Stunned is how I felt when I saw the headline announcing the death of Sen. Dianne Feinstein.
It wasn’t that I was surprised she had died; after all, she was 90 years old.
No, it was more to do with the fact that she had such an impact during my years as a young adult living in San Francisco, and was indelibly connected with tragic events that rocked my world at the time.
I’ll never forget the moment in November 1978 that I parked my car in front of my apartment and heard her tell reporters that, as president of the Board of Supervisors, it was her duty to inform them that both Mayor George Moscone and Supervisor Harvey Milk had been shot and killed by Supervisor Dan White.
It was shocking in and of itself, but coming as it did so soon after the murder-suicide of over 900 People’s Temple members in the Jonestown massacre, it left the entire city feeling completely traumatized.
I wasn’t fully conscious of it at the time, but as I grieve Dianne Feinstein today, I can inwardly feel the truth of what she said years later: “I hope I projected a calm stability, regardless of whether I felt it myself.”
As a flutist, I had several opportunities to observe Mayor Feinstein up close, during events at City Hall or elsewhere. I even played for a private party at her home. I don’t recall that I ever actually met her, but I do remember being struck by the power of her presence and magnetism.
Of course, it was in the San Francisco Chronicle that I was reading about DiFi this morning. Despite not having lived in the City since 1999, I’ve never acquired the habit of reading any other newspaper. The Chron is another entity that is indelibly connected with who I was and, I guess, still am in some ways.
At any rate, I was deeply moved when I read Dianne Feinstein’s description of how she hoped her legacy would be perceived: “A simple thing. That she did a good job, that she really does care, that she’s been able to solve a lot of problems.”
You definitely achieved your legacy; rest in peace, Dianne.