Giant Over-Achievers

Buster Posey, 34 is the only likely HOF
member on the Giants roster. (Chron photo)

The San Francisco Giants (99-54) and the Los Angeles Dodgers (98-55) have the two best records in Major League baseball, but unfortunately for both they are in the same division, the National League West. This means that the one who finishes second will be a wild-card team which will play in a one-game elimination for the right to advance in the playoffs. If either of them were in another division, they would have already won, or be cruising to its title and could be resting their starters for the playoffs.

Last year's World Series champion Dodgers were expected to contend again, but no one expected the Giants to be in this position. The Dodgers are loaded with All-Stars and future Hall-of-Famers while the Giants have a few aging, formerly great players, cast-offs from other teams, and rookies.

With 94% of the season gone, the experts still have a hard time explaining the Giants' success.. From an ESPN article written two days ago:

The San Francisco Giants have been the best team in baseball for nearly six months now, through 151 games, 227 home runs, and at least a million roster moves. And every day of those nearly six months, and each one of the 137 days that they woke up in first place, they have been described, collectively, with endless derivatives of the word surprise.

...despite the durability and repetition of the Giants' achievements -- 97 games don't just win themselves -- they continue to be regarded as something of a fluke.

Your humble blogger freely admits to being a fan who jumps on the bandwagon, i.e., follows the local teams a lot more when they are winning. However, I must admit to really enjoying the way the Giants are going about doing it, not by creating a Murderer's Row but by playing smart and maximizing their (average) physical talents.

Example: below are the two key plays in the 9th inning when the visiting Giants broke a 5-5 tie with the Padres to win the game.



Top of the 9th: a single brings Brandon Belt home with the winning run.

The first thing to notice is what didn't happen. Manager Gabe Kapler did not put in a fast pinch-runner for Brandon Belt, 33, stating that what the first baseman lacked in speed he made up for in base-running savvy, and besides, he might (and did) need his defense later in the game.

Concerning the scoring play itself, Brandon Belt immediately took off for home plate, judging that Padres shortstop Fernando Tatis Jr. would fail to make the catch, which he missed by inches. (Tatis would have easily doubled off Belt at second base.) When catcher Austin Nola made what would have been a successful tag, Belt punched the ball out of Nola's glove and was safe at home plate.

Bottom of the 9th: Giants close out the Padres with a double play.

All-Star Padres 3rd baseman Manny Machado hit a sharp groundball to 1st baseman Brandon Belt, who was positioned perfectly between 1st and 2nd. With no one to hold him at first base, the Padres 1B runner was nearly halfway to 2nd when the play started.

Belt had to hurry his throw to shortstop Brandon Crawford, who stepped on 2nd and threw to first to pitcher Tyler Rogers covering. Crawford had to make a 95 MPH throw to Rogers to catch the speedy Machado, and Rogers had to run to first at the crack of the bat (baseball cliche) to beat him. (Note how Rogers flinched; pitchers throw fast balls and are not used to receiving them.) It was a play that took place in four seconds and required perfect execution by three players.

Note: Brandon Belt proclaimed himself team captain two weeks ago, and a teammate taped a "C" to his uniform with black electrical tape. He then wore it in a game. The Giants are riding the joke for all its worth:

Just a Captain and his sea men 👨🏻‍✈️👨🏻‍✈️👨🏻‍✈️@SFGiants pic.twitter.com/hXrXzeosM5

— Kevin Gausman (@KevinGausman) September 24, 2021

Brutalism: Not Ready for Revival

Geisel Library, UCSD (WSJ photo)

Not so brutal in the San Diego sun.

"Brutalist" architecture is enjoying a mini-revival: [bold added]

Brutalism, the oft-derided architectural style of blockish buildings and naked concrete, is making a comeback. Fans have mobilized on social media, and there are waiting lists for apartment buildings once dubbed eyesores...

