An Excuse to Lie Shirtless

Beautifully manicured Huntington Park serves as an epicenter to the neighborhood of Nob Hill and a popular gathering place for both locals and tourists.

Once the plot of land for railroad tycoon Henry Huntington’s mansion, now lays a park that spans an entire city block shaded by large trees. Urban bustle and cable car bells can be heard from the surrounding streets. Serving as a metaphor of Nob Hill, Huntington Park is a luxurious mixture of old and new.

I was relaxing in the sun near Huntington Park’s famous turtle fountain when an older gentleman, who was previously sunbathing, sat near me. He still had bits of grass stuck to his back as he pulled out a shirt from his canvas bag and began to put it on.

As I moved closer to him, I told him that I was a journalism student at SF State and had a few questions about the neighborhood.

“I’ll answer anything,” he said, “as long as you don’t ask my name.”

This is how I met Richard Best, a resident of Nob Hill since 1975, former substitute teacher and SF State Alumni. Needless to say, within a few minutes of our conversation he was more than willing to give me his contact information.

“This is certainly a historic neighborhood, with the railroad tycoons and the Hitchcock movies. They even film commercials here near the park!” he said.

Best has been coming to Huntington Park every Saturday for years, not only to to soak in the sunshine but to relax his mind.  He strongly believes in the healing power of vitamin D, as do many of the other sunbathers that frequent the area.

“Old guys like me come here to soak up the sunshine which improves our health, also it’s an excuse to lie shirtless,” he laughed .

The park is quiet and perfect for meditation. White noise provided by the muted sounds of the city and the trickling of the water fountain ease my hectic thoughts. Every time I come here there are always people congregating together or relaxing alone.

A man is doing Thai Chi under a tree and two girls are picnicking in the sunshine. Light chatter from a few couples can be heard from surrounding benches and a puppy is clumsily chasing after his ball.

After an hour long conversation, the bells from Grace Cathedral remind me of the time and I respectfully wrap up my conversation with Best.

Upon leaving he turns around and asks for my name just in case he sees me again in the park. I was pleasantly surprised by this gesture because most my encounters in Nob Hill have been impersonal.

This was the first sense of community I’ve felt thus far in Nob Hill, and how fitting at a popular gathering place.