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Vol. 50, No. 8

August 2026

™

THE NOE VALLEY VOICE •

Mercilee • Jenkins

• Alaish Wren • Let Me Let You It buckled up inside and tasted strange Like a mistake the day I left. You looked for me; you would yourself exchange, When I would steal my life, a theft I thought was right to make — It was my soul at stake.

Meditation with Cat in Your Lap Call the cat gently or better yet wait until she comes to you.

You didn’t ask why, just turned up your wrists; Betrayed yourself for me, a drifter. Your mind was sharp, again mine in old mists, But for me, you would storm hell, swifter Than lies that lure and start To stir my rebel heart.

As she settles in your lap notice your breathing as you stroke her fur caress her softness, listen to her purring. Join your breath with hers. A cat does not need to be taught to relax. Learn from her.

I’m looking free, but these nights I don’t sleep; Mornings, like straight gut shots, come worse. If you would come now, offering your deep Pursuit in blood.You broke the curse; You offer life, like balm — There, in your open palm.

See how she half closes her eyes gazing at nothing in particular, noticing everything. Do the same. Remember your breathing. Do thoughts of mice come to her? Does she bat them away when she blinks? Do the same. Regard all the ideas and familiar concerns that float through your head as nothing you need to chase after right now.

Peter and Wendy He brushed by like a thought, He came in like a bet, He brought them back their youthful days To help them both forget. Noe Valley Skies.

Later you can decide. You can choose which ones to keep and let go. Like a cat with her prey, when she grows tired of it she walks away licking herself unconcerned. You can always go back for those troubles on your doorstep. But for now, just stretch out your paws and yawn. Curl up with your cat like a long-lost litter mate.

Photo by Misaki Torii

More Words to Read While regular contributors and editors have this month off, your neighbors and those nearby have some poetry, stories and images to present. Each August and January, we bring you more than the usual hometown journalism. Advertising deadline for the September edition is August 28th. contact patrose@noevalleyvoice.com

Editorial submissions should be received by August 21st. Email us at editor at noevalleyvoice. com Until then, we’ll see you at the Town Square or a coffee emporium close by. Cheers and happy reading. Jack Tipple, Editor and Co-Publisher

They teased on misty shores, And took the late night line, They played some songs in empty bars And laughed like all was fine. They roamed around the streets, And heard the foghorn blow, They climbed the lighthouse, old and locked And said, we know, we know. Up he went, one still day, Just as he always did, He’d meet her by the graveyard cold Out where the dead had hid. He waited by the stones Not guessing he should know; Forever, Peter, we can’t stay — She’d gone where he’d not go.

Everything else can wait while you breathe.

She’d left; she’d said she would She’d took the late night line Far out, away to face the truth — It never all was fine

Jack in the Box©, 3 am The witching hour meets fast food lies But right now I need curly fries.

Mercilee Jenkins is a poet, performance artist and playwright. Her poem “Meditation with Cat in Your Lap” appears in her new poetry chapbook Words You Can’t Eat in Public, available through Finishing Line Press.

Illustration by Alaish Wren

Alaish Wren loves beauty and art, figs, chocolate, elementary-school-level biographies, and the fog. Don’t call it Karl. She is originally from San Francisco and takes long walks while considering her situation on a daily basis.

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© 2025 Corcoran Group LLC. All rights reserved. Corcoran® and the Corcoran Logo are registered service marks owned by Corcoran Group LLC. Corcoran Group LLC fully supports the principles of the Fair Housing Act and the Equal Opportunity Act. Each franchise is independently owned and operated.

2 The Noe Valley Voice • August 2026

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The Noe Valley Voice • August 2026

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4 The Noe Valley Voice • August 2026

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The Noe Valley Voice • August 2026

• Cynthia Vazquez • The King of Sweets

vel at this sugary universe. He beams with pride as I share my enthusiasm for his legacy and smiles ever so slightly. Just enough for me to see the crooked profile of his teeth. I wonder if he was weaned on lecca-lecca (lollipops) and the like. But that doesn’t stop me from walking out with my quarter kilo bag of caramelle.

All roads lead to Re delle Caramelle. It is my favorite corner in Trapani. Housed between the stunning Baroque façades of the Centro Stórico and situated at the juncture of five converging pedestrian streets, one can approach it from almost any angle. It is easy to find and hard to resist. The open door tempts me inside where the triangular floorplan magically makes the small space bigger. It feels like a portal to a fantasy world but it’s real. Upon entering, the aging process is reversed, and I become a five-yearold again. Rainbows and happiness explode around and inside me. Hand wrapped sweets with myriad flavors are for sale by the kilo. Fico d’india, vaniglia, zenzero, cilegia, (prickly pear, vanilla, ginger, cherry) are cut into little hard chunks, the wax paper twisted closed at the top. Bomboloni, torroni artigianali and cioccolato (no need to translate) also line the shelves. An excitable gaggle of actual children arrive, filling the shop that has been in existence for over sixty

Cynthia Vazquez was born and raised in San Francisco. She holds a BA in Spanish, a CA Bilingual Teaching Credential, and a Masters in Creativity in Education. She directed Wicca Wimmin, a dance-theater troupe, sang acapella with JouJou, and has composed and created music videos for the television program San Francisco Loves Learning. She relished a long career as a Spanish Immersion Educator in the SFUSD and is now jubilantly retired. At present she is enjoying time to travel, wonder and write finding inspiration both at home and abroad.

