Love Letters to Hayes Valley
posted May 06, 2009 8:23AM
Arguably the cultural heart of San Francisco, this area includes golden-domed City Hall, the Opera House and Civic Center Plaza, as well as the quaint shops lining Hayes Street that have flourished since the freeway was relocated following the Loma Prieta earthquake.
Submit up to a 300-word “love letter” to Hayes Valley in the comment box below. We'll publish the 10 best neighborhood letters in our upcoming Neighborhoods Issue and pick one to win Outside Lands tickets.
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and posted 03:21 AM Jul. 7th
Ode To Hayes Valley
When first I came to know the neighborhood I'm living in,
'twas mere the middle of the map; a spot, stuck through with a pin.
Minutes to the Mission, up to Castro, Lower Haight,
these ones were the reasons, Hayes Valley mere the gate.
New love blooms in spring, it's said, and oft in summertime,
and indeed these were the seasons I began the Hill of Love to climb.
Trees and flowers blossomed on her sidewalks as we ate,
and these ones were the reasons why Hayes Valley was my date.
To find true love a man must know a woman's best, yet more her worst,
as he must starve to know true hunger, and parch to know true thirst.
And so as was unfolded her shattered past of crime and hate,
these ones were the reasons why Hayes Valley 'came my mate.
I came to understand, in time, that her past was not her fate,
how change within can wait, and in time a new form radiate,
how one small place could possibly all my desires satiate,
and how these ones were the reasons why Hayes Valley was my mate.
But her form is just a backdrop for the fun we always share.
It's not her looks that draw me in and vitiate my cares.
Her culture, wisdom and her people are what stamp her truly great.
These ones are the reasons why Hayes Valley is my mate.
Yet one day I must leave her, for I'm a man who always travels on,
and since only when we've lost it do we know what's truly gone,
I clearly see, and guarantee, that some day, far too late,
I'll realize these ones were the reasons why Hayes Valley was my fate.
erikpvl posted 05:37 PM Jun. 11th
METAMORPHOSIS:
When my husband-to-be found our flat on Oak Street in 1982, the neighborhood was considered Western Addition, albeit the easternmost section. Between Laguna and Octavia, Hayes Street was lined with junk stores, their wares piled up against the windows. Huge concrete freeway overpasses kept certain blocks in permanent shade and provided shelter from the rain for the streetwalkers frequenting the area. Our house stood directly beside one of these overpasses.
Then came the ’89 earthquake. Fifteen seconds of Meet Your Maker. We watched the overpass sway, as the house rocked side to side, back and forth, then hopped in place a couple of times, just for good measure. The on-ramp was shut down, and eventually dismantled. Several elections later, the off-ramp was finally brought down, as well. Octavia Street was broadened into a boulevard, and lined with beautiful streetlamps and trees. All the while, snazzy and cutting edge boutiques and galleries sprouted up, along with great restaurants that made it easy to dine well without going far. Thanks to the tireless efforts of our neighbor. Patricia Walkup, a small park was established at the foot of the boulevard. Now dogs and children romp daily on this bit of green, which was dedicated to her following her death in the summer of 2006.
My hood is now a sort of weekend Mecca, the sidewalks bustling with visitors, the restaurants packed. Between the leashes and the strollers, negotiating a trip to the dry cleaner can be a challenge. If you live in one place long enough, you see many changes. Shops close, new ones open. Proprietors retire or pass away. But I doubt there are many San Francisco residents who’ve seen their hood literally transform from a homely caterpillar to the shiny butterfly that is Hayes Valley.
