I arrived in San Francisco with a truck full of belongings sixteen years ago today, October 1 1991. The trip from Toronto, about 2600 miles, took me nine days. I went from Toronto to Chicago Illinois, to Des Moines Iowa to Grand Island Nebraska to Cheyenne Wyoming to Green River Wyoming to Salt Lake City Utah to Winnemucca Nevada to Sacramento California to San Francisco. I wanted to see the country on the ground. And did. I remember a lot of those miles. It gave me a physical sense of the size and shape of America that flying over it never has.
When I was in the Heartland, the only music on the radio was country, which, at the time, I did not like. But I do remember the lines to one song that was popular then: "There's a light at the end of the tunnel...and I hope it ain't no train".
Well, there was a train waiting for me when I arrived to connect with my partner. My relationship of four plus years lasted about another eight months. A painfully wrenching ending, not uncommon for gay couples who move here to ManCandyLand. I then moved into the place where I have lived ever since.
It is a strange city whose inhabitants I find endearing and infuriating...and not uncommonly salivating. :) I refer to it as the People's Republik of San Francisco, Mexifornia. But I still love living here. So much of it is so beautiful. I have attachments, and work, and hopes. And the temperate weather suits me just fine.
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