For most of my childhood, Rice-A-Roni aired a commercial calling Rice-A-Roni “the San Francisco treat.”
It almost always featured a cable car summiting an exceedingly steep hill.
I remember seeing those commercials on television and thinking about San Francisco as a place somewhere very far away, never attainable, and forever mysterious.
If only one day I could go to San Francisco and see those mighty hills.
But if you’d asked me as a kid whether I would ever visit the fabled homeland of Rice-A-Roni, I would’ve said, “Probably not.” I would’ve told you that San Francisco is so far away and travel wasn’t something I could ever imagine beyond New England.
Last week, I was in San Francisco for the fourth time this year, working with clients in finance and tech, attending a Moth StorySLAM, and dining with friends.
At one point, I was sitting in the back of a driverless Waymo, traveling to a meeting with a client at a conference center and reviewing my slides and notes on my phone.
Had you told the childhood version of myself that yes, you’ll visit that faraway homeland of Rice-A-Roni someday, quite often in fact, and you’ll be traveling the city not only by hanging to the side of one of those cable cars but also in the back of a robot-driven car, I would’ve told you you were crazy.
Had I told that little boy that someday you’ll fly to San Francisco so often that you’ll have a favorite restaurant in the airport and know the locations of both airport lounges, where you pass the time between flights by writing your next novel on a computer the size of a book, he would’ve told you to shut up.
Had I told that child, so limited in his vision of a possible future, that the city you see in those commercials will someday be a place where you have clients and friends and lots of work, he would’ve assumed you were teasing him.
As a child, I was so limited in what I thought was possible. My dreams of the future were so small and confined.
Last night, I was telling Clara about the Edinburgh Fringe Festival, where I hope to perform someday.
My next impossible dream.
Clara said she’d love to visit Edinburgh someday. She’s read lots about the city and finds it fascinating.
“You can get there someday,” I said. “It’s not that far away. Just work hard, and you’ll have so many opportunities in this world.”
“I know, Dad,” she said.
Three beautiful, perfect words.
Unlike the childhood version of me, Clara already sees the world as a place of possibility. Flying across an ocean and visiting a foreign land is something she’s already done, so today it seems utterly attainable.
Pedestrian, even.
I’m so happy that my daughter sees the world as a place of possibility.
Her eyes are wider than mine ever were as a kid.
Her mind sees opportunity where I once saw impossibility.
Clara can see a future where the world is her oyster.
The boy I used to be would be so jealous of her. The father I am could not be happier.
