Today’s thoughts don’t involve a discussion of Haiti. However, as I look back over the last 2 months’ postings since I first left for Milot, there is a clear theme of findings one’s core, and experiencing life from different perspectives. From the feedback of others, I realize we are all on various journeys of self discovery, at different rates, and dictated by our circumstances. So it was with this past weekend’s trip to one of my favorite cities, San Francisco. The plan was to see Adam and Sarah, visit with my Uncle Dick and Aunt Jackie, as well as run in the Bay to Breakers.
Some of you know that I’ve been on a Sabbatical this past year, and have taken advantage of the time to further my education, travel a bit, and explore new directions as my children have grown and career opportunities are evolving. There is both uncertainty and excitement, so in many ways, the chance to watch Adam navigate his transition as I experience mine is somewhat symbolic. It is also a wonderful perspective to spend time with my Uncle, the only one of my father’s siblings that left the Midwest to head to California in the 50’s. After a PhD and stint in academics at Berkley, he moved to real estate, was a single Dad to 2 daughters, and established a thriving practice in the Bay area. He’s still selling houses in his 80’s, has an extensive network of colleagues, a wonderful wife, and an optimistic attitude that’s infectious. He encouraged me to come to California after medical school and on numerous occasions subsequently – for a variety of reasons I haven’t. Yet both of my boys headed West with their girlfriends after college - Ben to Los Angeles and Adam to San Francisco. They didn’t have jobs, but they had dreams, support, and the enthusiasm to take the risk and follow their passions. So far it’s working. Their hours are similar to my residency, the pay is also low, and there are moments of doubt, but you can see it all coming together. And I admit that I enjoy living vicariously through them.
While we try to plan for the future, it’s vital to experience the now – you never know when circumstances will change. I’ve always enjoyed the open and someone outrageous attitudes of Northern California. The Bay to Breakers is an embodiment of that spirit. Originally created in 1902 to help citizens celebrate and recover from the earthquake, it is now in its 99th running. There are the elite athletes, of course, they would be close to being finished by the time I made it over the start line and past the second mile. But the great majority were people out to enjoy each other’s company, the beautiful city, and to have the chance to let their hair down. For you New Englanders, here’s a group of running lobsters. I also loved seeing families out together. I am not enclosing pictures any of our Bare to Breakers runners – there were plenty – everyone smiling and living the credo of being comfortable in one’s skin. I was alone, Adam and Sarah dropped me off and went back to sleep (it was Sunday morning at 7am). I met a group from the Chicago area and we started off the race together. The pace was fairly slow which was great for pictures and sightseeing. Cresting the Hayes Street Hill at 2.5 miles, the crowds spilled over and our pace quickened as we headed into Golden Gate Park, smelling the flowers from the gardens, and rounding a curve to the waterfall. The wind picked up and you could hear and feel the ocean. Just beyond the windmill was the Pacific. A left turn and suddenly the finish was in sight. I wasn’t tired, and looking at my watch, was amazed at how my time was faster than usual, without trying. I realized I was truly in the moment.
Yet my most memorable moment was earlier in the weekend. Sarah, Adam, and I had gone out for dinner Saturday night. Although they now live in Oakland, when they first moved out, they stayed with my Uncle and Aunt in SF, about 6 blocks from the marina. We were staying there again that night. After dessert, we were down by the water. Adam asked if I could drop them off so they could sit by the Bay, and then walk back up to the apartment. It seems that when they first came out, with no jobs, and only dreams, they would walk down to the water, sit, and talk. They hadn’t had that chance to do that in a while.
And as I watched my son take his girlfriend’s hand and disappear into the darkness toward the foghorns, I once again simultaneously felt joy and sadness, hope and pride.
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