It's another Red Flag Day in San Diego. The deadly northeasterly breeze will bring Black Death back to San Diego. My sinuses had kicked up last night after I joined my rabbi for a nightly service in Little Italy. Yet this morning I felt great.
The T.V.'s weather report signaled for a change in my daily routine. San Diego weather would break the record books. Three days in the nineties, not much to look forward to. I needed to avoid any type of exercise. My asthma would kick up a storm placing my bronchial tubes and life in jeopardy. Yet I wished to announce the completion of my book about 'Amby' Schindler.
I wished the San Diego City Counsel to make May 21st, Ambrose Schindler Day. He will be only 97 years old next month, the 21st. He played his football in San Diego in the thirties. Then he transferred to U.S.C. where he became a living legend.
I took a long shower to remove the pollen from my head. I left the 'Y' at eight thirty, bought my usual two bananas for one dollar at the corner Seven Eleven. One tooth Mr. Fong screamed in Chinese for loose change. Many homeless live at the corner of C Street and India Avenue. Their EBT card allows them to buy just about anything, and keeps them alive.
His Ralph's basket of clothes and supplies were in back of him. He smiled and danced his way to me. We made it a twosome. I gave him one dollar and seven fingers flew in my face.
"When I get paid on the first, Mr. Fong." I then walked down C Street to the City Hall of Administration. I would announce my story at today's ten o'clock meeting. A lady at the desk told me I would have to return at two o'clock "Their meeting will be closed to the public." Now I have heard that before. The real stuff goes on behind clothes doors. Just ask Ex-Mayor Felt-More.
I took a contrary action. I wished to go to a seminar on genealogy at the San Diego Library. I left the trolley on Market and Park and turned west to a battery of eateries. I skipped the Brooklyn Bagel and a Juice store and headed to my favorite at Petco Park Corner. Lolita's and her friendly cold air conditioning was waiting. I entered and ordered.
"Like to buy a bottle of water and the burrito and ham sandwich" "What?" I repeated myself...a few times. "We out of water. would you like Squirt?" "Give me the one with the top and open it for me." She gave me the drink and I grabbed a window stool with a view of Petco Park.
A picture of two San Diego's described what I saw. One dog walker after another was showcasing their breed. Some were running and a few others walked. One Dalmatian provoked its handler. Now I have never seen a dog lick a man's butt until today.
The man tried and tried to get him off his royal ass, but without luck. He moved this way and that without convincing the dog. Fido had locked his nose to his back side. Just maybe he was thirsty. Finally, he made a big maneuver and put the leach and dog in front of him. He gave this slick white dog a kiss on his nose. That seemed to calm his mongrel.
My burrito breakfast to-go was brought to me. It was too hot to eat. In fact it was too hot to live. Yet the air conditioner kept my radiator cool and the Ozone, particles and pollen out. The piped in disco music made my legs do a jig. The waitress laughed. A gal came back and wished my autograph. I told her it would cost next time.
It was now nine thirty I walked one block and waited for the library to open. A larger hoard of patrons waited for the gates of their spring home to open. They rushed in, but not me. I did not wish to be run over by this sea of inhumanity Instead I went to the eighth floor for a computer. They were taken so I reserved one for later in the day.
My meeting on Genealogy was set for ten o'clock. My asthma began to kick up the dust and unseen ozone. For the first time, I needed to use my puffer in order to breath. The first floor room had allowed the Deadly air to enter. So after one hour, I left the symposium and got help looking up the ancestry of Schindler.
I find it hard to believe that an issue about who could use the microfiche computer in the California room on the ninth floor. A United States Census did reveal Schindler's Mom Nelly had been married the first time at age 22.
I have heard ambulances all day, and why not? It is another Red Flag Day in San Diego. That evening, my daughter called after a long nap. I heard my second granddaughter say 'Papa' over the phone. Now energized, I took the nine o'clock Amtrak to my car in Encinitas.
The train gave me the pure oxygen I needed. At Encinitas, I found the ten o'clock temperature to my liking. I drove back to San Diego and parked it at the Old Town Commuter Station. I did not take my blood pressure pill since my heart needed all its energy to beat the heat. (I discovered that blood pressure pills kick out much needed water.)
Today it is Thursday, and I am still alive. I wonder why the hotel owners don't allow us to have air conditioners. Is it all about money. I never would have known it but our heat was the highest in the country.
I spent the early morning hours at Starbuck's on the corner of Kettner and India Avenue. Starbuck's game plan is to keep the room cold and present cold drinks on hot days and the reverse on cold ones.
I sat by a round table drinking a Arrowhead quart of water, yes water and reading my New York Times. "Mocha for Jean", "Ice Latte for Betty", "Ice Coffee for Carmen". The Starbucks lines were out the door.
Wednesday evening I spent part of the late afternoon with disgruntled passengers at Lindbergh Field. A glitch in some system in Los Angeles caused a long delay in most Southland flights. I spoke with two gentleman from Mexico.
"I was born in upstate Minnesota. All I did was fish and shovel ice. Now I live in Sacramento. My buddy and I came down to Mexico to stay with our friend. We spent a week fishing."
"What did you catch."
"A dozen Red Snappers. I cleaned, marinated, and salted them before dropping them inside a large cooler...Got t go now, my plane is going to take off.
Tuesday, April 29, 2014
Sunday, April 27, 2014
The Carlsbad Inn Beach Resort
"It's a time share sir. The seventy thousand dollars is the cost for one weeks pleasure at the resort every year.You can will it to somebody, of course at the Carlsbad Inn."
"I love the view from the terrace. Has it been updated. I had no idea Inn covered a city block and its has so many rooms."
"Yes, we renovated it, as you can see. Here's my card and brochure to reach me.
I thanked both Yolanda and the manager. The large resort sits over the beautiful Pacific Ocean. It is at the intersection of Carlsbad Village and Carlsbad Drive Boulevard. I walked a few feet south and noticed that the famous Harbor Fish Restaurant now housed patrons outside. The catch of the day was a Salmon lunch for $17 and all of the trimmings.
I moved further south and took up a perch on one of the four benches. The Pacific Ocean demonstrated its spring beauty. Below me members of the Carlsbad Volleyball Club practiced sets. Not a cloud in the sky today with a pleasant on shore breeze. I had time to digest the Tuna on a Croissant sandwich from Linda's Ice Cream Store. My wet pants needed time to dry. I forgot to wear my Depends. Two ladies walked by. One stopped and eyed my baseball cap. At first I believed she was fishing for my phone number.
"Sorry but the White Sox lost last night." She had an engaging smile and your typical beach wear: shorts and a hanging blouse to hide the middle age spread."
"Miss, I stole the hat at the last San Diego Jazz festival, since somebody had taken mine. But I am writing about Alonzo Stagg and also 'Papa' Bear Halas. Here is my card.
"Are you kidding me? As a kid, we always went to Stagg Field. He was an institution." We said our good-buys and I continued to soak up the rays. God could not have provided me with a better April day.
I returned to the intersection of the Two Carlsbad Boulevards. It now had a fancy traffic system. We now could walk diagonally across, instead of waiting for two lights. Where the famous Twin Inn's one stood had been taken over by a surfboard company and the other the Water and Land Company. Yet the three story Victorian building still stood, but with mud in her eyes.
I walked into the now restaurant on the north side. A couple explained that the new owner borrowed the name of its original owner. She knew that in the nineteenth century, the Village began as a water stop. The purist of all waters was discovered before the Inn was built on its site.
A sign at a corner reminded me the famous Carlsbad Art Festival would be coming next weekend. It would have to compete with Mexican Independence Day at Old Town.
It is now almost two in the afternoon. I could not believe how beautiful Carlsbad was today. I thought about Edith and Harry. We stopped here for biscuits and chicken in the forties-that is if my Dad still carried change after wagering on horses at Old Del Mar, where the surf meets the surf.
And speaking about Del Mar, the track is getting a new suit of pants for the up-and-coming meet. I will be focusing on Del Mar in the weeks to come.
I finished my writing at the downtown Carlsbad Library. It is where I found my Ed, my 12 step sponsor, and also joined the North Counties Writer's group that met Monday mornings.
The end of the day was near. I felt too good today. I did not wish the perfect day to end. Short of change myself, I drove further south for fish and chips at Keno's. A young man greeted me and took my order.
Give me the baked but not the fries. "Do you want a salad?"
"Does it come with the fish and chips?..OK then give me the dinner with house dressing."After the delicious meal, I drove to the commuter lot to wait for the five thirty Coaster train. I ate some of the over ripe locquats I stole from a lot earlier.