dimplewalrus posted 03:40 PM Jun. 10th
Hayes Valley, my sweet, this poem’s for you
The loyalty in me is both strong and true
Grove, Hayes and Fell, Gough and Octavia
If you were in trouble, I’d surely save ya
Flanked on all sides by the nitty and gritty
You float in a bubble, central to the city
Just down from the projects and just up from Hastings
An oasis of designer shoes and sake tastings
Your restaurants organic, your designers so chic
I could browse for hours in your overpriced boutiques
Yet you still retain a distinct urban feel
Panhandlers and graffiti keep your sidewalks real
On weekends your residents gather on the Green
To eat Boulange pastries and take in the scene
Dogs circle croissants, like wild-eyed vultures
Kids play on the grass or on Burning Man sculptures
Blissed from Yoga Tree and buzzed from Blue Bottle
I watch hyper dogs run and happy toddlers waddle
Just steps from City Hall, you host protests and rallies
Yet I find quiet peace in your side streets and allies
Middle-aged Opera-goers, dressed to the nines
Descend on your streets to park, drink and dine
Sipping their Absinthe in high-heeled shoes
While down the street, Place Pigalians enjoy pool and cheap booze
The latest trends land here, both in fashion and food
New cafes pop up weekly, waiters with attitude
Yet an old freeway exit stands just feet from Hayes
Your abandoned reminder of earlier days
Basking in the shadow of City Hall’s golden dome
This neighborhood of contradictions is where I call home
From each café with free wifi to each tree-lined alley
I will always I love you, my hood, my Hayes Valley
The loyalty in me is both strong and true
Grove, Hayes and Fell, Gough and Octavia
If you were in trouble, I’d surely save ya
Flanked on all sides by the nitty and gritty
You float in a bubble, central to the city
Just down from the projects and just up from Hastings
An oasis of designer shoes and sake tastings
Your restaurants organic, your designers so chic
I could browse for hours in your overpriced boutiques
Yet you still retain a distinct urban feel
Panhandlers and graffiti keep your sidewalks real
On weekends your residents gather on the Green
To eat Boulange pastries and take in the scene
Dogs circle croissants, like wild-eyed vultures
Kids play on the grass or on Burning Man sculptures
Blissed from Yoga Tree and buzzed from Blue Bottle
I watch hyper dogs run and happy toddlers waddle
Just steps from City Hall, you host protests and rallies
Yet I find quiet peace in your side streets and allies
Middle-aged Opera-goers, dressed to the nines
Descend on your streets to park, drink and dine
Sipping their Absinthe in high-heeled shoes
While down the street, Place Pigalians enjoy pool and cheap booze
The latest trends land here, both in fashion and food
New cafes pop up weekly, waiters with attitude
Yet an old freeway exit stands just feet from Hayes
Your abandoned reminder of earlier days
Basking in the shadow of City Hall’s golden dome
This neighborhood of contradictions is where I call home
From each café with free wifi to each tree-lined alley
I will always I love you, my hood, my Hayes Valley
Audacious posted 10:49 AM Jun. 2nd
dear hayes valley, i wrote a poem for you. it goes like this:
i roll into your green way,
once a freeway, a no mans land,
where crack houses and tenements stood,
now I bask in the sun with my labradoodle/
i savor a petite chocolate macaron,
and then a miette lollipop the size of a dinner plate/
i will yell "prost!" over the din at suppenkuchen,
and clink my beer-filled glass boot to you./
indulge me, hayes valley, for i am yours,
you make me feel fancy even when i'm poor./
i could spend all day combing your alleys,
i want to know every crevice of your valley/
blue bottle, buenos dias to you senor,
where i wait and wait...
for a strong brew...eventually,
the strongest brew is mine!
i'd wait forever for that drip/
around the way down octavia,
past the men smoking and laughing it up
outside african outlet,
the incense smoldering, the drumbeat
swirling in the haze./
yes, i am yours hayes valley,
for your small indulgent pleasures...
i am yours.
JuicyBit posted 09:29 PM May. 26th
Fair Hayes Valley,
I loved you first for the green leafy globes atop the trees that line your main street, like a boulevard in Provence. They lend shade but you’re also filled with sun, bright happy sun on the grass of Patricia's Green where little buggers waddle around the jungle gym and quirky neighbors walk small dogs and sip from white coffee cups with black lids.
Then I found my place on the alleyway where the rusty white Cadillac is parked mid-block all day every day and revolution types drift lazily out the screen door from the café on the corner. I love the way the wind rattles the old single pane windows of my old Edwardian place and how I'll always like the people who live below me and next to me because they chose Hayes Valley too.
Incredible that you are also home to the best dive bar in the city, where I go to sip a beer next to scruffy mutts on couches with the stuffing bursting out. I haven’t found another neighborhood where we wierdos who love salty black licorice are treated to an entire wall lined with jars of the stuff.
I loved taking pictures of your Learning Wall on an Easter morning last year whose brilliance made the pinks and turquoise and mauve pop. And I love the white haired couples holding hands as they walk two blocks from a simple meal at the trusty neighborhood grill with the white tablecloths to a night at the opera.
But most of all I love standing in my kitchen with the door open to the back porch, then walking out to look at the sun setting on the buildings of downtown and, further out, the mist that hovers over the bay.
kiko posted 03:11 PM May. 25th
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