Architectural styles fall into and out of fashion, but few have been as controversial as Brutalism. It flourished in the post World War II period of public-housing construction and tight budgets. It was known for gray concrete, no decoration and severe geometric lines. Boston City Hall and the Geisel Library in San Diego are frequently cited U.S. examples. Latin America abounds with such buildings.

Comments:
1) Brutalism has a powerful association with decrepit housing projects and government buildings in run-down areas.
2) Well-maintained brutalist structures, e.g., UCSD's Geisel Library and Boston City Hall, still are attractive.
3) After enough buildings are torn down, the negative associations are likely to be forgotten.
4) A more pronounced revival will have to wait until this generation--the one with the bad associations and all the money--passes from the scene.

California Conflagrations

Current SoCal fire map (Cal Fire)

Californians love trees for esthetic and environmental reasons, but the recent spate of catastrophic fires should make everyone cautious about their homes being surrounded by trees and other flora.

Fires continue to burn out of control north (Ventura County) and south (San Diego County) of Los Angeles. [bold added]

firefighters in Ventura County, northwest of Los Angeles, gained 10 percent containment of the largest and most destructive fire in the state, which has destroyed 430 buildings. The so-called Thomas Fire has grown to 206 square miles (533 sq. kilometers) since it broke out Monday. Fire crews also made enough progress against other large fires around Los Angeles to lift most evacuation orders.

The fire 50 miles (80 kilometers) north of San Diego, driven by winds above 35 mph (56 kph), razed rows of trailer homes in the retirement community, leaving charred and mangled metal in its wake.

Meanwhile, in contrast to October's Northern California fires for which PG&E was quickly blamed, the media has been uncharacteristically silent about possible causes for fires in the Southland.

Dinocrat speculates that officials are behaving as if they are trying to trap arsonists. If so, I hope they get the max sentence.

Remembered Fondly

New Year's 2008: the TV was still truckin'

30 years ago we spent $600 (when that was real money) on a 19-inch Toshiba television set. It had an excellent picture and could accept video and audio inputs from four different sources. Weighing a mere 40 pounds, the TV had convenient handles for portability. I hauled it around along with a VCR when I needed to run a tape for a presentation.

Though long in the tooth, the TV was perfect for our student when he was in San Diego. It wasn't worthwhile to transport it back, however, and was donated to charity.

Its technology is obsolete and the cost was very high by today's standards (see yesterday's post). If we judge the set by the standards of its time, it performed much better and longer than I had a right to expect. Like many other objects (and people!), I wouldn't want to interact with them now but I do remember them fondly. © 2014 Stephen Yuen

The Game Wasn't the Attraction

The cheap seats have a good view of the Bay.

It was a forgettable game in which the Giants never seriously challenged the lowly 6-15 Padres in a 5-3 loss. The home team did give the crowd a few things to cheer about--home runs by Buster Posey and Angel Pagan and continuation of Pablo Sandoval's hitting streak to 20 games--but eleven (11) hits allowed and two errors caused the groans to prevail.

What we usually do on uninspiring days like these is enjoy the food, the view, and each other's company.  The three hours passed quickly.

Giants baseball is not an inexpensive outing--one can easily drop $20 on a hot dog, soda, and snack, plus at least $30 for the ticket--but last night the pain to the pocketbook was partially alleviated by the orange beanie that the first 20,000 fans received.

The price on eBay is $36 (and climbing!)

We'll add the beanie to our growing collection of Giants junk paraphernalia. (We didn't even unwrap ours, so its value should be enhanced by at least a couple of bucks.)

The most interesting speculation in our group concerned the gathering of seagulls in the 8th inning.  How did the scavengers know that the game was ending soon? Could they tell time? Could they read the scoreboard?

It turns out that someone has already researched this phenomenon:

the conclusion is that the 7th inning stretch is what cues the gulls to prepare for a feast.  The commotion of 40,000 people simultaneously standing and singing is the tip off. Gulls are very good at recognizing predictors for when food is going to become available. They have learned that the 7th inning stretch means that people will soon be clearing out of the stadium, leaving behind a plethora of half eaten, (and luckily in our ballpark) gourmet food.  

