My Bracelet

I was running literally the streets of San Francisco, all in tact, to include my sweater. You learn quickly that if you live in San Fran, you never go anywhere without a sweater. Mark Twain aside ad he is reported to have said, "The coldest winter I ever had was the summer I spent in San Francisco." Every season is the same. A sweater, absolutely essential. That fog rolls in. I love it. One of those days I'm out running. Up the San Fran hills, my specialty. I take off my sweater. A couple of blocks and I realize my bracelet is gone. What! My bracelet: a silver Montanyard chieftain bracelet from the Nam. I rush back to where I pulled off my sweater. It had to be there. I am never without it. Dang. I look, nothing, there's a drainage. I look everywhere. It can't be. I walk around in a circle. I am beside myself. How could this happen. Nobody understands. For weeks, I still am in a daze, at least for me.

LICK

This had been quite the day for experiences. Went to Lupe, age14, granddaughter's school for what they call, "Generation Day." Lick (name of founder or benefactor, another name too but can't remember. It is a private school. Cost more to go than to many colleges. However, it bills itself as a "private school with a public school persona," whatever that means. What I think it means is that based on its endowment, they can afford to scholarship lots of kids who otherwise wouldn't get to go to a private school. We went to Lupe's biology class. Sitting in the classroom of say 20, it was like being at the United Nations, about 7 white kids, the rest Asian, Filipinos, AA, Etc. In fact, when we checked in, I met Bernie, another grandparent. A lawyer I think. He loved to talk and so I listened. He told me that it is estimated that there are a hundred languages spoken in the SF United School District. Wow. Another couple of interesting facts. In North Beach, the Italians always rented the property. Now, the Chinese have come in and bought all the buildings. Bernie's wife is writing a book about San Fran neighborhoods. There are 130 at least. Wow.

Xmas in San Fran

The other night Jackie and I went to the Hyatt Regency for the lighting of the Christmas tree and a night of entertainment. A good night although Jackie is still talking about a hamburger and a bowl of soup costing $80. Interesting crowd. Diversity of course but lots of families with little children. While we were eating, a couple sat close by with three small kids; the woman left and never came back and the guy wrestled with the kids all night. Kind of funny but would love to know the story.

Only saw one crazy. Well, it was raining. This guy was about 6 ten, 400 pounds in boxer shorts. Friendly as all get out, couldn't figure out if he was crazy or just super eccentric, may have owned the Hyatt. People didn't seem to be frightened of him and it appeared that he was known by many. Now that I'm thinking of it, potential Mayor, maybe.

HEAT AND BARE MEN'S POSTERIORS

After a day or two of unusual heat, San Franciscans were griping about it. Kind of humorous to me. Here's what I emailed to a friend who had spent some time in my native state. I bet you thought you were back in NC the last couple of days. But, it ain't the same. In NC, the sweat would be rolling off us by the bucket fulls. We are so lucky to live in such a great place. Last night, however, I did hear the sea lions barking big time: has to be the heat, first time ever.

I went to the Folsom St faire and the Polk St Blues Festival Sunday. Fun, fun, interesting, interesting! I had to smile when the Chronicle in reviewing the Folsom St faire said "bare men's posteriors and sexual aggression" was the order of the day. I'll say: a few whips and chains. Only in San Fran.

BUT I DIDN'T INHALE

The "pot" initiative failed in California. I was surprised although I voted against it. Why? Well, to be honest, in counseling lots over the years whose lives were pretty wasted to drugs, all started with cannabis/pot/marijuana. And, to be honest, I don't have any strong feelings one way or another. And, to be honest, I doubt that it will make lots of difference in California. Medical marijuana outlets are everywhere and jokingly, everybody on any street corner in San Fran can get a prescription. I had a little dialogue with my buddy, an attorney who now lives in England. Interesting.

Listening to a news spot on TV concerning the mental health of our soldiers and especially the idea that a soldier could have two positive drug tests and still stay in the military, reminded me when I was a soldier in Germany during the early seventies. Soldiers were smoking hashish (stronger and purer pot) with great regularity and I didn't even know it. A couple of them recently told me and we had a laugh, especially how they would come to see me, go to church-feeling good. Then, we turned serious since both are outstanding citizens, (one, retired cop, now a PI; the other, an economics prof at Ohio State) The question I had for them: do all drug users start with marijuana. Answer from them, They think: YES!!!!


