Three straight nights of rain–and by rain I mean serious storms with lightening, thunder, and egg-sized raindrops–are enough to for most San Franciscans. So, it wasn’t surprising to find people out and about on this beautiful Saturday afternoon. After the gym and a trip to the bank, I headed to Golden Gate Park. Honestly, I didn’t care where I went; I just wanted to be outside. I sat on a bench and people-watched for a while. As usual, there were plenty of joggers, bikers, and couples lounging on the grass. Then I head something echoing through a nearby tunnel I’d never heard in the park before. I had to investigate.
Sure enough, these guys were playing jazz on the steps across the way. While they weren’t exactly The Blue Note or Preservation Hall material, they were decent.
I’ve loved jazz music for a long as I can remember. It’s the soundtrack of my childhood. When I was a kid, my dad tuned the radio to the local jazz station, KKGO, first thing Saturday morning, and it played over the intercom all day. It didn’t matter if he was outside washing his car, or in the kitchen cooking, jazz was always playing in the background. I appreciate all types of music, but jazz always feels like home to me. It’s the only music I can actually listen to while I write–anything else is a distraction.
I stood in the tunnel for a few minutes, then went up top, to the bridge, where a few folks had gathered. I must say, it was very soothing to stand there while the sun warmed my back, listening to those guys play. Not a bad way to spend a Saturday.