Chapter 2: The Fillmore
Grandpa and Jacob stood at the bus stop at the top of Pacific Heights in San Francisco. It was hot so they took turns standing under the shade of a maple tree.
“Tyler, keep up!” said a man approaching the bus stop with a cell phone to his ear.
“Daddy, you promised,” replied a young disheveled boy of about five trailing a few houses behind the man on the cell phone.
“Yes, yes, drink your soda.” The man quickly turned his attention from the child to the person he was talking to on the phone. “Kyle, you suck. That's what I think.”
The man directed his attention to Grandpa as he kept his cell phone to his ear. “Is this the bus stop to Van Ness Street?”
“No, it isn't. What you want to do is to keep walking in the direction you're going until you get to Lombard Street. At Lombard, you will catch the 28 Muni bus east up Lombard. You will then transfer to the 47 at Vanness. Just ask the driver when to get off,” Grandpa replied.
The man looked back at his son, rolled his eyes, and then back at Grandpa. “Kids just don't listen, am I right?” He did not wait for an answer from Grandpa but just kept walking and talking into his phone.
The young boy passed the bus stop and tossed his drink onto a bench, continuing on his way after his father.
“That's an example of how not to behave, Jacob,” said Grandpa.
“The boy?” asked Jacob.
“No, the father. Small children don't think. They just watch.”
“Oh, here's our bus, Jacob.”
Grandpa and Jacob boarded the twenty-two Fillmore headed for Lower Pacific Heights. “Hello, hello, it's a hot one today,” Grandpa greeted cheerfully.
The electric powered bus jerked forward and continued on its route while Jacob and Grandpa swung into a couple available seats.
The bus made a right turn and then came to an abrupt halt. “What's this?!” exclaimed the bus driver. Everyone, including, Grandpa strained their necks to see what was in the path of the bus.
“Looks like a flat tire,” Grandpa said loudly so all could hear. A small car was parked in the middle of the street and a couple gentlemen were pulling out a jack to change the tire.
“That reminds me, Jacob, did I ever tell you about the time a sprinkler chased me down the block?”
“Grandpa, what? How?”
“I was about 17, that's about 45 years ago. It was a hot day like today, which is what made it pop into my memory. My friend and I were in a car with the windows down, just driving through a quiet little neighborhood with many lawns.”
“With many what, Grandpa?”
“Lawns! Lawns! You know, they're green and dogs poop on them.”
Jacob laughed. He enjoyed the animated way his grandpa told stories.
“So, I was driving down the street and a buddy of mine was sitting in the passenger seat. We were just cruising along and at some point we passed by a sprinkler. You know, one of those rotating types, that's fun to jump through on a hot summer day and sounds like this. Sis-Sis-Sis.”
Grandpa paused for a moment as the bus backed up slightly and then pulled around the parked car.
Jacob noticed a young lady sitting in front of them had turned around to listen to his grandpa's story. She had a guarded smile but seemed to enjoy his grandpa's enthusiasm.
“As I was saying,” Grandpa continued. “We drove past a sprinkler and heard it going Sis-Sis-Sis. As we kept on driving, I still heard it. My friend and I looked at each other thinking the same thing. It had been five seconds and we were still hearing that darn sprinkler. Sis-Sis-Sis. We both looked behind us at the same time and almost expected the sprinkler to be chasing us, but we didn't see anything. Well, we were a block away and we were still hearing the sprinkler. Suddenly it dawned on us that it wasn't the sprinkler. It was a flat tire coming from our own car! The air streaming out of the tire had made an identical sound as the sprinkler we had just passed. I tell you, we both laughed so hard we almost peed our pants.”
“Grandpa!” Jacob laughed and nudged his grandpa against the side of the bus affectionately.
“That was funny,” said the young lady with a full smile.
Grandpa returned the smile to the young lady and then looked out the window. “Oh, Jacob, we get off here!”
Before they departed from the bus, Grandpa touched the young lady's shoulder and said, “You're gonna be fine, honey.”
The young lady replied with a lip smile and nodded in agreement.
After the bus pulled away, Jacob and grandpa waited for the walking signal at the busy intersection.
“Did you know the girl on the bus, Grandpa?”
“No, I didn't, Jacob.”
“Then how did you know that she wasn't well?”
“It's 85 degrees outside and she's wearing a ski cap.”
“Huh? Oh, that makes sense,” Jacob, recalled a TV program saying that cancer treatment could make a person's hair fall out.
The light turned green and Jacob started to walk, but Grandpa put his arm out to stop him from continuing. A dump-truck waiting to make a right turn waited for them to cross the street. Grandpa encouraged the truck driver to continue on his way past them.