As Californians will soon vote whether to legalize or not is a big issue. To be honest, I haven't had much personal experience with pot. I tried a little in Vietnam but nothing. For one thing, I've never smoked and think you have to have been a smoker to be good at it. I was "Bill" as in Clinton, didn't inhale. Then a couple of dozen years ago, I ran into an old high school buddy and he was into it. I tried a puff. Nothing.

So after a healthy discussion with some of my buds, one was convinced that a "brownie" was the answer. Since my buddy was pro legalizing, his thinking, "if you just try it, realize it merely relaxes, you'll see the benefits." So, what the hell! So, here I am with this brownie. Let's just relax, take a little bite, it's not going to kill you. So, a little chunk. An hour or so, nothing. OK, here's another chunk, bigger one this time. I'm sitting on the couch, suddenly, my head begins to hurt, my ears are burning. I stumble to the bathroom. My ears are blood red. I make it back to the couch and pretend to watch TV. The TV looks a little blurry, maybe I just think it is. I seem a little nauseous, where is the relaxing. Maybe the brownie was tainted or bad or something. No, it came from a marijuana dispensary. This is weird. I'm really feeling weird. Maybe I should call 911. What am I going to tell them, "I had a brownie." Dang! The feelings finally passed. I never relaxed. I flushed the rest of it down the toilet. Well, I can tell you this: I KNOW HOW I'M GOING TO VOTE ON THE POT ISSUE.

FROM MY BUD: Was that really your experience of something you forwarded?
It reminded me exactly of my own experience. But mine was worse. You know I'm totally socially liberal and would let anyone do anything so long as it does not harm other people. But in the case of legalizing pot I would vote NO, for two reasons.

Reason 1 - A couple of years ago when I lived on Funston ave, I went to a party that some of my gay friends were having. They are all very decent normal guys, people I know and like and respect. One of them had made pot brownies. Now, I am not into pot or any other drugs (unless you count beer and wine, which perhaps I should). I had tried all sorts of drugs when I was in high school, just to try. They seemed like a complete waste of time and money and none made me feel particularly happy or interested or excited (except LSD - and I stopped that immediately because I actually liked it and I could tell it was pretty wacky stuff). I was offered a pot brownie at this party. My reasoning was this.... I am an intelligent adult person with good self control. I am with people I trust. Now what is this thing?... It is pot and a brownie. The brownie part is fairly innocuous. OK. And as for the pot, well, it seems like every high school student in the US seems to be smoking the stuff all the time, so how bad can it be? I had a nibble. Nothing. I had some more. Nothing. It tasted good though. I just thought I was immune. So I finished the thing. About 30 minutes passed. Suddenly I felt dizzy and my eyesight and hearing were wobbly. Then I started to feel anxious. I was taken home by Stacy (who was living with me at the time). I drank some water and sat on the bed and then I knew I was feeling very anxious. Then scared. Then very scared. My heart was beating wildly. I was doing everything I could to be quiet and look normal. I tried to tell Stacy what was going on. I tried to tell her I was scared. I could either not talk or only a whisper came out. Apparently I looked very funny because I was sitting bolt upright in bed with my eyes wide open clearly trying to smile but just looking very worried. I new what I wanted to say but I could not make my mouth say the words. It was just like being in a nightmare where you need to move but you are paralyzed. I believed at the time that I had permanently damaged my brain, that I would be able to think like a normal person but that I was forever trapped in this body not being able to talk or communicate. It was absolutely TERRIFYING. I eventually was sick and projectile vomited all over the bathroom. I swear the next day there were green chunks of marijuana vomit all over the bathroom, on the walls and the ceiling. And it absolutely reeked of pot. The next day I was fine again. Just weak and shattered. It was a very frightening experience. Now, when your brain is swamped with unusual foreign chemicals that alter the way you perceive reality, subvert your ability to talk and even to reason, that's a pretty serious physiological event. It's not something that I feel I would ever want to experiment with again. The brain is a pretty tough piece of hardware, but it is not indestructible, and if you damage it enough it will not recover. The lethargy, paranoia, and inability to focus, concentrate, or truly be engaged in life that I see in habitual marijuana users is a powerful deterrent to me. And the experience I had makes me think that any brain, including mine, could be vulnerable.