We learned something new about our feathered friends and received a valuable piece of headware.  It was a worthwhile evening after all. © 2012 Stephen Yuen

It's A Bad April Fool's Joke

Our son’s stint at UC-San Diego was everything that we wished for: challenging academics, a diverse population of talented students, and a beautiful campus in La Jolla. We made every excuse to visit him and undoubtedly enjoyed our trips more than he did. Graduation last year was both a happy and sad occasion---happy because of his accomplishment (but also the cessation of tuition, room, and board expense) and sad because the San Diego chapter of his life had ended.

We can only imagine the disappointment that befell nearly 29,000 students and their families when they received an erroneous acceptance e-mail from UCSD. [Poetic license with post title: the e-mail was sent a couple of days ago.] Thank the stars such a mistake didn’t happen to us, and from a self-interested standpoint let’s hope the story has no legs---wouldn't want to diminish the value of his degree!

Too Few Such Moments

Graduations are one of life’s milestones, but it is often the parents rather than the participants who show the most emotion at the ceremony. Seeing your child graduate from college is the culmination of a decades-long investment [and four years of blogging] in academics, musical instruments, language lessons, athletics camps and gear, books, and tutors, not to mention the time associated transporting your block’s chip to all those activities. The 22-year-old student doesn’t see his life as an investment; to him it is just….life.

Let's Get This Over With

In the march across the stage their son or daughter will receive that long strived-for piece of parchment, the ticket to riches and independence. Or not. Parents know that illusion will be dispelled soon enough; for the nonce let everyone enjoy the dream.

Last Sunday we attended the graduation ceremony for Revelle College, one of the six undergraduate colleges at the University of California – San Diego. Baking in the summer heat, we waited nearly two hours for our student’s name to be called. We listened to speeches from various UCSD provosts, chancellors, and university officials. One was particularly memorable, although not in a good way.

The class’s favorite teacher---I surmised that her specialty was some mishmash of neuroscience, human behavior, sexuality, and psychology---recounted her favorite classroom discussions. The words “penis” and “vagina” were used as both the subject and the object of fairly explicit action verbs. Her speech proved that one can have too much information, such as how one’s right- or left-handedness had no correlation to the side where one’s genitalia hang lower. Thankfully, she was silent about the physical characteristics of the ambidextrous.

I stole a glance at the graduate’s younger brother, who looked bored. Given what high schoolers text each other about, this apparently was pretty tame stuff. I was grateful that he wasn’t a pre-teen like many in the audience; then I’d have some ‘splainin’ to do.

At last we heard our student’s name. We were sitting so far in the back that we couldn’t see much, so I put the camcorder on maximum zoom and hoped for the best.



After the tassels were turned taciturnly, graduates were dismissed dismissively, and photos were snapped snappishly, we retired to Roy’s Restaurant for a long celebration of his accomplishment. For one evening our joy was unqualified. Life has too few such moments. © 2008 Stephen Yuen

Happy New Year

At the stroke of midnight I poured a sip of “champagne” for everyone. The bottle was Costco’s Kirkland brand and cost $20. It was the thought that counted, since no one in the household drinks except for me (for medicinal reasons, of course). Nevertheless, the sparkling liquid was surprisingly crisp and light.

In a couple of days we’ll be heading north, college graduate in tow, to a year of new pathways, discoveries, and uncertainties. He and we will be leaving behind some old possessions, a sofa bed, a TV (a 22-year-old Toshiba, the best we’ve ever owned because it never required repair), some chairs, and a table. They are destined for people who can make better use of these things south of the border.

How little in fact is different from January 1, 2007. The post from one year ago:

It has been another good year. A few mild infirmities are nagging for attention, but as of today we have no unmanageable health worries.

We bade farewell to some dear friends, again reminding ourselves that life is short and that we should make the most of the time we have.

We earned more than we spent; still, we’re a long way from being free of monetary worries.

Our children are progressing fitfully toward the day they will be self-sufficient, although the precise day and time no man can know.

