You have a GOOD day!

Please excuse the bit of self-indulgence of the following post.

I went to college at the University of California in the mid–80’s. At that time Berkeley was a haven for oddballs, weirdos, and freaks. People who would be considered eccentric by San Francisco standards. And anyone who spent any time at all in San Francisco in the 80’s knows just how extreme that statement is.

Occasionally some of these characters that animated my day-to-day travels around campus and the Southside return in my memory, like a flashback from drinking too much mescal. People like Stoney, the Polkadot Man, the Smartest Man In The World, Rearrrr, Rick Starrr, and others too bizarre to even qualify for names. The memories come in flashes, and are often gone with just as much haste as they appeared.

However, there was one man who transcended all of these characters. His name was Joseph Charles, known as the Waving Guy. He wasn’t one of the campus looneys, or some homeless vagrant with an overblown id, or some manic political activist. He was a retired old man, living in South Berkeley, who would stand on the corner outside his home and greet passersby and motorists every morning.

He was as much a fixture of the Berkeley tapestry as the Campanile, the heroin addicts in Barrington Hall, football losses, or the spaced-out homeless in People’s Park.

Every morning, rain or shine, he would be out on his corner, trademark yellow-gloved hands waving frenetically, shouting to drivers “You have a good day!” His smile seemed immutable, as were his cheer and sincere hopes that everyone he greeted enjoyed their day.

At first, I simply catalogued him as just another weirdo, tossed on the street as one of the many casualties of the Reagan administration's slashing of public funds to help and house the mentally ill. But there was this complete lack of pretension or insanity about him. Mr. Charles loved life, and he wanted to share that feeling with everyone he could – and what better way to try and bring a small amount of cheer than by smiling and waving during the morning commute, when people are angrily battling traffic?

I lived in the Lake Merritt area of Oakland for a year and a half while attending Cal, and my trip to school would bring me past Mr. Charles every day. He became a fixture, as constant as the North Star, standing on his corner, hands a yellow blur, wishing people a good day. The odd times I missed him, whether through taking a different route, going past after the ritual was over, or if he was ill, there seemed to be a hole in the day … like missing that third cup of coffee or not being able to read the paper before class. And, after a day without Mr. Charles, the next sighting would always seem just a bit more fulfilling.

I graduated in 1987 and left Berkeley for good. However, on every return trip, I would make it a point to drive by Mr. Charles’ corner to get my greeting. It was as much a ritual as heading to Kip's for a pitcher and a bowl of fries, or heading to Henry’s for some Golden Bears after the Big Game. A visit to my alma mater would never be complete without seeing him, and getting my greeting.

Berkeley as a whole began to change in the 90’s, losing much of it’s personality and charm to giant mega-corporations and franchise stores. Telegraph Avenue, once a defiant bastion of independent book, music, food, and coffee shops started to be home to places like the Gap, and Borders, and Starbucks. Neon and chrome replaced peeling paint and scribbled signs.

Mr. Charles’ health began to decline in the 90’s, and his morning greetings came seated in a patio chair. The juxtaposition of his starting to slow down and Berkeley losing it's unique vibe seems to be more than a coincidence to me. It's as if the city began to change because Mr. Charles wasn't able to keep it the same. He died in 2002, at the ripe old age of 91.

Today is Mr. Charles' birthday. You all have a good day.