Why A Sunny Day in the Mission is Perfect

A warm, sunny and clear day devoid of fog is a rarity in San Francisco. That means when the fog disappears and the temperature rises above 60 degrees, everyone takes full advantage and gets the heck outside. Faced with a beautiful day in the city and an afternoon free, I did what many San Franciscans do and made my way to the Mission to soak up some sun.

Because I have lived in the west side of San Francisco for the nearly four years I’ve been here, I rarely venture to the Mission. Instead of dining at Pizzeria Delfina, spending my Fridays at Mission Bowling Club, or standing in line for fresh-baked morning pastries at Tartine Bakery, I merely read about those experiences on food and local news blogs and imagine what my life would be if I lived in the hipster capital of, uh, Northern California. (I think that’s right, isn’t Portland the hipster capital of the world? I don’t even know)

Hoping to change that, and because I was craving something sweet, I spent my sunny afternoon finding Tartine Bakery, a San Francisco-famous pastry and sandwich shop and cafe at the corner of 18th and Guerrero. The space was small, but the pastry case was big and full of too many tempting treats for me to pick something. Feeling the pressure of a growing line, I went with the first pastry that caught my eye and that remembered was highly recommended on Foursquare, the chocolate eclair.

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My Tartine eclair, before I scarfed it down.

After stopping at Bi-Rite Market, another San Francisco institution, for a water bottle, I climbed the hills at Dolores Park to take in a view while taking in the eclair, passing a guy peddling pot cookies. Thanks man, but today this French pastry is all I need. After finding my spot in the grass, I promptly took a huge bite and ended up wearing a blob of vanilla cream filling. I didn’t care because Tartine had lived up to its hype; my eclair was really, really good. It also validated in my mind that these Mission establishments are really as good as everyone says they are.

I already knew that Dolores Park was a nice place to spend a warm afternoon. Now I also know that it’s worth getting out of the Outer Sunset to find some great food in the Mission and in other parts of the city to which I never bother to venture — especially on those rare San Francisco sunny days.

Mission Dolores Park April 2013

Birthright

Since I was old enough to understand culture and religion, let’s say 20 years, I’ve identified as a Jew. But in the last 10 years, I’ve neglected one of the most crucial activities young Jews must do – education themselves about their religion, culture, customs, and history. Last year I worked on my relationship, this year I work on my religious and ethnic identity with a trip to the holiest land of all.

Let’s back up. I was raised as a reformed Jew. I spent my weekends in Hebrew school at our synagogue, learning about the Jewish holidays and customs. In the fourth grade, every Wednesday afternoon I learned Hebrew in preparation for the Bat Mitzvah that I never actually completed (though I did get close). Judaism was a significant part of my upbringing, and every holiday was celebrated in one way or another, either at home or at shul.

Once I had outgrown my synagogue’s own education program, I was sent to the new and modern Jewish community center to take classes for confirmation. My religious peers cared more about chasing boys and screwing around in the back of class than learn about the history of our people. I got fed up and dropped out of my Jewish education.

By the time I made it into high school, it was rare to find me at synagogue other than for the high holy days. By my junior year, I had stopped going to those services too. I was struggling with forming some sort of relationship with God and feeling deeply tormented by my past let-downs with a higher power. I felt that Judaism didn’t offer any guidance.

A few years later and looking for a sense of community when I got to university, I joined my campus’ Hillel. I met a few friends, learned a bit more about my religion, and had a lot of fun. On the other hand, I encountered a lot of cliques that made it hard to feel included. As meetings and events became more about people’s drama with one another and less about actually connecting to our faith, I stopped going altogether.

Give or take a few years, that leads me here. I’ve done my best to keep up my Jewish traditions, which at this point just means lighting the Hanukkah candles, making latkes, and maybe eating some matzo at Passover.

Aching for a way to really understand the significance of everything that Jews do, I signed up for Birthright this year. It’s a 10 day trip to Israel to see the holy sites, explore the country, and, most importantly, learn about the history and significance of our people. To me, it’s a way to pick up where I left off in my religious education in a setting that’s far more meaningful than sitting in a fancy community center with a bunch of ambivalent teenagers.

I’ve been told by everyone who has gone on the trip before me (my cousins, most of my friends, several colleagues) that it is life-changing. I really hope that’s not an oversell. I don’t think it is. I couldn’t be more excited. I leave in May, and I really hope I come back with more than just a few souvenirs.

16 Years Later

I don’t want to get emotional, though I am. I never want the “sorrys” or the pity, so please do not give either to me. It hurts like hell to share the pain of losing a parent with the world, but it hurts more to keep quiet.

All I want to say is that it sucks that I’ve now spent about 2/3 of my life without you. You were here for the first eight, but not the last sixteen. Every day I replay a memory from those years, making sure as little slips away as possible. Every day I miss you. But every day I’m thankful for what you taught me. Every day I’m proud of the person you were. And every day I remind myself that you’re proud of me too.

Not Resolutions, But Goals

I don’t resolve to do anything this year, but I do have goals I want to accomplish. Given that last year I set just one goal for myself (run a 5K) and I was able to achieve it, I’m setting the bar higher in 2013. Here we go:

  • Sit in the Arcade and Bleachers at Giants games. I’ve watched the Giants play at AT&T Park in every level, from Lower Box to View Reserve, including the private boxes. But I haven’t sat in the bleachers with the crazy fans, or sat in the arcade where I can turn over the Ks. I want to do both this year.
  • Run another 5K and/or run my first mudder race.
  • Think Less, Trust More. This is my 2013 motto. Trust my judgement more, make more snap decisions, and think less about 2 hours, 3 days, or 5 weeks in the future.
  • Save for a new computer. Yes, it will be an Apple laptop. No, I’m not exactly thrilled about that.
  • Start an IRA.
  • Get addicted to caffeine. Ha ha. But seriously, I need more energy.
  • Alternatively, fix my sleep patterns.
  • Use my Fitbit more/track my health metrics.
  • Learn more Spanish. Hey, I’m already halfway there!

It’s an ambitious list, but I’m hoping I can tackle it. Now I just have to wait for the New Year’s resolutioners to get sick of going to the gym so I can get my spot on the treadmill back. Ciao!

Feeling Metaphorical

One of my favorite inspirational quotes is “Never left the fear of striking out keep you from playing the game.”

While I love it because it combines baseball and motivation, it also got me thinking. What if you’ve gotten over your fear of striking out, play the game, and strike out anyway?

In that case, a few more metaphors are equally helpful. In life, (or work or school) you’ll get up to bat many times. You might have confidence that you’ll hit the ball, but you strike out. That might day might seem like a total disaster, but there’s a game tomorrow kid. And you’ll get your butt back to that plate again.

Some days, you’ll hit a single and just get through the day. Hopefully most days you’ll get a double, meaning you do good work, make good decisions, and have a good day. Sometimes you’ll get a triple and feel awesome because you did something great. And finally, on those few occasions you’ll hit that ball out of the damn park (into McCovey Cove) and do something epic — anything from nailing a huge project at work, graduating from school, or accomplishing any great goal you’ve set for yourself. (Yes, there’s the grand slam too, but I’m not sure where that fits. Maybe that’s reserved for child birth because that’s crazy hard to do.)

What’s the moral of my ramblings? It might be hard as hell to get up to the plate everyday, but you have to give it everything you can. On the days when you strike out hard, treat yourself to something up lifting. On the days you get a hit, pat yourself on the back and cheer yourself on if there’s not a crowd to do it for you.