The last time I flew into San Francisco, the memories flooded in; after all, it was not my first trip to the Bay area.
In the early seventies, a group of Vancouver (B.C.) artists - myself included - were invited to exhibit paintings at the annual San Francisco Arts Festival.
So, I made my first trek to Frisco, when the liberated seventies were in joyous full swing.
On the evening of the unveiling, I was strolling idly through the displays of the colorful textured works of art, when I struck up a conversation with an elegant man in a business suit who was taking a quick gander at the paintings while he was on an intermission break from a celebrated Opera being staged next door.
When I let it slip I'd never attended a lavish stage production like the one underway at the Opera House - he urged me to return to the theatre with him to take in the closing act of the sold-out musical extravaganza."But, I don't have a ticket," I lamented.
That little hitch didn't deter the charming fellow one bit.Here, take my program and my opera glasses. Walk in with me at curtain call, and they'll assume you were already a guest at the performance, out on a smoke break."
So, off we dashed, at the ready to launch our little scheme.
Shameful, I didn't feel guilty at all about trying to pull off the charade.
Besides, it was also an opportunity to test my acting skills.
When we approached the elaborate doors of the Opera House (my heart pounding madly in my chest) the usher gave a curt little nod - and we strode in confidently, he - none the wiser.
Ah, we slipped through with flying colors!
Joan Sutherland was magnificent, and her remarkable performance will be indelibly etched on my mind forever, along with other fond memories.
I'll wistfully recall the quaint old Victorian walk-up on California Street, for instance, where I bunked with good buddies on that occasion.
And, a romance which sprang up out-of-the-blue as I rode a noisy cable car up Nob Hill by the seat of my pants - was particularly memorable.Shortly after catching the eye of a beautiful stranger that balmy evening, I embarked on a clandestine love affair, that would last three adventurous years.
As I jaunted around the city over the next few weeks, there was much to report on - the grandeur of Grace Cathedral, the peaceful Noe Valley in the shadow of the Maiden's Breast, intriguing Chinatown, and a smattering of other romantic out-of-the-way sights sprinkled about here and there in a city brimming chock full of history.
I half expected Mary Ann or Michael - Mrs.Madrigal, even - to saunter by on a quiet side-street, as I was swept up into the rhythm of the magical city.
After all, the Armistead Maupin characters (Tales of the City) are so vividly etched in my mind.
But now, I have a few of my own exciting tales to weave!
No wonder.
As I gobbled down the last morsel of tasty cuisine at a scrumptious Chinese dinner on Washington Street, my fortune cookie promised there would be romance and intriguing scenarios on the horizon.
William Saroyan's thoughts on the subject were well-taken.
"No city invites the heart to come to life as San Francisco does."
Old World charm of the Palace of Fine Arts,,,