Last evening, I happened to see an old run of the Lone Ranger and Tonto in action, saving everyone from their problems without lifting a good-guy finger. It’s hard to believe that most boys in my neighborhood (including me) watched every episode. It was about 1949 or so when that dynamic duo hit the scene.
Even putting aside the ridiculousness of the mask and, above all, Tonto’s absurd role, the filming was primitive, at best. What’s even worse is the dialogue of every single actor. I remember hounding my mom to buy me a full Lone Ranger outfit. She, being very prudent, declined. As I reflect on her decision, I have a mind’s eye image of how totally stupid I would have looked walking down Vallejo Street in San Francisco, looking for bad guys around every corner.
I’m a dreamer at heart, proudly born and raised in San Francisco—a city that covers just 49 square miles but was heaven on earth for me. Every corner of The City (as we natives affectionately call it) has been a part of my life. No area ever felt too distant. With wide eyes and an open heart, I’ve always welcomed the world around me. I find joy in creativity, wonder, and discovering new possibilities—whether that’s through international work adventures or dreaming up the next exciting idea. Even though San Francisco was my hometown, my passport has taken me to many amazing places and introduced me to wonderful people, shaping me in countless ways. I carry pieces of these experiences and friendships with me wherever I go. Above all, I treasure my family, friends, and those small, meaningful moments that keep my spirit alive and thriving. I never want my curiosity to fade away.
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Are we there yet? 