Reason 2 - I used to live on Funston and Geary, just around the corner from a marijuana dispensary, next to the electronic music shop. I got to see the people who used marijuana. They were not old people with glaucoma or people going through chemo. They were almost 80% young punks in souped-up BMWs and kids in Escalades. None older than about 25 and all clearly disaffected, aggressive and insecure looking - clearly not nice people. About 20% were just stoners, between 25 and 40. Just long term drug users. Hopeless flotsam and jetsam of society. I would see some of them sleeping in the bushes along Park Presidio. This is not the sort of character development we want to encourage.

I think this stuff should be illegal. It's bad for the people who use it. It's bad for society that has to deal with these people, and it enriches people who are parasites.

Only in San Francisco

I bet you thought you were back in NC the last couple of days. But, it ain't the same. In NC, the sweat would be rolling off us by the bucket fulls. We are so lucky to live in such a great place. Last night, however, I did hear the sea lions barking big time: has to be the heat, first time ever. I went to the Folsom St faire and the Polk St Blues festival Sunday. Fun, fun, interesting, interesting! I had to smile when the Chronicle in reviewing the Folsom St faire said "bare men's posteriors and sexual aggression" was the order of the day. I'll say: a few whips and chains. Only in San Fran.

LOVIN' THE CITY

Subject: Too good not to share

We all know that at one time or another, every weirdo in the world has
shown up in San Fran. I saw two this morning: a guy literally crawed
across the street at Market and Van Ness. Horns were honking and he
was giving them the finger. I was amazed that somebody didn't rum over
him. When we got to the other side, he started mooning people. Most
were like me, smiling and laughing. This is San Fran. And the other
guy has on about ten shirts, this is indescribable and he is wearing
this beatiful fluffly skirt and hi-heels. This was in North Beach.

But, this is one for the books. I'm running up these three gigantic
hills, Stockton at Bay all the way into North Beach which is at
Columbus and Green. Anyway, I'm trudging along and meet this young guy
who whips a snappy salute on me, runs over in front of me, drops on
one knee and kisses my hand. I felt like the Pope. What could I do. I
ran on. Now, I'm thinking a couple of things: this was God or Jesus
and there's a hidden message here. Or, the guy was acknowleging an old
guy running up these gigantic hills. What think? Welcome back Sam. I
missed you but don't think anybody else did. Just kidding. Power in
the blood.

Col,
As a longtime medical provider to the citizenry of this fair City, I wish to remind you that this behavior is not extraordinary here. The captivating beauty of the surroundings often throws some individuals off their game. They become entranced, hypnotized, confused, and often completely disorganized. They exhibit, on occasion, behavior the average 70 yr. old finds startling, or amusing, or repulsive(to a point)! I have found the best remedy for such encounters is the simplest: some light conversation, never threaten or use the parental tone, smile a lot, and think happy thoughts.
I've made a number of friends with these street folks and we have breakfast Mondays and Fridays. Join us for a group hug.

FERRY BUILDING

I am ashamed that it has been this long in publishing. San Fran is such a great town with something going on all the time. I could write a dozen blogs about happenings. You can on a street corner and hear four different languages. If you don't like diversity, this is not the place to be. I am often amazed at all these differences, neighborhoods, etc. And, equally as amazed at how well all get along.

Here's a great story: some friends were visiting and we were talking about various things and I had planned to meet them and she said, where? "Why don't you meet me at the Ferry Building?" A long pause and she said, "You mean they have a whole building named for them?" I died laughing. Guess you had to be there: no offense now.Check out this link, old San Fran.

http://www.youtube.com/watch_popup?v=NINOxRxze9k

Recently, I went to the ballgame. Baseball, unless you are a great fan, is a little like watching paint dry. What made it somewhat interesting was these guys behind us, old timers, in their eighties but really knew baseball. Both were retired
school teachers and lived somewhere in the Valley, wherever that is. I
think it is like half way between San Francisco and LA. Anyway, these
guys would analyse every aspect of the game. It was like having your
own personal sports commentator. They knew names of players, blood
types everything.

