I don’t feel particularly old, but I woke up this morning to my 20th father’s day. No more infant head-butts, toddlers jumping on the bed, or pre-teens bringing a tray with burnt toast and runny eggs. These days, my neediest child is our 12-year-old labrador, Sprocket, who insists on waking us up early and moping around until we walk her for a few miles.
Our kids all have milestone birthdays this year: 16, 18, and 21. With two still at home (at least for another month before Zach heads off to Temple University in Philadelphia), we spent the day in San Francisco. We started with brunch at Farmer Brown’s, a fantastic soul food place in the Tenderloin focused on locally produced, sustainable ingredients. The carb-fest father’s day brunch buffet included fried chicken, pancakes, eggs, bacon, grits, biscuits, gravy, fruit, and sweet potato pie. The live trio provided musical accompaniment to the usual Harris family banter at the table.
After staggering out of the restaurant, and a short call with my eldest son in Maryland, we walked over to SFMOMA and spent a few hours wandering. I found the Robert Frank exhibit to be absolutely inspiring. I’ve thought a fair bit about taking my cameras with me in the foreign service and doing a lot more street photography.
After the museum, we came home to open some presents. Per tradition, presents consist of books. This year’s selection focus on the upcoming career transition, including Africa, Altered States, Ordinary Miracles and Summits, Six Meetings That Shaped the Twentieth Century.
In all, it was a really relaxing day. Happy father’s day to all.