong you stupid hens! And how's that smelly shack treating ya?! I'm currently lounging in a warm hardwood flat and sleep in a BED. Try to peck me now!

I take my Mama on walks several times a day. First thing in the morning and late at night are regular strolling times. Give me a friendly holler if you see me, but don't get to close to my Mama. Or I will go from cute city dog to ruthless guard dog in less time than it takes to say "bite me."

Smoochies on the face,

Sadie

***
Sadie lives with her beautiful mama, Megahn, in NOPA. You can see the two of them together here.

Megahn's i live here:SF story is here.

Megahn

In a hallway
Somewhere in NOPA
Sunday morning

***

There was a fullness of life I felt happening here one cold, wet, December trip several years ago. I was visiting Lauren, my muse and oldest best friend who moved to the city directly after finishing her undergrad at UVA. I was a wide-eyed girl from North Carolina on my first trip to California. A venture which marked my second time being west of the Mississippi River.

I made that trip to San Francisco to understand why (oh why!) my beloved best friend ditched our post-college plans of living together in New York City for this far out city by the bay. Before graduation, she called me in Raleigh, NC, asking and encouraging me to join her. "So what do you think about San Francisco?" Lauren finally says. My full and instant reply was, "I think it's in California."

The West Coast was a foreign concept to me. More than that, I had a mother recovering from a life-threatening disease and my only grandmother faced serious health issues as well. Lauren moved west without me, but with a promise that I would visit as soon as I could. A few months later she was settled into her dark and cozy Pacific Heights attic apartment, and I made good on my promise.

My 10-day stay spanned New Year's Eve, allowing Lauren and I to celebrate our 24th birthdays together and take advantage of some treasured time off from our newly acquired jobs. It rained every day of that trip. Getting around was messy and difficult. The four steep flights of stairs up to her apartment were a real kick in the ass at the end of our long cold days touring the city. I was uncomfortable and unsure of myself in this new place... feelings with which I was not familiar. The change was invigorating. I felt alive.

I went back to North Carolina. I took with me a larger view of my country and a knowledge that one day, I would live in San Francisco.

Three years later, my appetite was whet for change and challenge. The seed planted during that cold, wet, December visit, came to its fruition in the form of a west-bound cross country trip in the Spring of 2008. I had my dog, a great resume, and a friend with a futon in San Francisco.

Now I live here, San Francisco. I still feel uncomfortable and unsure of myself at times, as the city continues to stretch me and force me to grow. But I am living the dream of my imagined life. This life is full of challenging work, in a city ripe with possibilities, surrounded by an ever expanding band of friends and colleagues that challenge me to become my best self.

***

You can see the rest of Megahn's photo shoot here.

A related post using one of Megahn's photos can be read on CALIBER.

You can find Megahn here on tumblr: http://goldenmeg.tumblr.com/
and here on Twitter: http://twitter.com/goldenmeg

Roo

On Sutter Street
NOPA
Saturday afternoon

***

my name is roo and i love and hate pigeons! don't know but i have to be near them! i love sniffing poop and also i always want cheese and i will sit and wait until you give me some of that carnitas. the days that mom and dad get burritos are the best because then maybe there will be carnitas also it is good when dad barbecues because then he gives me burger but it is not as good as carnitas. i follow your feet. i have to lick this thing right now. i will follow your feet even closer if you have carnitas! that looks good to lick. let's go for a walk i want to see if there are other dogs that are really big like me who might want to let me hump their sides. BURRITO? barkbarkbark. do you want to run down this hall with me? i am running down this hall right now! HA HA HA! i wonder if there is cheese down there. is that a cat? i love and hate cats! i don't know but i have to be near them! i smell meat.

***

Roo has Kate wrapped around his little paw.

You can see more of them together here, and read Kate's story here.

Kate

Outside the Macedonia Baptist Church on Sutter
NOPA
Saturday afternoon

***

i grew up in this city, skinning my knees on geary, pecking with trepidation at dim sum, skipping around the richmond district to fetch after-school candy, swaddled in fleece at nightgames at candlestick, sleeping on my floor of my parents' bedroom for weeks after the '89 earthquake, visiting my mom's office in the haight, and my dad after work in the embarcadero, sneaking into filthy bars in north beach without even the pretense of an ID. the spread of the city, all right there. an embarrassment of riches.

my parents still live in the house my sister and i grew up in, a statuesque shingled masterpiece near the presidio--near enough that you can smell the eucalyptus. after high school i left, because one must to truly appreciate, for seven years. i went to college in connecticut, where i embraced the snow, slipped on the ice, cursed the distance, and pined for my city. i went to law school in north carolina, where i was intoxicated by the spring blooms, the uneven sidewalks, the drawl, the sweet tea. it was a social experiment and i loved it. but still home is home is home, and after graduating i did the most natural thing in the world and drove my life straight across the country back to where i belong. i ended my torrid affair with the south. i believe it is hard to grow up in san francisco and end up anywhere else.

