27 April 2020. Belmont Three.
I saw them again tonight, making their way up the sidewalk, just past Flowerland, passing behind the row of giant eucalyptus. That stretch is a little broken up—the trees must be a century old, and their roots have lifted the sidewalk, which has been adjusted to accommodate their girth. Recognized the three of them from the evening before, at the very bottom of the Solano—also a dark stretch, in front of the windows of the fish place—one of the many restaurants that remain closed. A notice pinned up inside the glass, alerting customers—mostly older folks—of the change. Signed with an Iranian name. The captain’s table motif—ship’s wheel and anchor—looking a little out of place even in the best of times—whereas now it’s only a gloomy run of glass, all dark inside.
They’re walking somewhat slowly, and the taller man has a slight wobble—the soles of his shoes flop into view at every few steps—and I notice the color red for some reason. Didn’t think about this at the time, but I see later that the detail has registered. The woman has a narrower presence—more agile as she stays in pace with her companion, the man with bent shoulders, who’s wearing a sports cap and has a determined look—in the drawing at least.
I’m not sure there’s an analogy here. Seems they should be like something—play a role in a some larger story, except that I can’t quite remember what it is. More Zola than Flaubert, in any case—but American—so let's say Theodore Drieser, or Bernard Malamud. Drieser would have made them types—and that doesn’t seem to be true, they’re quite individual. Malamud would have empathized—but here there’s no need—maybe it’s as if each of the three carries the shadow of an elaborate previous life—the time from before whatever fates cast them together like this, walking slowly up the Solano hill.
I realize later they may well live in the “senior” apartments on the other side of San Pablo. Known as Belmont Village. A whole building with tenants like this—all of them people with stories from before…
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Note on Belmont Village. Pretty funny that I’m writing about this place. But in part it’s a state of mind. Starting with the word “senior”—descriptive in the literal sense, but at the same time dismissive (as a category) while feinting sympathy. Just like the word “village”… Maybe Belmont Post-Industrial Arms…
I should point out that I did receive an advertising postcard when the place opened, in 2017… And the shaky lines in the drawing don’t help. However, they do make my style pretty much inimitable…
