Bio
I am a writer, a reader and a raconteur.
A Blog Is Born
Welcome. It has been quite a gestation period, lots of labor, many pains, and Mother’s Day was the final push for the birth of www.inmyhoodsf.com.
I am writing a series of articles, highlighting the merchants and employees of my neighborhood. My column, "In My Hood SF."is a 52 week community based project. My stories, are their stories and together we engage in conversation and something special illuminates. "In My Hood SF" will be updated weekly.
I will interview a different merchant or employee from the Inner Sunset and bring their story to life. I want you to see their work, their value and their dignity.
For the next year, I am committed to this baby. We are going to walk and talk together and hopefully breathe. I hope you will take this journey with me.
All Best,
Grace Cunnane
CHRISTOPHER
It wasn’t just the New Jersey t-shirt he was wearing, that propelled me to talk to Christopher the bartender at Park Chow; it was his rapid fire delivery. Subtlety is non-existent if you’re from New Jersey. He talked with one customer about the Giants game on the television, the Chihuly exhibit with a tourist and avant garde rock with a guy eating a burger at the far end of the bar. And I want his New Jersey story since I have mine.
I begin.
“Ya from New Jersey?”
“Yeah.” That’s always a full sentence for New Jersey natives.
“Where?”
“Paterson.”
I asked Christopher about Joe Clark, the Paterson High School Principal who walked the corridors of the school with a baseball bat.
He laughed uproariously.
“My buddy went there. He really did walk around with the bat, and then they made a movie about him.”
Christopher attended DePaul High School, a co-ed Catholic High School. He comes from a close knit Italian family and his older brother is a professional poker player.
In 2000, Christopher came to San Francisco. He had a friend that lived in Cole Valley and he was ready for a change. He got a job at Park Chow and has been there ever since.
Of his customers he offers,
“They’re down to earth. People come in here from all walks of life. I like the bar conversations, the minutiae.”
On subsequent visits to Park Chow, I learn he likes music. He introduced me to Amy Winehouse. He is a sports enthusiast. In fact, he’d pursue a sportswriter’s path if he didn’t feel the demise of the newspaper industry. He dabbles in black and white photography and singing.
“I think I’m getting back to my roots. I’m listening to a lot of Sinatra these days and I sing love songs to my girlfriend, Kristin.”
I tell him my mother lived around the corner from Sinatra, in Hoboken.
I see several medals around his neck; one is clearly St. Christopher, the patron saint of travelers. I’m uncertain of the others.
“I bought them on e- Bay. I’ve got, St. Anthony, the Cherubs and the Virgin Mary. I didn’t know they would be so small; they must have used a magnifying glass but they work.”
I’m convinced Christopher must be a Pisces.
“No. Scorpio/Sagittarius. I was born exactly ten years to the day after JFK was shot.”
I reflect on this in a quiet way.
One June afternoon, I wandered in for lunch and Christopher told me his Grandfather, Fred Macolino had just passed away. I extend my condolences.
“I didn’t go home for the funeral. My cousin Tara was in town. She had said goodbye to my grandfather the night before he passed away. My grandmother had given her $20 to buy a bottle of wine in my grandfather’s honor. We went to St. Peter & Paul’s in North Beach. We walked toward the Ferry Building and we were surrounded by the wild parrots of Telegraph Hill. We walked to Levi Plaza and a handmade paper mache plane fell out of the sky. We continued walking and people kept coming up to us and said, ‘What a beautiful plane. Did you make it?’ I said, no, it fell out of the sky. My grandfather was a jokester. He was a man of few words but he knew the punch lines. We continued walking, holding the little plane and the parrots gathered around again and swung down very low near us. Tara said, ‘They’re majestic. They’re the same color as the plane, green with a yellow underbelly.’ ”
He tells me, they were a little sad they didn’t mourn with the rest of their family.
“We shared that day and we’ll have it forever.”
“There was standing room only at the church for my grandfather.”
We share a moment.
“My girlfriend Kristin made handkerchiefs for my family with my grandfather’s name and birthday. I fed-exed them the day before his funeral.”
Christopher’s hopes for the future?
“To be successful and follow in the footsteps of my grandparent’s marriage, to have children and be a great father.”
The next time I visit with Christopher, he introduces me to the band, Spoon from their Gimme Fiction CD. I listen to the song, The Delicate Place. I’m moved by the lyrics. “Looking through your window into the delicate place.”

Reader Comments (1)
“I think I’m getting back to my roots. I’m listening to a lot of Sinatra these days and I sing love songs to my girlfriend, Kristin.”
Macalino- You ARE the modern day Sinatra...
"I’m convinced Christopher must be a Pisces."
- he wishes :)
Love you Mac. There should be a book written about you