It was a California Saturday in December, a perfectly pleasant day — not at all cold, but with a chill that eventually came through as the sun set behind Marin’s peaks. I was on my way back from the Pinole Creek trail. I stopped at Sala Restaurant on Railroad Avenue. I had phoned in an order twenty minutes earlier as I took my dog on a late afternoon walk. Sala must still not receive many to-go orders because each time I call it seems as though I’m asking for driving directions to the moon and they never take a name or phone number for my order. It works though.

The brown bag emitted a powerful sweet smell of spices and its warmth served as a personal heater on the way home with the wind expectedly picking up through the valley opening at Sycamore bridge. An unobstructed view of the Mare Island draw bridge lied ahead in the distance. I was nearly home, ready to eat and enjoy the evening with my wife, son, and a now-fatigued labrador retriever.

Walking home with dinner. What is a very simple errand has become nearly impossible — or even illegal (thanks to Euclidean zoning) — in suburban communities. But it is the perfect example of an errand and everyday subtlety that is at the core of what we have fought for in the waterfront for the better part of a decade. A cafe, a bar, an upscale restaurant, shops and a grocery store. A place to sit down and talk, in a park, along the bay trail, while waiting for a train — with the car at home in the garage (or parallel parked out front).

The businesses that have opened in the waterfront and survived, now struggling to burden a perilous economy and a structurally-collapsed city, hold on with the hope that the promised development will come, better late than never. Their endeavors — and those that choose to follow — remain threatened by a continued failure to commit to a future of Hercules, one that is defined by controlled, sustainable growth along the waterfront, a walkable urban community built around public transportation.

And the issue is now front-and-center. Again, perhaps for the last time.

Thank god for Charlie Long — when he pulled the alarm last fall he made clear that the unique opportunity on the waterfront should not be abandoned, that its success could very well be a catalyst for the city to recover. Thank god for Jim Anderson — thrown every which way, knocked down to the canvas, month after month, year after year, but resolute through it all, buoyed by a people not willing to give up despite the odds.

Thank god for this new council who do seem to get it, retaining Long and engaging with Anderson, weary of an upside-down budget and a seemingly unlimited number of constraints.

Thank god for my wife who called to remind me that it was my night to do dinner. And thank god for Sala.

§ [insert_php] the_ID(); [/insert_php] · Originally published [insert_php] the_time(‘F j, Y’); [/insert_php].