San Francisco: The Beautiful Bubble
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I live in San Francisco, the beautiful bubble, home of the world champion San Francisco Giants. Don’t you envy me a little?
The nation is having a nervous breakdown. The Retreads, uh, I mean the Republicans, are back in control of Congress. The American people have spoken. Through the wrong orifice, perhaps, but they’ve spoken, bringing forth a new political leader, John Boehner, who sports a permanent orange tan.
I wonder, does that make him a Giants fan?
I’m proud of my home town. The idiot wave that swept the rest of the nation couldn’t breach our beautiful bubble. We didn’t fall for the horse bleep. My city kept its good sense and good humor in hard times. That’s more than you can say for most of the nation, and we’re the world champions of baseball, which is more than you can say for the rest.
San Francisco just won the World Series with a team we couldn’t help but love. The Giants are led by a long-haired pothead, a leather daddy playing sly tricks on the media, and some tattooed guys from out of town that nobody else wanted. This team is more ink than Inc. They represent the most derided stereotype in America—the San Francisco Liberal.
SF is such an unappealing liberal hell-hole that America’s best and brightest sons and daughters flock here like lemmings, as soon as they’re old enough to leave home. Some even before, and they wind up on our streets. They’d rather be homeless in San Francisco than under a roof in Abilene.
You say we’re too liberal for you? Hell, we’re too liberal for ourselves! But that doesn’t stop us from having a better time daily than you have yearly. We live in paradise and we like to whine about it. You live in rusting hell and like to whine about us too. So we’ve got that in common.
But come on, let’s be real. Don’t you envy us a little? When they showed those panoramic shots of our town, looking gorgeous in the low, slanting sunlight of October, I could almost taste the envy of red state America.
You say you believe in markets? I’ll show you how much San Francisco is despised. Here’s a million dollars. See how much of your city you can buy with that. Here’s another million. See how much San Francisco that buys you.
We’ve got better food, better air, better water, better weather and now we’re the World Champions of baseball.
It will soon be wet, chilly December, here in the big ballyard by the bay. But it won’t snow. We don’t have a white Christmas, like you guys do. But this year we’ll have an orange one.
There will be Giants tee shirts under every tree, Panda hats and Brian Wilson beards in every stocking. In the Castro a few lucky boys will get spiffy, new, leather “machine” costumes.
After 53 years in town, the Giants finally won it all, for all of us.
This one’s for my pop, who sold peanuts at the Polo Grounds back in the ‘30s, and who gave me my love for the great game prenatally, by taking my pregnant mom there back in ‘47. This one’s for everybody who lived and died with the Giants and didn’t make it long enough to see the 2010 team from street level. But if there’s a mote of justice in the universe my late father-in-law was watching through archway ten, the one straight overhead, which is one more reason baseball should never be played in a dome.
We’ve got great songs about our city. We’ve got a Golden Gate. We’ve got a ballpark with so many kids inside it looks like a day care center. You want to know what America will look like in twenty years, where you live? Take a look at the kids at AT&T park. Every size, shape and color, all of them golden, getting along just fine. They’ve got last names you can’t pronounce and ball gloves on their hands.
You say San Francisco is un-American? San Francisco is America, you dummy. From the mountains of Twin Peaks, to the prairies of Triples Alley, to the oceans of McCovey Cove, white with kayaks spouting foam.
Some of us are lucky enough to call San Francisco home. And now that our national game has given you a good, close look at our beautiful bubble, don’t you envy us, just a little?
Liar.
Comment by Chief Hypocrite on 13 November 2010:
Yes but stop calling me a liar.
Hats off to you Snark. Your story stirred up someeye moisture and tugs of sadness and joy, stimulating portions of my brain and heart to relive several of my adventures in and around San Francisco. Most not worthy enough or appropriate for this family site.
My first grouping of visits were related to the military. There I was on a long road trip encompassing Mexico to the south, Yellowstone to the north and as part of the middle, SF and the East Bay. I stayed with a hometown buddy who was in the Navy south of SF. Cowboy and other bars and navy guys dominated along with stories and giggles like how my friend learned on the dance floor that his dance partner was really a guy. I had in previous years been courted in the Midwest by those who played for the other team, such as a teacher and a coworker of my father, allowing me to learn that I was born with a strong hetero inclination and obviously some were different.
On my second visit in the military grouping, I visiting him again just before I boarded a plane to Southeast Asia where I worked with an ethnic minority, and the third time, coming back and on the way home, disappointed to leave some friendly innocent primitives behind for later massacre, disappointed the military life was not a calling for me and disappointed that most who met me were disappointed with my service.
Later I visited SF on business trips, conventions and mother-in-law visits (sorry to hear of the passing of your father-in-law). The city filled me full of awe as I further and in better style experienced its physical, economical, ethnic and geographical diversity; and good lord there must be a new micro climate on each corner let along each hill and valley.
Eventually business and divorce encouraged me to become an entrepreneur in the arid East Bay through the tunnel to the east. Alternating wrenching and wonderful times too many to summarize followed, indeed times accurately described as amongst the best and worst of times; but perhaps most times are so conflicted to some degree.
My most recent visits to your fair city after leaving the area were alluring no matter what the occasion. SF and other parts of California are indeed among my favorites, breathtaking physical gems on or near the ocean, the western border of the continental US containing some of the best and worst of humanity, religion and business.
BTW, I was there in the 90s when the Battle of the Bay caused an earthquake, my first real one other than a short swaying or two easily missed. Many memories.
Your SF bubble could burst but only if the beauty if the region is destroyed, something not likely to happen in your lifetime, probably long after the oft delayed peak oil scenario. By then China may be ready to purchase California.
Beware however, my wonderful city of Denver (a short drive to the east of my foothills community) has become just as much of a visit to the zoo as SF, too bad we do not have an ocean to the west nor a winning baseball team. Then you would envy us.
Stop giggling.