From one year ago :

We have our home, our health, each other, and hope for the future. That’s a lot to be grateful for.

Happy New Year!

© 2008 Stephen Yuen

Christmas Eve at St. James by-the-Sea

For all my objections to its ideologues (and I don’t use the word lightly) in leadership positions, I have never found any Episcopal parish or mission to be less than welcoming. Last night’s Christmas Eve service at St. James By-the-Sea was no exception. Despite the fact that most men were dressed in suits and I wore but a sweater and jeans, everyone seemed happy that we were there.

The church is generations removed from the days when it frowned on one’s physical appearance. One wears a tie because one wants to honor the occasion, not to impress other people (well, not as much). But the lack of a nice suit or dress pales in importance to one’s presence at the altar, where the great and humble are equal in the sight of God. That’s one attitude change that we all can agree is progress.

St. James is a wealthy parish overlooking the ocean in tony La Jolla. The midnight service had four clergy, a 40-member choir, a string quartet, and a harp. The church was packed with over 300 people, most of whom looked like they could trace their ancestry back to the Mayflower.

(It’s easy to digress into an argument about the apparent hypocrisy of lavishing money on chancel and chalices when there’s so much grinding poverty in the world; Christians have always wrestled with this issue. My response: I'm glad they built the cathedrals of Europe. Last night I listened to skilled musicians perform glorious music in praise of their God. As they say in Hollywood, all the money was up there on the screen.)

We returned to our son’s apartment in San Diego, where we had placed gifts around a potted plant. Just as a pumpkin became a coach in the fairy tale, a few modest stems and leaves can become a tree when infused with the Spirit.

Merry Christmas! © 2007 Stephen Yuen

Worth the Effort

It was the day before Thanksgiving, and the traffic reports from the East Bay were discouraging. Highways 80, 880, 580, and 680 were rife with accidents and stalls, so the road to San Diego this weekend led south to San Jose.

Unless they’re sightseeing along Hwy 101, most LA-bound travelers from the South Bay cut east on Hwy 152, the Pacheco Pass Road south of Gilroy, to the speedier Hwy 5. On Wednesday the single-lane road was partially under construction and packed with big rigs. The journey to the Hwy 5 on-ramp took us four hours when it normally takes two. Not a promising start to the long weekend.

The rest of our journey passed without incident, and we averaged about 70 mph on the moderately crowded freeway. North of LA the traffic coming toward us was bumper to bumper and noticeably slower. They work and live in Southern California but don’t recreate there.

We unloaded the car at midnight and greeted our student happily. Thanksgiving should be spent with family. It was worth the effort.

Thanksgiving morning, near the UCSD campus.

Balboa Park

Statue of El Cid

San Diego is renowned for outdoor landmarks, like its zoo and Sea World, but it has attractions that will appear to the indoor crowd, too. Balboa Park has been nicknamed Smithsonian west because of the 15 museums that dot its 1,200 acres (“the nation’s largest urban cultural park”) near downtown San Diego.

The museum pass entitles the pass-holder to one visit per museum over a consecutive seven-day period. The price was a bargain $35 (no charge for parking). We spent three leisurely days walking around Balboa Park and its museums. There wasn't a cloud in the sky, and the temperature never rose above 80 degrees.

Hall of Champions, Balboa Park

Our first visit was to the Hall of Champions, which honors sports figures who have a connection with San Diego.

The youngster was impressed that I knew most of the names on the chart that explained football's West Coast Offense. Like most casual fans, he thought 49er coach Bill Walsh developed the short-passing ball-control offense that achieved spectacular success in the 1980's, but the chart showed that the originators of West-Coast-Offense principles were San Diego Chargers coaches Sid Gillman and Don Coryell.

Tony Gwynn played for the Padres during his entire career, had the highest lifetime batting average (.338) of players beginning their careers after World War II, won the National League batting title eight times, and will be inducted to the Hall of Fame later this month.

