Love Letters to Cole Valley

My darling CV, Oh what we’ve been through in our 25 years together - coffee shop and bakery name changes, consistently fabulous haircuts, amazing pickles, birthdays at Finnegan’s Wake, $1 oysters… While I’ve literally grown up before your very eyes, I still can’t believe how much you have changed, too. I knew you when Burgermeister was a taqueria (and even before that, a second Cole Valley crepe cafe). When the lotion shop was in the movie store and the movie store was in the lotion shop. When the most delicious sushi bar hadn’t yet been photographed by 7x7. And when Bambino’s was, well, Bambino’s. Yet despite the changes, you’re still my delicious and loyal CV. Although it’s sometimes hard for me to admit, you have taught me things that only my neighborhood could teach me. Through free tapes from the music store that once inhabited Urban Mercantile, I was exposed to Spoon and Marcy Playground (and thus Sex & Candy). By crawling into the dryers at one of your many laundromats, I learned how to wash my clothes. And from selling lemonade to basketball players at Grattan Park, I learned that I can indeed turn a profit. Now, the SF Association of Realtors will finally put you on the map. You deserved it years ago, but I loved that so much of you was my little secret. Just promise me that in your newfound fame and popularity, you wont forget those who have stood by you. Those who will continue to order the same sandwich at Alpha Market and those who will still eat chocolate croissants from whatever bakery inhabits the southeast corner of Cole and Parnassus. With love and dedication, S

To Cole Valley

We met through a mutual friend and your beauty captured me the moment I saw your sensual hills lush with trees, at the ready to celebrate anyone who walks by, embracing them with their grandeur.

During the day you often let your green emeralds paint their own silhouette onto your body, creating playful patterns for all your inhabitants to enjoy. Occasionally you bring in a thick white duvet from the ocean, sweeping it across their crowns, allowing them to soak up the moist from this blanket of liquid sunshine.

When hunger strikes your cozy convenience stores are filled with multiple suggestions. You are so friendly that even hungry residents who have forgotten their wallets hear “No worries! Pay another day!” Rather eat out? Then you will find everything from signature sandwiches, to juicy burgers, to great sushi to luxury Asian fusion with a wine list to make any self-proclaimed connoisseur tipsy.

Even your neighbors are inviting and friendly. Your cousin Haight-Asbury lives right next door and with its indie lifestyle you are sure to be entertained. Golden Gate Park, the green giant nudging you to the north-west, supplies endless trails to walk, run or bike.

It has been over two years now since moved into your realm. Two amazing years and no matter where I travel, I always miss you and long for the day I am back in the warmth of your sunlight, in the comforting shadow of your green hills. I will never leave you…

RE: Neighborhoods Issue 7x7 We were late for my new bosses' cocktail party, and speeding up and up 17th Street, away from the traffic and pedestrian-thrill-seekers of Market and Castro. We kept turning the map on the invitation around and trying to see where we were going, somewhere in the hills above Golden Gate Park. And then we crested the hill on a green light that beckoned us to glide into this quiet, leafy valley rimmed by the Sutro Forest's eucalyptus, the open space Tank Hill Park, and the beige monoliths of UCSF. We idled at the tiptop of Stanyan, looking out at a view that stretches from the hills above Hercules to the Bay, past the Golden Gate, and out past the Pacific breakers along the Marin coast. Where were we? We left the party early to drive around the neighborhood, and found ourselves in Cole Valley. We parked and walked the hidden stairways. Steamy-windowed cafes, an amazing local hardware store, restaurants and beauty salons lined the high street. The N Judah roared and squeaked around a corner on its way downtown, the lights of Kezar Stadium cast a penumbra through the fog, in which Saint Ignatius Church seemed to float. It was like the secret handshake of meeting someone you know will become a friend: we'd found our place. Not as hipster as the Mission, nor as self-congratulatory as Noe; not as posh as Pac Heights or young as the Marina, and not quite as freewheeling as neighboring Haight Street. Cole Valley then was a little sleepy, a step removed from grand. We bought our first house on Belvedere Street, known for its kids' Halloween street party where neighbors build mazes, turn garages into spooky mechanical exhibits and decorate elaborately. When we brought our baby daughter home friends asked us when we'd sell and move to the suburbs. "When hell freezes over," we said, hoping it would stay true. It's not always simple, but we love that our kid is growing up in Cole Valley. She prints up lists for the merchants of which quarters she's missing from her collection, and they flag her down when they find one. We can walk her to school. She can recite the names of the MUNI stops backwards and forwards from Cole and Carl to the ballpark. Finding your neighborhood can be like finding your partner -- 20-some years down the road now we know we were lucky to connect, and lucky to have grown in the same direction. ----- from -- Deanna