Something you should know about me--when I was born, one of my legs was a wee bit longer than the other one (Incidentally, John F. Kennedy had the same condition--it helped give him what became known as his trademark swaggah... I got picked on for how I walked as a kid). Consequently I never really took my real actual "first steps" until I was almost two years old. Rather late, in terms of the bell curve. Saw proof of it in my Christmas gift from my mom, in the DVDs converted from old 8mm film (yes, that's how old I am) by way of VHS (yes, that's really how old I am...) But I was watching those old videos this morning that I'd seen a million times before, and saw how all along the way my right ankle was turned IN, never wanting to plant itself firmly on the ground. But never did I straighten that one foot out and give myself a solid base--that took me a lot longer to learn.
Later on I was just on the verge of being able to walk on my own: got Mom & Grandma doing all they can to coax me across the living room floor. Seems like I was a gamer for a good while there, gave it my best shot and all... but eventually, it's clear I'd had enough--even on this 8mm film of ours, I'm sitting there shaking my head, making it quite clear that I've had enough for the day.
Alyssa helped me realize that this helps explain my obsession with the act of walking--it was, after all, extremely difficult for me to do in the first place. Why not relish it?
Also lived and relived the greatest season in San Francisco Giants history this Christmas--ain't nothin' wrong with THAT!
Sunday, December 26, 2010
Friday, December 10, 2010
On population control
Dedicated to Willy McBride:
Every society throughout history seems to have found a way to do it. In the 20th century, they seemed to have reaped the harvest of the 19th, having to do away with more than had ever needed to be done away with before. Hence the world wars, Korea, Vietnam, El Salvador, Stalinist Russia, the Khmer Rouge, etc. (For the record, I could go on. I stop there out of good taste.) They seem to assume that since there's even more people on earth now, despite the carnage of the last century, that there will be still greater wars to come in this century. Possibly, perhaps. I fear it. But much more likely, our fate has already been sealed by our thoughtless abuse of our oh-so-fragile planet. I guess, in practice, that means that there has to be still more intense wars that will go on until homo sapiens sapiens has managed to wipe itself from the face of the Earth. It's a shame--our stay here has been oh so very short, and we've done so many good things. And yet our only lasting legacy, at this rate, is going to be our ability to make ourselves unable to survive here. Oy!
Every society throughout history seems to have found a way to do it. In the 20th century, they seemed to have reaped the harvest of the 19th, having to do away with more than had ever needed to be done away with before. Hence the world wars, Korea, Vietnam, El Salvador, Stalinist Russia, the Khmer Rouge, etc. (For the record, I could go on. I stop there out of good taste.) They seem to assume that since there's even more people on earth now, despite the carnage of the last century, that there will be still greater wars to come in this century. Possibly, perhaps. I fear it. But much more likely, our fate has already been sealed by our thoughtless abuse of our oh-so-fragile planet. I guess, in practice, that means that there has to be still more intense wars that will go on until homo sapiens sapiens has managed to wipe itself from the face of the Earth. It's a shame--our stay here has been oh so very short, and we've done so many good things. And yet our only lasting legacy, at this rate, is going to be our ability to make ourselves unable to survive here. Oy!
Monday, November 1, 2010
Is today The Day?
Shame on me for not keeping up my blog throughout this postseason, but here we are one win away from the Giants first World Series victory since moving to San Francisco in 1958--an historic occasion, indeed. I'd like to think that my grandma's been looking down on all this, giving them some kind of spiritual lift, but I know perfectly well that she didn't give two shits about baseball. She'd be happy for me that my team is doing well, though. So instead I can't help thinking of my grandpa, Lou Luini Sr. (peace be upon him) who, along with my dad, have been following the team ever since that first season back in '58 (and the Seals before that). He passed away back in '82, in what was basically a dark time for the organization. So I hope he's up there somewhere and enjoying it. And my dad, luckily, is still with us. So let's do it for him, eh? GO GIANTS!!!
Tuesday, March 23, 2010
A Eulogy For My Grandma
As prepared for delivery at her funeral, March 23, 2010, St. Gabriel Church:
In 1916 the light switch was invented. The Chicago Cubs played their first game at a ballpark that would one day become known as Wrigley Field. At Easter the Irish made their bid for independence from the British Empire. The last emperor of China abdicated the throne. In the United States Congress passed legislation signed by President Wilson that created the National Park Service, and the Boy Scouts of America was established, though it would be another four years before the Constitution was amended to guarantee women the right to vote. In Europe the Great War raged on with no end in sight. The battles of Verdun and the Somme were fought. For the first time in the history of warfare, zeppelins were used to rain destruction down on cities from above, and the Summer Olympics in Berlin were cancelled.
