While prostrate in my hospital bed earlier this year, barely able to move, many memories of places, people and adventures floated through the mind. From the desert, the coast, to readers and friends like you, they flooded the brain synapses many a lonely night after my gal had left my bedside.
One night they drifted to a time in San Francisco, of quaffing Anchor Steam ales, sipping cheap wine, walking along the waterfront, and those days of living and learning about life.
Like fingers on the beautiful palm that is the City, the piers along the Embarcadero stretched into the bay. At the foot of Market Street the Ferry Building stood as an edifice to the rowdy days of longshoremen, dark bars, and suggestive women. From there to the south the piers are even numbered, to the north odd.
A nurse startled me from my memory to jab me in my arm. But the needle didn’t detour the flashback to those days of my rambling youth...