Thanksgiving Day Began with a Bong.

   "This is Thanksgiving. You can't go on this train without an Amtrak ticket. Your Coaster ticket does not ride today!" So spoke Bertha Washington, head security guard and barker at the Santa Fe Terminal. She screamed in front of big Bob, another security guard.
   "The trains conductor told me it was OK. I spoke to him on Monday."
   "You can't go, did you hear me!" In now way would I allow Be Be Washington interrupt my sojourn to Encinitas to pick up Dolly, the name of my beaten up car. I walked toward the Amtrak train expecting the hand of the law to interrupt my holiday.
   Thanksgiving Day began peacefully. I did my toilet, put on clean underwear, vacuumed my room at the YMCA and out the door I fled. I put my nose plugs on. The smell of homeless urine would not spoil my day. The only public bathrooms in San Diego lie on the sidewalks and streets. I crossed Kettner and said "hello" to Mr. Fang, the only homeless Chinese man in downtown San Diego. He did a jig and smiled at me. He had refused all of my offerings but not the EBT card he had recently procured.
    This is the first boarding call for Amtrak to Los Angeles, Santa Barbara...Several people cued up outside. I left my Santa Fe seat and stood at the end of the line when Be Be stopped me. Even with her well practiced outburst, I sill got a seat on car number four.
    I asked the porter about my coaster ticket. He told me it was a grew area, but not to worry. "I am not a porter sir. Call me a ticket taker or conductor but never a [porter again." I apologized and retreated to my Charles Dickens book.
  
   This train stopped at every Coaster stop. I detrained at Encinitas. Dolly sat in an almost empty communter parking lot. It took about one and one half hours to arrive in Belmont Shores to see my two grandchildren, Allison and Olivia. I forgot the bong and this Thanksgiving it ended with a bang.

   At the Park Avenue address, I could not believe how gorgeous Olivia, my three year old grand child looked.  They day began grey, but turned gay. I ignored my San Diego sinuses. Lauren had given a bottle to a smiling Allison and Derik was in the kitchen basting Sally the Turkey.
   I read Pinocchio to Olivia and afterwards went outside to play ball with her. "Now Olivia, throw the ball like this to me She finally go the hang of it. I removed my volleyball from car and could see at once she had athletic abilities like her Grandfather me.
   I could plainly see she was a hand-full. The little three year old loved playing catch. Now that her sibling Mrs. Allison shared the attention of Lauren and Derick, it was hard to digest. We needed to finish off of Pinocchio. We returned to the living room. Allison was fast asleep on a perpetual swing. Every time Olivia went past, she gave a swipe with her hand.
   "Tell me where the word is and I will give you a penny." She loves gathering coins, and who wouldn't. After awhile we began eating, since Selma's sister Sally screamed, "Ready or not, here I come". The dishes were filled with potatoes, yams, cranberries, and other sauces. It would be a Thanksgiving to be remembered.
   I asked my side-grand-kid what she wanted. She pointed to a small dark piece. Sally, the turkey, had been buffeted, ironed, jabbed, sauced into the best turkey since Selma of 2012.. The two gourmet cooks outdid themselves.
   Lauren chimed in, "Is Steve going to come." I told her instead of a pie, he would bring Liza, another dish. Surely she would enliven the party goers. Derick mentioned that Gloria could not come since she hosted a Chanukah gig at her house. Lauren noticed a flash of light outside.The afternoon sun had sent a comet like flash into the dining area. I thought it must be Steve and his wide dome over his hairless head.
  It felt great to see Steve for the first time in one year. Lisa wished to go to the bathroom and Steve sat down to the best turkey meal he had ever had. "Did a Chef make this meal?" he said.
  I reminded Steve that Lauren and Derick watch every food program. They brew their own and make ice cream.

  Olivia was edgy, she left her seat and walked to Lisa. She probably wondered why Lisa did not hug her back. I didn't. She suffered with T.M.J. and could not move her jaw. It is usually caused by stress. Steve dove into the food like he was swimming a marathon. Lisa sat and grumbled, 'Steve will not massage me.' Now Steve was her third marriage and I thought the previous two left her for one not as needy.
  The puddings, ice cream, walnut and pumpkin pie were served. Steve's eyes lit up like they hit a Vegas jack pot. His left eye did a roll over as he grabbed the assortment of gifts on the table. It was surely a meal fit for a king.
  Lauren finally sat down. I did not know how she managed two babies, an older baby, teaching, and keeping house. I knew my brother was waiting in a nursing home so I bid everyone a good by till next year. Pictures were taken and the rest I will leave to your imagination. (c)   . 
  

A King Henry EighthRelation

  
     It was Tuesday, two days before Thanksgiving. I had never felt so excited. Barbara told me the good news from her last doctor's check up. "Your heart is thirty percent stronger than before." Not only did Barbara wish to live, but she has now recalled songs lost from her mind, until now. .
    The real excitement began a month ago. Barbara confessed to me that "John Greene, the Surgeon. was the first one of our family to immigrate to our county." I looked at the internet about Greene and discovered a connection to Katherine Parr, the Sixth Wife of Henry the Eight. Not only that, but Barbara face was a match to Katherine Parr
  Well, as you may have surmised, all hell broke loose when I told her this news.  Her small frame leaped to the sky. In fact, I told everyone around  to bow before her highness.  Her Thanksgiving began on that day. Now all of us need a reason to live. and she found one. For me, it took my mind off of past loves and the fact no longer could I play two man volleyball. Like Barbara, i needed a energy bar and she provided it, and how!
   