Ted Williams, aka the "Splendid Splinter", was the last Major League player to hit over .400 (.406 in 1941) for a season. He was born in San Diego and played for the then-minor-league Padres before beginning his Hall of Fame career with the Red Sox.

There's even a connection with my home state. When Duke Kahanamoku visited Southern California in the early 1900's, San Diego became one of the first cities on the Mainland to embrace surfing. © 2007 Stephen Yuen

Unplanned

Every item of furniture was bought at Ikea.

Our college student made his fourth move in four years (for his privileged elders the move was from one dorm room to another, but it’s a little more cumbersome when one has to make an unplanned move from a house to an off-campus apartment), and we’ve been in San Diego helping him get settled. The first couple of days were spent shopping, lining shelves, and assembling furniture.
We finished our tasks and looked around. La Jolla sparkled. The highs were only in the 70’s (if this is how global warming affects summers in the southernmost tip of California, bring it on), and some mornings I even wore a sweater. I told the office I’d be a little late getting back. Some of the best vacations are unplanned.

The La Jolla recycling center is classier than San Mateo's.

© 2007 Stephen Yuen

Thursday Throwaways

Bottoming Out
Stock market bottoms are reached when years of decline, interrupted by dead-cat bounces that raise false hopes, cause even the most optimistic bulls finally to throw in the towel. When everyone wants out, that’s the time to get in. If it were a stock, it would be time to buy Iraq.

Quick Chicken Soup
It took 20 minutes to wash the chicken pieces and chop the onions, leeks, celery, and carrots. If I had used the Cuisinart, the slicing and dicing would have been faster but then I’d have to clean, wipe, and put the equipment away. It’s more fulfilling to prepare food by hand; there’s something primal about phalangeal proximity to the produce.

The pressure cooker did the trick in half an hour. Et voila, dinner for three nights, perfect for cold winter evenings.

Small Comfort
San Francisco’s star has long been surpassed by the Los Angeles-San Diego megalopolis to the south, so it’s a small comfort that we’re less likely to be the target of terrorism. In his State of the Union speech, President Bush said that Al Qaeda was seeking to destroy the “tallest building on the West Coast.” The candidate was likely the U.S. Bank Building (1,018 ft.) in Los Angeles, 25th on the list of the world’s tallest buildings. San Francisco barely cracks the top 100; the Transamerica Pyramid (853 ft.) comes in at number 83. © 2007 Stephen Yuen

The Bank of America Building (779 ft.) was our tallest before the Pyramid.

Videogame on Ice

Yesterday we deposited the college student at San Jose International for his return to San Diego and headed for HP Pavilion to attend our first and probably only NHL hockey game of the season. The Sharks are a Stanley Cup contender, and the tickets were expensive. (I rationalized the purchase at a charity auction in September—and no, I can’t claim the tax deduction because I received value, i.e., the tickets, in return.)

Because we had some latitude in choosing which game we would see, and because the youngster is an avid Sharks fan---he occasionally wears the jersey to school, we selected last night’s contest because the Sharks had a good chance of prevailing. The Columbus Blue Jackets were a sub-.500 team, and we weren’t disappointed. The Sharks won, 5-2, with all goals being scored on power plays (when a team is a man short due to penalties).

In a professional hockey game, it’s easy to experience sensory overload. The action is non-stop, and one has to shout at seat-mates in order to make oneself heard over the arena music and noise. The puck quickly moves from one end of the ice to the other, and with twelve players whirling like dervishes (between fistfights), NHL hockey resembles the final round of the old Asteroids videogame in which asteroid chunks are flying all over the screen.

The youngster and his friend were wide awake through the end of the game, although it was 10:30, an hour past their normal bedtime. Well, they’re still on winter break, and school, discipline, and New Year’s resolutions—theirs and ours—can wait until next week. © 2007 Stephen Yuen

The goalie blocked this shot, but the Sharks scored a few seconds later.

[Note: I saw my first professional hockey game in 2004.]

