Member-only story
My cloak of invisibility
And what it affords me
I moved into my son’s apartment about a month ago. It’s located in a part of Oakland I avoided my entire life, a part that’s being revitalized after decades of ruinous crime. Actually, this particular area of Oakland — Tuxedo, near Highland Terrace — is well on its way to becoming a secure neighborhood where families can raise children without undue fear. Mind you, it’s wise to remain alert in these neighborhoods, but things are far better than they used to be. Every third or fourth house has been renovated and painted. Bars are coming off windows.
I’m loving living here, in my son’s apartment. It’s on the second floor, with a mature Liquidambar tree outside the three, charmingly-paned front windows, which makes me feel like I’m perched in a treehouse. I lie on the orange couch and watch the sunsets each evening streak the sky pink.
I also walk — a lot. Daisy, my 14-year-old golden retriever, and I set out every afternoon to see what’s afoot. I was cautious at first, careful to cross the 580 freeway and walk on the northeast side of MacArthur Boulevard, in the Glenview neighborhood, which got gussied up years ago. From there, we would traipse down to the trendy Lakeshore neighborhood, passing restored manses, Craftsman homes, Mediterraneans with tile roofs and manicured gardens.