    It was going on eleven and we are seated at the Oak's Cafe at the Encinitas Senior Center.  I sat down with Barbara and presented various copies of the microfilms from the Carlsbad Library.  I showed her a picture of her families Coat of Arms.
   "Hey Barbara, do you know why Katherine Parr was different than the other five wives of Henry the Eight?"   
   "Yes I know. She kept her head!"
  The dainty 84 year old had already finished playing the piano when I revealed the treasure trove of her families history. "Barbara, you won't believe this. But John Greene, the surgeon, helped Rodger Williams settle Rhode Island. Not only that, but this Baptist returned to England and received a land grant from the King."
   I told her how he had left all of his English land behind for  religious freedom. The Puritans did not accept his Baptist religion so he left Boston. His flock of worshipers thought he had died of exposure during the snowy winter but a group of Indians fed and gave him a part of their land. He returned later to London and returned with a deed to the property. Barbara then spoke about John Greene, the surgeon.
   "You know George, when I visited the very place where John had been buried, I couldn't get over how beautiful the church was and asked to see somebody who knew about the Green's. Somebody told me to go to a book shop down the way."
    "I sat and waited. When I told a worker I wished to see the owner. He told me he was too busy. I persisted and told them who had sent me. The book store owner was overwhelmed. He gave me a book about my relatives the Green's."
   "Why George we owned a good part of Northern England. Everyone wished to meet me. I couldn't get over how many of my ancestors are buried in this church."
 
   Barbara forgot the name of it. I told her to play the piano. Now that her heart is beating thirty percent stronger due to laughter, love and good food, there is no holding her back. She played a few songs and her playing is better than ever. I reminded her she had to partake in our delicious food now.
   "Tony, is there something you wish to say. Tony had come to America at  Mussolini's urging. He became an accountant after trying to be a doctor at U.C.L.A."
   "Merry Thanksgiving." Abe chimed in, "Ditto." I continued to speak to Barbara, a relation to Katherine Parr, the  Sixth Wife of Henry Eighth."
   I told her an ancestor had fought in the Revolutionary War against England. His name was Nathaniel Greene and was the only other American general besides George Washington. The Green's name was also formidable during the Civil War and many held offices in Rhode Island.
   With lunch now over, Ron packed the remains of her food into a small round carton and she remained. Ron made sure she left later for her lift. Sometimes they were late, but what she received from our lunches made it worth it. 
  
  
  
  

What a View, the San Diego Library.

"Sir, the library is closed. You need to leave." It took me a moment to collect my thoughts. It was five o'clock Sunday. I entered at one o'clock and obtained a library card. I had fallen asleep in one of the many leather baskets overlooking San Diego's Harbor scene.
   I had been relaxing viewing the  Coronado Bridge, and Eastern San Diego. I felt i could shake hand with Logan and Sheridan Heights. Through the open air windows I saw the Golden Hills area, where Ambrose Schindler, the football player grew up. .
  It was November twenty fourth. I had taken the day off, and  decided to take the day off for my beleaguered bronchial tubes. This years flu shot almost had put me under. The new library offered me all the [pure air and free view I needed. It became my rehab center.
   I packed a turkey sandwich and caught the Orange Line out of American Plaza, a block from the 'Y'. I descended at the Market and Park stop and walked the two blocks to the new library.
  I was desperate for a library card and was told to fill my application at a special terminal to my right. It took a few minutes, and from there a worker punched out a brand new card. I wished to work on my blog and see how the computer system was working.
  The openness and view from anywhere in the library put me in a trance. I could not get the large windowed computer to work on the third floor and another patron showed me how. I did not need my glasses since the screen was so large.

   Spaced only two feet apart sat the over-sized new computers.  The middle aged man next to me was checking out pictures of ladies, It was some type of a dating service. Across from me, two young ones were checking out each others anatomy. They used the time to kiss and cuddle. I felt envious but wondered why the librarians these visitations by minors.
   Circling me kids frolicked playing tag. A tour leader showed the many perks of the new library. Yet nobody could keep me from my task to work on my blog. I felt happy my flash or thumb drive worked. The lady at the desk did not understand me when I asked her the procedure to print. When she did, she told me the printers were not working.
  The lady at the desk knew little about computers, as well as the English language.When my two hours of allotted time was up, I walked to the stack of periodicals and grabbed a Newsweek for 1941. So relaxed i was the letters and stories about the German invasion of Russia jumped up at me. I could have stayed there all night
  I  tried to use the restroom on the third floor but there was a line. There was only one urinal for  the entire floor. Those that built this utopia probably forgot that we humans need to use the bathroom, now and again. I then left and exited to Park and Market. The train returned me to the All American Plaza.
  My day was not over yet. I saw replays of the Charger victory over Kansas and unfortunately turned off the TV before the New England game was over. They came back to beat the Broncos. I slept like my thumb drive scoring a hit with every dream. 
   