Photo by Jack Tipple anni. They point and touch and make much noise. The proprietor, Salvatore de Giovanni, son of the

previous proprietor Salvatore de Giovanni, keeps a timid but watchful eye on all that come by to mar-

In June alone, 44 San Francisco homes sold for more than $1 million over the asking price. The highest concentration of aggressive overbidding is happening in Noe Valley, but exceptional homes in the right neighborhoods continue to command extraordinary results. The Queen Anne Victorian pictured above was certainly a special property, and we prepared it meticulously for the market this June. Even so, neither the sellers nor I expected it to sell for $1.35 million over asking! Summer has brought the usual seasonal slowdown as many buyers travel and sellers prepare for the traditionally busy fall market before activity tapers in November and December. Will September and October be just as competitive? All signs point to yes. While many agents focus on building larger teams, I remain personally involved in every aspect of every listing. Before real estate, I was a technology executive managing large teams and P&L's to success. Over the past 20 years, I've built my business from the ground up to nearly $1 billion in sales by combining data driven strategy, thoughtful marketing, meticulous preparation, and relentless negotiation. If you're wondering what today's market could mean for your home, I'd love the opportunity to show you what it's like to work with San Francisco's top performing independent listing agent.

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6 The Noe Valley Voice • August 2026

Experience together TK - 8th grade

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The Noe Valley Voice • August 2026

Comerford Alley Photos by Steve Vaccaro Comerford Alley runs eastwest between Sanchez and Church Street, positioned roughly between 27th Street and Duncan Street.

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8 The Noe Valley Voice • August 2026

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The Noe Valley Voice • August 2026

• Daniel C. Murphy • County from my deck in Noe Valley, although Mount Diablo is 26 miles away.

A Mirage or a Miracle? As the father of four bilingual children and the husband of a language- accomplished wife, I grew increasingly uneasy with the fact that I was the lone family member who could speak only the English language.

And from Mt. Diablo on a rare day, one can see Mt. Shasta, 127 miles away in Siskiyou County. It’s not a mirage, but the actual sight aided by the extreme height of those two mountains, plus clear weather.

So, when I retired as an attorney, I decided learn at least a second language to keep up with my family. I chose Italian. I had four remarkable Italian teachers during my learning effort: all worked in San Francisco schools: Giorgio at S.F. City College, Francesca at the Museo ItaloAmericano, Diletta and Mattia at the Istituto Italiano Scuola. All fine teachers. After my beginner’s Italian study at City College, I was able to enroll in a more advanced class taught by Giorgio who impressed me with his recitation of Italian stories, memories and fables. A few years later, it was Francesca who guided our small class at the Museo through the circles of the Inferno, on to Purgatorio, finally to reach Dante’s vision of Paradiso. Next, it was Diletta at the Istituto who helped me with practical, business-like corrections of my Italian. Finally, it was Mattia at the Istituto, who guided me through contemporary Italian literature, novels, and poetry. But of all these Italian teachers, it is Giorgio and Diletta who made this story possible. Since then, Giorgio has left America and Diletta has moved to New York. I

Illustration by Katie Murphy

miss them both. Here is how it all began. At a City College class, many years before I met Diletta at the Istituto, Giorgio gave a lecture that involved Sicilian views and mirages. I listened carefully, but now realize that my comprehension of Italian created my own personal mirage. What I had mistakenly concluded was that on rare atmospheric days a viewer in Sicily might see a mirage occurring in the sky above the coastline of Africa, 87 miles distant: visions of plantation workers and docking ships floating high above the African coastline. When I told Diletta that it was my understanding that mirages floating above the African coastline could be viewed from Sicily, she said immediately, “Non e’ vero. Un’ idea pazzesca!” (It’s not true. A crazy idea!) I was taken back by her negative reaction. I trusted implicitly the

opinion of both teachers which now seemed in my mind to be in stark conflict. So, who was wrong, and who was right? Yes, Solomon had offered to split a baby in two to determine who was its real mother. That could not be the solution here. I liked and respected both my teachers. But how could they both be right? Something was wrong. It turned out to be my Italian. I decided to do some further research in English. I learned that under rare atmospheric occasions, from a few high points in Sicily, a person may actually see the vague coastline of Africa, 87 miles distant. That visual image is not a mirage, but an actual sighting of the African coastline under ideal weather conditions. No surprise, when I thought about it. On a clear day I can see Mount Diablo in Contra Costa

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After further research, I believe the vision which Giorgio was describing and that confused me was a phenomenon called the Fata Morgana. During rare atmospheric conditions a viewer from Italy’s Reggio Calabria coast can view a mirage in the sky above Sicily, three miles away to see “buildings, cars and even unaware passers-by on the streets of Messina,” (see Fata Morgana on-line: “The optical illusion on the Strait of Messina, by Melania R.) So, what is my final opinion about this confusion between actual sightings and mirages? Perhaps, an Italian proverb will provide the answer: “Di notte, tutti I gatti sono neri.” (At night, all the cats are black.) Dan Murphy is a longtime contributor to the Voice. He is a retired administrative law judge, trial attorney, and former head of the San Francisco Legal Office, California Department of Transportation. He lives on Church Street. Dan’s wife, Lloyda, was the family’s reading specialist both in English and Spanish. She died last year. She is dearly missed by Dan and her family.

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10 The Noe Valley Voice • August 2026

Years

All Are Welcome

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The Noe Valley Voice • August 2026 11

• E.Turner • Heated Seats in Summer

ciscan restaurants, or how to ration your olive oil when cohabitating. She could simplify the etiquette for standing in line at the grocery store into a single phrase, articulate with impeccable rationality how many wears you could get out of your jeans before washing them, and could outline the precise circumstances when not to engage a stranger in conversation.

