jeffjand

San Francisco is the city of my fondest memories. I lived there in the fourth grade in 1968. I remember the hippies, the street vendors, the music, the cable cars, the food. San Francisco is also the home of my favorite church, Glide Memorial Methodist. My strongest and most emotional connections with my dad are tied to this city. He would take regular business trips here and occasionally I would go visit him on my own on weekends during his longest stays there. I remember a wonderful restaurant in Chinatown called Yee Juns that was downstairs and had ducks hanging in the window. The servers would greet my dad by saying “Oh, it’s Papa Anderson.” I remember an Italian restaurant, Original Joes, in the very worst part of town, the Tenderloin District, where the waiters would greet my dad by saying, “How are you Mr. Anderson?” and we would sit at the counter and eat great food and watch the flames burn off the sauteed mushrooms in the pan. I remember going to Kezar Stadium and then, later, Candlestick Park to see John Brodie and Steve Spurrier demonstrate what the passing game was all about. I loved the 49ers long before Joe Montana. Joe just added to the legacy of great quarterbacks that extended back to Y.A. Tittle. I’ll get some flak for this but San Francisco is the only true city on the West Coast. Portland may be the most livable but San Francisco is by far the most lovable. Oh, and did I forget to mention the sourdough bread and lunc on the Wharf on a sunny day. God, that’s incredible!!!