I wrote this in May of 2005, nearly nine years ago, the night before my dad came with the suburban to help me move all of my things out of my college apartment in Berkeley:
Goodbye Henry Street, goodbye Andronico's, goodbye Barney's, goodbye Starbuck's, goodbye Anzu, goodbye Yogurt Park, goodbye Blondie's, goodbye Asian ghetto, goodbye La Burrita, goodbye Campanile, goodbye Wheeler, goodBYE Dwinelle, goodbye to all the little nooks and crannies where I have eaten lunch, goodbye Bancroft, goodbye Memorial Glade, goodbye Moffit and Doe, goodbye Music building, goodbye Foothill, goodbye Memorial stadium, goodbye, favorite bench, goodbye Au Coquelet, goodbye Pink House, goodbye Josephine Street, goodbye track on Hopkins, goodbye RSF, goodbye YogaKula, goodbye BART, goodbye San Francisco, goodbye Cheesecake Factory, goodbye FSM, goodbye French Hotel, goodbye Strada. Goodbye Berkeley.
I hope I'll see you again sometime.
I will always love this place.
And now, I'm sitting in Au Coquelet, working on the third chapter of my dissertation, eating the same brownie I would eat maybe once (or twice. Or, you know maybe three times) a week, pretty much each week of my junior and senior years in college.
And I find myself wanting to tell Au Coquelet that I'll be here more, now. That I'm moving to the Bay Area in June, the week after I get married. That I'm going to be finishing my PhD. That I made it to the final round of interviews for a professorship at a great community college, right down the street from the apartment I'll share with Adam in Mountain View.
And I find myself wanting to look into the faces of the college girls at the tables around me, and say, "it will be okay. Whatever you are worried about now. It will all turn out alright, eventually."
Because this is the place where I huddled up with my Dostoevsky, and where I finished Anna Karenina. And where I wrote my best Jane Austen paper. And where I crammed for my Bach final. But it's also the place where I would come to get away. Where I would tear up and desperately try to hide my face in my books. Where I would sit with coffee and a brownie and relive, remember, and try to make sense of everything.
The cafe looks the same as it did 10 years ago. Same stale brownies. Same tea and coffee served in pint glasses. And, while at some moments I feel comforted and settled, like I have come home, at others, I feel the need to shout out, "but I'm different now! I'm changed! Things have changed! Please!"
...it's weird seeing your own ghosts, and just wanting to comfort them.
Goodbye Henry Street, goodbye Andronico's, goodbye Barney's, goodbye Starbuck's, goodbye Anzu, goodbye Yogurt Park, goodbye Blondie's, goodbye Asian ghetto, goodbye La Burrita, goodbye Campanile, goodbye Wheeler, goodBYE Dwinelle, goodbye to all the little nooks and crannies where I have eaten lunch, goodbye Bancroft, goodbye Memorial Glade, goodbye Moffit and Doe, goodbye Music building, goodbye Foothill, goodbye Memorial stadium, goodbye, favorite bench, goodbye Au Coquelet, goodbye Pink House, goodbye Josephine Street, goodbye track on Hopkins, goodbye RSF, goodbye YogaKula, goodbye BART, goodbye San Francisco, goodbye Cheesecake Factory, goodbye FSM, goodbye French Hotel, goodbye Strada. Goodbye Berkeley.
I hope I'll see you again sometime.
I will always love this place.
And now, I'm sitting in Au Coquelet, working on the third chapter of my dissertation, eating the same brownie I would eat maybe once (or twice. Or, you know maybe three times) a week, pretty much each week of my junior and senior years in college.
And I find myself wanting to tell Au Coquelet that I'll be here more, now. That I'm moving to the Bay Area in June, the week after I get married. That I'm going to be finishing my PhD. That I made it to the final round of interviews for a professorship at a great community college, right down the street from the apartment I'll share with Adam in Mountain View.
And I find myself wanting to look into the faces of the college girls at the tables around me, and say, "it will be okay. Whatever you are worried about now. It will all turn out alright, eventually."
Because this is the place where I huddled up with my Dostoevsky, and where I finished Anna Karenina. And where I wrote my best Jane Austen paper. And where I crammed for my Bach final. But it's also the place where I would come to get away. Where I would tear up and desperately try to hide my face in my books. Where I would sit with coffee and a brownie and relive, remember, and try to make sense of everything.
The cafe looks the same as it did 10 years ago. Same stale brownies. Same tea and coffee served in pint glasses. And, while at some moments I feel comforted and settled, like I have come home, at others, I feel the need to shout out, "but I'm different now! I'm changed! Things have changed! Please!"
...it's weird seeing your own ghosts, and just wanting to comfort them.