When Helen and I entered the water at Aquatic Park, we moved slowly, as if we were making our way through molasses. When the water reached our waists, we stopped. The hardest part of getting into cold water was submerging the chest. There was no way around it, though. We took one wide, outstretched pose with our arms, counted to three, and plunged our fronts all the way in, gasping. Keeping our heads above the water, as if we were balancing baskets of fruit on our heads, we delayed the second worst part, submerging our faces, as long as possible. Even if we had done it three hundred times before, getting in was always hard. Even in August, when water temperatures in the high fifties were considered warm. Inching our way forward in a freestyle that wasn’t natural yet, we made it as far as the Grace Quan, a replica of a 21st century Chinese fishing boat anchored 200 meters from shore. It was singlemasted, simple, and majestic. Its dark wood made the small white characters stand out from its starboard side. Whenever I passed it, I felt I was swimming in a historical museum. I was part of something bigger, I thought. My tiny existence was just a speck in a long important past. We circled the boat in the middle of the cove, and every worry, annoyance, and slight from earlier in the day began to fade. Helen’s face reflected the light of the summer sun beginning to set. In one silent stroke, the sky was flooded with vibrant splashes of color. I wanted the moment to last forever, at least in my memory. I moved through the water mesmerized by its mystery. How was it possible? I frog-kicked my way towards the opening to the bay, and Helen followed. When I looked back at her, only part of her head surfaced, eyes just above the top of the water, as if she was in pursuit. She always swam with her head like this, dragging her arms out wide by her sides as if she was slowly hunting her prey. On our way back, other swimmers in their wetsuits, Go Pros, and waterproof gadgets swam back and forth between the four buoys, nearly clobbering us

The next time I looked up, the sky had turned from taupe orange into crimson purple. We floated on our backs, staring at the tops of the trees, trying to listen for the parrots and their sudden bursts of yapping that could pierce through the city sounds at any moment. Photo by Jack Tipple

more than once. They seemed so focused on their distance and speed they didn’t even pause to pay attention to what was happening around them. We were the opposite. Like swirl-

ing spoons in hot cups of tea, we were in no particular hurry. We bobbed around, treading water, discussing everything as it popped into our heads. Helen shared important things, like how to find the best 3rd generation San Fran-

When we got out of the water, we made our way to Helen’s old Volvo in the parking lot. The passenger door squealed open and then clunked closed, its heaviness a sign of antiquated car parts. I sank into the passenger seat. The scent of old vinyl, dry pine from an air freshener, and too much sun on cassette tapes baking in her center console was so comforting it made me remember the first time I had ever been in a Volvo, when I was lucky enough to find a ride to high school and didn’t need to take the bus. Helen pushed a button and the seat warmers started to come on. Whenever my body thawed from beneath, my defense mechanisms did too. Helen and I laughed about the fonts on remodeled apartment buildings, recent documentaries we had seen, our addiction to reading fortunes from fortune cookies, and that Atlantic article. We still felt the unbearable urge we always had to get up and leave the city, but for now, we were still there, so we’d keep swimming. I let out a long sigh of relief, my body wrapped in warmth, recovery taking hold.

E.Turner has lived in the San Francisco Bay Area for twenty years. Her writing has appeared in Swimming World and The San Franciscan.

smiles along the way, they eventually loop back onto Sanchez. The runs often include children in strollers, dogs on leashes, and even a parrot named Banana perched calmly on a member’s finger. People wave from sidewalks and windows as the NVRC runners pass by.

ood runs, after Powell jokingly NV Voice 26-8.qxp_Layout 1 8/8/26 5:21 PM Page 12 eferred to the outings as a “Noe Valley un club.” What began as a casual idea among iends has evolved into a weekly fix12 The Noe Valley Voice • August 2026 ure, with roughly 35 to 40 people tending most Fridays. “Even if they’re not the biggest runers, they’re joining for the community ement—that’s something I really ppreciate about Noe Valley,” Gondak aid.

Lasting Connections

Summer BEAUTIFUL Gondak has since moved to the Inner Richmond but still joins on Fridays when work allows. At a recent run, she spoke with a longtime Sanchez Street resident who told her the club had helped him finally get to know his neighbors. “I think that’s really what the run club has brought and continues to bring to the neighborhood—just a lot of those connections,” Gondak said.

More Runs, More Runners

NEW YOU!

For fellow NVRC member and capin Andrew Dupree, 38, the club ffered a way to rebuild social connecons after the pandemic. “I needed more community in my fe—new friends, new acquaintances, ew people to spend time with. For me, he run club really played a big part in Where Health is Restored You can find Noe Valley Run Club on hat. It helped me meet people nearby Instagram, Strava, and, of course, ho were looking for something simiTo look and feel your best,thethe expert services of running around neighborhood. r,” he said. Zaré Medical can provide you with the lasting results Dupree, a Google product manager, Noe Valley Run Club captain Geneva Gondak (back row, center) joined the clubyou’ve shortly after oined in fall 2022 after a neighbor been looking for. it formed in March 2022. Though she now lives in the Inner Richmond, she still attends the mentioned the club while spotting him Friday morning runs when able. Photo by JL Odom n a run. Get in touch with Dr. Sara Zaré today and make this “I had never been a run club guy Holiday Season your time to shine! efore. I was just kind of a headphonesthree-mile outings, some stick around hood. He’s now a consistent presence n, solo runner,” he said. “So I was like, for food and drinks at one of the 24th on Fridays. Phone 415.766.7266 or ’ll try it out.’ I just wandered up there Street eateries. “It’s a really great group of folks in use the contact form at zaremedicalsf.com he next Friday and basically haven’t “We’re really about making friends, all levels of running, from marathoners missed one since. If I’m in town, I’m meeting the neighbors. It’s our angle, and ultramarathoners to folks who just here.” our focus. And I think that works for a want to show up and have a nice O little UR SERVICES The club has expanded beyond its lot of people,” Dupree said. run,” he said. riginal Friday run. Some members All Levels Welcome “We’re very supportive of folks who Replacement • Hormone ow meet earlier for a four-mile route Member and co-captain Brad Taylor are just beginning their running journey Relief hrough Glen Canyon Park before has helped design NVRC hats and and just want to get a coffee• and chatof Menopausal Symptoms egrouping for the main run. Afterward, sweatshirts, which have become staples with their friends and neighbors,” he many linger at Noe Cafe for coffee, at runs and social events like potlucks added. • Adrenal Fatigue Therapy astries, and conversation.5SFFT BSF POF PG UIF NPTU and happy hours. Group Photo at the•Start Weight Loss NVRC also hosts evening runs on Taylor, a health tech CTO in his 40s, DPTU FGGFDUJWF DMJNBUF TPMVUJPOT he first and third Tuesdays of each Newcomers to Friday mornings can • Anti-Aging Procedures BWBJMBCMF UP VT joined NVRC in 2022 after a good month, meeting in front of Mamahuhu friend recommended it. Not a runner at expect a laid-back scene andincluding welcom- PRP injections, nd the former Todo El Día (soon-to-be the time, he figured what better way to ing atmosphere. People mingle in small micro-needling & medical *O 4BO 'SBODJTDP onita), respectively. Following their start XF IBWF than with those in his neighborgroups before the captains gather aesthetics.