   
  
 

My heart is 30 Percent Stronger

I met Barbara about eight months ago at the Encinitas Senior Center. She sat all alone at Table 5. Quite unlike me, I tried to console her but did not know the 84 year old would end up as my soul mate. She kept saying she wished the lord to take her. A few months later, she played the piano and she began to enjoy life again at Table number 5

   "My son came down from Ramona. He took me to my doctor yesterday. Guess what George? My heart beats 35 percent better than before." There was a new flame burning in Barbara's motor, and it came from laughter, music and lots of love. I had presented a Thanksgiving story to her, hers. She looked excited that I had undergone to write her story. I was eleven o'clock and thirty minutes before lunch time at the Li'l Old Oak's Cafe in Encinitas.
    I am writing her life's story and am deeply in love with this modest but elegant damsel. She probably weighs less than sixty pounds but it is all heart. She is a descendant of  Catherine Parr, the Sixth wife of Henry the Eight.
  "Barbara, can you play one or two melodies for me?" She replies that her "back hurts too much today."   Since a friend drove her to see the Philharmonic San Diego orchestra, she has been playing Hallelujah on the grand piano. Of course I precede her by playing Rosemary and other ditties.
  The balanced diet, friends, music, and laughter has provided her with a new heart. Today she finishes the Salmon along with rice a greens She add more to my story about the Greene Family. Her Mother told her about their relationship with that family.
   "John Greene,the Surgeon, left his family's  possessions and fled England for religious freedom..He was a Baptist, but when he arrived in Boston, the Puritans would not allow him to settle there. He fled and many thought the snow or lack of food would have killed him. He was rescued by Indians who fed him. He asked for some land to grow crops. The presented him with a piece of Rhode Island.  He allowed a flock of Jews to build the first synagogue there."
    She then spoke about a trip to the northern part of England. Her daughter took her there."Do you know I sat in a church built for the workers in the northern part of England. The townspeople were so glad to meet one of the famous Green Family. It was Maud Green who married Parr. Later her daughter Katherine married King Henry who had lost his fifth wife.
   You have probably guessed by now. But these seniors have added more lust to their life, and I don't mean food. The look forward to breaking bread with Barbara, in fact, a few even bow. I am the one who courts her.
   Today at the Oaks Cafe sliced turkey with potatoes is served. I cut the turkey pieces for her and she digs in. The news about her robust heart makes her upbeat today. She does not even wish to play the piano. I force her. Sometimes I have to hum the tune for her. She has dementia, like most of the others. She often repeats herself.
   "George, when I visited England with my daughter. We visited a church, and when the priest found out I was from the Green family, he roasted the town people. The Greens had owned a lot of property and my Mom told me they raised thousands of sheep, and were the largest wool makers in England."
  'No Barbara, put away your money. Maybe later we can come to a figure. Don't forget your left overs.From now on, don't bring hard cash with you."
  "But George, what if I get stranded. At least I can buy a ride home"
  A Taxi van comes and picks her up. It is called a lift. And By God, does she give me a lift too.
It looks like Barbara hooked a fish. An I am the fish. Just spent time in the Carlsbad library in on the second floor's genealogy area. John Greene, the Surgeon, did come to Rhode Island and helped Roger Williams settle the new state. He did return to England and was granted a parcel of the state.
   In 1658, The first Jewish synagogue was founded in Touro, Rhode Island. They were given religious liberty and their flock prospered.  Touro Synagogue was built to a thriving community. Nathaniel Green fought along side of George Washington and a General George Green fought in the Civil War.
   The Greens held offices in Rhode Island like Governor and etc. It looks like I have begun to write her story.

Another Beautiful Day in San Diego

   Well, the flu shot did not kill me, yet. For the first time in over a week and a half, I woke up with my eyes open. I began reading my book about Queen Katherine Parr, the six wife of King Henry the Eighth.
    Well, you have guessed it. In my 74th year,I finally fell in love. Her name is Barbara and is related to King Henry through the Green family. But that is another story. Her dainty face looks just like Queen Cathy, and like me, she plays the Encinitas piano by ear. We eat lunch  together at Table 5 at the L'l Oak Cafe.
   Earlier that morning,  I made two sandwiches, a tuna and salami. Earlier I  bought two bananas and Tropicana orange juice from the Seven Eleven on the corner, and a Bic razor. It was now six o'clock. I needed to place my sandwiches and bananas inside my knapsack. I left the Y feeling exuberant. That is what a good book does to me. I turned 'Pissers' corner and strode across India Street on my way to the Santa Fe Station. (The homeless use the back of the dumpster for their toilets.)
   It was now six ten. The Tijuana Blue arrived. A few domestics jumped off and followed me to the Coaster Train. The laborers and domestic needed to buy a ticket from the machine across from an Amtrak train on track two.
   I entered car one and finished my Tropicana orange juice. Old Town arrived, the fist stop for the commuter train. I got off and walked to my car. It must have showered over night since my little Cavalier flashed back at me.
   I left the Old Town Commuter lot at about six forty, and found my way to the 5 freeway by way of Rosecrans and headed north to Encinitas. At exactly six forty five, the traffic purred along with no hitches. Every car was going over seventy except one. She went sixty and I had to change lanes without shouting at her. I was glad it was not raining.
  I felt like a new born babe with clean oxygen entering my body. What a shame it can't rain everyday.  My exit arrived and I pumped ten dollars worth at a gas station. Even my car's windows did not need to be wiped. The black dust that hangs over San Diego and all of its satellites is the worst in the United States. The high pollen count and humidity make the cities hostage to this cancerous disease since our immune system breaks down.  
The Encinitas Senior Center opened at eight  and I put my book down and entered. I began to write the above story when another on a computer eight shouted, "Somebody did not log off....I can't get my e mails."
It is a joke. Those in control of the commuter center give the seniors a low priority when it comes to fixing the computers. Just wait until the next elections. In the next  hour, I would be seeing the love of my life, Barbara and enjoy her graceful way of showing off her charms. And her piano playing of the Hallelujah Chorus is breathtaking.
   Like I said, It is another beautiful day in San Diego where the old become young again for at least another day.   