After dinner with the sun setting, I parked my car inside the Encinitas' Commuter lot and waited for the 784 Amtrak seven twenty train for all stops south to San Diego.
It is great to sleep, read or talk while the train is ambling along the Scenic highway.
"I love the view from the terrace. Has it been updated. I had no idea Inn covered a city block and its has so many rooms."
"Yes, we renovated it, as you can see. Here's my card and brochure to reach me.
I thanked both Yolanda and the manager. The large resort sits over the beautiful Pacific Ocean. It is at the intersection of Carlsbad Village and Carlsbad Drive Boulevard. I walked a few feet south and noticed that the famous Harbor Fish Restaurant now housed patrons outside. The catch of the day was a Salmon lunch for $17 and all of the trimmings.
I moved further south and took up a perch on one of the four benches. The Pacific Ocean demonstrated its spring beauty. Below me members of the Carlsbad Volleyball Club practiced sets. Not a cloud in the sky today with a pleasant on shore breeze. I had time to digest the Tuna on a Croissant sandwich from Linda's Ice Cream Store. My wet pants needed time to dry. I forgot to wear my Depends. Two ladies walked by. One stopped and eyed my baseball cap. At first I believed she was fishing for my phone number.
"Sorry but the White Sox lost last night." She had an engaging smile and your typical beach wear: shorts and a hanging blouse to hide the middle age spread."
"Miss, I stole the hat at the last San Diego Jazz festival, since somebody had taken mine. But I am writing about Alonzo Stagg and also 'Papa' Bear Halas. Here is my card.
"Are you kidding me? As a kid, we always went to Stagg Field. He was an institution." We said our good-buys and I continued to soak up the rays. God could not have provided me with a better April day.
I returned to the intersection of the Two Carlsbad Boulevards. It now had a fancy traffic system. We now could walk diagonally across, instead of waiting for two lights. Where the famous Twin Inn's one stood had been taken over by a surfboard company and the other the Water and Land Company. Yet the three story Victorian building still stood, but with mud in her eyes.
A sign at a corner reminded me the famous Carlsbad Art Festival would be coming next weekend. It would have to compete with Mexican Independence Day at Old Town.
It is now almost two in the afternoon. I could not believe how beautiful Carlsbad was today. I thought about Edith and Harry. We stopped here for biscuits and chicken in the forties-that is if my Dad still carried change after wagering on horses at Old Del Mar, where the surf meets the surf.
And speaking about Del Mar, the track is getting a new suit of pants for the up-and-coming meet. I will be focusing on Del Mar in the weeks to come.
I finished my writing at the downtown Carlsbad Library. It is where I found my Ed, my 12 step sponsor, and also joined the North Counties Writer's group that met Monday mornings.
The end of the day was near. I felt too good today. I did not wish the perfect day to end. Short of change myself, I drove further south for fish and chips at Keno's. A young man greeted me and took my order.
Give me the baked but not the fries. "Do you want a salad?"
"Does it come with the fish and chips?..OK then give me the dinner with house dressing."After the delicious meal, I drove to the commuter lot to wait for the five thirty Coaster train. I ate some of the over ripe locquats I stole from a lot earlier.
After dinner with the sun setting, I parked my car inside the Encinitas' Commuter lot and waited for the 784 Amtrak seven twenty train for all stops south to San Diego.
It is great to sleep, read or talk while the train is ambling along the Scenic highway.
Saturday, April 26, 2014
Bang Bang Bang Went the Trolley
The Seven Eleven store on C Street begins my day. The cold north winds make it difficult to walk, but I make it to the American Plaza Station. I am in luck. The Blue Line Trolley is waiting for me. Before entering the train, I eat one of two bananas bought at the Seven Eleven, two for a dollar.
I waited in line for others to buy their chewing tobacco, cigarettes, power and energy drinks. Not for me though, the City of San Diego provides my energy bar. A bad canine tooth and allergies can't put this old man, a shade under 75, down today.
C Street at one time was called C Avenue. The big rollers in San Diego wished to rival New York and reversed the last name to Street. The Streets became Avenues. Of course there is another Street, bit this one works at Petco Park striking out hitters.
At eight forty, the bilingual Blue Trolley advances down C Street ever so slowly. It is the one that goes to the border for its pickups and deliveries. Thousands cross it every day. I wear a black beanie for my large ears since both of them requested it. Last night it sprinkled a bit. We had a blast of colder Alaskan air.
The street bag-packers had just gotten up. On fourth avenue several, a few homeless competed for one of five closeted potties. The Blue passed a C.V. S. and a Fed Ex store. Another wheel chair wished to be lifted. The conductor hit a button and a scale was lowered to load the sack of potatoes aboard.
The downtown area is the heart of San Diego. It's veins are C street and Park avenue. All of the trains make it to the Imperial Station on Thirteenth Avenue. From there, the Green Line waits to return to Old Town and Santee. The Orange goes to El Cajon and the Blue runs to the border. The Blue is the most traveled of any train.
My Mind kept thinking about Mr. Otis yesterday. The tall strapping man spoke in a loud voice, so loud everyone listened to his thunder. "Iz just come from fourth floor. So dam noisy, and asked the librarian to speak to the man cross me."
"He can do what he wants. It is a free country. Let him use his cell phone."
"Why so upset, I aks the man to keep it down. He ignored me. 'Hey niga, we same, keep it down!' he ignored me."
At that point a security guard came and told Mr. Otis to keep it down or leave. "Why me, don't we folks in library have to be quiet!"
"Well you will have to leave!"
"Don't you touch me...or else!"
I hoped the small white shirted security gal would refrain from speaking. I feared for her life, but agreed with Mr Otis. The over 150 computers are home to cell phones, noisy chatter, loud gum chewing, or even a few removing their shoes to scratch their feet. Anything goes with these up-to-date computers.
I got off at the Market Street and Park Boulevard
I wait for the light to change Green and say 'Hello' to the Brooklyn Bagel shop. I make a left on Tenth Avenue. There is a sushi restaurant across the street next to a pizza place. Up ahead is a Mexican cafe and on finally I arrive a block off of K Street.
After I order my ham burrito, I sit down with their Saturday U.T. or United Tribune. The two papers married in the middle thirties. The window takes up the wall. Outside, a few dogs are walking their masters and a few slimmers are running. A man removes a bottle from a trash can and puts it into his Ralph's Shopping cart.
After cars, buses and trains, San Diego has more shopping carts than inside Ralph's. Most are overloaded with a rope tied to a big bag of bottles and cans. A few more mouth-less homeless people slither buy. They walk like the end of a rope is holding them back.
My Lolita's burrito comes. Now besides my eyes, my stomach is satisfied. I read something about War World Three. Our President wishes to place more curbs on Russia. I laugh.Don't they get it. We did the same in 1939, the year I was born. Hell,, we did the same when I was born in 1939. If this is to be my last day in this mixed up world, let me spend it in the library. I love it on the ninth floor, and the good news is nobody is asking me for "loose change."
I waited in line for others to buy their chewing tobacco, cigarettes, power and energy drinks. Not for me though, the City of San Diego provides my energy bar. A bad canine tooth and allergies can't put this old man, a shade under 75, down today.
C Street at one time was called C Avenue. The big rollers in San Diego wished to rival New York and reversed the last name to Street. The Streets became Avenues. Of course there is another Street, bit this one works at Petco Park striking out hitters.
At eight forty, the bilingual Blue Trolley advances down C Street ever so slowly. It is the one that goes to the border for its pickups and deliveries. Thousands cross it every day. I wear a black beanie for my large ears since both of them requested it. Last night it sprinkled a bit. We had a blast of colder Alaskan air.
The street bag-packers had just gotten up. On fourth avenue several, a few homeless competed for one of five closeted potties. The Blue passed a C.V. S. and a Fed Ex store. Another wheel chair wished to be lifted. The conductor hit a button and a scale was lowered to load the sack of potatoes aboard.
The downtown area is the heart of San Diego. It's veins are C street and Park avenue. All of the trains make it to the Imperial Station on Thirteenth Avenue. From there, the Green Line waits to return to Old Town and Santee. The Orange goes to El Cajon and the Blue runs to the border. The Blue is the most traveled of any train.
My Mind kept thinking about Mr. Otis yesterday. The tall strapping man spoke in a loud voice, so loud everyone listened to his thunder. "Iz just come from fourth floor. So dam noisy, and asked the librarian to speak to the man cross me."
"He can do what he wants. It is a free country. Let him use his cell phone."