The Emperor of Austria, and Rasputin, and Jack London died. Walter Cronkite, and Joe Alioto, and, on March 7, my grandma, were born. The next day Pancho Villa, one of the heroes of the ongoing Mexican Revolution, raided a town in New Mexico, killing 18 Americans and prompting the U.S. army to cross the border in an ultimately vain attempt to track down Villa. On July 22nd in San Francisco, citizens celebrated Preparedness Day, to demonstrate the United States’ readiness to enter the war in Europe. A parade was held on Market Street that Sunday, and someone (it was never determined whom), set off a suitcase bomb near the Ferry Building, killing 10 and wounding 40—making it the worst terrorist attack in the City’s history. Grandma, fortunately, survived.
San Francisco that spring was barely a decade removed from the 1906 earthquake, and only the previous summer had hosted a World’s Fair celebrating its recovery from that tragedy. Over the next 94 years my grandma would see her native City transform itself in ways that would have been unimaginable in 1916, from the general strike of the 1930s, the period she always referred to as “during unemployment, the construction of two bridges, a pivotal role in the American victory in World War II, the beatniks, the flower children, antiwar protests, gay rights, the tragedies in Jonestown and at City Hall, the AIDS epidemic, major earthquakes in ’57 and ’89, the death and rebirth of the waterfront. She was here in this City for all of that, except for a period of 8 months that she lived in Hawaii—years before Pearl Harbor became a national rallying cry. She saw the deaths of three U.S. presidents, the resignation of another, and the impeachment of another, the election of a female Speaker of the House and of a black president.
All of these things shaped the world that she lived in, and helped make her the person who she was. She then in turn helped make me the person who I am. Some of my favorite memories of my grandma were times when we would go places together in this great City that she had seen change so much, teaching me to appreciate all the wonderful things it has to offer: Pier 39, Fisherman’s Wharf, the Golden Gate Bridge, riding the ferry and the cable car. And, of course, Muni.
But she also taught me how to have a good time staying close to home, helping ensure that by the time I was about seven I knew how to play checkers, dominoes, blackjack, and poker—and soon after chess.
One particular trip that comes to mind was one when Cousin James and Auntie Jenny came along, Jenny and Grandma of course arguing endlessly about who could walk faster and farther. My grandma, it should be noted for the record, outlasted Auntie Jenny that day by a considerable margin.
Another time we were at Pier 39, and we walked by the KTVU For Kids booth (old news for kids segments that used to play in the afternoon), and sitting right there was the very kid who I used to see on TV all the time. For a nine year old this was a bit of a thrill, and an even bigger one when he seemed to be really interested in getting me—me!—to sign up. Grandma was a little less impressed. Without breaking stride, and with a simple wave of her hand, she assured me, “You don’t need that, you’re smart,” completely within earshot of anchor kid, who just sat there looking somewhat aghast as we walked on. To this day I’m not really sure what she meant by that, or what she thought KTVU stood for, or—most importantly—how much it would have cost. But it was such a quintessentially Grandma thing to say that I’ve never forgotten it.
Even as she started to slow down over the last few years, she never lost that spirit. I can remember one time having a barbeque at my parents’ house, and Grandma coming out to say hi to everyone, and kindly requesting simply that someone grab her a cold beer and bring her a hot dog when they were ready, and returning inside. Everybody loved that.
I’m not too sure what the point is with these stories, or even that I have one, but I do know that my grandma loved to tell stories, so I thought it only appropriate to tell a few about her. Take them, embellish them, change them, insert yourself in my place, do whatever you want with them—but keep telling them. Because by telling and retelling them, we keep her spirit alive and keep her in our hearts always.
In 1916 the light switch was invented. The Chicago Cubs played their first game at a ballpark that would one day become known as Wrigley Field. At Easter the Irish made their bid for independence from the British Empire. The last emperor of China abdicated the throne. In the United States Congress passed legislation signed by President Wilson that created the National Park Service, and the Boy Scouts of America was established, though it would be another four years before the Constitution was amended to guarantee women the right to vote. In Europe the Great War raged on with no end in sight. The battles of Verdun and the Somme were fought. For the first time in the history of warfare, zeppelins were used to rain destruction down on cities from above, and the Summer Olympics in Berlin were cancelled.
