It’s the 4th of July. This year, both America and San Francisco turn 250. As I’ve been reading in the news, the feelings around the country are mixed. Many would argue that we’re not exactly at our high point as a country or as a democracy. In his typical gaudy style, the president is putting on the largest display ever. On a typical year, they launch 20,000 shells. This year, they’re launching 850,000 shells. The air quality will be bad for days. To top it off, about 400 white supremacists marched through DC today. Yay America. My other concern, given the president’s penchant for hiring unqualified contractors with no-bid contracts is that, the pyrotechnics will be managed by someone who’s never even lit off a bottle rocket.
Here in San Francisco, the festivities are happening in my neighborhood. For the third time in history, the fireworks are being set off from the Golden Gate Bridge. My street and several surrounding streets will be blocked to incoming traffic. I’ve heard some people say we might get as many as 150,000 people in the neighborhood. There’s also a neighborhood pub crawl scheduled We’re expecting it to be a shit show.
At the same time, my dad is in town. We have dinner reservations in the neighborhood and he wants to visit my local bar (he gets a kick of me being greeted like Norm from Cheers). After the bar, we’re going to try to get down to one of the open areas by the water. All of this would be fine, except he is a very slow walker (combination of age and blind spots in his vision). If I had to guess, he walks at a pace that is four or five times slower than what I would normally walk. My bar will be packed – though my bartender friend said if I text him ahead of time, he’ll try to “reserve” two spots for us. Navigating crowds will be a challenge. And all of this will be for a 15 minute fireworks show that will almost certainly be obscured by fog as the marine layer blankets the area . We won’t be able to see anything other than colorful clouds.
My Dad has only been in town for two days and already I feel a little cooped up. He comes out once a year. He stays at the hotel around the corner from my apartment. In previous years, we would have breakfast, hang at my apartment, then pick a part of the city to explore, after which we would have dinner. This year, we seem to be cutting out the exploration. So far we’ve had late breakfasts and then hung out in my apartment until dinner. We’ll have a couple of days when we’ll do some exploring – a jazz festival tomorrow, and a concert in Oakland on Tuesday Oakland. The net effect, so far, has been that I don’t feel as “out and about” as I might normally feel. Normally, I’d take breaks during the day and go for a walk… sometimes it’s a mid-morning run, and nearly every day I get in a two mile, post-dinner walk. I haven’t done those things and I can feel it in my body.
That said, I’m glad he’s out here and gets to see the city. I’m glad we’re getting to spend time together. And of all the places I’d want to celebrate this 250th anniversary, however muted I might feel, it’s San Francisco.