So, Grant and I fly out early Friday morning for New York. That means I’m taking my son to where I grew up, although we won’t go to Brooklyn on this trip. On Friday night we’re meeting my friend Stuie, a retired New York City high school English teacher — we met when we were nine — and we’re going to Sammy’s Noodle House on 6th Avenue, kind of a tradition. Saturday, I want to take Grant to a Broadway play and then we’ll eat somewhere fabulous Saturday night. Sunday we rent a car and drive to the game. I expect the Niners to murder the Jets. And Saturday night we meet my cousin Alison, a dean at Rutgers, for dinner in Manhattan. Her dad, my uncle Bob, was a staff writer for Superman comics. He didn’t invent Superman, but he wrote lots of episodes or whatever you call the stories in a comic book. We fly home Monday.