And, there were 4 guys, in early twenties, in their jockey shorts, all painted up and yelling constantly. From time to time, various people would join them. Girls came by to get their pictures taken with them. What was amazing is that they weren't obnoxious and they never ran down. I was amazed.

They constantly hassled this one player, the center fielder. I came home and googled him. Well, the guy has fathered five children by four different women. And, his team has hired a former cop to keep him out of trouble. Amazing since this is San Francisco that these guys would zero in on this perceived miscreant. Funny, guess you kind of had to be there.

HAPPY HENRY

All of us know about the "dog eating the homework" but what about the dog "eating my teeth." This is Henry talking. He's a "homeless" guy that has staked out his territory at Fisherman's Wharf. I've talked to him lots. His sign says he's a vet and I love this, "I don't drink and l don't do drugs and I don't cuss." There you have it. He tells me he's been married a couple of times and he's lived with a few others but finds that he's better off by himself. He doesn't like living in a resident hotel but prefers the streets. And, the biggest mistake of his life is getting out of the "Service." He would have been at least a sergeant by now he says. I say, "Probably at least a sergeant major." He smiles and I can see he has no teeth. I say something like, "Why don't you get the VA to get you some teeth." He smiles again and says, "they already did once." Well, where are they, " I'm thinking. He's reading my mind and kind of sheepishly says, "my dog ate them." I decided not to ask how all this came about.

In some ways this could be one of "those only in San Francisco stories." However, homelessness is a global and for us a national problem which is not going to be solved. Here in San Francisco, having had some experience in working with the so"so called" homeless, the term means many things. There's a group who loves living on the streets. They are doing dope. It is a lifestyle. Then there's another group who should be institutionalized. Well, many of them. Crazy as bats and a few dangerously so. Finally, there's a small group that we could actually help. They often have children. And, they are the ones on which we should concentrate. The others are beyond us. Homelessness is a little like immigration policy. If we are honest, in our culture, it can't be fixed. We're doing about the best we can.

The dog ate Henry's teeth and getting him another set is not going to solve his problem because Henry doesn't think he's got a problem or want it solved. God bless Happy Henry.

Grandparents Day, Burke, 2009

I left my heart at Lake Shasta
Amidst the sun and waters warm,
Safe from all the winter's harm
With boats and tubes and water skis,
To splash and swim and be so free
With friends and food and laughs all day,
I never want to be away.
I come home with a suntanned cheer
Happily waiting for next year.

By Frances Jacobson

HOMELESSNESS or a BUM

Recently, I was entertaining my son-in-law's Mother. Mary is a wonderfully sensitive and gentle mid seventies widow. We're heading to the movie on the bus. This guy gets on and sits right next to her and proceeds to take off his shirt. He's overweight, riddled with tattoos and a bath has not been part of his agenda for sometime. 

I was keeping my eye on him just in case. You almost had to be there but Mary did not look at him. However, the guy next to him goes berserk; hollowing and screaming at him. In the course of the conversation, the shirtless man who is now putting on a shirt he has retrieved from his backpack, says something like, "You people are always picking on the homeless." 

This set the guy off with something like, "You are not homeless but a sorry bum who doesn't care for anybody but himself." And, he throws in a few expletives. At this point, I am convinced that they are going to fist city. They start back and forth, without letting up. 

I'm trying to figure out what to do when mercifully our bus gets to our stop. A funny aspect of this episode is that the guy who was yelling at the initial naked guy was covered in Tattoos, shorts, and a long pony tail which looked a little like Ozzie Osborne at his worst. 

It did get me to thinking, however. Was he right? The guy homeless or bum? I enjoyed columnist Nevius series on the homeless. I would pose a different view, however, homelessness is an intractable dilemma. Mainly, there really are three groups of those on the streets: (1) those who have an entire lifestyle and love living on the streets, (2) those who are mentally ill, and then (3) that very small group that actually could be categorized as homeless with some possibility for help. Overall, it is a problem that cannot be solved, much like immigration, racism, drugs, any of the social ills of today. All we can do is the best we can with it.

