Remembrance Day (Part 2)

 Marcus Alden Meredith
October 30, 2025

Remembrance Day (Part 2)

Walking the Golden Gate Bridge

The day always seems to start off early for me. I’m a early to bed, early to rise kinda guy and so the attributes of the Morning Lark come easily to me. As a result, trying to set my alarm on iPhone and screwing it up, I still got up just 3 minutes post alarm time. It seems that the Universe was on my side but in the interim it had a message: “Let the mood of the Bridge in the morning be your reminder of what you need to tell your Mom and Dad.” The walk and the music I had always chosen to play would remind me of that too. And so the day began….

Dressed and having dispensed with the standard morning chores and obligations, I gave one last farewell to my excellent friend, Francis, did a little reading of Ryan Holiday’s new book to fill out some of the time and set of to my fave breakfast cafe in the Haight, The Pork Shop Cafe. It’s a good walk from my friends abode to there and the skies were typical of San Francisco, foggy and just a bit gloomy in the early morning. One of the things I like about the Pork Shop is that it always acts as a bit of a touchstone between me and The City. I order my French Toast with a side of bacon, OJ, and Coffee and then ask the waitress there, “So what’s changed in The City since I was here the last time?” It never fails to let me know what the pulse of the town is doing… It was an upbeat assessment from the local grapevine. The City feels more alive, more music and performances happening in The City, and the new mayor seemed to get a decent endorsement that he was doing a much better job than the last one. We talked how “when the World broke” aka COVID hit it did a “real number” on S.F. and only now, 5 years later, was it starting to come “alive” the way it used to be… despite everything being more expensive. I expressed how my city was in a similar place but that we hadn’t had it quite as bad since we had other things like government work to keep us going. Then I settled up with a god tip for the favor, summoned a LYFT car, and off I was to walk the Golden Gate. 

Speaking my best Spanish to my driver, I thank him, tip him well and then step out by the visitors center. Earbuds in firmly, I start the slow ascent to the South Tower of the GGB. The strains of my playlist “Walking the Bridge (A Requiem for Mitzi)” start and by the time I reach the South Tower the sounds of Vaughan Williams Fantasia on a Theme by Thomas Tallis are getting me close to tears. The tower is covered from top to mid height in thick fog and the tops of The City are too. The Pacific just off the are socked in with cloud cover and the whole scene feels like one of reticent anticipation and trepidation. And so start in… “Hey Mom and Dad, it’s Marc here. It’s been a helluva year folks. Dad, I’m really glad your not here because I think it would’ve killed you. I’m not sure we’ll be able to hold our country together after 4 years of this maniac. I’ll do my best to take what position I have left in life and try to help the World see just what it’s doing to itself. But, I’m telling you, it ain’t making it easy for me….” I try to convey the good things that have happened to: my writing, Marty soon to be a grandma, Francis saying “hello,” my settling into the new place, and on and on. Then, sitting there at the base of the tower, I pulled out a notepad from my backpack and felt this compulsion to write: “And the approach showed a bridge tower swathed in thick fog from top to mid section. The City and the Gate were filled by and uncertain gloom of sea fog, even though Nature felt a sense of a City renewed, come back to life. Perhaps it is a portent or even a reflection of our own times. An uncertain vista with a sense of hopeful atmosphere.” This was the best way to end the walk, with words on paper capturing what the moment was doing to me. I started the walk back to the visitor center and the next song hit home—- On the Threshold of Liberty by Mark Isham. “Now this is perfect,” I thought. “A refreshing, hopeful sound to start me walking on my return trip home.” The walk was brisker than the beginning, the fog was lifting a bit, I’d stop by The Round Cafe to get me a small hot chocolate before calling for a LYFT car. Then it got emotional again. Sarah McLaughlin’s Angel started playing and I just thought, “You know, most of these people I see as I’m traveling today, sometimes all I can do is feel sorry for them.” And then the feeling passed, I got my hot chocolate, and finishing it quickly, saw my ride and off we were to Montgomery Street Station.

The driver was amiable. An African immigrant from Nigeria. We talked about his country of birth and the different parts of it, how some were next to French speaking countries, I spoke some French and he laughed. Then I told him I collect stories, he was surprised I am a writer (“You don’t look like a writer. You look like your in the military.”), I gave him my card, we started talking about how S.F. has changed since the new mayor entered office, and on and on. I love the locals telling me about The City. Then we arrived at the station and had a very cordial goodbye. Being at the station a bit early, I wandered up Market Street a bit to find a Japanese confectioners shop. I love to snack on Japanese cakes and candies when I’m going home. Grabbed the “bunny rabbit” confection and then left to descend into the depths of BART. The wit was short, the trip to Richmond quick, but I arrived with time to spare. “Well, make the most of it,” I thought and so bundled myself up on a bench and got out a pencil and Marcus Aurelius Meditations (started on Chapter 10). About 40 minutes later, there was the Cap Corridor #532. Boarded, got some tea after settling in, and set to writing this account. The trip to the GGB and the trip back are always so distinct in sentiment and reflection for me. I never fail to come back home with some new perspective, some new insight. “Thanks Mom and Dad,” I might say, “You never fail to help me to see things in a different light…. I miss you terribly. But don’t set a place for me yet. I’m not done with my work here. Not yet.”