Recalling the Foster City of Years Gone By

On a gloomy evening last Sunday, my family got together: Michelle and her new husband Sam, Val and her best friend Annie, and I with my husband Abe. It wasn't a planned evening together - Michelle just happened to drop in, Val and Annie just happened to be at home at that time, and Abe and I returned from a long hike on the levee along Edgewater Boulevard.

I have cooked all my life - quick breakfasts, snacks, lunches and dinners, big and small meals for friends,. Now, with the girls grown up, I don't spend much time cooking anymore. Nobody minded my hotdogs, quick rice, and yesterday's coleslaw from Kentucky Fried Chicken that night. In fact, nobody but I noticed the absence of a big meal.

We were just happy to see each other.

"Girls, please sit down," I said, "I have this idea about my next column for Patch, but my memory ..."

"Already?" interrupted Sam with a sly smile. He immediately got kicked in his side by Michelle's elbow. She absolutely needed me to love him. I do.

I acknowledged the joke with a polite smile, and continued, "I want to remember how our city has changed in the past twenty years. Can you help me remember?"

"I remember the time when there was an Ace Hardware next to the Post Office," said Val beaming. "There was a hole, not a real gate, in the Winston Square’s fence. You and I went through that opening to the store often. We loved their nursery. I got my hands into every pot looking for the long fat earthworms. I was into the earthworms, roly-polys and ladybugs when I was five years old. You and that lady who took care of the plants explained to me that I wouldn’t find any there, but I kept trying again and again...”

“That’s so you, Val! Always singing to your own tune,” chuckled Sam.

We kept reminiscing…

“I liked to go there with you,” I remembered, “There was that fresh earthy smell inside, and many gadgets in perfect rows. Foster City Preschool is there now."

 "Oh yeah, my brother grew up in that preschool. He is thirteen now, so it must have been long ago when the Ace Hardware moved," said Annie. Thirteen is a long ago when a twenty three-year-old is speaking.

"Remember, I went to the ballet school in Charter Square? It was owned by a former ballerina, Sabrina. She looked like they’re supposed to look – very slim, small, hair pulled tight in a small bun and with an unbelievable posture and the shining dark eyes! She said to me once that I had pretty ballerina toes.”

Michelle took off her high hills and wiggled her toes. We all agreed that she, in fact, did have pretty toes.

“Sabrina was very serious about ballet. I was a bit scared of her voice and her sharp commands, but probably, just not very inclined to learn ballet. Although the tutus and pink leotards were so pretty." said Michelle with a dreamy look on her face.

"I bet you look good in a tutu and a leotard,“ said Sam, our comedian in residence.

Michelle was the only one rolling her eyes while the rest of us kept going.

“Where are they now?” I thought.

“My gymnastics school in the Marlin Cove mall.” said Val excitingly. “Michael, a former Russian gymnast, owned it with his wife. He called me ‘Valeeree’, and my friend Jess ‘Jasika’ with a hard ‘k’. I loved going there, doing exercises, and handing as long as I could on their trapeze with my head down. And our team, and the gymnastic suits! I went to an afterschool there, and had my 12th birthday party at that gym. Remember the elaborate shows they organized? – We came out with a huge silk butterfly as our flag. We took one of the shows to the Disneyland.”

“Twenty five bottles of beer on the wall, twenty five bottles of beer,” sang my girls in baby voices, looking at each other.

I remembered how I drove back with both girls in the back, tired and anxious, and got lost late at night between the bridges and overpasses near Hayward. For half the night they tried my patience with that unending song.

‘’Now I know why Michelle sings it every time we go on a long car ride.” said Sam and reached for another hot dog. “To try my patience.”

Michelle kissed him on his cheek.

“Remember the old karate school in the Beach Park Plaza? Mr. Jensen, the teacher there, helped me so much when my mom was divorcing my dad. He always came to the school with his old dog, and I quietly played with it for hours after the class. Mr. Jensen never sent me home, and I stayed as long as I could.” said Annie.

I nodded. I remember how hard it was for Annie.

“What about the old ‘Mr. Fong's restaurant? Across the theater on Hillsdale? It was small but very good. Everyone in Foster City knew about it. When I worked in Burlingame, we visited it for lunch even though Burlingame had many good Chinese restaurants. Mr Fong’s was famous. Then they moved to the Edgewater Place, and opened a big dining room on the water,” I said.

“I remember the time when there were no here,” said Michelle not believing it herself. “There was a café near . It was the first place where they offered this new drink - a latte.”

“No Starbucks?” Sam made big round eyes. He was referring to Michelle’s daily trips to that place.

Now, the age old memories memories were flying fast.

“There was always on Triton Drive,” said Val.

 “And the Pizza Hut," said Annie.

“And the , only it’s bigger now. And my ," recalled Michelle.

"And the with its deck – they rebuilt it several times, but it was always there.” (me)

Sam and Abe were fairly new to our city – Sam moved here about a year ago, and Abe lived with us ‘only’ for the last twelve years, so they mostly listened.

The hotdogs were getting cold and the coleslaw turned yellow and limp. Nobody mentioned the food.  I shouldn’t have worried.

That evening we remembered our city - the old and new stores in its malls, its schools, restaurants, and its parks. But in reality, we remembered our lives.

And the memories were sweet.