HOW WE VIEW THE CITY

This was a note sent by a young friend recently about her neighborhood.


So, funny story having to do with where I live. I have told some of you about the "marina girl" reputation. (The Marina is the district of San Fran that I live in). My friends and I were out on Tuesday night in North Beach (only about a mile away from the Marina) for the North Beach Jazz Festival. We went to this bar called Mojito's (like the drink), kind of a dive bar, but has really great live music and great drinks. So, I'm standing at the bar ordering a drink, and these 2 guys sitting next to me ask my friends and I where we are visiting from. I said..."we live here, why would you assume that we are visiting?" He told me it was because we were really dressed up for a bar in North Beach. My friends and I always get dressed up (and you all know how I usually dress), I was really only wearing jeans and a tube top, but had on heels, whatever... we were all pretty much dressed the same. I told him, we like to get dressed up, b/c when you look good, you feel good, and why not. So then he asks, the dreaded question (for me). "where do you guys live?" and I always reply with the same answer...I always have to stall, but eventually say that "I live in the Marina, but don't judge me, I just moved here from Philly. So no, I'm not a marina girl, I'm a Philly girl, and my apartment is the first and only apartment that I looked at when I moved here, and had never been here before. " (which is true).

So we get to talking about how EVERYBODY that lives in the marina says that, because we are all embarrassed or ashamed for some reason to admit we live in the Marina. He told us that there is this article out there (written in like 1990) that talks about living in the Marina, and the reputation still holds true till this day. Anyway, my friends and I found this quite amusing and we had this guy email us the article. If your interested in reading, it is quite funny, and if you ever come to visit, you will definitely witness this first hand. You can usually spot marina girls walking into any bar/restaurant from a mile away....we just have good style :) (it is no longer the khaki look as the article states, but "trendy" shall we say).

On a side note, the Marina is the most beautiful part of the city to live in. I am 4 blocks away from the Bay and Golden Gate bridge, and it really is just absolutely amazing!

http://www.sfweekly.com/2001-01-24/news/forgive-me-for-i-live-in-the-marina/full

--
amy

This is so interesting as I have such views about the City, notice I said, City, which the natives call it. I often call it Frisco, just for meanness. I actually had not heard that much about the Marina. What I think is so true of the City is that it really is like a bunch of little neighbourhoods stuck together. And, you can find mostly what you want in the neighbourhood you choose. What story I thought you were going to tell is the classic one about the Marina Safeway. I was telling a single guy the story not long ago and he said something like, "I don't believe it. I go into the Marina Safeway all the time and never see where there is any action." Maybe it is just a myth.

Of course, what I think is that you can find pretentiousness about anywhere anytime, even in Philly. My idea when we moved into the City was to live in several different neighbourhoods; we've tried two now. My wife's idea was somewhat different than mine, however. The first one in lower Pacific Heights, close to Laural village was way to white bread and yuppie for me. I love where we live now on Anza. A buddy and I had a run on the beach this week and then went for a Buffalo burger and he said, "This is the real world." And, I think so, on Anza which is right at USF (University of San Francisco)--within four or five blocks of where we live is every imaginable type of ethnic restaurant you could imagine. For instance, my favourite is Korean, quickly followed by Ethiopian. There are a dozen Korean and at least three or four Ethiopian.

But, then it is all what you like. We are so lucky to live in such a beautiful place. My usual line is that when the politics and zaniness of the City get overwhelming, I always think about the beauty. Amen!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

FLABBY AND WACKY

EMAIL OF THE DAY. Oh, well, I suppose every year the Chronicle is compelled to publish photos of runners in the Bay to Breakers who insist on discarding their apparel and foisting their flabby asses on the public. Too bad, the Chronicle doesn't have more class. But, heck, what do you expect from a city that has the reputation San Francisco does of being the wackiest place on Earth! AJB

WHAT ABOUT BERZEKLY

The Bay To Breakers

This is one weird tradition that takes place every year in May. I’ve run it for about six or seven years. And, always use it more or less as a day’s PT (physical training) with the crazies. And, every year something is a little different. Officially, I heard there were about 65,000, down from the first time I ran it when it was close to a 100,000. There’s all kinds: costumes of every sort, a kind of Halloween in May; Elvis impersonators by the dozens, some even running; nudes, various shades of dress and whatever we see in it, it is one giant 7.2 fun race/runjog/walk.

