It's weird to watch a town grow over the years. Our family arrived in S.F. in the middle of the beatnik era. The Giants had arrived there to play in Seal Stadium only the year before. My dad took me to a game where I got to watch Johnny Antonelli pitch knuckle balls as I was more interested hearing the the beer and hot dog vendors yell out their products as they roamed the stands. It got cold after the fifth inning as the fog rolled in. The ever present summer fog. Coming from Connecticut, I mistook date palm trees for evidence of tropical weather because I recall seeing coconut palms in Florida as a kid, and figured that Bermuda shorts and a t-shirt would be de rigueur as I caught a nasty first summer cold following a"free" concert in Sigmund Stern Grove that July . How quickly one discovers that you are charting new territory when you hear for the very first time that dreadful time-warn "Coldest winter" quote from Mark Twain.
Tourists be forewarned... always bring a jacket.