Loved by Toddlers, Loathed by Adults

The Vaillancourt fountain in Justice Herman Plaza is frequently cited as one of the most reviled landmarks in San Francisco. Herb Caen Allan Temko compared it to a pile of poop, and one critic called it "Stonehenge unhinged with plumbing troubles."

The fountain turned 40 this year, but its longevity hasn't seemed to blunt people's distaste for it. Compare that with the Sutro Tower. It got a chilly reception from San Franciscans when it was completed in 1973, but the generation born since then has grown to love it. In fact, a small but vocal group seems downright obsessed with the Sutro Tower. (I think you know who you are.)

Photo courtesy of JimPrice.com

The Vaillancourt fountain is formally called "Québec libre!" — an attempt by artist Armand Vaillancourt to raise awareness about the Quebec sovereignty movement. (You know, because San Francisco is clearly the epicenter of that struggle.) He irked local officials at the time by spray-painting graffiti on his own sculpture, which the city painted over.

Just this year, the fountain was voted San Francisco's fourth-worst piece of public art by Curbed SF readers.

But there is one group that has undying adulation for Vaillancourt's work: toddlers.

I walk by this fountain almost every day, and I always see young kids drawn into its fascinating mix of concrete and water. (I should note that the structure also is popular with birds, which very much enjoy crapping on it.)

Elliot is one of its fans. He enjoys hopping from block to block, and getting sprayed by water overhead.

You have to admire any fountain that looks this much like a sewage-treatment plant.

Complete with frothy, brown water.

So maybe there's still hope that San Francisco will warm to Vaillancourt Fountain. The next generation is clearly on its side.

UPDATE: Apparently it was Chronicle architecture critic Allan Temko who compared the fountain to poop, not Herb Caen.

From his obit in 2006:

It was Mr. Temko who first described San Francisco's 39-story Marriott Hotel as "the jukebox," and the Vaillancourt Fountain on the Embarcadero as resembling something "deposited by a concrete dog with square intestines."

BuboBlog regrets the error. 

More on the 'Up All Night' Names

Remember when I discussed the improbability of the names in "Up All Night"?

Well, I'm not the only one scratching their head. The Name Candy celebrity-names blog did a whole post on the topic.

Here's an excerpt:

Amy is the daughter of Reagan (Applegate) and Chris (Arnett). Ava (Rudolf) is Reagan’s talk show host boss. Seems a little backwards, right? The writers of the show definitely knew how to pick popular names, but — and this could be purely intentional — they seem to have the decades mixed up. 

Amy, at number 135, is by no means an uncommon name, but if Amy’s mom was born around 1975, she’d have given her daughter a name that held the Number 2 ranking for five years around the time she was born. Reagan probably knows a handful of Amys; At its peak, Amy was the name given to 0.8% of children. For reference, that’s double the amount of Avas born in 2010. 

To be fair, Reagan knows what it’s like to have an unconventional name and probably did not want that for her kid. Though today Reagan ranks a few places above Amy at number 127, it was pretty near obscure in the mid '70s, drifting in and out of the top 1000 until falling out completely from 1981 to 1992, during the years surrounding Ronald Reagan’s 1981 to 1989 presidency. Safe to say, Reagan probably got a bit of teasing in school. 

Ava is a particularly curious choice for a larger than life, Oprah-meets-Ellen, mid-thirties woman. It’s understandable that the writers chose an Oprah sound-alike, but why a name so closely associated with children under ten? In the '70s, Ava was a bit more popular than Reagan, but not by much, drifting in and out of the top 1000. But since 2006, it’s been the top five every year.

Thanks for some validation, Name Candy blog!

(Not) the People's Park

San Francisco has finally figured out how to keep its parks from devolving into wastelands of urine-stunted grass and broken malt-liquor bottles: Never open them to the public.

That seems to be the strategy with Sue Bierman Park (once known as Ferry Park), the grassy enclave located next to Justin Herman Plaza.

The park has been under renovation since November, when the city began laying new walkways and sod. For months now, it's looked beautiful — with green grass, new trees and immaculate paths.  And yet, we've had to admire it through a chain-link fence.

According to the Recreation & Parks department, it was supposed to be opened in June. But there's no sign that anyone is going to take down the fence.

On Monday, someone finally took matters into their own hands.

I walked by the park that morning and discovered the fence had been pulled down.

By the end of the day, the fence was back up.

I understand the city's perspective. There's a homeless encampment next to Justin Herman Plaza, and when they do finally open Sue Bierman Park, its destruction will probably resemble a time-lapse film.

Still, parks are meant to be used, right?

UPDATE: I e-mailed the Parks department to see if there's an opening date.

UPDATE TO THE UPDATE: It's opening, folks. Click here for the latest.

Girl Horrified by Mucus

This video lacks any sort of plot resolution, but it's amusing nonetheless.



I think I made that face through most of "Sex and the City 2."

Pulling His Own Weight (Sort Of)

We're flying to the East Coast next month, so Kelly figured now was a good time to get Elliot his own luggage.

She ended up buying the Trunki suitcase from a company called Melissa & Doug (if you have small kids, you're already aware that Melissa & Doug are taking over the world).

The suitcase appears to be tiger-themed, which is not going to help Elliot's problem. Between this, the sneakers and the fact that he's going to be a tiger for Halloween, it's like we're buying a case of Grey Goose for an alcoholic.

Anyway, the Trunki has wheels and kids can sit on top of it, so parents can pull their children around the airport. This sounds so much better than our previous method — dragging him along the ground by his arm.

For now, Elliot is so excited about his Trunki that he wants to carry it himself, even up and down stairs. We'll see how long that lasts.

The product description says it can support up to 250 pounds. Wow.

I realize we have an issue with childhood obesity in this country. But if you're dragging around a 250-pounder on an orange Trunki, something has gone very wrong.

Reading Is Fundamental, But What About Fake Reading?

While in Santa Cruz this weekend, Elliot found a paperback copy of "The Hobbit" in my old room.

"That's not the kind of book you're going to like," I said. "There are no pictures."

"I can read it," he said. Elliot sat down on the bed and opened the book.

"Fine, what does it say?" I said.

He stood up. "I need quiet so I can read!"

Elliot marched out of the room, went into my dad's office and shut the door.

He emerged five minutes later, with the book under his arm.

"It had a lot words," Elliot said. "I liked it, though."

A Child's Sweet Laughter or a Desperate Bid for Survival?

A while back I posted a video of Alice laughing at her brother.



In the clip, Alice only responds to Elliot with laughter — her parents get no reaction.

BuboBlog Westchester County correspondent Kate noticed a similar phenomenon with her kids, so she asked their pediatrician about it.

Apparently it's a survival mechanism. The baby knows the parents won't hurt her, but the older brother is a bit of a wild card. So the laughter is an attempt to butter him up — not unlike how you'd laugh at your boss' lame jokes (except your boss probably won't smother you in your sleep).

It must be working because Elliot adores his sister. Way to kiss up, Alice!