"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) .
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