An Accident on San Diego rails

  Today is the twenty third of November. I entered the coach car and released the foot rest and sat back. The lady porter had spoken about the trains being held up for hours. The porter, who I will call Irene, came to my seat. "How you doing Mr. Garrett? You headed for Encinitas again?"
   I nodded and asked what had happened yesterday. "A Coaster train hit a pedestrian which backed up the train schedules for hours. Apparently he was only injured."
   'Have a good day" Irene. I unraveled the curtains to ward off sun. It was the brightest and most beautiful day I had ever seen. Too bad we don't have more days like today. The trains air conditioning unclogged my sinuses and made my engine, I mean heart, purr. The train slowly left the station for the first of its Coaster stops.
   One middle age man ambled on. He appeared to have been in a train wreck. His hair needed mowing and his face was cut in two places. He probably had been in a street brawl. The man across from me was cradled a beer mug. The long untidy hair and three day growth of whiskers told me he was headed for Oceanside. There were two Latinos in the car. The older was headed for Oceanside and had her hair braided in pig tails.
    "Our next stop coming up is Encinitas. The stop will be short. Don't forget anything. Thank you Gentleman for riding Amtrak." I walked to my car and so began a busy productive day thanks to Amtrak. I drove to a 12 step meeting on Canon and enjoyed the meeting. After the meeting, I went to the Tip Top for a hardy lunch of liver, potatoes and cabbage.
   I visited the Carlsbad library and afterwards, drove to Moonlight Bay Beach for a little beach volleyball. I first bought some grapes, eggs, and oranges at Smart and Final and parked on a hill overlooking the beach. In the distance were dark clouds. Another set of, this time, white clouds kissing the ocean made me upset i did not have a camera.
   Everyone was zooming in on this memorable scene. I had never seen so many white clouds hover just over the ocean. At five twenty, my Coaster train came. My body felt limp. What a day, and it all began on Amtrak.

 
   It has been about two weeks after my flu shot, and finally I feel myself. Yet I still wished to go slow. Yesterday's rain brought the colors out. Everything was beautiful. On TV, they were  I agI thought I would die from my flu shot. At least on Wednesday, I was able to breath. I had left my thumb drive in the Coronado Library's computer the previous day, and needed to catch the 901 back to the scene of the crime. Fortunately, a librarian had it tucked away in a small drawer. That was a load off of my mind. With my Asthmatic bronchial condition, not enough air circulates inside my brain.
  Instead of taking the Coaster to the Village at Carlsbad, I decided to travel first class. That meant staying in later. My book, Catherine Parr kept my mind excited and my little radio's classical music put me in the frame of mine I needed to attack the day.
  I made a tuna and salami sandwich and hightailed it to the Santa Fe Station. The gongs sounded the first call boarding, A line of several passengers climbed into the spacious and elegant coach class cars. I took a seat on the first level reserved for those over 62 or disabled. I am both, can't you guess by now?
  Most of the disable seats are filled up. A passenger porter comes down the aisle, and comes to my seat.I show him my Compass Card. "Where are you going?"
  "I am on my way to the Village, Carlsbad that is." He placed a small cardboard above me. It reads, "Car" That is his way of keeping track when somebody is to get off. He goes down the aisle to two Latinos. They both show him their Coaster tickets. This is one of two Amtrak trains that accept Coaster tickets in the morning. 
   Neither speak English. After some confusion, one utters Encinitis, and the other Oceanside. A man across from them translates.
   Heaven can wait. I flip down the foot rest, and recline my seat with a knob beside it. I am relaxed. I ask the conductor if he had been to Tijuana lately. "No way sir. Do you wish me to be killed?" The train disembarks to all points North. It makes all the Coaster Stops and there are many passengers who get on at Sorrento Valley and Solano Beach. Many are on their way north to stops like Orange and Los Angeles.
   Their are no bumps or bruises on this ride. It is first class. I sip some 7/11 Mocha and read my book about the sixth wife of Henry the Eight.
   "Our stops are fast. So make sure you are ready since the doors will shut immediately."  
   The Village is now in sight. I put my book and writing inside back pack and climb down. I enjoy the walk, even though my breathing is labored. In fact my mind tells me I must walk if I wish to make it to seventy five.
  