Near to the Madding Crowd

We joined the madding crowd at the Fashion Valley mall on “Black” Friday, so designated because it’s the day after Thanksgiving when merchants’ profit-and-loss statements, it is hoped, flip from red to black. Fashion Valley is one of San Diego’s ritzier shopping centers (Neiman Marcus, Saks Fifth, Nordstrom’s, Tiffany, Armani--all places where I become aware of my credit card limits).

The parking lots were filled; it took twenty minutes to find a space. The walkways were likewise jammed. Most in the crowd were under 30, chatting on their cell phones and enjoying the sun. Doesn’t anyone work? (I’m an old guy who’s accumulated nearly seven weeks of vacation, so I’m allowed to ask without a whiff of hypocrisy.)

The youngster and I hung out at Border’s bookstore. Although I was tempted by a number of titles, I refuse to buy any more books until I work through the unread and half-read stack on my nightstand.

Meanwhile, the college student and his mother shopped for shoes and returned a defective air filter to the Sharper Image. The Sharper Image is pricey, but we’ve never had trouble returning or replacing merchandise so we continue to patronize them. This year we’re giving out a lot of gift cards, many of them from the Sharper Image. Not only do we avoid the hassle of wrapping and mailing, but the recipients can buy what they really want and can purchase the items at a lower price after Christmas than we could before.

I hadn’t had a deep-dish pizza for over a year, so we lunched at Uno’s and ordered a large. All calorie-counting is suspended during Thanksgiving weekend. In for a penny, in for a pound, or, in my case, five. © 2006 Stephen Yuen

Thanksgiving, Part 2

This was the first Thanksgiving in many years that we didn’t have to cook. Not being tied to the kitchen all day for the preparation and cooking—and don’t forget the cleaning up—was a liberating eye-opener. We shouldn’t make a habit out of it though, because no holiday more connotes family, hearth, and home than Thanksgiving. It’s hard to capture the feeling at a hotel and restaurant.

We did spend Thanksgiving productively. The student’s mother cleaned and rearranged his room while I did some maintenance on the car, a classic assignment of gender-based roles. Well, it is a traditional holiday. Also traditional—I napped on the couch while she continued to buzz about the rooms doing the work that is never done.

She asked the student about the last time he cleaned the bathroom. “October,” he said. “Right.” You could cut the sarcasm with a knife. I reminded her that males have a different definition of cleanliness. “He has your genes.” When she says that, it’s not a compliment to him.

We drove down to Harbor Island, near the airport. The San Diego skyline twinkled across the water while we munched on turkey at the Boathouse restaurant. It really is a beautiful city. © 2006 Stephen Yuen

Thanksgiving, 2006

143 years ago, “in the midst of a civil war of unequalled magnitude and severity”, Abraham Lincoln put aside thoughts of anger or despair and proclaimed a national day of Thanksgiving. Surely the problems facing our nation today are small beer compared to those that beset Lincoln (adjusting for growth in the American population, the 600,000 soldier deaths during the Civil War are equivalent to 6 million war dead today). Lincoln was able to lift his eyes to the “blessings of fruitful fields and healthful skies”, and so should we.

Yesterday, however, the skies were hazy all the way down to Los Angeles. Highway 5 was crowded with impatient travelers tailgating the trucks and campers who were poking along at 65 mph. 65 looked pretty good when we hit northern L.A. near Magic Mountain, and the traffic ground to a halt. 32 million people were traveling by car yesterday, and a lot of them were on Highway 5. As we crept along for the next three hours, my traveling companion said over and over again, “I couldn’t stand living here”. Well, we don’t, and although millions upon millions of people obviously feel differently, the fact that we don’t live in Southern California is reason to be grateful.

We arrived at La Jolla nine hours after we started. Our student was happy to see us, and we him. We went to dinner at an upscale campus watering hole, the kind that serves designer beers and fusion cuisine. We checked into the hotel, and I was out when my head hit the pillow.