"Why so upset, I aks the man to keep it down. He ignored me. 'Hey niga, we same, keep it down!' he ignored me."
At that point a security guard came and told Mr. Otis to keep it down or leave. "Why me, don't we folks in library have to be quiet!"
"Well you will have to leave!"
"Don't you touch me...or else!"
I hoped the small white shirted security gal would refrain from speaking. I feared for her life, but agreed with Mr Otis. The over 150 computers are home to cell phones, noisy chatter, loud gum chewing, or even a few removing their shoes to scratch their feet. Anything goes with these up-to-date computers.
I got off at the Market Street and Park Boulevard
I wait for the light to change Green and say 'Hello' to the Brooklyn Bagel shop. I make a left on Tenth Avenue. There is a sushi restaurant across the street next to a pizza place. Up ahead is a Mexican cafe and on finally I arrive a block off of K Street.
After I order my ham burrito, I sit down with their Saturday U.T. or United Tribune. The two papers married in the middle thirties. The window takes up the wall. Outside, a few dogs are walking their masters and a few slimmers are running. A man removes a bottle from a trash can and puts it into his Ralph's Shopping cart.
After cars, buses and trains, San Diego has more shopping carts than inside Ralph's. Most are overloaded with a rope tied to a big bag of bottles and cans. A few more mouth-less homeless people slither buy. They walk like the end of a rope is holding them back.
My Lolita's burrito comes. Now besides my eyes, my stomach is satisfied. I read something about War World Three. Our President wishes to place more curbs on Russia. I laugh.Don't they get it. We did the same in 1939, the year I was born. Hell,, we did the same when I was born in 1939. If this is to be my last day in this mixed up world, let me spend it in the library. I love it on the ninth floor, and the good news is nobody is asking me for "loose change."
Friday, April 25, 2014
Earth Day is this Sunday
Balboa Park is again the scene of the anniversary of Earth Day on Sunday. Over 60, 000 will flood this stage for food, frolic and music. You will have to pay for food but not for the entertainment. So pack a bag with chips, sandwiches, and plenty of water. Bands will play throughout the Park.
Again, only fools drive into the city. The smart ones will park their cars at the many commuter stations for free and take the Coaster train into the Santa Fe Station. The #7 bus does not run Sunday on Broadway but the two Trolley's do. The Red and Blue Line Trolley's are a block from San Diego's train station. They both run east to City College where you should get off and walk up the hill to the Mecca of all Parks, Balboa.
And don't let the colors fool you. Just because all trains are colored red, don't believe it. Some dead beats in the city were color blind. The trains will probably run every 15 minutes and thank God the Padres left town or there would be a quagmire of people. Remember not to drive into the City. Begin your trip at the crack of dawn to avoid the freeway parking lots.
"Oh, you can't make it. Why not try the first weekend in May. It is the Cinco De Mayo so pack up and do the same. It will be held at Old Town where you can become a fun loving Mexican for the day. You can watch the grape vines and their new grapes grow. Figs are in season too early also. And don't forget the last of the locquats. There will be plenty of singing, dancing, drinking and who-knows-what-else?
Yesterday I had the time of my life, first at the Balboa Park Bay Club. Steve made me play their Steinway and afterwards, I decided to remain and see what little darlings might be mine today. I danced the afternoon away and it proved my dancing lessons had provided me with new moves for an old dancer.
I asked Dotty for a dance. She makes a stick look fat, but she is as light as a feather. During our slow two step we danced with our mouths.
"Well George, I am still dating him. He sends me flowers, cards almost every day." Is he the fifty year old? "Yes, but he is really fifty five. And he loves to go dancing. He never lets me out of his sight." Does he excite you? "Not at first, but I am getting used to his mustache and beard." Dotty will you marry me? "Next year George, next year."
It was getting late and I attempted to leave until Miss Prim asked me for a Polka. We began to jump around and I could not get over how Miss Prim felt in my arms. . She was as tall as me, but could not look squarely at me in the face. Miss Prim and Proper lives in La Jolla and putting a smile on her face had been fruitless, until today.
"Why Miss I caught you smiling. Here is my new card. Call me if you need an escort. I come with high credentials and play a mean piano." Miss Prim wished for another later and I told her one only, I needed to get home a meet Sam, the Taxi man. He is the guy whose heart operation was a success. I had to be back at the 'Y' at four o'clock.
Just as I was leaving the ballroom, Miss Lipstick attacked me. Please don't forget. I wish to do the Cowboy Two Step with you at Coyote's off the Five. I left and drove to Old Town's free parking lot. M. Green Line took me home. Sam, the Taxi man picked me up in his reconditioned 1980 Old's. Sam was excited. He survived three operations and now wanted me to go into one with him.
He drove to the Balboa exit off of the Five Freeway. He wished to wow me with a new restaurant. Sam lives for Salmon, the wild kind. We sent one mile east on Balboa until we saw the North Park Produce Market, buttressed next to a Goodwill store.
"What is that over there? Is it only thirteen for that big slice of Salmon?"
We ordered one, since this two pounds of salmon was enough for two. Along with it came rice, potatoes, and fig leaves. We dug in and frolicked in the fish. We then crossed the street since I was tired. I still needed to meet Gladys at the Lucky Star Ballroom off of College Blvd. (Not finished.)
Again, only fools drive into the city. The smart ones will park their cars at the many commuter stations for free and take the Coaster train into the Santa Fe Station. The #7 bus does not run Sunday on Broadway but the two Trolley's do. The Red and Blue Line Trolley's are a block from San Diego's train station. They both run east to City College where you should get off and walk up the hill to the Mecca of all Parks, Balboa.
And don't let the colors fool you. Just because all trains are colored red, don't believe it. Some dead beats in the city were color blind. The trains will probably run every 15 minutes and thank God the Padres left town or there would be a quagmire of people. Remember not to drive into the City. Begin your trip at the crack of dawn to avoid the freeway parking lots.
"Oh, you can't make it. Why not try the first weekend in May. It is the Cinco De Mayo so pack up and do the same. It will be held at Old Town where you can become a fun loving Mexican for the day. You can watch the grape vines and their new grapes grow. Figs are in season too early also. And don't forget the last of the locquats. There will be plenty of singing, dancing, drinking and who-knows-what-else?
Yesterday I had the time of my life, first at the Balboa Park Bay Club. Steve made me play their Steinway and afterwards, I decided to remain and see what little darlings might be mine today. I danced the afternoon away and it proved my dancing lessons had provided me with new moves for an old dancer.
I asked Dotty for a dance. She makes a stick look fat, but she is as light as a feather. During our slow two step we danced with our mouths.
"Well George, I am still dating him. He sends me flowers, cards almost every day." Is he the fifty year old? "Yes, but he is really fifty five. And he loves to go dancing. He never lets me out of his sight." Does he excite you? "Not at first, but I am getting used to his mustache and beard." Dotty will you marry me? "Next year George, next year."
It was getting late and I attempted to leave until Miss Prim asked me for a Polka. We began to jump around and I could not get over how Miss Prim felt in my arms. . She was as tall as me, but could not look squarely at me in the face. Miss Prim and Proper lives in La Jolla and putting a smile on her face had been fruitless, until today.
"Why Miss I caught you smiling. Here is my new card. Call me if you need an escort. I come with high credentials and play a mean piano." Miss Prim wished for another later and I told her one only, I needed to get home a meet Sam, the Taxi man. He is the guy whose heart operation was a success. I had to be back at the 'Y' at four o'clock.
Just as I was leaving the ballroom, Miss Lipstick attacked me. Please don't forget. I wish to do the Cowboy Two Step with you at Coyote's off the Five. I left and drove to Old Town's free parking lot. M. Green Line took me home. Sam, the Taxi man picked me up in his reconditioned 1980 Old's. Sam was excited. He survived three operations and now wanted me to go into one with him.
He drove to the Balboa exit off of the Five Freeway. He wished to wow me with a new restaurant. Sam lives for Salmon, the wild kind. We sent one mile east on Balboa until we saw the North Park Produce Market, buttressed next to a Goodwill store.
"What is that over there? Is it only thirteen for that big slice of Salmon?"
We ordered one, since this two pounds of salmon was enough for two. Along with it came rice, potatoes, and fig leaves. We dug in and frolicked in the fish. We then crossed the street since I was tired. I still needed to meet Gladys at the Lucky Star Ballroom off of College Blvd. (Not finished.)
Thursday, April 24, 2014
Encinitas Computer Room.
About one year ago, the computer room at the Senior Center got a present. About fourteen computers were installed and everyone had high expectations. After installation, hundreds of seniors wished to know how to run them. Yet nobody told us how to run them. It was like buying a camera without instructions.