ZARÉ MEDICAL

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+PJO VT JO NBLJOH B EJGGFSFODF

NVRC members Andrew Dupree (left) and Contact Dr. Zaré Today! Dr. Sara Zaré, ND

XXX GVG OFU

Sophia Sanchez, a couple, initially met through the club. Dupree is also one of NVRC’s captains. Photo by JL Odom

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The Noe Valley Voice • August 2026 13

• Grace D’Anca •

Early to Jazz/Late To Prince

What The Heck Does heja Mean

Early to jazz, late to Prince twirling those fake gold dials on the aqua blue plastic radio got with green stamps sitting at the oval mirrored vanity the scent of my mother's peony pink powder remains in the drawer. Pictures taped to the wall homage to Twiggy, Jean Shrimpton so envious of those eyes foam curlers, brutal brush rollers orange juice cans for that Jackie look cake mascara with the little brush rouge, smell of nail polish remover. The empty wine bottle collection on the ledge over the wooden steps my mother refinished, gleaming dusty smell of things she saved in the antique chest of drawers from her grandpa’s house in New Prague. How hot the attic was summers, brutally cold in winters. My dolls still saved in the attic Prince Charming Alice in Wonderland stolen one frigid morning robbers climbed up onto the eaves so strange, anyone could see mom and dad gone to the doctor so many keys and locks not enough. Early to jazz, late to Prince everyone loved Joan Baez Miriam Makeba sang the click song Bob Dylan at the U not quite famous then, played sideways to the audience. Early to jazz late to Prince first loves Dave Brubeck Ramsey Lewis, no dance just smoke, drink talk about ideas flirt. Everyone loved the Beatles. Not me only Lucy in The Sky With Diamonds no clue what it meant toked dope for a minute til it made me paranoid til I had the sense to pass it up everyone loved the Beatles I loved the Impressions Martha and The Vandellas Miles. Early to jazz late to Prince I missed him only him, a piano and a microphone playing in Oakland. just before he died.

I confess I just ate a yogurt cone a hot dog and a sticky bun in rotating order like you’d eat pork chops, peas and salad. I would have swigged the coffee between bites but it was lethal hot. I was at IKEA and those sticky buns are good as ever. It seems to be a destination for teens on Saturday afternoons and middle-aged women doing lunch with their mothers after shopping for whatnots and meatballs. I was tempted to look for sheets but worried I’d be marooned in the jungle of it, fearing being left there alone in the dark. And what the heck does heja mean on the back of those blue vests to separate destinies.

Photo by Sally Smith

Sun-glassed and Perusing Sun glassed perusing my phone sitting on the bench seat on the 14 Mission bus undetected, I believe I study the older man next to me as he reaches across the aisle to stop the walker of the young man opposite me from smashing into my knee as the bus wheezes block to block.

That young man is so beautiful I can hardly look at him. And he is so stoned he folds onto his lap. I wonder if they are together both have stuffed canvas bags. The older man looks at me and says I’m sorry I say I’m worried he will fall. He and I exit at the same stop. We nod at each other as he fetches his bike off the rack and we three follow our fates to separate destinies.

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Grace D’Anca’s poetry has been featured in the Noe Valley Voice, Raquet Journal, forum, Community Living Campaign, Elder Litquake, and OWL (Older Writers Lab) anthologies. Her writing has been featured in Deborah Slater Dance Theater’s In The Presence of Absence, and RAWdance’s STEP/STORY/SONG. She is also a member of Cosmic Elders, Drama With Friends, and Aquatic Park Players theater ensembles, and Dance Generators inter-age workshop.

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14 The Noe Valley Voice • August 2026

CITY AND COUNTY OF SAN FRANCISCO Community Outreach Public Notice Prepared by The Office of the Clerk of the Board of Supervisors Pursuant to Administrative Code, Section 2.81

Remember Rain? This was the scene in Noe Valley in February.

