I'm sad today, after finding out that the 35^th murder of the year in San Francisco was a boy I knew from my neighborhood in the Lower Haight. When I worked at Bean There, Raymon would come in from time to time with his friends for a hot chocolate, or a bagel or whatever else. Even then, at the age of 12, it was clear he was a bright and friendly kid with lots of potential. There were lots of other kids in the neighborhood, usually causing trouble wherever they went; Ray was not one of them. We had a few conversations while he hung out at the coffee shop, and after I moved to the East Bay, I never really thought of him again.

Until this weekend-- when I had the news on in the background and heard that there was a killing in the Haight right near where I used to live. When I looked at the TV and saw his picture, I recognized his face immediately, and my heart sank. Like any 17 year-old, he had his whole life ahead of him, but unlike many of his peers, he really had a chance to do something with his life. Now that chance is gone, and we are poorer for it.