George Sessions Perry on San Francisco (1947):

It’s civilized and robust, and its shoulder wouldn’t fit a chip. When you point out something wrong with the place, its people relish that defect too — because it’s a valid part of San Francisco.

My, how things change. San Francisco has long since lost any sense of humor about itself; criticisms are often seen as evidence that the individual uttering them somehow doesn’t “deserve” to be here.

One thing, though, is now clear: San Francisco has not been the largest city in the Bay Area for more than a decade, and the Census Bureau has recognized the fact. And no amount of whining about how cosmpolitan, beautiful, or popular the place may be will change this one simple truth…

 

After a not very early start and breakfast at Waffle House (in this particular one, smoking had evidently just been banned), we went back into the city.

 

The first stop was Little Five Points, also known as the Haight Street of Atlanta, and the neighborhood where Miss Daisy finally allowed Hoke to drive her to the Piggly Wiggly. We hit Wax-n-Facts (I first visited this store almost 20 years ago) and Criminal Records. Then we drove around the neighborhood. I was happy, because I’d finally found a Minute Maid Orange Soda, which had not been an easy task in North Carolina.

Inman Park and the area around Little Five Points is quite beautiful and doesn’t seem all that pricey or “precious”. It’s another potential home, methinks.

 

Farther down Moreland Avenue, we found an old A&P which still bore the impressions of its old “Super Market” lettering, even though it probably hadn’t served in that capacity for over forty years. I was excited. Mark was accommodating.

 

We went back downtown for more photo ops and then made for home, after obtaining gas for about 70 cents a gallon cheaper than in San Francisco. I would have liked a lot more time in Atlanta. Mark would have too. A repeat visit will be forthcoming.

The drive back was from hell. We encountered a nasty traffic backup about twenty miles north of Atlanta, and things weren’t crystal clear the rest of the way either. It was, after all, the Friday which began Fourth of July week. We ended up eating at the very same K&W as yeaterday in Greenville. Mark liked the cafeteria scene, I think.

 

As soon as we got back to North Carolina, it started raining. By Lexington, it had become one of those torrential summer downpours with thunder and lightning. It was cool. You never see rain in summer in California, and you absolutely never see rain with this much volume. I liked it.

Finally, we arrived back in Greensboro. Mom and Dad were relieved.

 

Morning. Breakfast at Bojangle’s. Checked out of the Motel 6, determined to “do Charlotte” in two hours or less. We went downtown. We saw my old house and neighborhood. We expreienced the intersection of Queens and Queens and Providence and Providence. And we found a cool map store at Kings and Morehead.

We toured the old neighborhoods around downtown, and Mark commented that he never knew anyplace could be quite so lush and green. I think he liked it…

 

We took pictures downtown and went to the Harris-Teeter in Dilworth (which was one of my “home” supermarkets in the late 1980s), and then we went to Dairy Queen for ice cream. Not just any DQ, mind you, but the “Nanook of the North” DQ on Wilkinson Boulevard.

 

Soon (but later than planned), we were headed south toward South Carolina, the Gaffney peach, and (eventually) Atlanta. Our only obstacles were Greenville/Spartanburg (where we spent an hour locating a K&W Cafeteria) and lots of old, slow people on underdeveloped freeways.

 

Finally we arrived and checked into our lovely accommodations at the Red Roof Inn where I’d stayed last visit. Only we had a MUCH smaller room. That was OK, since we turned on the TV and heard the news that it was now legal for us to have sex, so we did.

We also heard that day that Lester Maddox (racist former governor of Georgia) and Strom Thurmond (mummified former senator from South Carolina) had died. Maynard Jackson (first black mayor of Atlanta) was also lying in state. Oddly enough, the Supreme Court decsion on sodomy was still the top headline in the Journal and Constitution the next day.

 

I love Atlanta and have a strange relationship with it, but that’s been covered before. Tonight, after a stop at Kinko’s so Mark could do some work and a lovely dinner from Krystal, we just drove the length of Peachtree Street from Buckhead to downtown. Mark was amazed; Atlanta was a much more urban and cosmopolitan place than he’d envisioned.

 

We stopped by the coolest Kroger in the world to get supplies and cash. It was a two-level affair, and it gave me a stiffie, especially when I realized my Ralphs club card worked there.

 

We also detoured down Ponce de Leon and I showed Mark what a Krispy Kreme was supposed to look like. None of this stucco, strip mall shit you see in California, although the counter and stools had been elminated even in this one.

Finally, we were all tuckered out and went home to sleep.

Up early to go pick up the rental car. It turned out that a weekly rental actually cost the same as a four-day rental so I opted for the former.

 

We drove around town a bit in the afternoon, covering downtown and my grandmother’s old neighborhood (which is where I just might want to live if I moved back to Greensboro), and sort of generally seeing all the sites and getting me re-oriented. What I noticed, mostly, was how much more green and attractive North Carolina is compared to California.

 

My mom and I stopped in at a big band concert by the lake in High Point to meet up with my aunt and my cousin’s wife, but it was just too damned hot and mosquito-filled. All the same, I planned to spend as much time as possible with my parents during these first few days because I knew things would get hectic later in the week.