b

A San Diego Thanksgiving

   Every Day is Thanksgiving for me. San Diego has provided me with a new life. I have gotten rid of most of the turkeys in my life stick with those with Godly connections.You might call me a Godaholic, even though it does not exist in Mr. Webster's dictionary.
   That's right. I don't drink, smoke or even caddy to the softer sex. For me give me that old time religion. I visit the Immaculate Conception Church every Sunday. At the end of the Sunday Mass, a reverend provides a cookie to eat. It must have something to do with Jesus Christ, but I do it. Also, we say "hello" to each other.
   Just like a transistor radio that needs its antenna turned in a more powerful direction, the closer I come to God, the more I need less control. I have many people to be thankful for. On the top of my head comes Mr. Singleton, then Eddie, Barbara, Horst, Abe, Ron, David, Thomas and a host of others.
  It was Mr. Singleton who told me to remove salt, sugar and coffee in my diet. His blood pressure at Ralph's registered 110/70, while mine was 170/110. That was about two years ago. Mine is now 120/80, and that is after having a flu shot.
   Eddie provided me with direction during turbulent times. I can still hear his voice utter, "George, don't react. George, a psychotic does the same thing over and over with the same result. Say Goodby Hazel.
    Table 5 at the Encinitis Senior Center provides unconditional love during lunch times. Barbara is related to Katherine Parr, the sixth wife of King Henry the Eight. She plays a wicket piano Horst one of a handful who survived a Auschwitz death march at the end of the war. I am writing his and Barbara's sagas, if God permits me..

  Most of all, my connection with my family is tight. I now have a new addition to the Jewish Line of Goldberg's. It is Allison, who has joined Olivia. I hope to take my three year old to see the Nutcracker Sweet playing at the Speckles theater up the street on Broadway.
   Since my pockets are threadbare, and I need to make things simple. I will visit my blind brother in an Assistant Living House. He looks forward to a Thanksgiving with his brother George. 

San Diego's Trolleys

   The Blue Line Trolley has arrived at the All American Plaza. Mainly domestics and laborers from Tijuana spill out. Some are running across Kettner to the Santa Fe Station to ride the Green Line. Others scramble to track three where the Coaster waits next to an Amtrak train.
    The All American Plaza is the home of Bank of Mexico, or the more familiar name  of Bank of America. At any time, Mexicans are cashing checks or sending money somewhere. The tellers in this corner bank speak good Spanish, as they should. San Diego is in a hurry to make everyone speak their native language.
    Now the Plaza has a large canopy covering it. It is the main stop for many who enter and return to the home of the Mariachis and the best food in the land. Imperial Station is the last stop before transferring to the Blue Line that takes the workers back home across the border.
     The buses take many of the domestics to a residence in La Jolla, Pacific or Mission Beach. The number 30 bus drops them off close to their destination. They are hardest workers in San Diego, and now to the second what time a bus is due to leave. Half today are asleep on the 30 bus that swivels around the beach communities until it arrives at the VA Hospital.
     They reenter the bus at about two or three o'clock. Some carry trash bags full of cans or left overs from their matrons. Their one hundred dollars take home is translated to three hundred across the border. Of course the laborers enter the bus a bit later. Like the domestics, they are hard workers.
      Since I enjoy the Coronado Library and take the 901 bus there, I have had the chance to sit with these ladies who triple as a maid, baby sitter, and cook. The Coronado residents pay them more handsomely than other homes in the San Diego area. San Diego would be in big trouble without these hard workers. No Mexican begs in the streets of San Diego. They work hard for their money.
    Many take the Blue Line from the Iris Station by the border not to work. They need to take Aunt Estelle or their wife who is pregnant to a hospital. San Diego provides what Mexico does not seem to...good health care. More to come
 
   

Election Day is Tuesday.

   Sixty died on the streets of San Diego last year. There are ten thousand homeless sleeping on the streets of San Diego.
   I first confronted Black Death about one year ago. To get to the Grinder Coffee Shop on Front and G Streets, I had to walk over a black body huddled a few feet from a store front. I sat down and slowly allowed my Mocha drink to pick me up. A heard a wailing siren in the distance. The sound pierced my ear as the ambulance got close. Then there was no noise, except for my lips lapping up more of the pick-me-up.
   The corps, like all corps, looked too black. This one at least still had shoes to cover his feet. Many remove their flip-flops in order to scratch the dead scales off of their lizard looking feet. Within a few minutes, the Hurst left with its body.
    The other San Diego awakens at night or early morning. Ralph's shopping carts, bicycles tied to a wagon, or luggage pullers walk up Broadway. Nary a Mexican or Chinese person can be seen in these parades. All are a bleached white, or black. Some speak to no-one, and others scream "s..t" or "f..k" to everyone within a one mile radius.
    Do any one of the four candidates speak about the homeless problems in San Diego? They only care about their constituents. A Mr. F... a month ago felt proud he got an easement for his La Jolla group of residents. Does he or the others walk the precincts of downtown San Diego.
    "Brother can you spare a dime?"
    "Not today, but ask me when my check arrives."
 

  

Balboa Park Senior Dance.