Photo by Lois Green

San Francisco Board of Supervisors Board or Commission Vacancies: Participate on a Board or Commission! Sunshine Ordinance Task Force (SOTF) The SOTF is currently looking for interested individuals to serve! They work to make sure operations and decisions in San Francisco government are kept transparent and public. Vacant Seats: Seat 1 - Must be nominated by the local chapter of the Society of Professional Journalists and be an attorney. Seat 2 - Must be nominated by the local chapter of the Society of Professional Journalists and be a journalist. Seat 3 - Must be a member from the press or electronic media. Seat 5 - Must be nominated by the local chapter of the League of Women Voters. Seat 6 - Must be a member of the public experienced in consumer advocacy. Seat 7 - Must be a member of the public experienced in consumer advocacy. Seat 8 - Must have demonstrated interest in, or have experience in, the issues of citizen access and participation in local government. Seat 9 - Must have demonstrated interest in, or have experience in, the issues of citizen access and participation in local government. Seat 10 - Must have demonstrated interest in, or have experience in, the issues of citizen access and participation in local government. The Assessment Appeals Board (AAB) The AAB resolves legal and value assessment issues between the Assessor’s office and property owners. Hearings are quasi-judicial, conducted in a manner similar to a court setting, with evidence and testimony presented by the parties. The Board then evaluates the evidence and testimony and renders its decision. To be eligible for seat appointment, you must have a minimum of five years professional experience in California as either a: (1) public accountant; (2) real estate broker; (3) attorney; or (4) property appraiser accredited by a nationally recognized organization, or certified by either the Office of Real Estate Appraiser or the State Board of Equalization. For a full list of current or upcoming Boards, Commissions and Task Forces, please visit https://sfbos.org/vacancyboards-commissions-task-forces. Want to work for the City? Visit the website https://careers.sf.gov/ and find a job that’s right for you! Department Announcements Fire Department Lithium-Ion Batteries: Power Your Devices Safely Lithium-ion batteries power many everyday items such as smartphones, laptops, e-bikes, scooters, toys, and smoke alarms. While convenient, these batteries store a large amount of energy and can overheat, catch fire, or explode if damaged or used improperly. Protect Your Home with These Safety Tips: •Buy Smart: Choose devices and batteries tested by a nationally recognized safety laboratory. •Charge Safely: Use the charger designed for your device. Never charge batteries on beds, couches, or under pillows. •Watch for Warning Signs: Stop using batteries that become hot, change shape, leak, or make unusual noises. •Recycle Responsibly: Never throw lithium-ion batteries in the trash. Take them to a certified battery recycling location. •If a battery overheats or catches fire, move away and call 9-1-1. San Francisco Fire Department Protecting lives through presence, prevention, preparedness, and public safety. Human Rights Commission The Human Rights Commission (HRC) is the City’s charter agency for civil rights enforcement and provides a number of services to the public (with language translation available as requested) including: investigation and mediation of discrimination complaints in housing, employment, and access to businesses or other public places; investigation and mediation of complaints of noncompliance with the Sanctuary City Ordinance and the housing provisions of the Fair Chance Ordinance; and referrals of information to constituents, community groups, businesses, and government agencies. HRC additionally offers an internship for young people age 13 to 24; the Opportunities for All initiative provides San Francisco youth a chance for meaningful, intensive career development and mentorship. HRC is also a grantmaking City department, supporting local community-based organizations and service providers through our grant funding and management processes. Contact us at www.sf.gov/sfhrc and (415) 252-2500 and HRC.Info@ sfgov.org to let us know how we can be of service. Human Services Agency Are you an older adult, veteran, or person living with a disability? The San Francisco Department of Disability and Aging Services can help you find care, meals, recreational activities, and more in the City. Learn more: SFHSA.org/ DAS You don’t need to be perfect to be a foster parent. You just need to care. You can foster SF. Learn how at Foster-SF. org The City and County of San Francisco encourages public outreach. Articles are translated into several languages to provide better public access. The newspaper makes every effort to translate the articles of general interest correctly. No liability is assumed by the City and County of San Francisco or the newspapers for errors and omissions.

CNSB#4062484

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The Noe Valley Voice • August 2026 15

• Helen Dannenberg •

• Mark Thoma •

Denying Tears

The Visit

Seeing Stars

The Promise of Green

water would have poured down the avenue making a big lake from avenue to boulevard and to avenue water would have risen from the back yard with the white picket fence on three sides up to the sky and the moon and the star constellations

She would ring the bell explain she grew up in this house from the third grade until she was twenty years old. She would say “I'll spend tonight here. I'm very quiet and well behaved. l’ll sleep wherever you want me to. I'm hoping when I sleep the spirits of my grandfather mother, father, the dog, cats, goldfish will come spend time with me, bring memories I have forgotten.”

Look up see stars starlight takes a long, long, time to reach your eyes the ones you hold open longing into the heavens, blue votives someone lit for you traveling prayers of light for you At night we look to the stars for companionship because nighttime can be scary and those steadfast blue sentinels stationed in the sky speak to us there, there all's well.

Let's shake off this gray and step hand-in-hand outside to green. Together we'll live the promise of you and me, this ripe world, the whole lot of us singing green songs.

water would pour down the parkway past the Museum and the Botanic Gardens and the plaza, then across the bridge water would fill all the thimbles the father used water would fill the worn lopsided frying pans used to make pancakes water would fill the recesses and crannies of the daughter's piano water would fill the bookcase water would fill her heart and stomach and organs and brain and eyes water would carry her away past her strength to swim back to life if she had allowed herself to cry at your funeral

She would accept a good night hot chocolate and breakfast, if offered then she'll take her experience and be gone you'll hardly remember she was here. You’ll say to each other “Did that old lady really come stay in our house? Did we really let her in? Or maybe we dreamt it all?”

Helen Dannenberg is a dancer and choreographer. And she is a retired long-term care social services coordinator. Her written work has been published in Forum, Noe Valley Voice, and Community Living Campaign Journals. Her assemblages have been shown at Spike’s Café, FOG Gallery, and the Drawing Room Annex. She performs with The Cosmic Elders, and she is a devoted participant in the Noe Walks.

SAINT JOHN CATHOLIC SCHOOL Excellence Through Compassionate Education

The Fireplace Fireplaces sit lonely in the summer empty of flames, cold without embers, no glow to throw on walls, on curtains, conversations escape through the chimney leaving only hollow silence.There's no cure for such emptiness but the sureness of winter dragging its gray mood behind whilewe plan our spring garden next to the fire, seed catalogs scattered on the coffee table, and your worn slippers too comfortable to pitch,maybe a raised bed this yearmaybe wild flowers this year summer dreams, yes one more please, at least one more.

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Mark Thoma’s poetry, short fiction, and flash memoir, have appeared in journals and anthologies such as the Marin Poetry Center Anthology, Front Range Review,The RavensPerch,Vistas & Byways, and The Noe ValleyVoice. His work as a medical socialworker and nature lover informs much of his writing. Mark is working on a chapbook. He lives in the Castro.

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16 The Noe Valley Voice • August 2026

J-Car going North.

Photo by Art Bodner

CITY AND COUNTY OF SAN FRANCISCO Community Outreach Public Notice Prepared by The Office of the Clerk of the Board of Supervisors Pursuant to Administrative Code, Section 2.81

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The Noe Valley Voice • August 2026

• Nancy Ware • Faith

that pop into our vision- like a branch of a tree with two birds that impel us to do something totally out of character that change us.

