George gets lost in the story of others, even in my own. And we gift him back to the city and to the people, to his friends and to his colleagues and to the citizens who are the fabric and texture and color of San Francisco. So, all of us can stop looking at the death of George Moscone and start to put him firmly in our hearts so we can see the likes of him in new community leaders, young artists, queer and colorful, innovators and students, all inside our magnificently and uniquely diverse and neverchanging city. San francisco will never be what it was, nothing in life will be. But as i heard recently, we are always nostalgic for a time that never was and often wanting to avoid a future that is inevitable. Will change in San Francisco as in everywhere is inevitable. And change can be beautiful. We are all of us the agents of change. As george and harvey were. Each one of us is the story teller of our lives and the lives of the people weve lost. And that wasnt always the case, as willi
Sexy, cruel as all get out. And then the song ends. And i notice the woman sitting next to me crying. And after the play is over, after the standing ovation of tonys brave and beautiful play, as people start to leave the theater, this woman, she remains in her chair and it seems she cannot move. I gently asked her if shes all right. And she nods. And she says without looking at me because she couldnt look at me, i got to see my mayor again. So, maybe through art we can see again. About a month ago i braved going to the sf moment to check out the infamous bust of my dad and all i could remember growing up were the images of that controversial pedestal of gunshots and twinkies and dont think i didnt smile when i heard hostess went under. [laughter] applause but when i went to see the bust for that first time, a bust that i have to admit captured georges mile wide grin and dramatically imperfect teeth, i saw on the pedestal so many things that i didnt know were there. I saw the names of m
At long last, george shows up and the fractured city hall backdrop begins to fill with floating lights outlining the Golden Gate Bridge and we hear tony bennett sing his legendary recording of i left my heart in San Francisco. And then the character of george, sometimes mouthing the words, sometimes singing them quietly, moves towards john without looking, for he cannot look at his son. And he touches johns heart and then he moves away towards the city hall of johns memory and john set the stairs in the way that george did, cocky and sexy, cruel as all get out. And then the song ends. And i notice the woman sitting next to me crying. And after the play is over, after the standing ovation of tonys brave and beautiful play, as people start to leave the theater, this woman, she remains in her chair and it seems she cannot move. I gently asked her if shes all right. And she nods. And she says without looking at me because she couldnt look at me, i got to see my mayor again. So, maybe throu
Dramatically imperfect teeth, i saw on the pedestal so many things that i didnt know were there. I saw the names of my brothers and sister inside a heart, my dads favorite movie, quotes by him how much he considered being mayor, honor bestowed on him, and the things made possible for people who didnt have power, who didnt have voice, there was so much more on that pedestal than death. And, so, i think its time to reclaim George Moscone from the narcissistic legacy or the senselessness of dan white or the well intentioned world of hollywood or the better intentioned world of theater. Its time to reclaim him from the places where the real george gets lost in the story of others, even in my own. And we gift him back to the city and to the people, to his friends and to his colleagues and to the citizens who are the fabric and texture and color of San Francisco. So, all of us can stop looking at the death of George Moscone and start to put him firmly in our hearts so we can see the likes of
Thank you for inviting us to speak today. And although i am the only member of the family to speak today, im not speaking on their behalf. The truth is i just like to talk. [laughter] in fact, as i am happy to see so many people here as i do, as the comedian paula said, even if you werent here, id still be up here talking. But despite my tendencies towards reliving the admonishment of my fifth grade teacher sister grace who chastised me for having diarrhea of the mouth and constipation of ideas, i took a long while for me to say yes when stuart and ann asked me to talk a bit on the day that marks the death of george and harvey. And the reason became clear when i sat down to write my words. Im exhausted by talking about death. I know thats not the subject of todays memorial, but it always happens on the day that george and harvey were shot. And i think im tired of remembering them on the worst day of their lives. I wonder that if indeed there is a heaven, and if george and harvey got in