Sunday. June 25, 2017. 8:00 a.m.This is the big sightseeing day for the Fitz Family. We begin with our longtime tradition of a big breakfast. The Marys are intrigued by the Tartine Manufactory, a much-praised baker of hand-made sourdough and other breads and pastries. We can see that they're not exaggerating the artisan quality of these loaves, because our table is a few feet from the mammoth ovens. The aroma of the breads is so alluring that all the girls buy a loaf just for their own uses.
The popularity of Tartine is such that MA must use all her wiles to nail down a table for us. The service is less than welcoming --you have to fend for yourself. That is especially true at the between-breakfast-and-lunch time we are there. Once everything is ordered and paid for, however, we enjoy an array of hybrids of sandwiches and omelettes, punctuated by pastries and good coffee. We take a tour of the bakery. Mary Leigh, a near-professional baker, was especially fascinated by everything Tartine, which she already loved enough to have a couple of cookbooks from the place.
We depart from there with Jude at the helm to drive through Golden Gate Park, across the famous bridge, then into the Muir Woods, north of the Gate. It's a long drive, winding around on a narrow road in search of. . . what? Jude somehow knows the way, and we keep driving until we get to a spot with both redwood trees and access to the ocean and a beach. MA reports that the water is very cold. I wasn't for one second going to sample that.
3:46 p.m. It is now that Jude reveals that he has no idea which way is out from Muir Woods. We just turn around and exit the way we entered. The plan was to visit Sausalito, the folksy community across the bay from the city, but it is decreed that there's not enough time. Instead, Jude, Suzanne, and Jackson all go to a children's science and arts presentation, adjacent to some fertile fishing piers and almost under the Golden Gate Bridge. The Marys and I walk around in the hot, glaring sun (I still haven't found a pair of clip-on sunglasses) until I feel a sunburn coming on.
Next we begin a random tour of the Presidio end of the city. Here we stop and walk around in the Palace of Fine Arts, a striking piece of architecture with no obvious utility. At least I am getting my quota of walking accomplished.
We wove through the steep streets until we find Taco-Licious, a new Mexican place that Jude somehow knew about. The appeal of this place was lost on me, but the others--notably Mary Leigh and Jude--found it exciting. A jarring moment occurred when a loud burst came from just outside. This proved to be a big, loud motorcycle starting up. If you have a motorcycle, you can do anything in California. I am especially put off by the way cyclists can ride between streams of traffic, even on freeways at top speed.
7:00 p.m. ML returns to work tomorrow. She leaves for home tonight on a redeye flight--using a buddy pass. On standby. Even though many seats are available, a glitch causes her to miss her flight. Luckily, there's another flight an hour later, and she makes that one.
Back in San Francisco, MA decides to keep the rental car and head out on an excursion on her own. With a dead cell phone. And my phone in her hand. I start worrying at around nine. To calm down, I decide that she will walk in at about 10:30.
10:08 p.m.Mary Ann returns. She wanted to check out the Presidio. Not much, she says. It's cool, with a Disney Museum, in old military buildings. And the Golden Gate Bridge in the background.
Monday. June 26, 2017. 7:00 a.m. It's our last morning to be awakened by the sound of the cable cars. Love that sound! Still no coffee in the room. I walk across the street to where a restaurant managed by a former New Orleans fellow used to specialize in breakfast. All gone now. I decide to just wait for the inevitable breakfast ideas of the others. Surely between Jude and Mary Ann an oddball café will be offered, even if it may require going well out of our way from the hotel to the airport.
8:47 a.m. "Outerlands" is the name of the restaurant. Jude found by way of a favorable review in a newspaper. It's not far from the waterfront, on the route of the commuter trains from south. These short trains are very entertaining to Jackson's eyes. My grandson likes trains!
The Outerland menu is decidedly West Coast in its tastes, but not far out. Among the choices are: Today's Doughnut; a sandwich of pork shoulder, pastrami and Swiss cheese; warm mushroom broth with brown rice and greens; and a cast-iron grilled cheese sandwich. I have a malted waffle with walnut and strawberries. We occupy a large bench for a long time.
10:20 a.m.Then we go to the airport. How Jude maneuvered there is a mystery, but I'm glad he's at the wheel instead of me. He and Suzanne and Jackson and I are on the same flight back to Los Angeles. Mary Ann is on her own, as usual. Everything is calm and conventional. There's even a kid's indoor playground next to our gate. Jackson has a fun time with the other kids, even the ones bigger than he is.
11:00 a.m.Then we board.
11:22 a.m. Then we sit there for awhile.
11:46 a.m. Then the captain says there is a hydraulic problem. The engineers come in from ten minutes away. They find another hydraulic problem. They test again. And yet a new bogus reading comes up. The attendants pass out cups of water. They seem very sober. Some of the passengers can be heard saying that they want off this plane.
Noon And then the captain says that the hydraulics are not the problem, but a goobered-up gauge. Now that they have it metered up, everything is okay. It takes a long time in line with the other airplanes before we find out for sure whether all is well. Apparently, it was.
1:22 p.m. I lead the applause when we land in Los Angeles in one piece. Funny habit of mine.
1:34 p.m. Jude picks up his car from the garage, where he has arranged to have it washed and detailed. He delivers all of us home, and all lives except mine return to normal.
Tuesday. June 27, 2017. 6:45 a.m. I have not spent many nights in the abode of Jude, Suzanne and Jackson (JS&J). But I know what I must do and must not do. Essentially, I must avoid awakening Jackson from his midday nap (easy: I take my own nap at the same time), and especially from his overnight sleep. (Around seven-thirty.) Also, I must not arouse the two little dogs that live in the back yard. With the exception of one night when I took a wrong turn in the darkness and briefly awakened Jackson, I committed no sins for the next two mornings.
Jude asks me to scramble some eggs for Jackson and to keep my eye on his oatmeal. Meanwhile, I make coffee from Jude's Nespresso machine. Then the nanny shows up. Jude and Suzanne leave for the day. And I am pulled into light service as baby sitter/grandfather. Call me "Poppy." In this I am replacing "Emmie," the aval name adopted by Mary Ann. In no other way can I fill in for my wife in the parental department. She is simply the best when it comes to little kids having fun.
Jackson and I have hit it off pretty well, though, and for the next three days I am his constant playmate. We do a lot of reading, piano playing, and running around. Last time I saw him, he wasn't walking. Now he's not only running but zooming around every environment we find ourselves in.
It's a long time since I played this role. I am inept when it come to matters like changing diapers. Soon, I remember what the late Ted Brennan said to me after Jude was born. "You are not Mr. Food. You are not a restaurant critic. You are not the guy on the radio. The only thing you are now is Jude's daddy, period!" That proved very true back then, and once again now.
So we play all day long, without a stop. Occasionally I have to keep him away from dangers. The ballpoint pen at eye level that he insisted on running around with, for example. He showed his strength by resisting my efforts and screaming at me.
Other than such moments, we are the best of friends for the next three days. I'm pleased that he doesn't run to his parents' sides when they come home. He likes me, and I like him.
