When I was growing up in Berkeley, Cesar Chavez Park was a landfill. I sometimes forget that this park exists. It is often cold and windy, but always worth the magnificent views. This morning was spectacular — it was bright, clear and warm and there was no wind. The sailboats were almost motionless and the stillness in the air felt reverent — people seemed to be speaking in lowered voices. I spend a lot of my time thinking about how Berkeley could be a better place but this brilliant Sunday morning , as I played frisbee with my son in the best gift the city has ever given us, I only felt gratitude.
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