Growing up in San Francisco was great. There was always something to do and see, and one of my favorite things was going downtown with my Mom. The cable car stopped around the corner from our flat, and we rode it to the end of the line, Powell and Market Streets. Where Market Street stood directly across was the Emporium, a huge department store that my Mom loved.
On nearly every visit, we saw an older man with a green pushcart in front of The Emporium’s main entrance, selling flowers, specifically gardenias. I’ve always been fascinated by that flower (the one in the image here is from a plant I’ve nurtured at home), and each time we’d see him, I’d hound my Mom for change to buy one for her.
How gallant of me, asking my Mom for money to give her a flower that she actually paid for herself. I don’t remember if the gardenias cost a dime or a quarter, but they were top-notch, complete with a beautiful green wrapper around the stem and a pin to attach the flower to your date, in this case, my Mom. She always admired it and thanked me for such a lovely present. I loved those days with her. Thanks, Mom, for everything.