Every time we tried to go to the internet, the screen flashed "Firestorm" on its face. Disgusted I ran down to Vulcan and asked for the supervisor. A little kid named Cupcake came up to me. He seemed vexed. He took me to his back cubicle.
"Look. I have a number of problems at the fire stations. Just wait a week or two and everything will be fine." We waited for over two months before the computers finally began to operate. It was a disaster. Like today, it is like buying a new car without instructions.
Today we had another problem. Our eight hours a week of volunteer tutors did not show up. Everyone was in a tither. Everyone complained. It became noisy.
"Have you checked other resources?" Miss Peaches looked lovingly at me with her deep blue eyes. "Hell, we need help at the Senior Center's Computer Center." Again Peaches reiterates the same song, "Have you checked other resources?" "Hell, we've got people lined up for a tutor who never comes!"
"Remember me from on year ago. I had asked you for a permanent Tutor and to make sure the machines all work the same, without different personalities. Remember what you said then, Miss Peaches?" Peaches was silent but her eyes riveted on mine. "You told me then that money for tutors had not been budgeted, remember?"
The above exchange was made at their City Hall. I had left the senior center early to catch a Coaster to downtown San Diego. I wished to take a class and see a movie in the new Library's auditorium. Walter wished to come with me to see the new San Diego Library.
In scene two, Maxfactor takes another route. "Can I ask you some questions?" "I've got to catch a train." "But can I ask you some questions?" "Well I will let you ask two." "My first one is what other resources have you used?"
We now left to the Encinitas' train station. I dropped Walter off since he needed to buy a ticket. I left my car in the commuter lot and went on top to see how Walter made out. "You were right George. It cost me $2.75 cents to get to the Santa Fe Station.
The ride on the Coaster was uneventful. He gazed at the beautiful scenery and I read my Dicken's book.I did not need to here anybody else saying "Where is the tutor?" I told my friend Walter how to get to the new library.
"You can take the Orange or Blue Line Trolley. Your stop is Market and Park. From there it is one block south. Since it is Wednesday, it opens at 12:30. I will be on the third floor with their digitized computers and microfilm."
The next budget hearing will begin in another year. I will be there to shake a few heads.
Every time we tried to go to the internet, the screen flashed "Firestorm" on its face. Disgusted I ran down to Vulcan and asked for the supervisor. A little kid named Cupcake came up to me. He seemed vexed. He took me to his back cubicle.
"Look. I have a number of problems at the fire stations. Just wait a week or two and everything will be fine." We waited for over two months before the computers finally began to operate. It was a disaster. Like today, it is like buying a new car without instructions.
Today we had another problem. Our eight hours a week of volunteer tutors did not show up. Everyone was in a tither. Everyone complained. It became noisy.
"Have you checked other resources?" Miss Peaches looked lovingly at me with her deep blue eyes. "Hell, we need help at the Senior Center's Computer Center." Again Peaches reiterates the same song, "Have you checked other resources?" "Hell, we've got people lined up for a tutor who never comes!"
"Remember me from on year ago. I had asked you for a permanent Tutor and to make sure the machines all work the same, without different personalities. Remember what you said then, Miss Peaches?" Peaches was silent but her eyes riveted on mine. "You told me then that money for tutors had not been budgeted, remember?"
The above exchange was made at their City Hall. I had left the senior center early to catch a Coaster to downtown San Diego. I wished to take a class and see a movie in the new Library's auditorium. Walter wished to come with me to see the new San Diego Library.
In scene two, Maxfactor takes another route. "Can I ask you some questions?" "I've got to catch a train." "But can I ask you some questions?" "Well I will let you ask two." "My first one is what other resources have you used?"
We now left to the Encinitas' train station. I dropped Walter off since he needed to buy a ticket. I left my car in the commuter lot and went on top to see how Walter made out. "You were right George. It cost me $2.75 cents to get to the Santa Fe Station.
The ride on the Coaster was uneventful. He gazed at the beautiful scenery and I read my Dicken's book.I did not need to here anybody else saying "Where is the tutor?" I told my friend Walter how to get to the new library.
"You can take the Orange or Blue Line Trolley. Your stop is Market and Park. From there it is one block south. Since it is Wednesday, it opens at 12:30. I will be on the third floor with their digitized computers and microfilm."
The next budget hearing will begin in another year. I will be there to shake a few heads.
Tuesday, April 22, 2014
The Seventh Day of Passover
"Do I have to?" pleaded Moses. Without a flinch, his Jewish flock screamed, "Go for It!" But look how high the water is. I will most assuredly drown!"
Moses had taken his people out of Egypt. They wandered in the desert for forty years eating nothing but Matzo, lamb, and whatever they could muster-up. The Egyptian soldiers had cornered them. Moses turned around and his flock in unison screamed, "Now!" "Are you kidding me?" Moses replied. His followers insisted, "Go for it!"
He waded into the transparent sea. He needed to take them to the promised land of Israel. After all it was promised to the Jews. The water rose to the top of his neck and he stopped. He heard His voice. "Don't you trust even your Lord?"
It was about eight o'clock and a visiting Rebb told this story at the little Jewish Store on Third and Island. I had been called upon to make a minion. Nine are needed before the Jewish prayers could begin. Our Cantor belted off some old Jewish hymns-the main reason Jews still go for the Sabbath. But I must finish the story before I throw up. (I had eaten some Ralph's black licorice along with a blood pressure pill and paid the price of a sleepless night.)
His flock could not believe there eyes. The sea parted and they followed Moses to the promised land. When the turned around, the sea had turned Red, and swallowed up the Pharaoh's men. Now they would forever Trust their God.
Our tall Rebb with a taller black beard and wide black hat continued the story with a twist. "Tomorrow night I want each of you to tell about a miracle that happened in your life. And try to connect it with a time you-too-took a chance and rolled the dice. It is only by taking a risk that we can grow to our real height.
For me an unknown writer, walking there was a bit risky. But I did stop to take my blood pressure at Ralph's. It was high so I knew I had to wade into my bottle of pills to lower it. It was something I did not wish to do, but did it anyway. I found out that licorice and blood pressure pills don't mix. But as you can plainly see, I can still write.
In life we have choices. Some things we must do. Some we should do. And there are some things we love to do. I wish to belong to the latter group, but know it is not realistic.
Moses had taken his people out of Egypt. They wandered in the desert for forty years eating nothing but Matzo, lamb, and whatever they could muster-up. The Egyptian soldiers had cornered them. Moses turned around and his flock in unison screamed, "Now!" "Are you kidding me?" Moses replied. His followers insisted, "Go for it!"
He waded into the transparent sea. He needed to take them to the promised land of Israel. After all it was promised to the Jews. The water rose to the top of his neck and he stopped. He heard His voice. "Don't you trust even your Lord?"
It was about eight o'clock and a visiting Rebb told this story at the little Jewish Store on Third and Island. I had been called upon to make a minion. Nine are needed before the Jewish prayers could begin. Our Cantor belted off some old Jewish hymns-the main reason Jews still go for the Sabbath. But I must finish the story before I throw up. (I had eaten some Ralph's black licorice along with a blood pressure pill and paid the price of a sleepless night.)
His flock could not believe there eyes. The sea parted and they followed Moses to the promised land. When the turned around, the sea had turned Red, and swallowed up the Pharaoh's men. Now they would forever Trust their God.
Our tall Rebb with a taller black beard and wide black hat continued the story with a twist. "Tomorrow night I want each of you to tell about a miracle that happened in your life. And try to connect it with a time you-too-took a chance and rolled the dice. It is only by taking a risk that we can grow to our real height.
For me an unknown writer, walking there was a bit risky. But I did stop to take my blood pressure at Ralph's. It was high so I knew I had to wade into my bottle of pills to lower it. It was something I did not wish to do, but did it anyway. I found out that licorice and blood pressure pills don't mix. But as you can plainly see, I can still write.
In life we have choices. Some things we must do. Some we should do. And there are some things we love to do. I wish to belong to the latter group, but know it is not realistic.
Monday, April 21, 2014
It is Padre Baseball Time
I have taught my daughter to "go with the flow". Well I did that on Sunday afternoon and ended up at Dog Park, also known as Petco Park.
The new library is only a skip and jump away on Eleventh Avenue. On this Sunday, the Librarian had gone looking for Easter eggs so it had to close. What a shame! "Yet," says I, " lets follow the noise and the crowd."