There are actually serious runners who make money; two groups, not exactly sure but called, elite, seeded runners. The Kenyans usually win.

This year I heard the aftermath was a little too much booze and revelry; the police and street department were griping big time about all the trash. For those like myself, it is lots of fun. What always fascinates me are the nudes. Most of them are fat old men who should be at home. But, I will have to say this: nobody pays them any attention.

And, then also there are those who kind of cheer the runners on; it is a giant moving funny costumed parade: centipedes, human trains, people running backwards, mothers pushing strollers. I even saw a woman running in a bride's dress and two were running in evening gowns.

I don’t think I’m going to do it anymore. Why? I don’t know, ADD (attention deficit disorder) but by next year who knows.

Every time I participaten, I am always amazed at the same thing: these fundamentalists folks with the very elaborate signs of Jesus Saves, Repent. I always wonder what their motive is and what they think they are accomplishing. They are brave, I'll have to say that; a mass of humanity surged toward them as the race begins and they stand literally in the center of the fray, standing their ground. I saw the same thing at the Gay Freedom Day Parade--the gays, for instance, appear to be more Christian than the Christians. Ain't life wonderful. God bless America.

Maybe they are from some sect that requires them to profess “the truth” in this manner, a kind of living Watchtower (Jehovah Witnesses). I simply don’t know. And, if one is a Christian, then who could object to what the signs say? Not I but simply the crazy venue where it is. What do they expect to achieve? I don't think they are going to get any converts in this crowd. Here they are at the Bay to Breakers, a gigantic expression of living art, with every profane reprobate, based on one’s view, that is known to mankind. The participants in the race are hedonistic, masochistic (who would torture themselves by running seven miles) in the best of circumstances?" So, do the fundamentalists think they can reach these people for the gospel. How misguided, without criticizing, is this sort of thinking.

The crowd merely tolerated. I venture to say that in our secular world, of which the Bay to Breakers, is a good example, they hurt the cause more than they help. They come across as judgemental, mental themselves, and the opposite end of kookier. So, there you have it.

INTERVIEW WITH DeLONE

Recently, we had a very distinguished visitor spend a few days with us. Biased as I am, still, it is nice to know others impressions of our town. I have not been everywhere but I've been most places and still feel that San Francisco is the greatest in the world. I often joke that I should be an ambassador but the City doesn't need one. Anyway, I wanted DeLONE to give us his views. (DeLONE often says about his name: think of it like this, DeLONE Ranger). I like it.