The Emperor of Austria, and Rasputin, and Jack London died. Walter Cronkite, and Joe Alioto, and, on March 7, my grandma, were born. The next day Pancho Villa, one of the heroes of the ongoing Mexican Revolution, raided a town in New Mexico, killing 18 Americans and prompting the U.S. army to cross the border in an ultimately vain attempt to track down Villa. On July 22nd in San Francisco, citizens celebrated Preparedness Day, to demonstrate the United States’ readiness to enter the war in Europe. A parade was held on Market Street that Sunday, and someone (it was never determined whom), set off a suitcase bomb near the Ferry Building, killing 10 and wounding 40—making it the worst terrorist attack in the City’s history. Grandma, fortunately, survived.
San Francisco that spring was barely a decade removed from the 1906 earthquake, and only the previous summer had hosted a World’s Fair celebrating its recovery from that tragedy. Over the next 94 years my grandma would see her native City transform itself in ways that would have been unimaginable in 1916, from the general strike of the 1930s, the period she always referred to as “during unemployment, the construction of two bridges, a pivotal role in the American victory in World War II, the beatniks, the flower children, antiwar protests, gay rights, the tragedies in Jonestown and at City Hall, the AIDS epidemic, major earthquakes in ’57 and ’89, the death and rebirth of the waterfront. She was here in this City for all of that, except for a period of 8 months that she lived in Hawaii—years before Pearl Harbor became a national rallying cry. She saw the deaths of three U.S. presidents, the resignation of another, and the impeachment of another, the election of a female Speaker of the House and of a black president.
All of these things shaped the world that she lived in, and helped make her the person who she was. She then in turn helped make me the person who I am. Some of my favorite memories of my grandma were times when we would go places together in this great City that she had seen change so much, teaching me to appreciate all the wonderful things it has to offer: Pier 39, Fisherman’s Wharf, the Golden Gate Bridge, riding the ferry and the cable car. And, of course, Muni.
But she also taught me how to have a good time staying close to home, helping ensure that by the time I was about seven I knew how to play checkers, dominoes, blackjack, and poker—and soon after chess.
One particular trip that comes to mind was one when Cousin James and Auntie Jenny came along, Jenny and Grandma of course arguing endlessly about who could walk faster and farther. My grandma, it should be noted for the record, outlasted Auntie Jenny that day by a considerable margin.
Another time we were at Pier 39, and we walked by the KTVU For Kids booth (old news for kids segments that used to play in the afternoon), and sitting right there was the very kid who I used to see on TV all the time. For a nine year old this was a bit of a thrill, and an even bigger one when he seemed to be really interested in getting me—me!—to sign up. Grandma was a little less impressed. Without breaking stride, and with a simple wave of her hand, she assured me, “You don’t need that, you’re smart,” completely within earshot of anchor kid, who just sat there looking somewhat aghast as we walked on. To this day I’m not really sure what she meant by that, or what she thought KTVU stood for, or—most importantly—how much it would have cost. But it was such a quintessentially Grandma thing to say that I’ve never forgotten it.
Even as she started to slow down over the last few years, she never lost that spirit. I can remember one time having a barbeque at my parents’ house, and Grandma coming out to say hi to everyone, and kindly requesting simply that someone grab her a cold beer and bring her a hot dog when they were ready, and returning inside. Everybody loved that.
I’m not too sure what the point is with these stories, or even that I have one, but I do know that my grandma loved to tell stories, so I thought it only appropriate to tell a few about her. Take them, embellish them, change them, insert yourself in my place, do whatever you want with them—but keep telling them. Because by telling and retelling them, we keep her spirit alive and keep her in our hearts always.
Wednesday, October 28, 2009
Prost!
Happy High Holy Days, my fellow adherents of the church of baseball. Glorious that it roughly coincides with Oktoberfest, isn't it? So obviously you won't likely find me rooting for the Yankees anytime soon, so the Phils are my team for now. I'm deciding how much I want to let it stick in my craw about Jayson Werth, Charlie-Whathisface and the All-Star Game that Pablo was robbed of. But then really their penance is that the Panda could have won the game and handed home field advantage to the NL team. Bahaha. Hence, they now must win one of these first two in the New Bronx. It's the only foreseeable path to a repeat. I should very much like to see the Phillies spank New York around, American League style.