   "Ill dance with you on one condition. You'll help me back if my legs don't hold up. I haven't danced in thirty years and have a bad case of arthritis."
   I helped Carol to her feet. she felt like a dead weight. Every other Thursday, the Balboa Bay Club sponsors dances in Balboa Park. It is at the end of President's Way and one stop removed from the Zoo.   Carol did not know her own strength and held up fine during Strauss's Vienna Woods waltz. In fact she wished a second dance but now my legs felt shot. She thanked me profusely since it had been a long, long time since the last time she shook off the cob webs from her legs.
   Most of these seniors have had better days judging by their angular gait and blotches on their hands and legs. I also have had better times. Well at one time, most of my girl friends thought I was more handsome than Robert Redford. He was a famous movie star in the old days. used to look like Robert Redford, a famous movie star in the olden days.
   I felt a little embarrassed at the dance. A Dr. Torch, at Kaiser,  burned several some precancerous spots from my face and head.  I made sure not to look into the mirror after my Monday of disfigurement. At least I still owned four front teethe.
   At first I felt tired. During our break, I  feasting on grapes, cheese and a cake. The band played a medley of military tunes that honored all branches of the service, even the Coast Guard. The veterans were honored and two men at my table took a Rose with them. The sugar energized me and I then felt like a thirty year old.
   I danced with Carmen, Nancy and a few others. The Royal band began playing a polka and there staring me in my  eyes was Gloria. This Gloria was tall, slim and gloomy. I moves put a smile on her gloomy face. She always looks as if Jack the Ripper is about to attack her. She finally looked at me and smiled. I began to get excited.
    Even when two gals refused a Shirley Temple at the Prado could not change my mood. At three thirty I went to a piano in the front of the building and entertained for a few people along with Sally. Sally could have played for two more hours.
    So I did two out of the three activities I live for: dancing, and piano playing. My evening ended with a Halibut fish dinner along with a fresh crispy salad with celery and tomatoes.

   Today, I went to the Church of Immaculate Conception in Old Town. I then left for the Coronado Library to finish my football story, and of course, write about my Balboa Park experience. I just got back from a Schubert piano recital at the Library.  .
 

Obama Care, San Diego.

"Only if the computers work on January the first." 
  
  I had just motored down from L.A, and had time for a quick number one meal at the Tip Top Cafe in Carlsbad. I had left at five thirty and arrived at the famous cafe at seven fifteen. 
  I sat down to toast, two strips of bacon, scrambled eggs and coffee. After my toilet, I returned to Dolly, my car, and took Palomar Road to San Marcos to a dermatologist. It is a fifteen minute trek to the hospital a block or two from the 15 freeway. 
  The song Ava Maria plays in my head. I take Discovery Blvd to my final destination. What used to be my gorgeous freckles are now liver spots or some type of Keratosis. 
  I arrive exactly at eight o'clock. A Philippine nurse escorts me to a room and asks me why I am here. She seems troubled. 
   "We have added staff to fill the needs of our universal health care which begins on January first...What are you in for?" 
  After the usual answers, I hear a knocking at the door. Dr. Torch arrives but looks quite different than two years ago. No longer is the Hollywood, California doctor bald. Hair had grown. 
  I call him Dr. Torch since he used too much anti-freeze to remove my cancerous skin pimples. He seems in a happy mood. 
  "I am the fastest zapper in the hospital, but patients have complained of my speed."  
   "How is Kaiser boning up for Obama health care?"
   "If the computers work, I foresee no problems."
   He zapped four our five malignant spots and I left to the Coaster ten o'clock train to San Diego. My head burned a bit, but I felt happy I had lived long enough to enjoy my two grand daughters in Los Angeles. 
   The Coaster is filled to capacity The ticket man enters our compartment and stops at an elderly couple who sit in back of me. 
   "Where are your tickets?"     
   "We were told we could buy them on the train. And we barely made it on time." 
   "When you get to the Santa Fe Station, buy the tickets at the machines. Have a good day." 
   We arrived in Santa Fe. After detraining, I noticed a crowded Pacific Highway, and a throng line up on Harbor Drive. I had forgot that it was the Eleventh of November, and Veterans Day.  

   Yet I too am a Veteran. To have brought up two beautiful daughters, and now two gorgeous grand daughters. Allison and Olivia are perfect, even though I have vaulted many hurdles to make it happen.  I  did it. I did it. I did it. And I live to see it! 

Ocean Beach, the Surf is Up

Now Most of you are familiar with Mission, Pacific, or La Jolla Beach. But what about O.B? 

 My day began at Perry's cafe next to Old Town. My stomach felt happy for the first time in two weeks. My retirement check finally arrived late, but just in the nick of time. Our Governor Brown now places my retirement check in a a bin for bulk mail. He does not care a cent for teachers. Just ask those with furlough days.
   I left the downtown area of San Diego and took the Green Trolley to Old Town. I drove my car a block to  Perry's Cafe, on the corner of Rosecrans and Pacific Drive. I felt like eating a horse. I turned right into their banquet room.
    "I would life the pork chops with scrambled eggs and muffins." I held a Starbucks coffee in my right hand. It felt good to have money in my side pocket.
    "I will be right back, honey." I felt proud to have not reacted. All waitresses call me "honey" and I detest it. The word is reserved to only ladies who adore me, or when I need to dress up my pancakes.

