We’re in San Francisco today taking a break from our daily labors to ride cable cars up and down Powell Street and traverse through the city’s sundried districts, like Chinatown, North Beach and Fisherman’s Warf, with our wife and son.
Looking around we see hardly a sign of economic turmoil. People are bustling about, the hotel rooms are dearly priced, and the restaurants are full. Perhaps a stroll through the Tenderloin would change our opinion. But even in good times that neighborhood’s a lost cause.
The weather’s cool and foggy. We’ve heard breathing in the moist bay air somehow stimulates the mind and body to ideas and creativities that would otherwise go missed. Like one night in 1905, when 11-year old Frank Epperson left a stirring stick in a drink he was mixing on his porch. The next morning he discovered the drink was frozen to the stick and, if you can believe it, he’d invented the Popsicle.
So last night we gave it a try… We took in a deep breath of the cool moist air hoping to reach our inner Kerouac or Jack London in the thick bay mist. But, alas, wherever you go you always find yourself.
And once again we have gold on the mind. Continue reading