I already had celebrated the Catholic Sabbath at Old Town's Immaculate Conception church, and the organ music remained in my ears. I walked to K Street and saw many buying tickets or waiting for somebody. It was humid and I needed a refreshment.
The Dragon Bar on Tenth Avenue offered me a canned coke for two and change. I readily accepted the can and sat at a dark round table. Two gentleman told me Frisco had come to town. The large T.V. told me the game had already begun.
I had just picked up my canned drink when I heard a loud roaring roar, that climbed to a high note. I looked at the T.V. Hell, the pitch had not been thrown. "Was it another earthquake about to hit," says I. I looked again at the large T.V. screen again.
The outside noise had died down. On T.V. the batter hit a long one over the fence. I asked myself if "it was the same game." The two at the bar answered my question.
"Sir, there is a five or ten second delay until the action is shown on T.V. I have duped and made money on those who bet against me. I know the sound of a home run particularly when the Giants are in town."
"I bet Posey hit one out." I exclaimed. Sure enough the glue for the Frisco team did.
I finished my coke and found a steel box to sit on. Fans were going in but the ones with sacks or purses had to go have them checked. The gate men prodded a thin stick inside their bags. Then they gave the OK to enter.
A crotchety middle aged man cussed to himself. His was on a cell and hollering. "I told you where to meet me, gate K. Where in the hell are your. This became repetitious. His small round Mom came towards me to share the three o'clock shadow. She screamed at her son.
"I told you never to date the Philippine women. She does not understand English. And besides, she is too skinny."
"In another minute, we are going to get a taxi and return home!" Just then they connected and she removed herself from the bar to be with him. The thin one probably had latched onto another and was none too happy to be with the awkward gaited mothers boy.'
A young teenager walked towards me. She stood looking at me. We struck up a conversation.
"Is it always so humid here. I am from Frisco."
"Wow. You are good looking. How old are you, eighteen perhaps?"
"No I am thirty four and never have been married...Thanks for your offer of a tangerine but I am allergic."
Her friends came and I left towards the ticket window..Their cheapest seat was eighteen dollars, and that was in the sand. (No finished.)
The new library is only a skip and jump away on Eleventh Avenue. On this Sunday, the Librarian had gone looking for Easter eggs so it had to close. What a shame! "Yet," says I, " lets follow the noise and the crowd."
I already had celebrated the Catholic Sabbath at Old Town's Immaculate Conception church, and the organ music remained in my ears. I walked to K Street and saw many buying tickets or waiting for somebody. It was humid and I needed a refreshment.
The Dragon Bar on Tenth Avenue offered me a canned coke for two and change. I readily accepted the can and sat at a dark round table. Two gentleman told me Frisco had come to town. The large T.V. told me the game had already begun.
I had just picked up my canned drink when I heard a loud roaring roar, that climbed to a high note. I looked at the T.V. Hell, the pitch had not been thrown. "Was it another earthquake about to hit," says I. I looked again at the large T.V. screen again.
The outside noise had died down. On T.V. the batter hit a long one over the fence. I asked myself if "it was the same game." The two at the bar answered my question.
"Sir, there is a five or ten second delay until the action is shown on T.V. I have duped and made money on those who bet against me. I know the sound of a home run particularly when the Giants are in town."
"I bet Posey hit one out." I exclaimed. Sure enough the glue for the Frisco team did.
I finished my coke and found a steel box to sit on. Fans were going in but the ones with sacks or purses had to go have them checked. The gate men prodded a thin stick inside their bags. Then they gave the OK to enter.
A crotchety middle aged man cussed to himself. His was on a cell and hollering. "I told you where to meet me, gate K. Where in the hell are your. This became repetitious. His small round Mom came towards me to share the three o'clock shadow. She screamed at her son.
"I told you never to date the Philippine women. She does not understand English. And besides, she is too skinny."
"In another minute, we are going to get a taxi and return home!" Just then they connected and she removed herself from the bar to be with him. The thin one probably had latched onto another and was none too happy to be with the awkward gaited mothers boy.'
A young teenager walked towards me. She stood looking at me. We struck up a conversation.
"Is it always so humid here. I am from Frisco."
"Wow. You are good looking. How old are you, eighteen perhaps?"
"No I am thirty four and never have been married...Thanks for your offer of a tangerine but I am allergic."
Her friends came and I left towards the ticket window..Their cheapest seat was eighteen dollars, and that was in the sand. (No finished.)
A Side Trip to Hermosa Beach
I did not plan on a trip to my favorite beach in Southern California, but it just happened. Earlier in my 'Y" shower I debated: should I take the ten dollars Metro-Link or drive into Beverly Hills to see my daughter She had been bitten breaking up a dog fight and was antibiotics. (Gas now hovered around $4.20 a gallon.)
First I needed to get to my car parked in the Old Town Commuter lot. I saw her filled basket and her torso but did not recognize her hair. I was either a wig or she dyed it. I wished to take a picture and got out my camera.
I focused on the trolley bench and knew a policeman might be in the way. I took the picture anyway. The officer came up to me.
"It is against the law to take pictures on private property!" Well I did not react, but calmly asked about the law. Like most police, he was rather large and carried a large coffee in one hand. He must have had a cold since he coughed a few times.
"Do you mean I can't take pictures of San Diego anymore?"
"That is the law!"
"Can you tell me who I cam speak to about it." He gave me a number to call. He would not take my card and may have been intimidated by it.
The Green Line Trolley approached and Mr. Dickens and I took a side seat. I had been reading Bleak Street and began to believe it compared San Diego with London in the mid nineteen century. I read a chapter until the Old Town stop came up.
My car started up and I felt great after a night of quick step lessons at Balboa Park. Half way to the Oceanside Transit Station., I decided to go for it and drive all the way to Los Angeles. So I took the Five to the 405 and after over one hundred miles of driving needed a break. Besides, nature called.
I turned off on Harbor and swung around to San Pedro. That put me on Torrance Blvd where my old coffee shop or Dino's still was in business. My nasal passages opened up. The South Bay Sea breezes are drier than San Diego.
After a breakfast of ham,eggs, and hash browns, I finished my water and decided to scuff it to Hermosa Beach. I call the main beaches the Three Sisters. From the north there is Manhattan, Hermosa and finally Redondo Beach.
It is not a coincidence that I fell in love with Hermosa Beach. My Dad Harry worshiped this beach and made sure we got lots of sun, punch, and body surfing in every summer. He drove a spanking new Packard in the forties, a time when plumbers made more than doctors. It was great for body surfing since the waves rolled in slowly and did not have a capricious drop, but kissed the sand with a touch of love. In the forties, we all jumped into my Dad's spanking new Packard, parked on Twenty Second Street and helped Edith with our punch container, pails and shovels.
But now I am Harry going for a drink from his famous beach. Hermosa Beach is the drinking capital of the United States. Hermosa Beach is not only known for volleyball and surfing, but for owning more bars than any other city. But how can one resist a cold one after a beach day in Hermosa.
I parked Disabled Dolly in the main parking lot. Of course it wasn't easy. The coffers of the city bring in more money from parking tickets than any other beach city. It may be easy to buy beer but to find a parking space, forget it. A nice denizen pulled out and allowed me to replace him. I opened my trunk and put some sun tan lotion on my big ear, and bigger nose. I did not forget the front of my head or back. I removed an umbrella and strode to the sand.
On the Pier Beach Mall, there was a run for grammar school kids. Off on the sand a volleyball tournament was going on. The back cement wall became my chair. I leaned my umbrella over my head and took in one of the matches in front of me. There were men on one side of the busy beach, and women on the other.
The worst volleyball player I had ever seen practiced before me. Her partner was pretty good. I will call the bad player Flat Ass. Why a stick held more shape than she did. I just could not imagine why she thought about entering the tournament. She could not bump, dig or hit the ball. In know way could they beat the other team. But they did. In doubles beach volleyball, a good partner can usually carry a mediocre one. I should know. The mediocre one was me a long time ago.
At about eleven o'clock it was time for me to go, but not before taking pictures of the Lighthouse, Poop Deck restaurants and of course the big tall iconic clock at the foot of this street mall. It is where I sat before I met Schindler the Great, and the love of my life, Shelly. (not finished or edited.)
First I needed to get to my car parked in the Old Town Commuter lot. I saw her filled basket and her torso but did not recognize her hair. I was either a wig or she dyed it. I wished to take a picture and got out my camera.
I focused on the trolley bench and knew a policeman might be in the way. I took the picture anyway. The officer came up to me.
"It is against the law to take pictures on private property!" Well I did not react, but calmly asked about the law. Like most police, he was rather large and carried a large coffee in one hand. He must have had a cold since he coughed a few times.
