After waxing so nostalgic about San Francisco the past couple of days, it’s not so surprising that — after grabbing the frozen blueberries I was in Master’s Market to buy — I made a beeline for an IT’S-IT ice cream sandwich.
My first IT’S-IT experience was probably during an elementary school field trip to San Francisco, now lost in the dim recesses of my memory. But I certainly remember eating them at regular intervals when I lived in the City as an adult, and they continue to mean “SF” to me.
When I decide to write about something in my blog, I often end up learning way more about it than I would have believed possible. Today was no different, so here’s a great article about the history behind the treat.
Yesterday I was remembering Golden Gate Park, but today’s photo is about memories of the 50th anniversary of the Golden Gate Bridge.
Yes, indeed! I was one of the hundreds of thousands of people walking on the bridge that day. But, no, we didn’t make it all the way across.
It’s hard to believe, but the organizers didn’t have the imagination to picture what would happen if people poured onto the bridge from both the north and the south without having designated north/south lanes.
In all fairness, they evidently also lacked the imagination to anticipate the vast numbers of people who would come out to participate in the event. According to the news video below, they expected 18,000-20,000 people to come out, but there were 300,000 instead.
(There were 300,000 on the bridge at the same time; they estimate that 800,000 pedestrians spent on the bridge before it was all over.)
The end result was the most amazing gridlock you can imagine, with more and more people entering from both sides even after there was no more room to maneuver in the center. I can’t recall just how many hours we were out there, but it was definitely the closest I’ve ever come to hysteria in my life.
Being short, I couldn’t see over all the people around me, which made me feel very claustrophobic. A few people fainted and were removed by being passed along over the top of the crowd.
Of course, this was before cell phones, so we were just out there — not knowing exactly what was going on or what (if anything) was being done about it. I would feel the anxiety and agitation of the crowd gradually inching up to something close to panic, but then someone would call out a joke or some sort of reassuring words. I don’t remember exact words, but it would be enough to make people laugh and connect and bring the anxiety level down a few notches.
In fact, I agree with what someone shared in the video comments: “i was there, i was stuck in the middle. it was scary AF in the gridlock, but i’ll say one thing, it was all love. there was no violence, people helped each other out.”
It was definitely a beautiful San Francisco moment.
San Francisco was one of my first loves. I remember a field trip to the City in third grade — I was sooooo excited! We were going to see boats, and in preparation we made drawings of boats on blue construction paper using red, white, and black chalk.
It was sooooo cool.
Although born in San Francisco, I grew up in the South Bay — an hour away. But once I graduated from high school I gradually moved north until I finally became a resident while attending San Francisco State University.
I had arrived.
I lived in San Francisco — Parkmerced; the Richmond; Inner Sunset; outer Sunset; and back to Parkmerced — for over twenty years and loved it.
I spent hours and hours at the ocean and circling Lake Merced. I walked all over — literally. I learned to drop everything when the weather was perfect (because it wouldn’t necessarily stay that way for long; great training for living in the moment).
I read Herb Caen’s column every day. I learned to drink strong coffee and ate lots of Chinese food. I thrilled to the sound of the fog horns from my home at 30th and Geary. I loved the fog, period. I worked at the Cliff House and the Sutro Bath ruins were my home away from home.
And Golden Gate Park was like my own personal backyard. God, I loved it so much, spending hours and hours on the trails; walking from the panhandle to the ocean; learning all the nooks and crannies in between — the lakes, the creeks, the meadows, the touristy places and the private spots.
Amazing how all these memories came flooding back as I looked at this photo.
My karma with San Francisco finally came to an end and it was time to be elsewhere. I haven’t lived there since 1999 and don’t even visit very often.
But the love still remains. It will always be my city and my park.
We had every intention of attending Sunday service this morning.
But it was a lovely day; our patio garden is really coming together; and neither of us could remember the last time we spent such a relaxed morning together on a Sunday.
This is what we wrote in our calendar for today and tomorrow (by the way, S.T.O. = Sacred Time Off).
We’ve been really (and I do mean really) looking forward to this, to the point where we had to laugh at ourselves for being sooo excited about (drum roll, please!) — a weekend!
But the reality is that working for a church means you rarely have a leisurely Sunday morning off. And our Saturdays are often filled with retreats or special events or — most recently — recording sessions.
Monday is our official “day off,” but that’s also when we drive to town and run errands, though we do try to carve out time together over coffee or a meal.
The stock photo above represents the vision I have for my butterfly bush — big blossoms covered with beautiful butterflies!
In reality my bush has been slow to flower and I haven’t seen much in the way of butterflies (as in none, although bumblebees are regular visitors to other flowers in my container garden).
So, I was thrilled the other morning to notice a butterfly on my butterfly bush!
Until I realized that the reason I could get so close without it flying away is that the butterfly had been captured by a spider and was already a goner.
I was out for my morning walk, glanced up at this tree, and came to an abrupt stop.
After all, it’s the height of summer, with temperatures once again approaching triple digits. And yet, there it was — a reminder that summer really doesn’t last forever.
And neither does anything else on this physical plane.
