San Francisco has its own way of doing everything, and it’s particularly apparently this time of year, our peak season.
I’m not just talking about our Indian Summer. Much like the Jewish calendar has its own timeline and its own set of holidays, San Francisco’s calendar doesn’t quite synch beyond the bubble.
While the rest of the Western world cues its seasonal stress to Thanksgiving and Christmas, our “high holidays” in Oz are marked by Pride and Folsom, with the Castro Street Fair feeling something like New Year’s Eve. Much like Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur, our major holidays give us the chance to celebrate another year of glitter while atoning for our “sins.” (I don’t know about you, but I’m still licking my wounds from Folsom!)
While “normal” people are storing away their beach blankets and going through crates of Christmas ornaments, San Franciscans are wondering if their rainbow flags are in good enough condition to fly proud through the rainy season. We’re planning our gaycation budgets, and we’re repairing our leathers so they’ll be in good condition for the next “formal” event.
I never cared much for Easter before I moved to San Francisco, but it’s now among my favorite holidays. It’s perfectly irreverent, and a perfect tribute to the birth of spring. Our rites and rituals take paganism to a whole new level, and the significance of gathering San Framily to “observe” holidays like The White Party or even Fleet Week - gotta have an excuse for sailor suits! - is no less real than any church meeting.
Our need for fundraisers, support groups, and booster clubs is no less real, either. I don’t know about you, but I’m exhausted from the fabulous blur of parties and parades by this time of the year, and Halloween is just around the corner!