"Do you mean I can't take pictures of San Diego anymore?"
"That is the law!"
"Can you tell me who I cam speak to about it." He gave me a number to call. He would not take my card and may have been intimidated by it.
The Green Line Trolley approached and Mr. Dickens and I took a side seat. I had been reading Bleak Street and began to believe it compared San Diego with London in the mid nineteen century. I read a chapter until the Old Town stop came up.
My car started up and I felt great after a night of quick step lessons at Balboa Park. Half way to the Oceanside Transit Station., I decided to go for it and drive all the way to Los Angeles. So I took the Five to the 405 and after over one hundred miles of driving needed a break. Besides, nature called.
I turned off on Harbor and swung around to San Pedro. That put me on Torrance Blvd where my old coffee shop or Dino's still was in business. My nasal passages opened up. The South Bay Sea breezes are drier than San Diego.
After a breakfast of ham,eggs, and hash browns, I finished my water and decided to scuff it to Hermosa Beach. I call the main beaches the Three Sisters. From the north there is Manhattan, Hermosa and finally Redondo Beach.
It is not a coincidence that I fell in love with Hermosa Beach. My Dad Harry worshiped this beach and made sure we got lots of sun, punch, and body surfing in every summer. He drove a spanking new Packard in the forties, a time when plumbers made more than doctors. It was great for body surfing since the waves rolled in slowly and did not have a capricious drop, but kissed the sand with a touch of love. In the forties, we all jumped into my Dad's spanking new Packard, parked on Twenty Second Street and helped Edith with our punch container, pails and shovels.
But now I am Harry going for a drink from his famous beach. Hermosa Beach is the drinking capital of the United States. Hermosa Beach is not only known for volleyball and surfing, but for owning more bars than any other city. But how can one resist a cold one after a beach day in Hermosa.
I parked Disabled Dolly in the main parking lot. Of course it wasn't easy. The coffers of the city bring in more money from parking tickets than any other beach city. It may be easy to buy beer but to find a parking space, forget it. A nice denizen pulled out and allowed me to replace him. I opened my trunk and put some sun tan lotion on my big ear, and bigger nose. I did not forget the front of my head or back. I removed an umbrella and strode to the sand.
On the Pier Beach Mall, there was a run for grammar school kids. Off on the sand a volleyball tournament was going on. The back cement wall became my chair. I leaned my umbrella over my head and took in one of the matches in front of me. There were men on one side of the busy beach, and women on the other.
The worst volleyball player I had ever seen practiced before me. Her partner was pretty good. I will call the bad player Flat Ass. Why a stick held more shape than she did. I just could not imagine why she thought about entering the tournament. She could not bump, dig or hit the ball. In know way could they beat the other team. But they did. In doubles beach volleyball, a good partner can usually carry a mediocre one. I should know. The mediocre one was me a long time ago.
At about eleven o'clock it was time for me to go, but not before taking pictures of the Lighthouse, Poop Deck restaurants and of course the big tall iconic clock at the foot of this street mall. It is where I sat before I met Schindler the Great, and the love of my life, Shelly. (not finished or edited.)
Thursday, April 17, 2014
Celebrate Lady Barbara's Birthday i
Lady Barbara will turn 85 years next week. The Oak Tree Cafe in Encinitas will celebrate it next week, every day. Yet her life will be celebrated long after we go to a different resting place.Her birthday is the 28th of April. The Highland Park gal's stories have captivated all who have broken bread with her. Yet for me, the love affair between two German Shepherds will live until eternity. Here is more of When Bella Met Sebastian-a Love Story. .
Lady Barbara sat alone and dejected today. Two lifts came simultaneously which created a problem. My asthma had kicked up and breathing became a nuisance. Yet with Lady Barbara at my side, a cup of coffee in one hand, I became George again. I asked her more about the love affair about her two dogs. ( My daughter owns a service dog, a Yorkshire Terrier. I have grown accustomed to her bark.)
"Like I had told you George, our first home in Orange County was in Anaheim. We raised our eldest kids there. Sebastian kept Bella forever in heat. Sebastian hovered around her and anywhere Bella went, he was sure to follow."
"One day my daughter ran into the kitchen screaming. 'The dogs chased two men up a tree. Come quick and have a look! Well sure enough, outside my dogs had cornered two dangling men The dogs had circled them and one had his pants torn to shreds. I ran outside and screamed. 'Stop that, come!'"
"I recognized them. They were two linemen from the phone company. They apparently had seen the large bountiful supply of pomegranates. I warned them never to come back again. They jumped off the tree and the man with torn pants screamed, 'Never again, never again...from now on we will stay on our telephone pole.'"
At that point in our discussion I asked Ron to get me more black coffee. I did not wish to miss any of Lady Barbara's stories. It was eleven o'clock and I felt pleased that the Encinitas' Senior Center tuned both pianos for me-after all-I am an accomplished musician. I asked for more information about her first home in Anaheim.
"Well we had seven kids and always about seven dogs and a Ram. I just loved animals and like I told you George, I had taken a course in husbandry at Cal Poly and by gosh I needed it. I was forever giving away our litters to church people."
At that point in our discussion, we were also joined by Craig. Now our table looked like a large litter itself. Everyone wished to hear from Lady Barbara, a descendant of Henry the Eighth. A handsome chicken now was served to us. I cut her breast apart and softened the blow with olive oil. The chicken reminded her of an old friend, Old Man Mr. Knox, of Knox Berry Farm.
" I spent lots of time with Mr. Knox. I liked him since his beginnings were similar to mine. The Knox's lived a few block from me in Anaheim, He was a poor farmer until his wife came up with the idea to bake pies. People had been stealing his berries so selling pies might be the remedy.
Well people came from all over Los Angeles to eat their pies. Mr. Knox and I always read the bible. He had a large old book collection in the back of the store. He asked me to help him shelve them for him. He allowed me to take a few books home."
"You mean those old George Washington and Henry books perhaps had been in his collection?"
"Yes. both of us enjoyed reading. When he didn't have a book in his hand, he tried to mix plants together to get a better quality of fruit. The back was a dirt floor, but he felt at home there. Also he did not wish to charge money for people to come onto his farm, but his two girls overruled him.
Barbara was fond of all animals and even took a class in Husbandry at Cal Poly in Pomona. Now how many ladies would raise a ram? Not many I can assure you. Before lunch had finished, she spoke a bit about her Mom-the significant other.
"When Dad left, Mom took up teaching again. She was forever reading poetry or listening to music. Her favorite book was the bible. We went every Sunday to a Baptist church in back of Bullocks Wilshire. With four sisters living her, we had a large number of cousins who came to our church."
" I sat up front and looked at the feet of the organist. I was in a trance. One of my aunts always counted to make sure we were all here. I couldn't get over how the legs made the energy of the organ. Too bad my Mom died crossing the street in Los Angeles."
Her ride arrived. She and the others walked to the front. It is never any old day with Lady Barbara. She is the queen bee around these parts.
Lady Barbara sat alone and dejected today. Two lifts came simultaneously which created a problem. My asthma had kicked up and breathing became a nuisance. Yet with Lady Barbara at my side, a cup of coffee in one hand, I became George again. I asked her more about the love affair about her two dogs. ( My daughter owns a service dog, a Yorkshire Terrier. I have grown accustomed to her bark.)
"Like I had told you George, our first home in Orange County was in Anaheim. We raised our eldest kids there. Sebastian kept Bella forever in heat. Sebastian hovered around her and anywhere Bella went, he was sure to follow."
"One day my daughter ran into the kitchen screaming. 'The dogs chased two men up a tree. Come quick and have a look! Well sure enough, outside my dogs had cornered two dangling men The dogs had circled them and one had his pants torn to shreds. I ran outside and screamed. 'Stop that, come!'"
"I recognized them. They were two linemen from the phone company. They apparently had seen the large bountiful supply of pomegranates. I warned them never to come back again. They jumped off the tree and the man with torn pants screamed, 'Never again, never again...from now on we will stay on our telephone pole.'"
At that point in our discussion I asked Ron to get me more black coffee. I did not wish to miss any of Lady Barbara's stories. It was eleven o'clock and I felt pleased that the Encinitas' Senior Center tuned both pianos for me-after all-I am an accomplished musician. I asked for more information about her first home in Anaheim.
"Well we had seven kids and always about seven dogs and a Ram. I just loved animals and like I told you George, I had taken a course in husbandry at Cal Poly and by gosh I needed it. I was forever giving away our litters to church people."
