Look, I’ve hiked the Cinque Terra, ridden a donkey up the cliffs of Crete, and waterskied down the Colorado River. I trekked through the Mayan jungle and climbed Tikal. I hiked the pine forest above Rio Caliente, scaled Nevada Falls, and climbed rickety ladders to... Continue
Rude Awakenings
Kim joined our office as an agent in 1994. As it turned out we had a lot in common: we both loved real estate and dark chocolate. In 2002 she became a partner in my practice: she took over showing property to my clients, which... Continue
I’m hard-wired for formal prayer. I find myself reciting the Our Father when an earthquake hits, and oftentimes at night as I go to sleep. “How weird,” I think, stopping in the middle, but then a Hail Mary (a woman about whom I hold equally wobbly beliefs), arises... Continue
“We’ve been brought here for a very short time—against our will—and we don’t know why.” I love that line. What is the point of all this? Why are we here? What is our true purpose? These thoughts keep some of us up at night; others... Continue
Positively Haight Street, San Francisco --1968 was the year Eldridge Cleaver published “Soul on Ice” (he and his wife Kathleen banked at my teller window and she had the biggest hair I’d ever seen). 1968 was the year of the SDS, the Yippies, and the... Continue
From the time I was 12 until I was 17, I worked summers and vacations for my dad in his store on Haight Street, saving my money for milk shakes, school clothes, and college. When I started in the early '60s, the Haight was a... Continue
Money isn’t my issue this time around, not that it’s always been abundant. I’ve saved it, spent it, lost it, found it, stolen it (I was seven), borrowed, gambled, lent, collected, stashed, donated, and shared it. I’ve frittered it away and hoarded it close. I’ve... Continue
"I enjoy candlelit dinners, a walk on a moonlit beach, and spending time in the woods enjoying the beautiful nature around us." Oh please. Who writes this smarm? I've perused dating sites and snicker at the profiles. Is there no one looking for love that... Continue
On my last marker birthday I muddled over penning my obituary, my epitaph, or a real estate ad. Writing my own obituary was too weird. My epitaph was a no-brainer… Catherine (Clemens) Sevenau 1948 – TBD “How Did I Get Here?” And since I’ve been in real... Continue
Writing about my past is one thing, having others read about it another; it’s akin to posing as a nude model in art class. However, standing naked in front of strangers (or worse yet, in front of family, friends, and half the town of Sonoma)... Continue