i practice a very san francisco kind of law, at a very san francisco law firm. i am one of what i can only imagine is a very select group of litigators who occasionally wears a crinoline under a full skirt to work, with my red and occasionally black nails and sky high heels. then i come home, take it all off, put on ratty shorts and a giants hat, and take roo on a long walk. i prefer to do so in the fog. i love it when this city is brigadoon. it is all very, very san francisco. this is who i am as an adult here.

i was born in 1980 at the alternative birth center at mount zion hospital in lower pacific heights. and that's all very san francisco and appropriate. i now live in that neighborhood, where each block is an adventure. i explore my city, camera in hand, and i rediscover it. there are few things more gratifying than showing this city off to visitors, walking from neighborhood to neighborhood, noting how they segue into each other, and how their smells and sidewalk art and denizens match and clash.

i ride the bus in this city, and it informs and pushes me. to ride the 22, and sometimes the 1, is to have my romance with this city challenged from every angle, but isn't it a real relationship, to ride the 22 at 11pm, and still consider san francisco one of my truest loves?

the summer after my sophmore year in college i was supposed to live in los angeles ((insert hissing noise here)) and i had a plum job in the entertainment world. my mom had recently recovered from an illness, and the minute i got to LA i knew it was wrong. i returned to san francisco days later, despite the fact that i was, in essence, alone in the city with my parents and our cat. none of my friends, the faces that defined the place for me until that summer, were there. and that summer i nested in the city alone. i worked at a book store and i ran the steepest inclines and i redefined what this city is to me. i would drive home, late at night, when the traffic lights on pine are flashing and there is no stopping, and i could feel the city living in me. it was then that i became an adult in san francisco, in a mature relationship with this remarkable place.

i grew up here, yes. i had a childhood that is filled with drives to berkeley, landings in sfo (where you think, you truly think, the plane is going to land on water), japanese food downtown, the roses in golden gate park, the windows of mom's office looking out onto the haight. but i did not know, then, how lucky a duck i was. it is a proud thing to be a san franciscan, and a native at that. but i don't think i had context for just how remarkable this place is when i was young. it was simply home.

it took leaving. it took, even, loving another place, to realize that san francisco is where i come from but it is also where i belong. it took reacquainting myself with the city on my own, away from the trappings of my childhood spent here, to realize it is my city through and through. and to belong here is an honor, bestowed on the many, because that is how san francisco rolls.

***

Kate's blog is Scenes from My Hood.

You can see the rest of her photo shoot here.

Melissa

in NOPA
Friday afternoon

***

We belong somewhere like this.

Those were the words I wrote in an email to my husband, Brent, inspired by San Francisco on my first business trip to the city. Several years passed and my passion for the city intensified, eventually spreading deep through Brent as well. We were sick with desire to pick up and start over with the cold fog on our bags. But at the time, we were a newly married couple with mortgage payments and careers firmly fixing us in Raleigh, North Carolina. I've learned in life that when you really want something... I mean, really, deep down inside of you want something, things have a way of working out. In some strange twist of fate, San Francisco opened itself up to us when my company offered me a new position and the opportunity to transfer to the Bay Area. In a matter of a few weeks and many boxes, our house was sold, our cars too... our belongings either packed away in the attics of our family or sold to someone off craigslist.

We were minimal. Only the bare essentials were placed on a truck and headed for Baker St., San Francisco. Arriving here was like exhaling. I'd been so fearful for so long that somehow our impossible stroke of luck was going to fall away and leave us short of realizing our dream. The mornng of our move, we flew out on the first flight from RDU, our two small dogs in carriers under our seats. We slept on the floor of an empty apartment for three days until the moving truck made its way to our door.

Our tiny new apartment was a mere fraction of the size of our former home, and yet it felt like a kingdom to us. The Victorian ceilings were high enough to hold all of our expectations. The old uneven hardwoods supported our dancing feet and the old furniture we dragged in off the street. We explored our new neighborhood like wide-eyed children. We absorbed everything. Everyone. In two months time, I went from never having ridden a city bus to navigating from one neighborhood to the next without even looking up.

Our relationship and trust in one another grew exponentially in our new city. We discovered new places, took winding rides to the top of Twin Peaks and to the edge of the Cliff House. I smelled and breathed and viewed everything on the back of my husband's motorcycle, never needing to say a word, feeling his energy and mine and that of the city abounding. In the beginning we were euphoric.

And then as time passed, we began to feel comfortable. We slept through grocery carts clanging past our windows and people laughing loudly at 3am. We learned where to find a killer barbeque sandwich, delicious Pho, and the best hardware store to purchase paint. We began to know people. Shop owners, neighbors, new friends. Our dream was growing into a solid new life. Brent found work as an art assistant for an established San Francisco artist and his music has been welcomed by venues and patrons across the city.

San Francisco has changed both of us. Every day we throw back the covers, open the blinds, and expect to be charmed. We close our eyes each night, with expectations met. We are living in San Francisco deliriously, passionately, feverishly... because it was true all along. We belonged somewhere like this.

***

Melissa's blog is Stay Forever Sunday.

The rest of Melissa's photo shoot is here.