At that point in our discussion, we were also joined by Craig. Now our table looked like a large litter itself. Everyone wished to hear from Lady Barbara, a descendant of Henry the Eighth. A handsome chicken now was served to us. I cut her breast apart and softened the blow with olive oil. The chicken reminded her of an old friend, Old Man Mr. Knox, of Knox Berry Farm.
Well people came from all over Los Angeles to eat their pies. Mr. Knox and I always read the bible. He had a large old book collection in the back of the store. He asked me to help him shelve them for him. He allowed me to take a few books home."
"You mean those old George Washington and Henry books perhaps had been in his collection?"
"Yes. both of us enjoyed reading. When he didn't have a book in his hand, he tried to mix plants together to get a better quality of fruit. The back was a dirt floor, but he felt at home there. Also he did not wish to charge money for people to come onto his farm, but his two girls overruled him.
Barbara was fond of all animals and even took a class in Husbandry at Cal Poly in Pomona. Now how many ladies would raise a ram? Not many I can assure you. Before lunch had finished, she spoke a bit about her Mom-the significant other.
"When Dad left, Mom took up teaching again. She was forever reading poetry or listening to music. Her favorite book was the bible. We went every Sunday to a Baptist church in back of Bullocks Wilshire. With four sisters living her, we had a large number of cousins who came to our church."
" I sat up front and looked at the feet of the organist. I was in a trance. One of my aunts always counted to make sure we were all here. I couldn't get over how the legs made the energy of the organ. Too bad my Mom died crossing the street in Los Angeles."
Her ride arrived. She and the others walked to the front. It is never any old day with Lady Barbara. She is the queen bee around these parts.
Tuesday, April 15, 2014
Table 5 at the Oak Cafe
Never did I think that our discussion would lead to Passover in Jerusalem, but it did.
Again we visit the Oak Cafe at the Encinitas Senor Center. Lady Barbara is gushing with new found energy.Without propping her legs up, she now sits. A radiant smile envelopes her face Also at the table are Horst, Abe, Ron, Thomas, and your's truly. Lady Barbara now speaks.
"George, I feel great now. The doctor across the street gave me medication for my heart and also pain pills for the back. And the good news is my heart registers 85 percent now from only 50 several months ago. The good doctor was quite pleased to see these results.
Horst tries to interrupt but Thomas will have none of it today. Thomas had a three day growth on his face but looks happy."
"Let her finish. Let her finish."" he pleads to Horst. Horst is now silent- at least for the moment.
Horst Kahn wishes to show me something. He is dressed like a golfer including his white cap that matches is pants and multicolored shirt. Like always, he looks as if he has won the Master's Golf tournament. His face reveals a devilish smirk. . He removed a piece of paper from his pocket.
"Look at what they wrote. I spoke to five classes and they loved it. The teacher at Hillside High in Oceanside loved my talk. The students wished to know what I ate during my stay in the Auschwitz camp. I told them about the time a lady gave birth to a baby."
"One hand rose up. 'Was she happy to have it,' the student inquired. 'No' I responded. 'The birth of the baby presented a bloody mess'"
'I told the class that we can no longer watch how people suffer. We must not ignore but help them. and I survived by loving my enemy. One of the teachers gave an assignment to them. Each student has to write a letter to me."
"George, look at what they wrote about me in their school paper. They loved me!" Also, another school invited me and they will pick me up!"
At that point a plate of chicken, rice and other vegetables was served. Barbara could not eat a thing. She was happy to be alive. The rest of us dug into our food. Horst ate the continental way. He cut his meat with his right hand, turned the fork around and ate with his left. The food was delicious, more so because of the laughter and love from our table. I turned to Horst again.
"Why are you not taking bread today?"
'Hey dummy, don't you know it is Passover."
"Oh, I forgot. It is time for Matzo. And that reminds me of what the Reverend spoke about on Palm Sunday at the Catholic Immaculate Conception Church. I will try to paraphrase his message told to this group.
Christ came into Jerusalem on Passover. He knew about his impending ending. Judas betrayed him to the Romans...They made him lie on thorns and stomped upon him...They put his clothes back on and then nailed him to the cross. Passover reminded Lady Barbara about why she named her dog Caleb. .
"God told Caleb to look over the land he would give to the Jews. He did but saw a large enemy living there. The other elders would not take the chance to go down below. So when their generation died out, he and Joshua took their flock to the promised land."
Now since the subject turned Passover and our forefathers wandering in the desert, I asked Lady Barbara why she got involved with a pet ram.
"We had several dogs and my husband Jay had Bechtel come out to build a high fence for it. The only trouble our dogs had were the trespassers. One day, I my daughter came running up towards me. 'Mom, our dogs have surrounded a man on our tree.' Well I looked out the window and sure enough, one man had climbed our mighty Oak and a dog had grabbed the pants legs of the other one."
"I took a class in Husbandry at Cal Poly in Pomona. I was supposed to watch the animals but one day the herd came towards me. I screamed and jumped. God intervened to rescue me." (Not finished)
Again we visit the Oak Cafe at the Encinitas Senor Center. Lady Barbara is gushing with new found energy.Without propping her legs up, she now sits. A radiant smile envelopes her face Also at the table are Horst, Abe, Ron, Thomas, and your's truly. Lady Barbara now speaks.
"George, I feel great now. The doctor across the street gave me medication for my heart and also pain pills for the back. And the good news is my heart registers 85 percent now from only 50 several months ago. The good doctor was quite pleased to see these results.
Horst tries to interrupt but Thomas will have none of it today. Thomas had a three day growth on his face but looks happy."
"Let her finish. Let her finish."" he pleads to Horst. Horst is now silent- at least for the moment.
Horst Kahn wishes to show me something. He is dressed like a golfer including his white cap that matches is pants and multicolored shirt. Like always, he looks as if he has won the Master's Golf tournament. His face reveals a devilish smirk. . He removed a piece of paper from his pocket.
"Look at what they wrote. I spoke to five classes and they loved it. The teacher at Hillside High in Oceanside loved my talk. The students wished to know what I ate during my stay in the Auschwitz camp. I told them about the time a lady gave birth to a baby."
"One hand rose up. 'Was she happy to have it,' the student inquired. 'No' I responded. 'The birth of the baby presented a bloody mess'"
'I told the class that we can no longer watch how people suffer. We must not ignore but help them. and I survived by loving my enemy. One of the teachers gave an assignment to them. Each student has to write a letter to me."
"George, look at what they wrote about me in their school paper. They loved me!" Also, another school invited me and they will pick me up!"
At that point a plate of chicken, rice and other vegetables was served. Barbara could not eat a thing. She was happy to be alive. The rest of us dug into our food. Horst ate the continental way. He cut his meat with his right hand, turned the fork around and ate with his left. The food was delicious, more so because of the laughter and love from our table. I turned to Horst again.
"Why are you not taking bread today?"
'Hey dummy, don't you know it is Passover."
"Oh, I forgot. It is time for Matzo. And that reminds me of what the Reverend spoke about on Palm Sunday at the Catholic Immaculate Conception Church. I will try to paraphrase his message told to this group.
Christ came into Jerusalem on Passover. He knew about his impending ending. Judas betrayed him to the Romans...They made him lie on thorns and stomped upon him...They put his clothes back on and then nailed him to the cross. Passover reminded Lady Barbara about why she named her dog Caleb. .
"God told Caleb to look over the land he would give to the Jews. He did but saw a large enemy living there. The other elders would not take the chance to go down below. So when their generation died out, he and Joshua took their flock to the promised land."
Now since the subject turned Passover and our forefathers wandering in the desert, I asked Lady Barbara why she got involved with a pet ram.
"We had several dogs and my husband Jay had Bechtel come out to build a high fence for it. The only trouble our dogs had were the trespassers. One day, I my daughter came running up towards me. 'Mom, our dogs have surrounded a man on our tree.' Well I looked out the window and sure enough, one man had climbed our mighty Oak and a dog had grabbed the pants legs of the other one."
"I took a class in Husbandry at Cal Poly in Pomona. I was supposed to watch the animals but one day the herd came towards me. I screamed and jumped. God intervened to rescue me." (Not finished)
Saturday, April 12, 2014
San Diego's Library's Film on Dyslexia
God gave me permission to attend a film on Dyslexia at the new San Diego Library. On this Saturday, I did not observe the Jewish Sabbath. Three significant others have had their lives compromised by this Dyslexia. But unknowingly I already had taught hundreds with this anomaly on how to read. I taught my non-readers a different way, and not the silent way that so many educators have always used. What I didn't know was that Edison, Einstein, Schwarzenegger and many others also suffered with it. Up to thirty million in the U.S. suffer from it today.