“Why did you do that, Grandpa? It was a green light for us; we had the right of way,” Jacob protested after they crossed the intersection.
“Jacob, anyone working has the right away.”
Jacob rolled his eyes at his grandpa. With a knowledge that learning came in pieces, Grandpa smiled back at him. They proceeded on foot down Fillmore street.
It was a lively street with numerous cafes, restaurants, and shops. Grandpa walked with a smile in his step, hurried a few paces ahead of Jacob as if there wasn't enough time to show his grandson everything.
“I like this street, Grandpa.”
“Me too. It reminds me of a street I used to roam as a kid in New York.”
In front of a cafe, a disheveled and visibly soiled man slept against a brick wall with direct sunlight shining down on him. Grandpa gently woke the man up and helped him move to a shaded part of the wall protecting him from the blazing sun.
“Grandpa, why did you do that? That guy stinks.”
“Babies stink, Jacob. Right now he's a baby. We take care of babies because they can't take care of themselves. We were all babies once, but it's recurring for some people.”
At California Street, Grandpa took a quick left. “Let's visit the synagogue, Jacob.”
“You're not Jewish, Grandpa.”
“You're right. But I do like to visit the synagogue.”
Jacob followed as Grandpa greeted the security guard at the entrance and proceeded down an arched corridor leading to the sanctuary. Grandpa sat down in the darkest corner of the sanctuary, dropped his head back, and took in the beauty of the large Byzantine domed ceiling. Jacob followed.
“Grandpa?”
“Yes, Jacob.”
“But if you're not Jewish, why do you visit the synagogue?” Jacob asked in his most quiet voice.
“Well, why do people like to visit other countries?”
“To learn about other,” he paused, “cultures?”
“Yes, that's right. When I visit a place that is not of my own faith, whether it's a synagogue, cathedral, or other places of worship, it's like visiting another country with a different culture. I also like the architecture, the quietness, and,” Grandpa paused and thought for a second and then continued, “and being close to the ancients.”
“You like the oldness?”
“Yes, that's right.”
“I kind of like the darkness, Grandpa.”
“Oh, how interesting. I did not notice that, Jacob. It is nice.”
Jacob felt good because he had contributed to his grandpa's ritual.
“Why do people want to learn about other cultures, Grandpa?”
“Why do you think so, Jacob?”
“Um, to learn about differences?”
“Yes, that's tru
e. But, it's not just to experience what is different. For me, it's discovering how similar we all are. I think that's what is fascinating about experiencing other cultures.”
“What is your religion, Grandpa?”
Grandpa laughed and tousled Jacob's hair as he answered, “To never be bored.”
Jacob smiled and then thought about what his grandpa had said for a moment. It seemed to Jacob that for his grandpa not being bored and seeking experiences with new and different people was a religion to him. He recalled the Rabbi saying that Grandpa Bishara was with God when he was working in other people's gardens. Jacob felt he now understood a little better about what the Rabbi had meant.
After a few minutes of cooling off and paying respects to the building, Grandpa and Jacob left the synagogue and headed further down Fillmore Street. The sun seemed to be even hotter.
Jacob followed his grandpa into a few local shops. His grandpa loved talking to owners of the businesses, and Jacob found the conversations very interesting. They talked sports, business, and some hush-hush secrets that Jacob didn't really understand but felt pride in being allowed to listen.
“Jacob, let's stop into this store for a moment, we'll see if my friend Jack is in.” Jacob followed his grandpa. Spicy smoke filled the air and old-people music got louder as they descended some stairs. At the bottom of the stairs was a small store with wall to wall bottles.
“Hi Peter, Jack's not in today. He's getting some tests done,” said a lady behind the counter to Grandpa.
“Everything all right, Novi?” said Grandpa.
“Oh yeah, fine, just some normal...”
“Excuse me, young man.” A big guy said as he made his way down the crowded stairs, carrying a large box of wine.
Jacob squeezed out of his way. “Sorry.”
“Bottle of sherry, Peter?” asked the lady behind the counter. She seemed to already know which kind of wine Grandpa preferred without even asking. She proceeded to put the small bottle into a decorative bag. “I'll put it on your account, Peter. Anything else?”
“Well, you got business, Novi. You tell Jack, I came by to collect my twenty dollars. The Giants don't lose on Tuesdays,” Grandpa replied with a wink and smile.
The lady laughed in response. “Will do. Thanks for stopping by, Peter. And here's a bottle of cold water for you, Jacob. He's not a camel, Peter.”
Jacob felt good hearing his name spoken by someone he had never met before. It was a sense of belonging.
As Jacob climbed the steps onto the street, he had a thought. Even though all these side trips were taking a long time, it was entertaining to see the different places and people along the way. Grandpa was not completely boring.