A twist of fate that happened more than 50 years ago, still haunts me today. My dear friend, Faith, was not convinced that she’d be a good mother and wasn’t sure she wanted children. But she and her husband fell in love with my firstborn, Michael. When Michael was about three, they asked if they could borrow him for a weekend to take him to Martha’s Vineyard. I think it was a kind of a test to see how they’d cope with a young being. This could have gone really badly, but Michael was on his best behavior and when they returned, they were exhilarated. It was a turning point for them, as their first child, Alex, was conceived soon after. Three years later, Faith was again pregnant…with twins! For the first three months she was in and out of the hospital, she couldn’t keep anything down; she was dehydrated; she was miserable. When she was home, she was bed-ridden, and I’d go over everyday and read to her, try to raise her spirits, telling her it would soon pass. Faith was a beautiful woman, but as I entered her bedroom on this April morning, she looked exhausted. I could tell she’d been crying. “I can’t do this anymore.” Her voiced cracked. “I’m going to end the pregnancy.” “Faith… I gasped. Her eyes filled with tears, and in a whisper she said, “I just don’t think I can survive it.” But she had to survive it. I had always believed in a woman’s right to choose; I still do. But there was something personal to me about these little twins. Faith was a religious person. She passionately believed in a higher power. Looking back on it, it’s inconceivable to me to think that I proposed this deal. Throughout our conversation, I’d been looking out the window, watching two small sparrows sitting on a tree branch. Taking a deep breath, “Faith,” I said, “See that lone bird sitting on that branch? There were two of them. But just as you

We have the courage and we have the wisdom to act on those signs and realize that it was the road we were meant to be on all along. And that, to me, is the miracle of life.

October

Photo by Jack Tipple

said you wanted to end this pregnancy, one bird flew away. What if we put the decision into God’s hands? If the bird returns, you keep both babies. If the bird on the branch leaves, you do what you feel you need to do.” Faith stared at me then turned back to the window. After a long silence, her head nodded slowly. And so we waited…and waited… neither of us taking our eyes off of the branch. The single bird remained, motionless. Minutes passed and still the branch remained half empty. What had I done? I began to panic. “Please, God,” I found myself praying, “please let the bird return.” And we waited… We waited so long; I think we’d both stopped breathing. And then, just as suddenly as it had left, the other bird returned and sat down on the branch. Faith inhaled from deep within her throat. I exhaled, a startled laugh escaping. Our eyes met in wonder and astonishment, and we hugged, tears spilling down our

faces. “It’s not up to us anymore,” Faith murmured. “No it’s not“ I replied, and for the first time in weeks, I watched as a smile spread across her face. Months later, Faith delivered two beautiful baby boys, but I have been haunted by this experience. Did I do the right thing? Was it stupidity? Arrogance? Desperation? What if the bird hadn’t returned? Was the fate of those two babies on me? I know something shifted in me that day. Was there something greater at work that April morning? Are there signs right in front of our eyes directing us to a new path? None of us can go through life without plot twists and turns. They are a necessary part of the journey. It’s the left hooks, and the U-Turns that color our maps and make our trips interesting. I have come to realize that we are not tested by the stories that we plan in our lives. Rather, it’s the unexpected signs

Youth sprints up the mountainside Nikes trampling on bleeding hearts and columbine Shouting, “Just Do It!” The acme glistens like a golden prize Awaiting the conquest. Lift up thine eyes, oh youth Your help comes from without. Hormones of nature propel you onward. The adventure is knowing you’re on the way up. It is high noon, and the mid-day sun beckons. Ah, but there is more radiance in the setting sun Casting shadows on the slopes. What a gift to descend the mountain Barefooted; stopping to smell the wild heather Or listen to the whippoorwill sing to the evening star. Eyes focus on the turn of a fern The glittering mica in the riverbed A solitary red leaf. Joy is knowing the mountaintop was never the goal. I meander down and wonder What lies around the next bend?

Nancy Ware is an 82 year old retired English teacher. She has lived on Clipper Street for 36 years. She has always loved writing, especially poetry, but has always kept it to herself. Recently she has been eager to share her writing and enjoy the writing of others.

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18 The Noe Valley Voice • August 2026

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The Noe Valley Voice • August 2026 19

• Mike Underhill • about it, except for something George once had said about wanting to go to Africa to hunt – not on safari to hunt game, but as a mercenary to hunt other humans. We both looked back at each other and went silent. After a beat, we each spoke and agreed that we, and me especially, would be better off if we avoided politics. We held to that deal. I’ll never know if George really considered going for one of the guns. He didn’t offer, and I didn’t ask, but if I had to rank encounters with dangerous predators, I can better understand and abide the bears who kill solely to eat and survive in harmony with their nature.

AN ALASKA MEMOIR: SURVIVING THE MOST DANGEROUS PREDATOR In the Spring of 1974, I moved to Southeast Alaska, leaving San Francisco and Bud’s Noe Valley Ice Cream behind. My first job was at Yes Bay Lodge, fifty miles by boat or seaplane northeast of Ketchikan, to work as an assistant cook for the guides and wealthy clientele who came from around the world to sport fish for giant salmon. I was befriended by one of the older and locally famous guides, Bruce Johnstone, a professional hunting guide, prospector, trapper, and logger. He was a true Mountain Man, a real Jeremiah Johnson. Bruce was a grand storyteller. One of his spellbinders involved a bear attack he survived by “Old Groaner,” a giant Alaska Brown Bear, what we would call Grizzlies, which mauled him while he was fishing near the Unuk River. Bruce never went into the woods without a gun, and he scoffed at any fool who relied on bear spray for protection. “All it’ll do is make ‘em madder.” In an unlikely pairing of hippie and redneck southerner, I became friends with another guide. George left Tupelo, Mississippi, Elvis’ hometown, as a middle-aged guy going through midlife crisis. Instead of simply buying a red Corvette convertible and letting it carry him over the hump of his mid years, he left his wife and family, moved to Colorado to become a hunting guide in the Rockies, and then to Southeast Alaska to be a fishing guide. A Ketchikan-based bush pilot was looking for someone to build a log cabin for him next summer on a small tributary of the Unuk, the same river where Bruce faced off with Old Groaner. “Unuk” is the Anglicized name of a Native American Tlingit word which translates as “revealed through a dream,” which does better to describe the river than its present name. It is a beautiful and wild river, rich in salmon and migratory birds, starting in glacial waters in British Columbia, then flowing west through the rainforest mountains of Alaska to Burroughs Bay and what is now Misty Fjords National Monument, once hiked by John Muir himself.

