This morning we went out to the cemeteries in Daly City to visit my Grandparents in two places and my Uncle Tom on a military hill side in Colma. The exact places I've never been good with but I have it written down for future reference, and I should make it available for Dexter and Oliver in the years to follow.
It is always apparent to me that most of us never really get over the loss of a mother, as the sadness visibly overcame my father if only temporarily. He lost her in 1993, one month after my favorite Uncle- Uncle Tom died. What had followed after a very splendid year of travel and unity/marriage (Oct'92) was at that time our family's greatest meeting of grief.
My Dad's mom was tough and strong, living independently into her 90's while smoking and drinking all the while. Yet she always seemed to have her wits about her and all relatives paid their good respect to her at family gatherings. She was kind to me but it was a great mistake to do something that would make her mad. Her husband, shot when he worked in a store in Chinatown never physically healed complete and later worked as a watchman/janitor at the YMCA. Late at night after closing, my father and his brother would use the facilites, learning to swim and play pool. Grandma sits close to an area I assume was once occupied only by a former Mayor of San Francisco (Rolph) until because of space, the lack of, required the occupancy of folks like my grandmother. Of note, Mayor Rolph was the longest termed mayor of San Francisco- nearly 20 years until he became Governor of California, a job he occupied until his death.
Dexter came out with us (Dad, Sister, Brother) and was good company while we steadied Dad- although it was his memory that led us to where we needed to go, Hingee and Mike cleaned the tombstones and set in new flowers. My mother never knew her father who died in the youngest of her days but her mother, (with bound feet!) provided as best she could. These recollections of my mother were always described with tenderness, warmth and longing. Once as my father drove us back over the Bay Bridge from a visit with friends, my mother told stories of her childhood and in a very unusual act for her, reached out and held my hand.
After lunch it was time to settle in at Dad's and watch the 49'ers-Saints. A nice situation for me as these are my two favorite football teams. At the same time, I was concerned that my feelings would be as conflicted to not be able to enjoy the game. However, one team provided my first opportunity to hug my father 30 years ago. At game time it was pretty easy to root for the Niners who also had the spirits of their ancestors present. With Montana and Young at the game, it would add to Alex Smith's folklore if in the middle of a huddle of the last crucial drive with 9 seconds to go- teammates hyperventilating, he had said to calm them, "hey guys, look there's Joe Montana" Or better yet as my friend Robert suggested if Smith had said, "Hey, there's John Candy" . I wanted the Saints to perform well but ultimately to come up short in a close contest. This turned out to be a very exciting game-crazy exciting! especially the last four minutes, with four lead changes, and an improbable last second 49'er win.
The Saints particularly Drew Brees and Marcus Colston played great. I always loved the 49'ers Alex Smith despite all those things I've supposedly said the last seven years. I knew that at the end of this day he would be a hero or a ah, a bum. Just a quick note that yesterday Giants announcer Mike Krukow called for a 49'ers win as "this will be The Catch 2, with a last second touchdown from Alex to Vernon Davis". This is how it turned out exactly, and grandly. Dad who before game time said it didn't matter to him who won, was excited, thrilled at game's end and for that, on this day, I am grateful.
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