A story

I volunteered for Big Brothers/Big Sisters of San Francisco in the mid 1990s. I was matched with Freddy Mendez, an 8-year-old boy who was living with his grandmother and three of his sisters in the Mission District. His mom was on drugs and in and out of jail. His dad was out of the picture, probably deported back to Central America. I spent every Saturday with Freddy for the first year, every other Saturday for the second year, every third Saturday for the third year, and every fourth Saturday from then on until I lost track of him. He got hard to keep track of as he was eventually removed from his grandmother's home because she couldn't handle him as well as his sisters, then he moved between various foster homes and group homes (some of which were pretty grim and he ran away from), then he was in juvenile hall for a while (where I continued to visit him), and then he was hanging out on the streets with a gang in the Mission. His mom did clean up her act and get him back for a while, but I don't know what eventually happened.

I taught Freddy to swim and he grew to love swimming. We would often go to the Garfield public pool, which was then in the middle of the Army Street projects, which have since been demolished (and the street renamed Cesar Chavez Street). I remember one day we were at the pool and started playing with another little boy. When Freddy and I were getting ready to go, the other boy (whose name I don't remember) asked if he could come with us. I said it was fine with me but we would have to ask his mother. He led us into one of the project buildings and up a urine-smelling graffiti-covered concrete stairwell to an unmarked door, which he pounded on. Eventually his mother opened the door, looking none too happy to see us. I explained who I was and asked if I could take her son for a walk with Freddy and me up Bernal Hill. She said fine, whatever and closed the door. Se he came with us. We walked up Bernal Hill to the top, which has amazing views over the city and around the Bay. We sat down and looked out at the view. The little boy said: this is amazing - I've never been up here! I was shocked as that spot is only about 6 blocks from where he lived.

I was reminded of this story because I've been wearing my Big Brothers/Big Sisters of San Francisco sweatshirt (baggy sweatshirts are good for hiding the chemo pump) and because Jonathan, Sarah, and I and our kids walked up Bernal Hill during my recent visit.

Ethan