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This was a common refrain of Mission flat-landers. Most people who grew up in the Mission or the city in general, when they 'make it', move to Marin. It is like upper crust Americans dying and going to Paris. Some moved to a hill. In later years there was this one guy in particular who moved in just up the hill from me. He was an on-camera reporter. Had the crew truck parked on the side-walk, so you could tell when they were working and when hanging around the house. I tried to talk to him once after he first moved in. Said something innocuous like, so you're new in the neighborhood yada-yada-yada. He took it like - "What I don't belong here". He was from the Mission flatlands. Impossible to talk to. He interpreted everything from a negative or less. Have to talk teeter-totter - whose up and whose down, but never person to person. He had a loud Parrot which could be heard all around,
Think he eventually did move to Marin. I know he moved, but to Marin is just a playful guess.
Reminds me of a dinner years later that Sonoma and I with Guy attended. She had a kid about Guy's age. She was at a former neighbor, but now she had moved to maybe out in the Avenues, but I can't recall, accept the drive back was through Laguna Honda Boulevard, up to Portola and down to the Mission on Clipper Avenue, which was the route I always used to go to Golden Gate Park. She was from a prominent San Francisco family and had a lower class boyfriend.
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