One of my best friends, growing up in San Francisco, used to come over. Used to say, “You know, your mom is like the typical all-American mother.” Always groomed, wearing a white apron. Always looking nice and groomed, like one of those classic ‘60s television show mothers. Because I remember growing up, just to go downtown, to Market Street. She would dress me up. I would have to be all dressed up. She herself would dress up. Wear a hat, a coat, high heels. And we would take the trolley to Market Street. But then, in San Francisco, that’s the way you went.

So here we are in camp, and it’s all dusty and the roads weren’t paved yet. They were still in the process of black topping and everything. We’d go for a walk, and I remember the guys that were working on the road would wolf whistle my mother. And as a kid, I’d get kind of angry or embarrassed or whatever. Because she was all dressed up in high heels and everything, in camp. So that’s the way I always remember her in her younger days.