Miss Jo's San Francisco

MISS JO DOESN’T GET BY SAN FRANCISCO’S FERRY BUILDING MUCH SINCE SHE moved to the City’s south, in Glen Park.

But in April 2005 after arriving in SF, the ferry terminal, its food emporium and outdoor Saturday organic farmer’s market, were frequent destinations where she, her mom and Jeff could walk from their furnished two-bedroom rental in a building partially located under the Bay Bridge.

The apartment had views of cargo ships from the Far East inching toward the Port of Oakland. You could also see the docked Phoenix fire boat, a city celebrity for saving the Marina district from fire when hydrants failed after the 1989 Loma Prieta earthquake.

To the delight of Miss Jo’s mom, June, glued to the view with her cat on her lap, the Phoenix would test its water power in giant plumes.

The bay side apartment turned out to be the perfect temporary haven that Miss Jo and Jeff had sought, on their improbable move from their longtime home in Washington, D.C., in search of a mid-career fresh start and a new beginning for June.

Their lives, indeed, had changed, but with one major exception: the need to ensure constant care of June, an octogenarian with Alzheimer’s.

The honeymoon with San Francisco would last one night.

On their first morning as San Franciscans, Miss Jo and Jeff awoke refreshed—-and to find their elder care charge missing.

In Washington, there were rare times when June was left to her own devices, like when she insisted on going to the mini market by herself in the next building.

If she didn’t return in 20 minutes, Miss Jo would launch a search that involved divining what illogical turn June might have taken in their residential neighborhood near the Vice President’s mansion.

Perhaps it was being new to elder care, but there never seemed a need to panic when her mom turned up missing. Remarkably, she was always found, out of breath, tottering a couple blocks off course, oblivious to being lost and clutching a paper bag with its Coke-and-candy-bar contents. To anyone not involved, June appeared like any other impeccably dressed senior citizen.

However, less than 24 hours in SF, Miss Jo was facing sheer terror. Not only was June missing on strange turf, but Miss Jo hadn’t yet tucked  “Please-Call-Me-I’m-Her-Daughter” notes in her mom’s Coach purse and sweater pocket.

Fortunately, the adrenalin jolt was short lived.

While Jeff kept an eye out for June should she return, Miss Jo started a floor-by-floor search, luckily encountering a maintenance man on the ground floor. Standing on a ladder, he looked down.

“Try the sixth floor,” he said, sensing her desperation.

Miss Jo shot up to six where she spotted her mom, purse under her right arm, wearing a blue knit suit, pantyhose and pumps and wandering about, without a worry.

Like every day, she had showered, blow-dried her hair into a bob and expertly applied lipstick. She clutched her gloves in the arm with the purse. Nonchalantly, she looked surprised to see Miss Jo, and shrugged off any need for an explanation about her solo SF field trip.

Relief was sweet. The day resumed with a walk to the Ferry Building, under brilliant spring skies and alongside the mighty bay.

Remarkably, June would never stray again, including Saturday mornings at the crowded Ferry Building farmer’s market.

One day at the market, while Miss Jo shopped, her mom rested on a bench and people watched, her favorite pastime.

When it was time to leave, Miss Jo returned to the bench, just in time to help.  There was June, her skirt pulled up to her arms as she yanked down her pantyhose. “I’m hot,” she barked.

Trying not to laugh, Miss Jo felt like an adoring mom herself, trying to take June’s complaint seriously while feeling proud  because her mom hadn’t strayed.

Miss Jo tucked the pantyhose in with the tomatoes and they wandered back to their temporary home in their new city, feeling electrified to be in San Francisco.

Photos by Miss Jo