Memorial Day morning in Ocean Beach has its own rhythm. It is the unofficial beginning of summer, which means the sidewalks wake up a little earlier, the ocean has a little more sparkle, and the town feels like it has already decided to be weird before breakfast.
Because of the holiday, the Mass I usually attend was pushed back an hour. So I started my OB walk an hour earlier than usual – exactly the kind of small schedule change that can open a trapdoor into magic.
A LEFT TURN into SINEWAVE COFFEE
Out of the clear blue, a young couple recommended a new spot to me: Sinewave Coffee. I went in, got my cup, walked outside, and there they were, the very couple who had told me about it, just arriving.
“Are you going to Mass today?” they asked. “Yes,” I said, “but it’s an hour later.”
And just like that, Ocean Beach handed us an unscheduled gift: coffee, conversation, and a walk.
As we walked, they told me they were leaving OB after five years. It had been difficult. Sad, even. You could feel that distinct mix of excitement and grief that comes when people are moving on from a place they love.
So I said, “Well then, let’s walk OB.” Naturally, I took them straight to Voltaire Street.
MEETING THE LEGEND
As we approached, I said, “If we’re lucky, the Living Voltaire will show up, and you’ll get to meet him before you leave.”
And wouldn’t you know it, the moment we turned right onto Voltaire, I looked up and there he was, walking toward us like he had been summoned by the street itself. The Living Voltaire.
I introduced them, and immediately the air changed. This young couple has that electric energy – the kind that makes you stand up straighter without knowing why – and the Living Voltaire picked it up instantly.
Questions started flying. Answers turned into stories. Stories turned into folklore. At one point, he asked what they loved about Ocean Beach.
“The Christmas parade,” they said.
He paused. Looked up. Reached back into the sacred archives of OB weirdness. “I think it was 1972,” he began.
THE LEGEND OF THE MILK-POOPING SEAGULL
The story he told was pure, unfiltered OB folklore. Apparently, decades ago, a man crafted a fake seagull, hoisted it high on a stick, tucked a bag with a tube of milk under his arm, and walked through the Ocean Beach Christmas Parade making the seagull “poop” milk onto kids’ heads.
Over the years, this dairy-dropping bird became a civic tradition and one of the main reasons people came to the parade. Only in OB could fake bird poop become local heritage.
And, of course, the man still participates today. But because this is Ocean Beach, the operation didn’t just survive – it evolved.
Progress comes to all things, even dairy-based bird comedy.
THE GIFT OF AN ANCHOR
The Living Voltaire had struck again. This time, he gave a young couple leaving Ocean Beach one more indelible story to carry with them in their suitcases.
Leaving a place you love is hard because you worry it will change without you, or that your connection to it will fade. But by handing them that piece of history, the Living Voltaire gave them an anchor. He reminded them that while people come and go, and the world outside keeps moving, the soul of this place stays firmly intact.
In OB, many things change. And thankfully, the best, weirdest things absolutely do not. Ocean Beach keeps it weird, and somehow, that is exactly what keeps it beautiful.
