When we got back from saying goodbye to Peter on Saturday night, we went down to the garage and retrieved the mail. A package! Inside was a book–a real book with pages–and a bonus laminated bookmark made by Jamie. The message:
Because you, my dear Ms. Davick, introduced me to these wonderful people way back when.
People are starting to call me dear and that worries me.
I probably did introduce Tales of the City to Jamie way back when because I liked him so much. He reminded me of the wonderful people in the book. I wanted him to move to San Francisco and try the city out for me. Jamie, you did move out here for a while, didn't you? But honestly, I tried to push the books off on anyone who would listen.
The reason I started reading the series was because the cover of the first book caught my eye on the library shelf–not because I knew anything about Armistead Maupin or the San Francisco Chronicle. I was strictly judging a book by its cover. Later it was easy to find the ones that followed because they jumped off the shelves too. (The cover above is not of the same vintage or design.)
Way back when, I never thought I'd be living here. Subsequently, Mary Ann moved away from San Francisco and I moved to San Francisco. Mary Ann and I are around the same age ... but I've always been a late bloomer and I haven't even owned a pair of Ferragamos yet.
But suddenly Mary Ann is back here visiting Michael. The heels of her Ferragamos are getting stuck in the paving stones on Barbary Lane. She's stopping in at Swensen's on Hyde, grabbing a turkey sandwich at the Searchlight, and dialing Mouse on her iPhone.
When Tom and I finally decided to move, I drove out by myself and he flew with Mabel. The car was packed to the gills, and the whole way out I listened to Tales of the City, More Tales of the City, and Further Tales of the City.