Now to change gears a bit, because I do realize that I named this thing the "Ocean Beach" chronicles and that's what I intend for it to be, not just to talk about baseball all the time (I hear you, Lilize. Or is it Elize? Well, whoever you are. You know who you are). So the other morning on the beach with Miss Blue I found a very pretty shell. Shells and sand dollars, I can't help collecting when I come across them. Especially the sand dollars--one of those in mint condition (especially by the time I get them all the way back to the house) is a pretty rare find. They are vewwy fwagile. Anywho, so I find a nice little shell that was a keeper, and I forgot about it in my pocket by the time I got back to my block and I was curious about this lot nearby because the house on it isn't like you're ordinary mass produced Sunset house. So I wanted to see if there was another house behind it or if it took up the whole section of the block, which would be pretty absurd now that I think about it. But anyway so I jump up and down, and the shell falls out of my pocket and cracks in two. So I figured it would blow away in the wind easier if I broke it up, so I stomped on it to kind of crrrrush it. A little upset about losing that one, I suppose. Then this morning on the way back from our walk (park, today) I see my neighbor sweeping up the pieces, that just kinda stayed there. Oops.
In any case, Happy Holidays! Please note: today is also officially Day 2 of 30 Days of 30. Stay tuned.
Now to change gears a bit, because I do realize that I named this thing the "Ocean Beach" chronicles and that's what I intend for it to be, not just to talk about baseball all the time (I hear you, Lilize. Or is it Elize? Well, whoever you are. You know who you are). So the other morning on the beach with Miss Blue I found a very pretty shell. Shells and sand dollars, I can't help collecting when I come across them. Especially the sand dollars--one of those in mint condition (especially by the time I get them all the way back to the house) is a pretty rare find. They are vewwy fwagile. Anywho, so I find a nice little shell that was a keeper, and I forgot about it in my pocket by the time I got back to my block and I was curious about this lot nearby because the house on it isn't like you're ordinary mass produced Sunset house. So I wanted to see if there was another house behind it or if it took up the whole section of the block, which would be pretty absurd now that I think about it. But anyway so I jump up and down, and the shell falls out of my pocket and cracks in two. So I figured it would blow away in the wind easier if I broke it up, so I stomped on it to kind of crrrrush it. A little upset about losing that one, I suppose. Then this morning on the way back from our walk (park, today) I see my neighbor sweeping up the pieces, that just kinda stayed there. Oops.
In any case, Happy Holidays! Please note: today is also officially Day 2 of 30 Days of 30. Stay tuned.
Friday, October 16, 2009
The LCS situation
The Yankees certainly seem to have that "indestructible force" look to them this year. So, too, might the Dodgers. As much as it makes me physically ill, a Dodgers-Yankees World Series has a lot (a LOT) of history and tradition behind it, and baseball (like me) is about nothing if not reverence for history and tradition. But it's early yet. I'd love to see the Phillies knock off the Dodgers AND the Angels OR Yankees in succession, but I'm getting pretty goddam tired of hoping for the Phils to do the Giants' dirty work (especially since they've never seemed to be especially adept at it). But I'll leave it off with this thought tonight: As I headed back into the City this afternoon after my crazy odyssey into the near reaches of the Central Valley (another blog post altogether) I had the Dodgers-Phils game at Los Angeles on the radio and I was driving over the Bay Bridge and I saw the Ballpark off to my left and thought to myself, a year from today that game could be taking place in that very spot. OUR ballpark could be the one rocking. Ed asked me if I meant that it could have the bridge itself rocking as a result.
I said to him, "With your help, pal, maybe."
So keep the faith, Giants fans. And that reminds me, happy 20th, fellow survivors (almost). That is all.
I said to him, "With your help, pal, maybe."
So keep the faith, Giants fans. And that reminds me, happy 20th, fellow survivors (almost). That is all.
Thursday, October 15, 2009
I Love Seeing the Dodgers Lose
I am a Giants fan, born and raised. Threw that in there because I didn't want to begin on a negative. But long live the Black & Orange. Where I come from, if the Dodgers lose, it's a good day. I'm from the City, born at Children's Hospital. I live at Ocean Beach now, with my girlfriend and my dog. I have a dream that one day all three of us will roam the beach in front of our building as we please. I've decided to keep a blog.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
