The Septuagenarian Speaks – published November 28, 2018, Siskiyou Daily News.
Our son Bob lives in Atlanta, GA. He is currently working on a start-up business. While waiting for the endless preliminary necessaries (permits, licenses, architectural designs, business plans, etc.) to run their course, he is working two jobs. One is with the Botanical Garden in Atlanta’s Piedmont Park. The Botanical Garden is an excellent year-round travel destination, and when it gets decked-out for the holiday season it is world-class. Bob talks to many vacation travelers from all over the world. He has recently noticed a recurring pattern among certain visitors.
People from San Francisco, Seattle, and Los Angeles, he says, are arrogant and expect special treatment because, well, “We are from San Francisco/Seattle/Los Angeles (pick one) and are therefore superior and enlightened.”
It’s true those three cities offer some great experiences. Museums, major league sports, theaters, art, opera, cuisine, and many more.
There is one little problem. You can’t get to any of those venues without enduring hours of traffic jams on the slowly moving parking lots called freeways, or even on the surface streets. Then, when you finally get out of your car, you have to step over homeless people on the sidewalks, and tiptoe gingerly around piles of human feces.
I have always loved San Francisco. I went to law school there. I have been a Giants fan since they moved to SF and played at Seals stadium.
But I don’t want to go anymore. Last year I took my grandson to watch the Giants. We dropped his cousin off in Sonoma County, then crossed the Golden Gate Bridge into The City. I had rented a hotel room a couple of blocks from AT&T Park for the night. It took an hour and a half to get from the GG Bridge to the hotel. As much as I love the Giants, I’m done.
Why go there anyway? Just stay here. Well, it’s true we don’t have the Giants, and that’s difficult for me. But I’m done. Even the Giants can’t get me to San Francisco, nor can the Warriors.
So, I guess I’m stuck here in our little rural, redneck, unenlightened hick-town. Pretty horrible, don’t you think? Not much for me to write about, except for, say, SPAC, Wild Shows, Liberty Arts, the Yreka schools’ music and drama programs, Red Scarf Society performances, summer Concerts in the Park, Montague Balloon Fair, Ralph Starrett’s sculptures, summer evening Art Walks, great local musicians, Rain Rock Casino, and ski areas north and south. And then there is what Mother Nature offers. Klamath River. Scott River. Mount Shasta. Marble Mountains. Scott Valley. The Eddys. Want more art and culture? Forty-five minutes away, Ashland, Oregon Shakespeare. Other than all that, not much to write about. Did I mention no traffic jams?
When I started writing this column, my intent was to present in-depth specific information about some of the world-class attractions we have here, natural and man-made. But then I got going on my rant against San Francisco, and lost my train of thought. A septuagenarian thing. Sorry.
I’m running out of space for today. More to come later.