Golden Gate Bridge. I was maybe 5 or 6 years old and my dad had taken us (us being me and my brother and sisters) to Fort Point, which offers a unique, underside vantage of the immense, gold-red structure. With the waves crashing, the ominous Fort looming, and the Golden Gate spanning the great body of water between San Francisco and the Marin Headlands above me, I was overcome by awe. This feeling was magnified by the story my father related: He was born in 1925, the Bridge was completed in 1937. Age 7 when construction on the bridge commenced, he'd spent much of his youth riding his bike from his home in the Sunset District to Fort Point to watch the actual construction of the bridge. He knew how ambitious and dangerous a job its building was in real time. Those men were heroes to him like he was to me. Looking up at the great expanse today, I can't say I feel that differently. The Bridge is so San Francisco, it's a symbol of the possibility of the West and it's a part of my family history. Today is its 75th Anniversary. Happy Birthday Golden Gate!