by Donna Swagerty Shreve
2019
After nine quiet years the three Swagerty Siblings were gathering together. Unfortunately we were gathering for the service of my sister’s husband Don Hill. My oldest son had agreed to accompany me and my brother was joined by his oldest and youngest sons. The event was scheduled for July 21st, a Sunday from 4:00 to 6:00 P.M. at the private Olympic Club in San Francisco. Aaron and I had made sure we were appropriately dressed as there is an unwritten dress code for events held at this venue.
When we arrived past the guard at the front gate we headed to the parking lot. Up front slots were painted with yellow for valet parking. The white lined spaces were way far in the back. We chose the white lined spaces and started our trek to the club house. The buildings are not marked as one is suppose to know where they are going. There were two groups of people walking around: golfers either going to or coming from the golf course or people in suits, ties, or dresses. We followed the dressed up people into a club house. Now we had two choices as two members were being remembered on this day. Fortunately there was a sign and Aaron and I made our way into the appropriate room. Many round, white linen covered tables were placed throughout the room. Waiters quickly greeted us with a choice of red or white wine. Other waiters offered up very fancy hors d’oeuvres with napkins. Later we saw a central table set up with plates and more substantial treats.
We recognized several relatives of Don but my sister had not arrived yet . I scanned the room a bit more closely and observed the attire and stance of the people in the room. It was an older crowd as Don Hill was 87 when he died. It was quickly obvious that these were not my people. The ladies had perfectly coifed hair with various stages of taut faces. The clothes screamed money. The expressions were rather blasé as they were also scanning the crowd. I doubt if Aaron and I even registered. Brian’s youngest arrived after we did in very casual attire. He walked over to us and I had to giggle. I asked him if he did not own a suit. He did but he claimed it was dirty. I then thanked him for my amusement.
Brian and Todd then arrived and they were appropriately dressed in dark suits. We listened to the various tributes and then watched a slide show representing parts of Don’s life. We mingled after the presentation and we were well received by our sister and nieces. Then the five of us ventured on to dinner at the Beach Chalet which overlooks the ocean. After dinner, Aaron drove me to the nearest BART station which happened to be the Balboa Park station. Aaron waited to make sure I made it safe to the station and asked me to text when I was safely on the train. The fun had just begun!
In Aaron’s truck on the way to the station, I had removed all of my jewelry so I was not a tempting target. It was 9:00 at night and not the best time to travel. Before I decided to ride BART, I had checked out my route on-line from what I could see, I could stay on this train all the way to Dublin where I would get off and John would be waiting for me for the final car ride home to Stockton. My plans would have been fine if it had not been a Sunday which has a limited schedule. As I rode through San Francisco, I realized my train was carrying passengers going to four different locations. I had to transfer. I checked the map and saw the first transfer station that would work would be the West Oakland stop.
Not until I had departed the train did I realize my mistake. After careful reading of the charts and maps I realized I would have to get back on the next train and transfer at 12th Street because it was Sunday. I only had 17 minutes to wait. I took a quick scan of my surroundings. Yikes! Across the tracks was a young black guy with a skate board and a device playing very loud music that filled the station with this guy’s hit parade. To my left was an Asian man glued to his phone. To my right were two youngish black guys chatting smack, one had a bicycle. Also to my right was a 40ish Hispanic woman who had also gotten off the train by mistake. I am mentioning race because I quickly realized that I was the oldest and whiteish person there. The time is now 10:00 and I have 14 minutes to go before the next train arrives. The Hispanic woman asked me if I could help her as she wanted to go to Richmond and the train said Antioch. I told her I had made the same mistake and then showed her how she would have to get back onto the train and get off at 19th Street for her transfer. She thanked me and hung close to my side.
Now one of the black guys who had been talking smack with each other decided to come over and check us out. He had a baseball hat with a flat bill on sideways. He was wearing several layers of clothing and had many chains with various objects hanging from his neck. He pushed over his bicycle and stood right in front of us.
“Hi beautiful ladies! Has anyone ever told you, you have beautiful feet? And you have such great skin! Oh, don’t worry ladies. I am a gentleman and I want you to get to know me better!”
“I am glad to know you are a gentleman so you will let us be!”
“Oh I am a gentleman and I want to know you pretty ladies.”
“Let us be!”
“You will like to get to know me and I want to know you better.”
“Let us be!!! “
I had given him all of the responses I could and now I was now done. I gently touched the back of my new best friend next to me and we proceeded to move six feet to our left. He started to follow and that was when I gave him my best teacher hairy eye ball and stood up even taller. I was not going down without a fight. By some miracle he stopped his movement towards us and just stayed a few feet away and stared.
Somehow the minutes dragged by without further incident and we were able to board the train. Our “gentleman” did not board the train. Oh surprise!
At my 12th Street stop I was able to exit with a group and we went down the stairs to the lower track together and I felt a bit more secure with a crowd. I got on the appropriate train and made it to my final destination at Dublin.
Securely in my private car I reflected on my contrast of experiences that day. I related to my husband all of the days events and have decided to somehow avoid traveling on BART alone and especially at night. I realized I did not belong in either group and plan not to revisit.
Swagerty-Aldrich Family Web Site 