Blog 88: To Be San Franciscan (Part I)
On my mother’s side, I am third generation Californian. I never drank kool-aid till I was 29 and was living in my friend’s house (they are southern.) My one friend was so shocked, he had me ask my mom what the hell was up with me never having kool-aid, and my mother responded with, “We are Californian, we drink juice!”
When people ask if I am Irish or Scottish, I give them a funny look and say, “I am San Franciscan.” They counter the odd gaze and ask where my family originates from and I hold their glare and raise my eyebrows a little higher and go, “I originate from San Francisco!” Sometimes they get it, sometimes they don’t…but come peeps, let’s be honest…
I reek San Francisco! (in the “smells good” kinda way.)
From the glitter to the year round flip-flops, the fact that I think it is normal to be able to smoke pot anywhere and everywhere or that when I dress I can adjust for major weather changes with articles of clothes I can fit in my purse…this is my kingdom.
And you know what the funniest part of this story is…I hated San Francisco for so long. When I was 18, I could not wait to get the fuck out of the city. The next twelve years of my life I spent in the small-college-herb friendly towns of Arcata and then Eugene.
Through those years I lived a decent life and thought that the quiet pace was more for me.
But I am a Gemini, and I get bored easily, and there is not a whole lot to do in small towns…as I realized the path I had chosen with owning a restaurant was not one I wished to continue…I pondered where I really wanted to be.
I talked to my ex-husband about selling the restaurant and moving to San Francisco, his response was a resounding “No!” followed by, “Besides, we won’t be able to grow pot in San Francisco!” (I totally understand if anyone who lives in San Francisco at this point has to take a time-out or a knee to contain your laughter…if only he knew…I don’t grow pot anymore…but if I did…I could freaking grow it on the roof of my apartment building and no one would give a flying fuck…this is San Francisco people…where can’t you smoke/ grow pot?)
As my husband and I parted ways, and my life began to crumble, I had no choice but to head home…thank god my life fell apart…because home really is where the heart lies…and San Francisco…is my home.
It is quite apparent once you get to know me.
The house I grew up in, where my parents still live today was built in the late 1800’s by a German sailor, it is a three story Victorian that has sweeping views of the Pacific which my parent purchased in 1979, a year before I was born.
My parents met in the late 60’s at the University of San Francisco, my mother went into teaching and has worked at the same school a half block away from our house for over 40 years, my father studied Rolfing from Ida Rolf herself (he is one of two people still alive to have learned from her) and has had a thriving practice for almost 40 years. They have been married for almost 40 years.
I am a true San Franciscan…ask me where I went to high school!
(Please note: as a native, I feel like this is the most pertinent question to ask someone who says they grew up in the city…I went to Sacred Heart and transferred to Drew….boom…It highly disturbs me when a chicken fucker claims to have grown up here and then they say that they went to high school in Walnut Creek…bitches…that is East Bay…that is Walnut Creek…it has absolutely nothing to do with San Francisco…I have not been since I was 12…you are from the East Bay…stop pissing me off.)
My blood lies in this city.
I never felt like a princess until I moved back.
I never believed my dreams might come true until I came back here.
Opportunity is lavish in this city…and culture emulates through every pore…you just have to look up.
I feel since being back here my mind has been opened and by sense of space and dimensions have changed.
To be San Franciscan is to truly be yourself.
To embrace you for you and not give a fuck what anyone thinks.
San Francisco encourages its people to be awesomeness…cause we got to keep up with our beautiful city.
I have watched my amazing city change through my life…from the 49ers being on top, to the 1989 earthquake that shattered our city with the collapse of the freeway and the bridge to the fires in the Marina, my teacher at the time lost her apartment in the earthquake, my dad was at work and a piece of his window shattered and went into the neck of a lady who was jogging…they were using the Muni busses as ambulances and he had to wait to make sure she was safe…to the bleakness that took over Haight Street when Jerry died, to the boom of the economy and the popping up of neighborhoods that never existed…where the fuck did the Dogpatch come from?...As Twitter moves into my hood now I ponder what is brewing on the horizon…I am eager to watch how my city morphs into the next generation…
Cause here in Frisco, we know how to do…
(A perfect example of how awesome San Francisco is: We all have HEALTH CARE…I pay $150 every 3 months for Kaiser Health Care…thank you Gavin Newsom…you rock! Everyone all over the country is fighting about how to give everyone health care…hey chicken fuckers, just look at San Francisco, add a small tax to people’s restaurant bills…and heal a people.)
San Franciscans know how to rebuild our economy, our lives and our city…each time making it fucking better than it was before (like putting glitter in the sidewalks!)
And as I start in this new chapter in my life I can think of no place I’d rather be.
Cause…there is no place like home…and no place like San Francisco!
DANCE MOVE OF THE WEEK
CROSSING THE BRIDGE
Every time I cross the Golden Gate Bridge I always get this sense of warmth…
Start by driving your car, hands at two and ten…point ahead, you can see the bridge…first we got to go through this tunnel so hold your breath…make a wish (please do NOT pass out while driving)…we made it through the tunnel, you can start to breath again…time to merge over to the right (whoever is in charge of lanes on the Golden Gate Bridge…you suck! Always have…booooooo traffic!) Traffic blows, take this time to change the radio station and make sure you don’t have stuff in your teeth…ohhh got to merge over one more lane…cause the other side really needs four to our two…wave thank you to the dude that just let you in…grab your cash to pay the toll (does anyone else remember when it was $2.00 and not $7.00)…pay the toll lady, wave hi…and get ready for some city driving!