    Five minutes later the breakfast arrived. I poured ketchup and salt over my eggs and sliced one of the two paper-thin pork Chops. My stomach turned over causing suds to enter my mouth.
   "Is there anything else you want, honey?" Yes stop calling me honey you b..." 
    After my ten dollar meal, I returned my car to the Old Town commuter parking lot, and waited for the number 35 bus to arrive. It is the OB bus or Ocean Beach. The bus soon arrived and the driver left for a ten minute pit stop. Some drivers have their cars parked in the parking lots.
    He returned to a long line of people. I read a map of San Diego while the bus did a circle dance through Midway, then Point Loma Blvd which led to Cable Street. I debused on the corner of Newton and Cable.
The print shop at the end of the pier was closed. It was only eight thirty and Solomon would open it at ten.
   The mile long pier beckoned. Some tattooed hoodies were asleep next to the pier.  There was but one fisherman on the pier, probably because it was too hot and sunny. Fish apparently life it cold and foggy. The long walk built up another appetite.
   A bevy of twenty or so surfers took advantage of the endless long and large sets. I grew tired watching their arms catch a wave for the day. One large wave after another rolled in. It was a surfers paradise today. I felt happy to have worn my wide floppy hat since the sun would have made mince meat out of my sun bleached skin. 
  A stack of buttermilk pancakes arrived. I drowned them in honey without saying a word. A limping pelican looked up at me. Below swimming in the ocean were six baby mallards and their adoring mother's watchful eyes.
 Up ahead on the shore my eyes focused on on the breakers slamming on big rocks in front of two large walls that separated the water from the weather beaten apartments. I paid my fare and walked to the pier's beginning. I sat for a few minutes and watched the breakers splash so high the water came up to my legs.
  I went to the print shop and accepted the proof. I had two hours now to burn. Now I have been to La Jolla, Mission, and other beaches, but fell in love with Ocean Beach. I walked up Cable Street and heard what I thought to be a ram's horn.
  It sounded like a Rabbi blowing the New Year's in. A chap was instead blowing a the big horn of an antelope and on key. A heavy set man had blown into an Elk's horn. He sounded just like a Cantor during the Jewish High Holidays. I made him blow it several times until he stopped and placed his hand over my head. He proceeded to make a prayer for me. It took all of five minutes.
  "It took me three blows to learn how to get that sound. It was a pleasure to meet you. I said good by to him and his too little Chinese wife. I needed to return to the printing company to grab my business cards.

The IRS in San Diego

 I finally decided to do it. I would take on the Internal Revenue Service. 
   I have not paid taxes for the last several years. But I had a good reason not to pay. I will not go into my reasons today, but will keep you updated.  
   The Internal Revenue Service  is located at 880 Front Street. It is under the bridge that links two court buildings. I believe it is called the Schwartz building, out of respect for one of San Diego's great men. 
    I had arrived the week before but a checker told me the room "and return at eight o'clock in order to get heard." I did what she had told me two days later. 
   I arrived under the arch and planted myself against the wall.   Already five others had cued up and waited on this cold windy day. Archways always bring out the best in breezes. Just ask the buses. 
    My Charles Dickens story book made me forget the turbulent winds. Dickens'es family once served time in debtors' prison and sitting in the cold passageway made me aware of how they must have felt.  Cars whizzed by, sirens sounded and the usual cuss words were thrown in my direction. A few waiters moved away in a huff for a puff. The wind carried the smoke into my lungs. 

  The door opened at eight forty and I emptied my pockets and removed my belt. A few coins spilled from my pockets to the floor.   I felt nervous from a night of endless sleeplessness. And since my retirement check had been late, my stomach growled is displeasure. I asked a man who screened the protesters how long it would take. 
  "We are understaffed, and it has been this way for over one year."   
  I stood in line and a chap told me to take a number and wait  to be called. I was the fifth to enter the building. The same type of a speaker system came on every thirty-or-so minutes. "Will 501 go to door number 11."    
   501, 502 and 503 took one and one half hours. I wished to go to a senior lunch at the Immaculate Conception Church by eleven. I would forgo the lunch and ignore the wishes of my stomach. 
   Number 504's number was called. This man spoke like a barker in a circus. I knew the "hoody" might take all of one hour. I decided to ignore my stomach.
   Just then an alarm went on. The alarmed registered went from C flat to E sharp, again and again. God told me to try another day, but this time to bring food, coffee, and a sleeping bag. 
   At least I felt good at finally tackling my number one problem, The Tax collector.

  Before you leave, my trials with the tax collector brought to mine a story my Reverend told last Sunday. I go to the Immaculate Conception church in Old Town. He spoke about a tax collector in the City of Jericho. I will paraphrase the story. By the way, the old church provides peace and succor when I am without. Not bad for a reborn Jew.
  "Jesus entered Jericho and an enthusiastic crowd circled him. Above them watched the tax collector or Caleb for the city. He climbed a sycamore tree to witness this so-called-son of God. Jesus walked over to the tree, and spoke to him."
   The tax collector invited him in for the choicest of foods. After a while the tax collector collected himself and spoke. 'I sill give one half of my possessions to the poor.' Of course his role now was reversed and he felt good about his repentance." 
     
    " A father asked him son Billy what is needed to get to heaven?"
    " He can go to heaven by dropping dead, or becoming a tax collector."       

New Rules for Amtrak

"Can I see your ticket...Now your ID." 
  