Mike Underhill— near Unuk River, Alaska. 1975

George and I agreed to partner up and build the cabin, and in the Spring of ’75 we met up on the Unuk. We were political and personal opposites, but men who nevertheless struck a common chord sufficient for collaboration and work. We lived and worked around moose, brown and black bears, lynx, and wolves, the latter two never seen, except for their scat. We fished for salmon and hunted duck and practically lived off the salmon we smoked in our hand-built, alderwood-fired smokehouse. We sometimes would look up from our work and see a bear a hundred yards down river or across the river, and on some evenings near sunset we would take my skiff up to the riffles and first falls, then drift down with the current. If the wind was in our favor and hid our scent until the last seconds, we could pass silently by moose, bear, and small animals drinking or eat-

ing at the water’s edge. George was a hunter who really liked shooting things. He was a gun man, through and through, who’d skipped over anything resembling the hippie life. Because the bears we lived around didn’t share my Haight-Ashbury ethos, and mindful of Bruce’s advice, I too had guns and kept them close at hand or on the hip when we were working or hiking. Between us, there was a lot of blued steel and gunpowder in our camp. One night we went where we usually didn’t venture: politics and the Vietnam war. We got into an argument that began at slow heat, then got hot enough to light kindling, and finally enough to burst into searing flame. At some point, I saw George look over to the corner where we had our guns stacked. With any other person, I wouldn’t have thought much

After we finished our work on the cabin that summer, George went north to guide for mountain goat in the Wrangel Mountains. I learned he then became a mercenary in the civil war in Angola. We never spoke after that summer on the river and therefore never talked of what he did after he crossed the Atlantic to Africa. I hoped I was wrong, but was fairly certain, based on a quick sideglance he’d made during an argument one night in a river camp in Alaska, that he’d gone to a dark and unholy place at the center of his own soul. After spending more years in Alaska as a fisherman, logger, fishing guide, and eventually a merchant seaman, I came back to the Lower 48 and entered law school. As a lawyer, I often heard criticism of the law and the profession. My usual response, “It’s better than guns across the table or dueling at ten paces,” was tempered in steel by a life-changing night in the wilderness with a fellow human being and too many guns

Mike Underhill has lived in Noe Valley since 1983 and was featured in the March 2011 Noe Valley Voice, “Our Legal Eagle in the Gulf Oil Case.” He was lead counsel for the United States in the New Orleans-based liability trial of the Deepwater Horizon oil spill. No guns were used in the handling of the case. He retired in 2022 after forty years of federal maritime and environmental litigation practice.

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20 The Noe Valley Voice • August 2026

Rainbow over Noe Valley.

Photo by Najib Joe Hakim

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The Noe Valley Voice • August 2026 21

• Susan Broxon • from the summer of 2003 reemerged. My parents (Popo and Momo) flew in from Southern California to look after my twoyear-old nephews while Janet and my brother-in-law, Tom, searched for a new home in Maine after his job offer at L.L. Bean. Though I stepped in to help, I admired their adaptability in sharing a bedroom with the boys, even establishing a seamless bath-and-nap routine for them.

Soulful Sauntering Every trip to San Francisco blends old memories with new discoveries. On a recent late-spring visit, I realized that despite my 40-plusyear connection to the city—as a former resident and loyal tourist—I had never been to Baker Beach. Driven by curiosity, I set out from my Union Square Hotel down an uncharted path. The day was bright and crisp as I legged it through the Fillmore and Richmond Districts, passing Mountain Lake Park before entering the Presidio Landmark. After an unplanned detour through the historic military housing, I finally reached the cliff overlooking the beach. A hazy veil hovered over the Golden Gate Bridge as I ambled down the sandy path, the scene evoking a timeless aura that recalled my parents’ stories of 1950s San Francisco. Even the name Baker holds personal significance. In 1955, my mom, Patsy Baker, moved from Portland, Oregon, to Mill Valley. After a brief stay with relatives, she followed her heart into the city, finding a home at Bakers Acres, a coed rooming house on Baker Street, where fate introduced her to my dad, Robert Broxon. Once a vibrant social hub where friendships formed and romances began, the residence closed in 2002 after an Ellis Act eviction, ending an era. Six months later, their whirlwind romance led to marriage, and they moved into a tiny apartment in Hunters Point, where my dad was stationed as a Navy legal officer. Soon after, my mom's best friend and former Baker Acres roommate, Hilla, married my dad's brother Paul, further intertwining our families. Eventually, Mom and Dad relocated to Newport Beach, but they frequently returned to San Francisco, making their final trip in 2015 to celebrate their 60th anniversary. Dad passed away in 2018, just shy of their 63rd. Today, Mom is the sole surviving member of “the fun-loving foursome.” We loved hearing their enchanting stories of simpler times—easy romances, double dates at the iconic Zim's Hamburger, and bike rides through Golden Gate Park—capturing the thriving yet

Illustration by Alaish Wren

Friendship and romance on the steps of Bakers Acres: From bottom to top: Dad, Mom, Aunt Hilla and Uncle Paul.

