Moving from San Francisco to Oakland

It was April 2003 and winter break has just begun to recede when the wheels came off the wagon… I couldn’t believe I had come to a point where I could even consider leaving San Francisco, much less seriously contemplate moving to Oakland; a city I was sure was inferior on every level. Like many of my friends, I had often dreamed of living in Marin and my husband and I had even put in a bid on a house in Ross years earlier, but we had never considered a move to the East Bay to be a remotely viable option.

Then, within two weeks, we had sold our home, bordering Golden Gate Park and were in contract on a property in Piedmont - a village by comparison.

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My husband and I loved living in San Francisco. We had jogged countless miles through the Presidio, across the Golden Gate Bridge and down into the sunshine of Sausalito, rewarding ourselves with giant ham and cheese omelets and piles of syrupy pancakes. We adopted our first Golden Retriever and took long walks on Baker Beach while Murphy excitedly jumped the waves. We exchanged our vows at Temple Emanuel and along the way, began our family.

We bought and renovated our first flat off of Lake Street, and moved and remodeled three more homes in quick succession. I served on the boards of my children’s schools, formed a Volleyball League at Crissy Field, cooked dinners in the Haight for run- away teens and delivered meals to hospice houses. I ran the Bay-to-Breakers for years, until we moved half-a-block away from Golden Gate Park, where I became the refueling point for friends who were still happily participating. I hosted spontaneous potlucks on the beach on those rare balmy evenings the City bestows too greedily, and gathered my friends around whenever such an occasion presented itself.

My husband and I absolutely loved everything the city had to offer.

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As the years progressed, our friends moved away one-by-one, accepting lofty positions at firms in other towns or moving closer to family. A lucky few lived abroad and often returned to different locales. We stayed behind, moving from neighborhood to neighborhood, remodeling and renovating, but always within the confines of San Francisco.

Our elder son entered a private boy’s school that was well established and well regarded. We sacrificed luxury vacations and new cars to offset the expense. We didn’t mind. We Stayed.

Our younger son entered kindergarten; tuition doubled and began to take its toll. The boys’ education came first. We stayed.

On weekends, I circled the block endlessly looking for a parking space at Moscone Field so that I might catch the last half of my sons’ soccer games. So many teams, so few parking opportunities… We stayed.

At school, I arrived fifteen minutes early to allow enough time to park while hoping to beat dismissal. Their beaming faces were worth it. We stayed.

Picking up bagels, meeting the piano teacher, dropping off dry cleaning, going to the bank, whatever the errand, I circled the blocks – fervently looking for a nearby parking spot. I started to loathe my car. I began to count the hundreds of hours I had spent chauffeuring my kids from one commitment to the next. Who needed a life? I convinced myself that personal growth is overrated. We stayed, determined to raise the boys in SF.

When my older son entered fifth grade, he seemed to hit a brick wall academically. By the time our son had finished the school year, we knew the private institution we had so carefully selected (and had so dearly paid for) was failing him. Worse yet, we were failing him.

With the help of a neuropsychologist, we discovered our son had a “profound” learning difference. “Profound”- the word hung over us like a dark cloud. The storm was just beginning to brew… Regrettably, we spent another full year trying to educate and inform his teachers and administrators with the hopes of addressing and introducing new and different learning styles to the classroom. We sought the aid of therapists, tutors, and specialists – all with dismissive results.

Eventually, we decided that moving to Oakland was our best option.

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I had researched an array of educational opportunities for my son and discovered, ironically, that PUBLIC SCHOOL offered the best and most supportive atmosphere for him. The Piedmont public school system was welcoming, informed, supportive and better equipped to meet his needs than the private institution in the city had ever been – and it stayed intimate all the way through high school – a tremendously important consideration for any child who struggles with transitions and the unknown.

Moreover, the town is a nod back to times when children walked to school and families knew their neighbors. Our San Francisco home was on the market within two weeks and was sold ten days later. We embarked on our move to Piedmont as soon as the school year ended – just in time to enjoy our first real summer in many years. (Did you know that the sun is supposed to actually shine during the summer and warm up the day? I’d forgotten.)

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Three years later I can say that Oakland has proven to be a wonderful surprise for us all. It embraces diversity in a way that SF would like to but has not delivered, due to the economic realities of city living. We interface with families of all persuasions, ethnicity, backgrounds, and religions in a more seamless and encompassing way, no matter where we are or what we are doing.

My elder son has entered high school and is progressing beautifully while he begins to prepare for college. (98% of Piedmont graduates matriculate on to college!) He’s found independence in a small town that sits in the middle of a large metropolitan area, and buses over to Emeryville with his buddies on the weekends, or takes BART to the city to visit old haunts. He plays football and baseball for his high school teams.

Our younger son bicycles to nearby playing fields to meet up with his friends or play in the creek, while I walk our dog, Buck (a Labrador these days) on trails that wind through the extensive Redwood Parks that surround the picturesque hills of Oakland. Most mornings, my husband runs the Cal Berkeley stadium steps and has relocated his office to the waterfront here, eliminating his commute altogether.

And as for personal growth… ? I’ve found a successful career in Real Estate with The GRUBB Co., specializing in the neighborhoods of Oakland, Rockridge, Oakmore, Crocker Highlands, Glenview, The Laurel District, Dimond and Redwood Hts., Montclair, Berkeley, Kensington, Claremont, the Uplands, Albany, and of course, Piedmont. I now help others navigate the same journey, whether they are moving locally or from places far away. Whether their catalyst was similar to mine or completely different. Each move, each client, each family represents a story, an evolution, and a new opportunity.

I feel blessed to have found a village that celebrates life with 4th of July parades, tree-lighting ceremonies, harvest festivals and concerts in the park. And when I miss the excitement of San Francisco – it lies just over the bridge, a few short minutes away. As dazzling as ever, but perhaps, more appreciated now that I have found a quality of life that evaded my family while living there. I am truly thankful to have landed in Piedmont . . . in a town, in a community, in a neighborhood, that defines the very essence of “home.”