What is the one thing you'd say about San Fran? Well, I think it is the beauty of it, really. For those of us who don't live here, we have our own images of the town; most of them are political with an idea that every nut in the world has shown up here: gay mecca, liberal to the max--every stereotype that you can imagine. And, then you are at the Golden Gate Bridge, you have just run across it and are catching your wind from the three and a half mile trek and you look out across the bay and the ocean and you are simply overwhelmed with its beauty. And so the beauty overcomes the other things. Absolutely. How about the people? I had some interesting encounters. I think riding the buses is an experience. Here we are on the bus, having been down to Pier 39 which is a little like the North Carolina State Fair, ending our visit with a great banana split at Gheradelli Square. I mean, we are leaving heaven. We are talking about our stop and this really nice individual thinks we are tourists and tells us that our stop is several away and then he says, "Guess you guys are going to Tommy's" (I already knew it to be a world famous gay bar). My Uncle bust out laughing, the guy assumed we were gay. In San Fran., when you see two guys together, you automatically assume, probably not a good idea, but what the hay, I'm human--you can assume they are gay and more than likely you're right. Oh well. Other experiences. So many but this one sticks out. We are on the bus again. I'm seated beside this fairly nice looking girl and she is engaged in a conversation with this homeless guy-I think he's homeless, he has the look. In San Fran, hard to know based on how everybody dresses, weird sort of milieu. This is not a "hit" just hard to know. Anyway, she tells him she just graduated San Diego State with a degree in tourism and is here to see her boyfriend. He says something like, "I'm in the tourist industry too, an independent contractor but I'm thinking of going all Internet." It was a funny scene and definitely one of those, "you'd have to be there" times. Here is a guy that a bath has not known in many a day and fingernails that are at least a half inch, most so long they are curling, and yet he's right there with her. Yes, he is in the tourist industry. I will have to say that for a 22 year old, I think, that I enjoyed flirting with as we exchanged a few comments, she was pretty poised. My Uncle hassled me that I didn't get her phone number. Oh well, life is a series of lost opportunities. Other impressions. I loved the wine country. I'm not a wine drinker but got some for my friends. Fascinating, how it's all done and the culture of it, noted. I think the thing that amazed me most is that here we were in Sonoma and Napa, California and it is like another world from Frisco (the natives hate for you to call it Frisco). California is like a country, the 6th largest economy in the world--truly things we don't think about, i. e., they raise more beef cattle than Texas. Anything else? Well, hundreds, I did see a Sharks game. My cousin's husband is a big sports nut: I almost rival him but not quite. What I found to be the same as in NC, you almost need to take out a loan to get tickets and buy a beer. The game was good. Wow, you got around. Well, you did asked. Visit any non tourist stuff? Of course, a comedy club for the locals and I loved a couple of bars; one called the Pig and Whistle and then this great Irish bar in the Haight Ashbury area called Martin Mack's. I've just seen the documentary on the Summer of Love in San Francisco and to be in the Haight where it took place was a little like going back in history. I expected to see lots of left over hippies but mostly young iPod types. Very interesting. Are you going to come back? You bet ya, but I'm going to do it differently next time. Like what? I'm not telling.

POLITICS

**Dear Mayor, my need to write this note is greater than your need to read it. I can't begin to tell you how I affirm you for stepping up to the plate concerning recent events. Life happens and you did what you had to do: fessed up.

I don't know why anyone would want to be in politics but that being said, you're doing a good job. I voted for you last time and like most San Franciscans will the next time around. The only American Mayor that I think is anywhere close as good is the fictional mayor in The Wire, Cargehetti of Baltimore. Both of you are not afraid of risks, trying to do the right thing for your City, eyes on what you've promised. For most of us voters, we understand the difficulties of governing our town, close to impossible. Most of our ills can be laid at the Board of Supervisors, from my perspective and the constant challenge of working with their various personalities and agendas is like herding cats. If I were you, I'd not speak of the event again and not read the newspapers about it.

Having been somewhat where you are, my suggestion is that if down the road, you get a chance to reconcile with your friends, do it. Time is an enormous healer but if not, you've done your best.

There is no need to respond to this note. God bless you. I'm sending good thoughts and prayers your way.

**This letter was written after the Mayor's confession about an affair with the wife of one of his staff members. Since I wrote the letter, I'm not quite in the same place. The Mayor looks like a shoo in for his second term with no real opposition. There are about eleven running against him but there's no name recognition, no money for campaigning: combined these facts with the apathy and brain dead electorate and he's in for sure.

I think I'll probably vote for him. He deserves a second term as he's attempted some creative things in governing an almost impossible town. What I object too in our mayor is the same thing I object too in every politician. They become politics. Their lives reflect basically the question of how is my view going to look. Never what is the right or best thing to do. Who is this going to help/hurt. And, a willingness to take unpopular stands and positions. Mostly, I'm dreaming because it ain't going to happen in our mayor or politicians in general.

To me, the political arena is somewhat of a mystery. A person runs for a political office and in the process, he/she prostitutes themselves in various ways and then they are elected and once securely in office don't give the public the time of day. We make them into celebrities as if what they have to say is so much more important than anyone. Go figure!

The City That Knows How

San Francisco, of course. But, a new moniker has recently been added: the city that knows how to make enemies. The basic story is like so many when only partial facts get out. The first one had to do with the City refusing the Marines permission to use one of the main thoroughfares downtown to film a commercial for recruiting. The real truth was a scheduling problem. The second one was a big flap at the Oakland Airport with a plane of Marines coming back from Iraq. More or less, it was miscommunication between the pilot and the airport. Regardless, with all the misinformation, the City that knows how became the City that knows how to screw up a two car funeral possession. And, of course, what they did was give those like right wing zealots, Bill O'Reilly and Fox News, fuel for their bigoted ways. Such snafus foster the idea of the "left coast" and living in La La land.

