My Dad painting at the Sonoma Grove trailer park
When I arrived mid-morning at the Sonoma Grove trailer park I was met with a familiar sight. My dad was painting outside his trailer. Oil paints covered the canvas, the palette, and my dad’s brown tweed jacket in equal parts. My dad greeted me with his typical bear hug and tobacco kiss.
“Hey Davey, it's a beautiful morning, what do you say we head to San Francisco for a swim and lunch at the Olympic Club?”
“Can we just show up?” I worried. I felt embarrassed that the exclusive Olympic Club members might think my Dad looked more like a homeless person than a Bohemian artist.
“Sure. I’ll bet you didn’t know that I am a lifetime member of the Club?”
“Well I knew you dove at the Olympic Club in middle and high school and that you played handball as an adult at the club. Have you been back recently?”
“Not in years, but a lifetime member can go anytime and use the facilities. We could swim and grab a bite.”
In fact, my mom had told me how my dad had been one of San Francisco’s most promising young springboard divers as a teen. The Olympic Club had a grand tradition of sponsoring young amateur athletes. Memberships were granted for free and the best Bay Area athletes used the Olympic Club facilities; some even became Olympians or top pros in their respective sports.
I also knew that the Olympic Club was one of the most exclusive clubs in San Francisco, whose members were among the city’s elite. How would my dad feel if we showed up and we were denied entrance to the facilities, (or perhaps more to the point, how would I feel)?
My Dad, still upbeat, insisted, “Let’s go.”
“OK,” I nervously conceded.
An hour later we arrived at the Downtown Olympic Club on Post Street. Above the stately wood doors hung the winged “O”, symbol of San Francisco’s oldest and most prestigious athletic club.
My Dad, still wearing his brown sports coat covered with oil paint, confidently addressed the young man sitting inside the entrance, “Milt Forrest. Lifetime member.”
After a minute or two, the young man replied, “OK Mr. Forrest. What did you have planned for today?”
“My son and I thought we’d swim and get some lunch.”
“Very good Mr. Forrest. Do you know your way to the pool?"
“Sure do.” My Dad said confidently.
In the locker room my Dad left his Cotati clothes behind as we changed into our swimsuits. He gracefully dove into the swimming pool. Even in his senior years my Dad was still a powerful swimmer, moving effortlessly through the water.
After several laps an older man in the pool called out, “Milt. Milt Forrest?”
My dad immediately recognized the fellow swimmer. They chatted briefly and my Dad proudly introduced me. “This is my son.”
“Great to meet you. Did you know years ago, whenever we’d have a handball tournament, everyone wanted to be your Dad’s doubles partner? He was the best!”
Feeling relaxed after our swim, we dressed and headed for the main dining room for lunch. A maître d in formal attire greeted us.
“My son and I would like lunch.” my Dad requested.
“Very good, sir. However, we require formal attire for the main dining room. You’re fine, but your son will need a jacket. We have several we can loan him.”
I blushed as the maître d offered me one of the Club’s loaner jackets.
Now properly attired, I headed for lunch with my Olympian.