Mission Dolores Part IV (of four)

At Mission Delores, San Francisco: Religious Romance & Genocide IV – Reflections & Models Prior to 1769 and the first missions, likely 350,000 to a million native peoples lived in what is now California.  Five-hundred independent tribes spoke as many as one hundred languages or dialects-by estimates of linguists and anthropologists. There was great diversity in customs, rituals, story-telling, clothing and adornment, basket-weaving, and trading. In a land of plenty, peace was the norm. By contrast, in1846 the diarist Titian … Read on…

Mission Dolores Part III (of four)

At Mission Delores, San Francisco: Religious Romance & Genocide III – The Cemetery, Graves & Roses At the entrance to the mission cemetery, I hear traffic flow on Dolores Street, which parallels the mission but is blocked from sight by a wall landscaped with trees and shrubs. Tires drone, now a tailpipe or muffler drags on the road and clatters. Rap music builds until I feel its tremor that soon diffuses to echo. An engine’s high-pitched whine goes silent. Immediately, … Read on…

Mission Dolores Part II (of four)

At Mission Delores, San Francisco: Religious Romance & Genocide II – The Museum, Fact & Facsimile   An older German couple, standing in front of me, reviews the Register, a record of all the Indians baptized at Mission Dolores. Many of these were likely forced conversions, from natives rounded up by soldiers and put to work, creating bricks, gardening, tending animals, washing laundry, and caring for their own sick; the vast majority died at the mission, and lie buried in unmarked … Read on…

Mission Dolores Part I (of four)

At Mission Delores, San Francisco: Religious Romance & Genocide I – The Chapel, An Odyssey The soured wood of the church doors flavors the air. Stone tile cools my knees. I unzip my forest green backpack and remove a notepad wedged between books and my rolled-up windbreaker. On the dusky burgundy squares, my pack is a lump disrupting the floor’s diamond pattern.            Until minutes ago, I was weighed down by that pack, searching for Dolores and Sixteenth streets-the location of … Read on…

Pacific Woes: A Secular Triptych

The Pierced Lady Waiting for the shuttle bus into San Francisco, the woman in leather shivered. Her sandy hair was tucked behind ears upholstered with gold rings and studs. On her neck, where her collar was short, climbed a tattoo’s red ink of wings or flames. Her amber eyes blinked as she excused her breath: “I have to have a beer before landing. I’m nervous about crashing. Did you ever circle around and around in the fog?” She climbed the … Read on…