By Chris Roberts
By Joe Eskenazi
By Albert Samaha
By Mike Billings
By Rachel Swan
By Erin Sherbert
By Joe Eskenazi
By Albert Samaha
America will never be the same. Never.
We'll never be the same.
Barry Bonds, quoted last week in theLos Angeles Times
Our world will never be the same.
This is the last of the world as we knew it.
Pro golfer Jesper Parnevik inUSA Today
Tinseltown won't be the same.
Announcer on WXRV'sThe River in Boston
Things are going to be different.
If the chorus of media voices is correct, and a new earthly era is indeed upon us, then praise be, I say; we needed some good news after the ungodliness of the past two weeks. The arrival of a new, dynamic era, to be led by our most vigorous and progressive citizens, could serve as a wonderful tonic for San Francisco. Before The Change, the city had carved itself a political rut so deep and narrow it seemed we would never emerge.
The first moments of these new times have indeed felt different. Motorists during these past two weeks have seemed less rude. Perfect strangers have chatted each other up -- innocently, pleasantly, sans romantic intent. San Franciscans have seemed suddenly religious, too. In the newspapers "there was God on every page," notes Bethany United Methodist Church Rev. Karen Oliveto. Now, as never before, possibilities abound; the time has come to be better to one another. It's time to heed the thousands of voices heralding a new Age of Change. Here are a couple of suggestions -- fantasies really -- on how we might accomplish this.
In a San Francisco That Will Never Be the Same, residents will never again invoke the sanctity of sameness to justify making life worse for those close to them.
To explore this possibility, I decided to check in on the city's most recent battle between the forces of sameness and those willing to allow change.
I consulted Rachael Balyeat, a member of the Unitarian Universalist Society of San Francisco, which holds worship services at its church on Franklin Street at Geary, near Cathedral Hill. Balyeat and her fellow parishioners spent much time during previous months protesting an old-folks home planned for a lot owned by St. Mark's Lutheran Church next door. St. Mark's conceived the 22-story, 240-unit assisted-living senior housing project as a way to pay for repairing its 1896 church building, which had been damaged in the 1989 earthquake. The Unitarians -- ordinarily one of America's most progressive, altruistic, accepting religious organizations -- launched into the classic NIMBY hymn "Shadows and Traffic Mine Enemy Shalt Ever Be."
The Unitarians formed a church committee to oppose the building, headed up by Balyeat. They composed a letter to the press, characterizing their battle against homes for Alzheimer's patients and other elderly as a social justice struggle: citizens against developers, neighbors opposing afternoon shadows, parishioners worried about traffic. They filed a formal protest with the Planning Department. Most of the units would be "market rate," the Unitarians said (for seniors with an income of between $35,000 and $50,000 per year). Before The Change, housing that wasn't subsidized had come to be seen as "bad," even though the vast majority of S.F. residents, rich and poor alike, live in unsubsidized housing.
The Unitarians attempted to "negotiate" with the Lutherans (shrink your old-folks home and we'll give you nothing in return, was the essence of their proposal). They protested the project before the city Planning Commission. Shadows, they argued, were a social justice issue.
"Traffic and shadows were the main thing," Balyeat says. "At first, people in our congregation thought we were opposing low-income housing. But no, it's 22 floors of market-rate housing, when you include the floors for Alzheimer's patients."
Joan Jordan, a St. Mark's parishioner who heads the corporation set up by the church to direct the senior housing project, describes a building that would seem a godsend to all but the most virulent NIMBYs.
"It's central to our church's mission," says Jordan, adding that the new building will have the added benefit of allowing the church to hold onto its elderly parishioners by allowing them to live in the area. "On several occasions we've had to place people out of the city in places like Oakland. That's traumatic if you're 80-plus years old."
The Unitarian church's posture didn't merely divide the two Cathedral Hill congregations. It also pitted Unitarians against one another. Kate White, co-chair of the Housing Action Coalition, was appalled by the San Francisco Unitarians' posture.
"I'm a lifelong Unitarian Universalist; my parents raised me with important values: social justice, tolerance, and social change. So it's just disheartening to me that, with this opportunity to support an excellent project, at a time when the city desperately needs to promote senior housing, the Unitarians would be opposing it," she says.
But then a new era dawned. Two days after Sept. 11, 2001, the Planning Commission rejected the Unitarians' campaign to block the senior housing project. The project must now pass muster with the Board of Supervisors. But I don't expect that to be a problem; they've surely heard the good news: Everything is different now.
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