When I was 20 and preparing to move I flew to San Francisco to stay with my Auntie Lee and look for an apartment. My Aunt and cousin Esther picked me up from the airport and I will never forget that sunny ride into the city on I-280 past the hills of South San Francisco. We didn’t make it much further since my Aunt lived in the outer reaches of the city in the Excelsior District. Before going home Esther stopped at a corner market to get lunch. I’m pretty sure she got a falafel and I remember thinking how odd it was to stop at a store for lunch. I don’t know whether she knew the place or just stopped randomly.
Auntie Lee lived on Prague St. and for no reason at all I linked her Communist views to her street. Of course she lives on Prague just a stones throw from Moscow Street I would think to myself. I loved Auntie Lee’s house. It was tiny with an over grown backyard and an amazing view of all of the ticky tacky houses, usually with a blanket of fog rolling over them.
When I found an apartment of my own in the Mission I would ride my scooter out to her house for Sunday dinner. It would take me at least a half an hour to drive all that way. My cousins and I would sit on her couch drinking boilermakers before adjourning to her dinner table for spaghetti baked with cottage cheese, a vinegary salad and some kind of barely edible meat. Some weeks they might be the only people I really talked to and they didn’t know me that well either.
I have been finding myself on Prague Street a lot lately. Vida’s piano teacher lives on Prague so we travel there every Friday afternoon. On Saturday Vida was practicing soccer at Crocker Amazon Park on Geneva and Prague. While Vida was at practice Victor and I played at the park. We were there with another soccer family so Victor followed N around the structure giving me a little break. Before retrieving Vida, Vic and I took “a little walk”. I put him on my shoulders in hoping it wouldn’t be too far before we ran into a corner store. On the way I saw some kids with some chocolate concoction on a stick that I was curious about. About two blocks away we saw D and D Liquors. Whenever “liquors” is in the name of the store I can usually foretell what kind of store it is. It’s the kind of store you might be afraid to walk into if there were too many people hanging out drinking beer from paper bags. The number of bars on the windows also gives you a sense of the atmosphere inside.
The storekeeper was at his post in front of the rows and rows of liquor bottles behind the counter. There was a deli case but it was filled mostly with chilled bottles of alcohol. No need to take your airplane bottle of Stolichnaya home to chill when shopping there. They had neat shelves of grocery staples—salt and A-1 sauce—and the usual racks of candy. They were friendly enough that when Victor noticed yet another “Bud Car” I felt comfortable enough to take a picture. I picked out a Tecate Light in a 24 oz can even though it seemed ridiculous to “lighten” a beer as light as Tecate. If I was truly interested in channeling past Prague Street experiences I would have bought Lee’s favorite Mickey’s in the big green bottle. Victor was once again drawn to the ice cream freezer. I offered him a push-up Popsicle and he accepted. As we were paying I noticed a cellophane wrapper atop a stick similar to what I saw the kids eating earlier. It was blue with a frightening grinning clown. I asked the guy what it was and he told me it was a chocolate covered marshmallow. Since it was only 79 cents I thought I would get it and give it to Vida later. I made Vic wait until we got to the car to eat his push up since I didn’t want it dripping into my hair on the way back.
Victor wasn’t too clear on the pushing up part of the push up so he kind of squeezed the cardboard until the ice cream reached his mouth. It was all in all a very messy experience. Vida wasn’t too interested in her clown marshmallow thing. I was wishing that I was going to be home to enjoy my Tecate light but instead I was on my way to prepping fruit for Vida’s school auction.
Auntie Lee moved many years ago to a Waller Street flat below her son Ben. It just isn’t as quaint and personal as her digs on Prague but a lot easier to get to. Prague Street will always be where I got to know Auntie Lee my wayward Great Aunt. It’s where I first heard her stories about seeing Josephine Baker at the Victoria Theatre and meeting the photographer Dorothea Lange. I would listen her Communist conversion story over and over—each time less hopeful that I would take the bait. Thanks to Auntie Lee I am an aficionado of the boilermaker, preferably standing at the kitchen counter with my coat still on. Cheers Auntie Lee!
Vic’s snack—push up Popsicle. Beer of the Day—24 oz Tecate Light in a can.
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