gentle essence of San Francisco and, in part, inspiring my sister Janet and me to move there as young adults. I arrived in 1984, initially living in the upper Tenderloin. My sister, Janet, followed in 1985, landing in Noe Valley. At the water’s edge, varied versions of San Francisco converged: my parents’ city, my own, and this long-awaited excursion. Waves crashed around me as I stood in my light dress, relishing the warmth mixing with an inviting breeze—a sensation that others appeared to share. In that moment, a completely unclothed man sauntered by, a vivid reminder of the city’s free-spirited soul. The journey to Baker Beach pulled me toward my parents’ San Francisco, and the next day’s adventure brought me back into my own. I made my usual trek to Noe Valley, winding through the Tenderloin, an edgy yet often misunderstood area to which I’ve formed a unique connection. Over the years, I’ve seen its struggles, from chaotic street scenes to

the eerie emptiness I encountered last December. Though traces of disorder had resurfaced, I sensed a renewed camaraderie reminiscent of my first unassuming stroll through this gritty stretch decades ago. Laughter rose from clustered groups, and a livelier energy softened the zombie-like despair of recent years. Yet, I must have looked serious when a man cheerfully called out, “Smile, young lady, it’s not that bad.” I chuckled at being labeled “young,” and we shared a lighthearted moment. On 24th Street, I savored a blueberry-banana smoothie from Martha’s as sunlight warmed the Square. In 2000, I became more involved in the community after my twin nephews, Aidan and Finn, were born, even though I had already relocated to the East Bay from the Marina. Noe Valley has a way of collapsing time for me. A storefront, a patch of sun, an ordinary corner—each can carry me back to the period when Janet’s family lived there, and the boys were small. This time, a treasured memory

However, it wasn’t all smooth sailing. One late morning, Dad was enjoying a cup of coffee when Finn, wearing a scrunched look of disapproval, shook his head at the mug his Popo held and declared, “That Mommy cup.” Inside, Finn was in charge. Outside, Aidan tested the limits. During one outing, he bolted down the street, sending Popo sprinting after him while Momo stayed behind with Finn. Later that summer, Janet and her family bid farewell to their neighborhood and embarked on a new chapter in Brunswick, Maine. My transition came in 2006, when I sold my condo and returned to my hometown, Newport Beach. That afternoon, I departed Noe Valley once again, taking with me the many layers of myself and my family that San Francisco still holds. I wrapped up my brief visit the next day by wandering through the Financial District, where I worked for over a decade. Although I anticipated the usual travel day gloom, the morning felt unexpectedly refreshing. At 343 Sansome Street, I rode the elevator to the 15th floor and stepped into the Roof Garden, where the skyline unfolded under a blue sky. I embraced the soft hum of traffic blending with the stillness, allowing the city to have the last word—until next time. Susan Broxon is a former resident of San Francisco now living in Newport Beach. Her debut piece, “Farewell for Now” was featured in the Noe Valley Voice November 2003 edition. After rediscovering the community in 2022,she continues to contribute following each visit.

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22 The Noe Valley Voice • August 2026

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Newly Renovated Urban Sanctuary Noe Valley 2 Bedrooms | 2 Baths

Stefano DeZerega

` We offer a combined 50+ years of experience representing Buyers and Sellers. We have successfully navigated every kind of market in Noe Valley and beyond, and would be delighted to share our expertise with you! The Noe Valley market is red hot! Call us to discuss your needs.

Hugh Groocock

Broker Associate | LIC# 01209589 REALTOR® | LIC# 01730431 415.987.7833 | StefanoDeZerega.com 415.971.4414 | HughGroocock.com hugh@hughgroocock.com sdezerega@corcoranicon.com ©2026 Corcoran Icon Properties. All rights reserved. Corcoran® and the Corcoran Logo are registered service marks owned by Corcoran Group LLC. Corcoran Icon Properties fully supports the principles of the Fair Housing Act and the Equal Opportunity Act. Each franchise is independently owned and operated. Information is deemed reliable, but is not guaranteed.

FESTIVAL! A Neighborhood Tradition Since 1938

SEPT 26 11-8pm

SEPT 27 11-4pm

OPEN HOUSE TK-KINDER

Tuesday, October 6 6:30-7:30 For more information contact us: Tel: (415) 824-8467

info@saintphilipschool.org

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The Noe Valley Voice • August 2026 23

The first offer was excellent. We waited anyway. Our recent seller got a strong o昀er within days of listing. Tempting. But other buyers had taken disclosures and asked for a little time, and giving it to them cost nothing but a day. Twenty-four hours later, there were seven more o昀ers on the table. The home sold for hundreds of thousands above that 昀rst excellent o昀er. A strong market helps. But price is also a product of strategy: knowing when to move, when to hold, and how to get the most from your home.

63% faster OUR 2025 SELLERS VS SF MLS AVERAGE

5% more per sq. ft. OUR 2025 SELLERS VS SF MLS AVERAGE

Thinking about selling in Noe Valley? Let’s talk strategy before you list. VIVRE REAL ESTATE DANIELLE LAZIER · REALTOR ® 415.528.7355 24 Years in Business · Noe Valley Homeowner

See more market insights and our smiling faces at NoeValleyMarketUpdate.com DRE 01340326 STATS: Based on 2026 SF MLS listing agent data, all residential categories. Vivre is a real estate broker licensed by the State of California and abides by Equal Housing Opportunity laws. License Number 02014153. All material presented herein is intended for information purposes only and is compiled from sources deemed reliable but has not been veri昀ed.

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24 The Noe Valley Voice • August 2026

Paid Political Advertisement

VOTE YES ON SCOTT WIENER FOR CONGRESS NEARLY 30 YEARS OF SAYING YES TO SF’S FUTURE.

IN CONGRESS, SCOTT WILL SAY YES TO:

FOUGHT California's broken permitting system and delivered over 3,000 new homes to SF.

PROTECTING our immigrant neighbors and abolishing ICE.

STOOD UP to Trump by banning ICE agents from wearing masks.

BUILDING more affordable housing more quickly and reducing costs.

EXPANDED mental health care and fought to end Big Pharma price gouging.

PASSING Medicare for All and expanding mental health and addiction treatment.

CHAMPIONED conservatorship reform and cracked down on smash-and-grabs and car break ins.

STRENGTHENING public safety through law enforcement and mental health response.

Scott as Supervisor in 2013

VOTE BY NOV. 3 Paid for by Abundant Future and not authorized by any candidate or candidate’s committee. 1215 K Street Suite 2000 Sacramento California 95814