   I had just entered the 10:48 Amtrak going to L.A.   Reverend Erik , at the Immaculate Conception Church in Old Town, provided me with biblical stories I sorely needed.  The Franchise Tax Board had placed a lean on my bank account. My stomach had to endure a week of peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. My buddy lent me twenty and the Reverend did the rest.
   "Why do you wish to see my ID and compass card. The Amtrak rules clearly state the tickets must be checked on the platform."
   "That was before the killing at the Los Angeles Airport. We are now clamping down on everything...Mam, you can't place your baggage on the seats. Put them in the luggage compartment back there...My Mom had to wait seven hours outside the L.A. Airport before she was led back inside. "
   "Thank you Mr. Schwartz, continue to do a good job. I love using my Compass ticket to get to Encinitas. The ride is smooth and I enjoy chatting with those going further than Oceanside. My old black Cavalier was waiting for me. The twenty I borrowed gave me enough for some barely soup at the Tip Top Cafe in Carlsbad. Then  I drove here to the Carlsbad Library to complete my football story.

  I can still hear the soft notes of the Reverend. "Jesus entered the city of Jericho. A crowd surrounded him. The tax collector of the city climbed  Sycamore tree to see him. Jesus spoke to the tax collector even though the crowd became disappointed with him.
   The tax collector invited him inside and said, "One half of what I own will now go to the homeless." Jesus thanked him and departed.
   The Reverend ended the one hour service with this story. "A Dad asked his son 'What must you do to go to heaven?' The son responded, either die or become a tax collector.
   I will be returning on the 7:20 Amtrak train, and of course using my bipolar Compass pass. 

   Now I am getting the hang of it. I have found I am no longer a slave to the Coaster schedule. And the Coaster ride is so, so smooth. It's trains don't jerk and bump me around. So in the morning, I can casually line up for the eight or ten o'clock Amtrak and meet a real tourists. Will you excuse me. Several Chinese are climbing aboard car number 4 which leaves the Santa Fe Station at eight twenty..
   "No No No!" These seats are for old people like me, or with disabilities. Place, I said place your luggage here, I said here." They pay no attention until I take one of their silver cases and deposit it on a rack in back of car number 4.
   They soon get the hint and place their baggage on the rack. I wave my hand to show them to climb upstairs where the younger passengers ride. They give me a Chinese smile, and it makes my day. I press a button to drop my seat a bit and turn on the light. I am finishing Tale of Two Cities finally and getting ready to visit the hideouts of Charles Dickens.
   "Hi Mr. Garrett. You going to Encinittas again?" Why do you go there so often?" 
   "I enjoy playing their piano during lunch and have fallen in love."
   "Aren't you too old?"
   "Only when I look in the mirror. Barbara is related to Katherine Parr, the sixth wife of Henry the Eighth. She had seven kids to the Vice President of Bechtel Corporations. He died too young, but today she plays the piano during our lunches here at the Senior Center in Encinitis."
    The steward walks away leaving me to my Dickens book. Outside my window I see a man Torry Pine trees and finally the ocean. I will never forget a passenger going to Oceanside on the Coaster about one year ago. It was a foursome and a lady remarked, What is the name of that River?
    I threw my hands over my mouth to muzzle my laughter. It amazes me how many people have never seen or know the name of the ocean out the west side of the window. We all had a good laugh.
   "Mr. Garrett, the next stop is Encinitas." She removed an overhead ticket with "Enc" inscribed and wished me a good day.
    I was the only one on the platform, and walked to my car parked a few cars away. From there I would take myself to the Senior Center. and look forward to Barbara playing Halleluiah. For rest of the day I ride the keyboards of their computers or the keys of their two pianos.  ride the sounds of music

 

 
 

The Sixth wife of King Henry the Eighth

"You have to play the piano now Barbara."  I open the keyboard and the frail little one sits down and plays. Four months ago, she told me, "I am waiting for God to take me. I am ready! That was four months ago. Now a van picks this thin 84 year old up and takes her for her lunch at the Encinitas Senior Center, close to San Diego.
  She appeared sad, too sad..She sat alone at table number 5. Table 5 included Abe, Ron, Jay Boy, and me. She looked lighter than a feather, but something about her told me she came from Royal Blood. She folded her hands by her side, and looked lost.
   The had difficulty playing it at first. Her dainty fingers had forgotten. "Can you hum the songs to me." Like me, I found out she played by ear. A smile came over her face while her fingers began to remember their touch.
   I began to hum songs like You made me love you, or Let me call you sweet heart and a new Barbara felt alive again. Without a Song the Day would never end.
   Now she can play many tunes without a need to have me hum the melody. She enjoys conversing with Gregorio, Abe, Ron, and now Horst. She looks forward to these luncheons. It is not a coincidence she looks royal and has an ear for music. I sifted information out of this 84 year old doll. Her Mother told her about her heritage.

   "My family immigrated from England. They were Babtists and found they could practice their religion here. Their leader was John Green, the Surgeon. He had owned lots of property and his forefathers went back t the time of King Henry the Seventh."
   "They settled in Rhode Island where the first Jewish synagogue was built. I lived in Highland Park, and my Mom took me to my first piano lessons. My uncle played for the Los Angeles Philharmonic, and an earlier one played in Europe and was considered our first great musician."
   "My Dad took me for my seventh lesson and I did not like how he abused me. I quit although my teacher was devastated. He knew I had lots of talent."
   "I worked at Clifton's restaurant in Los Angeles cleaning tables, and also a model in a clothing store. We were not far from the Santa Fe and remember my Mom giving food to the hobos who climbed the tops of the cars. (More to come.)  .