San Francisco, CA – “Visiting my Childhood” – Golden Gate Park – September 4, 2000
Performing at San Francisco’s iconic Golden Gate Park, I’m catapulted back to my childhood adventures during mom and dad’s outdoor concerts. The air is crisp and sunlit, carrying that familiar nostalgic scent that instantly feels like home. I can almost see my younger self playing hide and seek with my brother beneath tables draped in starched white linens, dodging the charcuterie displays that always tempted us—despite being warned to tread carefully.
Backstage, ghost-like plumes of smoke rise from the grill pits, blending with the tawdry scent of the beer tent. It’s a sensory recall of raucous laughter, stumbling musicians, and performers’ spirited spouses hauling pitchers between tents, painting a vivid picture of those vibrant days.
Out on the lawn, facing the imposing, insect-like black stage, there are white blankets scattered across the green expanse. There are free-range children everywhere, their faces adorned with painted butterflies and dragons. The sloping hills are a mosaic of disheveled towels, flapping-armed dancers with sun-kissed smiles, and blue cherry snow cone stained tongues sing along to every song. Charcoaled shish kebabs smoke somewhere in the distance… and then there’s the music.
Hours upon hours of M U S I C. Pure and exhilarating, the melodies float through the air, mingling with beer-buzzed cheers and pleas from the crowd for “more” and “never stop!” The harmony of it all surrounds us—the music, the hum of conversations, the sound of children, and the cheering merging seamlessly with the cloudless sky.
After our set, Los Lobos takes the stage, high-fiving us as we exit, arms loaded with our instruments. Their genuine compliments leave us awestruck. We retreat to the beer tent, our golden pale ale winnings spill as we find a spot on the sunny lawn to watch Los Lobos own the stage. My lungs feel fuller on days like this; the sky seems infinite. I dance with a little girl whose face is painted with angel wings. At the end of each song she yells “AGAIN!” and I can’t help but wonder if she is me, visiting her adult self from all those years ago.
I’d like to think our baby selves visit us as adults. Love the imagery in this and how the past and present go in and out.
Thanks Tera,
Sometimes I get tangled in tense so I’m glad you were able to follow along through the various time frames.
“ I dance with a little girl whose face is painted with angel wings. At the end of each song she yells “AGAIN!” and I can’t help but wonder if she is me, visiting her adult self from all those years ago.”
Brilliant
You’re too kind Jihn!