I really wanted to see the Treasures of Assisi exhibit at the Palace of Fine Arts in San Francisco. Fortunately for me, when it became apparent that Rich was not going to be able to come along, Sunshyn volunteered. So, after a Senior Moment this morning, when I somehow lost a half-hour, planning to leave the house at 9 to get breakfast and get to her place at 9, I met my sixth online journalist. (I'm getting to be an old hand at meeting online acquaintances, ever since my first BBS get-together in 1986, but it's always interesting.)

From her journal, I had thought Sunshyn was a little, uh, more substantial. She turns out to be totally glamorous and svelte. We started talking, and continued all the way down, all the way home, and most of the time in the museum. There were no awkward silences. We have a lot in common. I'm so glad she went with me! I might have gone on my own, but quite possibly would not have, and this was a great exhibit.

It turned out to be the free day of the month, which probably explains why we ended up parking a quarter-mile away (and had to walk uphill, in both directions, of course.) I knew my route, so apart from a little panic when I thought I might have passed my turn, not that there ARE any turns, I had no trouble finding the place. It had been raining a bit on the way down, but when we arrived the sky was clear and the view was fine. From the rest area on the way, we could see both towers of the Golden Gate Bridge, which almost never happens. Even better, from the entrance to the Museum, we could see downtown SF and, behind it, behind the Oakland Hills, Mt. Diablo. I've been atop Mt. D. but never when it was clear enough to see the City. Anyway, a lovely day. I carried my brolly so as to guarantee no rain.

St. Francis was born in 1181 or -2. His name was actually Giovanni Bernadone till his rich cloth-merchant father visited France and started calling him "Francesco", the Frenchman. He, Francis, toyed around with a number of careers till he was well into his twenties. Then he heard a voice at the ruined church of SanDamiano, telling him to "rebuild my church, which is in ruins." He took this literally and started attempting to pile up rocks and mend the chapel. Since then, people have figured that the Voice meant the whole Church, which was definitely in a lot of trouble. (The worst thing that ever happened to the church was to become the official state church!) His father got annoyed with his fecklessness and Francis stripped bare and said he now belonged to God. I loved Zefirelli's movie "Brother Sun, Sister Moon" when it came out, but I saw it again about 10 years ago and it's so SIXTIES. Francis the hippie! The other annoyance was Donovan's soundtrack.

Anyway, he attracted followers, asked Pope Innocent III for permission to set up an order, and the Friars Minor had 5000 by the time Francis died in 1226. He had wanted to be buried in a pauper's grave. You should SEE this basilica they built immediately. (There was, surprise surprise, a lot of politics involved with this. The Pope needed something miraculous to pull the church together and stick into the Holy Roman Emperor's eye. Francis was a "fast-track" saint.) The lower church was completed by 1230.

September 26, 1997, two earthquakes struck Assisi, killing four people in the Basilica and demolishing a lot of the vaulting in the church. They've worked almost night and day to rebuild, and the Basilica was reopened last year, but there's still a lot to do. They had 6 million visitors in 1996 (Mark and Monica would have been two of them) and expect twice that many next year. In preparation for 2000, there had been a photographer meticulously documenting every inch of the Basilica, so they have a good set of "before" pictures to work from in restoration.

The undamaged artwork had been packed up anyway, so they decided to send it to museums around the world to raise some money. I didn't have to pay to get in, so I was happy to give a donation to this fund. The exhibit went to Paris and New York before coming to the City of St. Francis.

We went to a slide lecture about the exhibit which helped. There were a LOT of people today! The docent was really enthusiastic and well-informed about the art. I came home to order Roni to go (her mother-in-law is a docent with this museum, but that shouldn't stop her!) I particularly fell for one chalice with all these enameled lozenges. There were some reliquaries that were nifty, as well, but try taking chips of stone or wood or hair nowadays and you're a vandal! Besides, how many thorns were on that crown, anyway, how much wood in the True Cross (so conveniently found by Constantine's mother!) and how much cloth in the "unseamed robe"? Oh, well, call me cynical.

The Museum also has an Aboriginal art exhibit. This is very exciting. I couldn't follow all the symbolism of the Dreaming. There was even a ground painting, installed especially for the exhibit by a group of Aborigine artists. It involved a river, a possum, and some grubs. Some of these paintings were fantastic, beautiful, and some were disturbing on an emotional level.

Lunch was a yummy spinach-and-Brie salad. We saw some of my friends from Church. I'm never too surprised when this happens. I suppose I'd be surprised if it didn't.

We got home before 6. Rich and I went to Fresh Choice to use his coupon, and forgot that I am now a Senior and should get a discount too. I overate anyway, to make up for it!

A pleasant day, another escape from an ax-murderess!