Being at that age where I can barely remember what I ate for breakfast, seems memory may be a blessing and a curse.
We are all very fortunate to remember many of the grand and simple structures and forms that made The City so special and unique and it seems natural to mourn their loss. However, to do so, with a rejection and distain for what rises in it's wake, many be limiting.
I can only imagine what the survivors of the 1906 fire thought of redevelopment although the changes may have, ultimately, been for their betterment.
Curmugeon that I am, a real challenge has been to seek out, discover and rediscover areas and palces in The City that shout and whisper timelessness. Yes, the new Cliff House structure seems like a Cleveland hotel lobby yet the view is more open and embracing. The AIDS memorial grove is a painful reminder of our modern, fragile mortality; yet walking though it can provide a serenity of calm and comfort,where souls may be found, not lost.
So I resist my strong inner urge to glorify the past and denigrate the present; it's a constant battle. Yet if I didn't, chances are you'd find me holed-up in the mahogany coffin comfort of the Clift's Redwood Room listening for the termites final chew.