To me, it's kind of humorous and reinforces the constant view that would do well for all Americans to grasped, the government is not the people. They should be but they are not. I can't tell you the numbers of times people have said to me--many who have just come back from overseas--the people loved America and Americans but they hate the government. I don't know how this happens but feel that we the people have to take a big part of the heat as we put the politicians into office and they become our face.

A COMPLICATED HISTORY FOR SOME

Not for me but many simply ignore the fact that San Francisco was founded by the Spanish military and for years had a good abundance of military in its back yard at the Presidio. And, the Presidio was always such a good deal for San Francisco. It was like they had their own Park and didn't have to pay for it. And, just like in 1906, the last big earthquake, 7.2, utilized the military to deal with much of the emergency. The politicos are fond of forgetting those sorts of contributions.

During WW ll, San Fran was the "ship out" place for those heading to the Pacific. Many a young soldier and sailor had a last "good" time before heading "over." One of my best stories on the way to Vietnam took place in The City. Unfortunately, on the way back, it was not so pleasant. The rule was that as soon as you hit the ground, you got out of your uniform so you didn't have to deal with the nut cases that were blaming vets for the Vietnam war. Thankfully, even in San Francisco, those who care realize that the soldier is just doing his job. One recruiter in San Francisco said that in his 17 years of service he has never had so many thank him for his service.

But, let's face it, the politics have brought us to this point and I don't see it changing. The City has been stupid about some things--the worst was the banning of ROTC in High Schools. They took the most successful program of many schools and one that parents and students wanted and did away with it. How smart is that?

All this being said, however, voters have to take some responsibilities, we put the people in office and the military is just one example. Most of the politicians have never served and hearing them talk makes me realize why--draft dodging material.

THE BRIDGE

THE BRIDGE is a documentary about the Golden Gate Bridge as a magnet for suicides and holds the not so dubious distinction as the most popular place for those who choose to leave this life by jumping from The Bridge. I don't know why and the documentary didn't try to answer why rather simply recording what happened.

I wonder if it has anything to do with the unadulterated beauty of The Bridge. I cross it sometimes two and three times a day. When I first came to San Francisco, I promised myself that if ever I was not awed by the beauty of that fabulous structure and all that surrounds it, I was leaving the area. I am still here 20 years plus later and have never ceased to be amazed at the Golden Gate.

After seeing, The Bridge, I wondered as I have about many documentarians, "What in the world motivated this guy?" A mystery! In fact, I remember distinctly when a tempest rose about the film which was done in 2004. As I remember, the bureaucrats that run the bridge complained that they were tricked and didn't know that director Eric Steel's cameras were zeroed in on these tormented souls attempting to commit suicide.

I've always had somewhat of an open view about suicide by influenced by a mentor, Albert Ellis, who recently died. In one of our classes Al said something like, "Objectively, a person owns his/her life and can do what they want with it--even suicide if they so choose. "

Through poignant interviews with family, friends and eyewitnesses, the film reveals a common thread which most of us know: depression, despair, and mental illness. When you're watching those who die, your adrenaline picks up and you think, "Wow, I'm watching the process of life and death." I was often in a state of WOW. See this documentary. 2 Parachutes.

ANTI MILITARY--NOT

I've always liked Supervisor Daly. He's a little over the top for my liking on a few things but after all, this is San Francisco. But, I think he's definitely out to lunch on the potential nixing of the Blue Angels. I'm an anti war type, hardcore Democrat but this is a nutty idea. Fleet Week is the last vestige of military in this area. I don't particular like the Blue Angels wasting tax payer dollars but still, they represent the military. After the the Presidio and Letterman Hospital closed, the community lost any vestige of the uniform.

Our community has no visual reminders of the price of freedom. We never see any soldiers. I often think that those like Supervisor Daly might have benefited from a tour in the Marines. Maybe he could just have a talk with Supervisor Ammiano and Police Commissioner Sparks, two Vietnam vets. Oh well...