The charges from this long weekend would have caused me to blanch 30 years ago, but now I regard them with equanimity. Another reason to be thankful (no, not for my bank account---just my attitude!) © 2006 Stephen Yuen

Residence Inn, La Jolla, on Thanksgiving morning

Stuck Up at UC-San Diego

UCSD SHIP Waiver
Yesterday my college student sent an e-mail and followed it up with a phone call. For him this was an unusually high volume of communication, so it got my attention. Despite a full appointment calendar and 12 “must-do” items on my task list, I called him back. The college was threatening to cancel his courses unless we satisfied a remaining balance of about $200 on his account.

Background: every year we are billed $200 per quarter by the Student Health Insurance Plan, and every year we fill out a waiver form that states that he is covered by my employer’s plan, and the health charge is reversed. This year the college asked for more documentation, so in August I printed out a description of our coverage, along with an enlarged photocopy (front and back) of my health card, and faxed the ten pages to their office. I thought the $200 balance that persisted on his statement was merely the billing system’s tardiness in catching up with the paperwork.

When I finally got through yesterday (their phones had been shut down due to an office move), I learned that our mental health coverage of 50% of cost was deemed inadequate. So my student was going to be kicked out of school because my health plan was okay for 99 out of 100 items, and despite having paid (early!) the tuition and fees for the quarter.

I could solve this problem, the lady said, if I could send them a notarized letter stating that I will cover any shortfall in my plan’s mental health coverage. Of course, none of this had been communicated to us earlier. Because we had two days to compose and print a letter, have it notarized, then send it by overnight delivery to the college, we’ll switch to Plan B and pay the $200 per quarter for the school’s health plan (we’re obligated because the waiver is granted annually).

Impressed by the school up to this point, we’ve been donating for several years a multiple of the $600 that we’ll pay for his health insurance, and I’m not even counting the matching contribution my employer makes. Quoth the raven.....Nevermore!

Rite of Passage

As a teenager in Hawaii I spent a lot of time behind the wheel, but, of course, never continuously. The entire island of Oahu, about 600 square miles, is only a third larger than the city of Los Angeles. [Imagine being confined to LA until turning 18. Oh, the horror! sniff my East Coast and San Francisco acquaintances.]

From my house the longest drive was the one and a half hours from Honolulu to Mokuleia on the North Shore. One didn’t undertake the trek lightly; a full tank of gas as well as a good night’s sleep were advisable before venturing forth. The road was of spotty quality--bumpy, narrow and windy in spots; completion of the H-1 / H-2 / H-3 “interstate” freeways (so designated because Defense access roads qualify for Federal funding) was still decades away. One also had to fight boredom, because the radio emitted only static once the car went over the mountains. Those were the years before everyone had affordable gadgets, before CD- and cassette-players, before cup-holders and cell-phones.

And so it was that this Island boy turned 20 before he took his first extended road trip. My uncle, the best mechanic I ever knew, bought a used VW Beetle for $500 in Southern California. He gave it a thorough going-over, put on new tires, and pronounced it fit for travel. He showed me how to change the oil and set the timing; I had to turn the engine by hand so that the static timing light just flicked on about 8 degrees before the top dead center mark. When the engine purred, it got nearly 30 miles per gallon, which was important because filling my tank cost almost three dollars in that summer of ’73.

I put the back seat down and loaded my worldly possessions into the Beetle. I headed North on Highway 101, which was slower than Highway 5 but was the simplest way to get to San Francisco. The VW chassis vibrated noticeably at 65 mph, so I drove in the right lane at 60 and eight hours later pulled into the driveway of the Peninsula house where I would rent a room for the next two years.

I was reminded of my rite of passage when I accompanied my son, now 20, on the 8-hour drive south to San Diego on Highway 5. He drove in a car that was heavier and safer than mine had been, at a much faster speed and over a smoother road. We were armed with cell-phones and an emergency road side service membership, yet I was more concerned about his trip than I was about the one I took over 30 years ago. I think being a parent causes permanent changes in the part of the brain that assesses risk.

We arrived at the house without incident. I flew back to San Jose the next morning.


San Diego dining room: the background percussion at mealtime is no extra charge.