Earlier, I had taken the Orange Trolley to Park and Market. It dropped below Tenth Avenue and Park. My stomach requested a breakfast burrito from Lolita's. The ball park restaurant sits nest to Petco Park. I felt dull but relaxed from my night of dancing at the Balboa Park Ballroom.
I just love the setting. Outside the windows, my eyes caught the sight of the majestic Petco Park. A Padre player pitched a corker, and a one hit game. Of course they won six to zero. With coffee and a burrito energizing me I walked a block to the library and entered the auditorium.
The movie reinforced what I had already known. Those with Dyslexia are gifted. Yes gifted and I should know. So what is the problem: our educational system, that is the problem. To save money, they ignored it.. Our government has swept these kids under the carpet. Those in charge did not wish to spend extra money. They placed many of these kids into Special Training classes. (I taught these classes for my first four years.)
The outgrowth of their neglect caused most to have inferiority complexes. Too scared of failure, they developed ADD and other symptoms. But the damage by neglect had been done. My platform is education. I began a Reading Action Committee in the early 70's at a junior high in East Los Angeles. over 50 percent of our jail inmates can't read. But at our junior high school, we established the first reading department. Everyone, including the janitor, taught our students how to read.
Our CTBS scores jumped from the fourth percentile up to twenty four in two years. Why even the P.E. teachers had to teach reading. Several like Jessie Franco wrote the proposal that was signed by our principal and later Supervisor Handler of the L.A. Unified School District. (Handler's sister Ruth began Mattel and was a good friend of my Mom. They began with Jack-in-the-Box in their garage. Ruth was a bridesmaid at her wedding.)
What a shame we suffered in silence. We knew nothing about it then, but even now do little. I did, not by having them read silently, but by having them read orally in class. Without knowing it, I taught all the gifted ones to read.
Each of my classes read orally for one year. At the close of the term, those with Dyslexia refused to leave my classroom. My game plan was too reward students with licorice, suckers, or kisses. They loved it and those who kept their place in our readers soon had no trouble following.
But our government must spend more for effective teachers, supporting parents, and effective ways to teach these gifted students. Later in life, their low self esteem manifested in many mental ailments such as ADD, Bipolar and etc. I should know. My first day in school was 1944. It was there I found out I was dumb. My head wore a dead left eye and my two front teeth had not arrived. I was a nail bitter so from there I became frightened to speak-with a pronounced lisp.
Fortunately, my Mom Edith paid for a orthodontist and also and eye doctor. I would have been dead by now if not for Mom.
Earlier, I had taken the Orange Trolley to Park and Market. It dropped below Tenth Avenue and Park. My stomach requested a breakfast burrito from Lolita's. The ball park restaurant sits nest to Petco Park. I felt dull but relaxed from my night of dancing at the Balboa Park Ballroom.
I just love the setting. Outside the windows, my eyes caught the sight of the majestic Petco Park. A Padre player pitched a corker, and a one hit game. Of course they won six to zero. With coffee and a burrito energizing me I walked a block to the library and entered the auditorium.
The movie reinforced what I had already known. Those with Dyslexia are gifted. Yes gifted and I should know. So what is the problem: our educational system, that is the problem. To save money, they ignored it.. Our government has swept these kids under the carpet. Those in charge did not wish to spend extra money. They placed many of these kids into Special Training classes. (I taught these classes for my first four years.)
The outgrowth of their neglect caused most to have inferiority complexes. Too scared of failure, they developed ADD and other symptoms. But the damage by neglect had been done. My platform is education. I began a Reading Action Committee in the early 70's at a junior high in East Los Angeles. over 50 percent of our jail inmates can't read. But at our junior high school, we established the first reading department. Everyone, including the janitor, taught our students how to read.
Our CTBS scores jumped from the fourth percentile up to twenty four in two years. Why even the P.E. teachers had to teach reading. Several like Jessie Franco wrote the proposal that was signed by our principal and later Supervisor Handler of the L.A. Unified School District. (Handler's sister Ruth began Mattel and was a good friend of my Mom. They began with Jack-in-the-Box in their garage. Ruth was a bridesmaid at her wedding.)
What a shame we suffered in silence. We knew nothing about it then, but even now do little. I did, not by having them read silently, but by having them read orally in class. Without knowing it, I taught all the gifted ones to read.
Each of my classes read orally for one year. At the close of the term, those with Dyslexia refused to leave my classroom. My game plan was too reward students with licorice, suckers, or kisses. They loved it and those who kept their place in our readers soon had no trouble following.
But our government must spend more for effective teachers, supporting parents, and effective ways to teach these gifted students. Later in life, their low self esteem manifested in many mental ailments such as ADD, Bipolar and etc. I should know. My first day in school was 1944. It was there I found out I was dumb. My head wore a dead left eye and my two front teeth had not arrived. I was a nail bitter so from there I became frightened to speak-with a pronounced lisp.
Fortunately, my Mom Edith paid for a orthodontist and also and eye doctor. I would have been dead by now if not for Mom.
Springtime in Balboa Park
I look forward to my Friday's in Balboa Park. It is no coincidence that the second word is "Park". It sits on Park Blvd and is probably the biggest park in American.
I arrived at the Park at just after four. I needed first to find out a custodian would not allow me to play the
Steinway piano inside the Balboa Ballroom. I turned right on President's Way and found the Park's administration building. Inside a tellers booth, I met two who engaged in talk and a Pepsi coke. I spoke
I am out of breath. I wished to speak to the manager of Balboa Park." The two smiled and the one on the left put down her drink.
"May I help you. I am Mary Wiggins and the Supervisor of this Park."
I was told last Sunday by Missing Tooth that the piano was out of bounds for me. And why would a piano sit inside the ballroom if we could not hit his keys? Also, the air conditioner did not work. I needed to leave earlier during our heat wave in San Diego.
"Don't worry, I will let the employee know. We have had problems with the air conditioner and are aware of the problems."
I then returned to President's Way and drove west to the parking lot opposite the ballroom. It was now four thirty in the afternoon. I felt hungry and wished to put a hallow on the day with a visit to my Happy Hour eatery, the Prado Restaurant. But I had more time to enjoy the park.
Above me a few large Date Palms doffed their wings at me. I could not get over how majestic they looked. Up ahead I said hello to Mr. Torrey Pines Whereas the first produced beans, the second made nuts. I fell into a deep trance. I felt like a friend among friends.
I stopped along the way and sat down at Archery Corner. I removed a few locquats from my bag and indulged. But my stomach could no longer wait. I trudged up the hill towards the Prado and entered the hospital.
We are sorry for the inconvenience but we are closed. A waitress inside told me there would be a private party. My stomach could not be denied. It belched, "Ug...ug...bel...to you." Of course my serenity had been overruled by Big Money.
Yet outside the Museum of Science I dropped down my canvas. I put my stuff down on a round table and marveled at the outside a circular water fountain. I bought a Asian Chicken salad inside to satisfy my stomach. Of course a fuller stomach put my mind to sleep. A young man interrupted my solitude.
"You from Chicago I see."
No, I stole the hat...My you have a good looking daughter...about two?
"No she is eighteen months. I am wiping the water off her shirt. She jumped into the fountain."
Well my Grand Daughter did that two years ago. She so much wished to join the fish inside the Lilly Pond. I guess you can't control kids from having fun. Where is your wife?
"We are divorced. I get Carol four days a week and live in the North Hills area of San Diego. I design software.
I cut out part of this picture and now will focus on the dancing party inside Balboa's Ballroom. The party began at seven and yes I did play the piano, to the delight of other dancing friends. Of course I had a ball and was delighted to see that Christie showed up. At first I gave turned away, but who could turn away from a ravishing blond with a body out of Mars.
I danced with a few forgettable looking damsels but wow, the one I couldn't get enough from the one from Mars. Every Time she glanced at me, I felt her candy spreading over me. I turned around to show her one of my routines and she kicked me up my ass.
Then it happened. Just when I was about to ask her for her phone number, A tall Chinese grabbed her away from me. He took her off in the corner for lessons. The Koreans never make any mistakes. They take notes and pictures. They must get it right or else. Istood there with chocolate covering my face.
Well I am not quite finished with the above dance, but wish to get away from Christie and go to today-in my next blog
I arrived at the Park at just after four. I needed first to find out a custodian would not allow me to play the
Steinway piano inside the Balboa Ballroom. I turned right on President's Way and found the Park's administration building. Inside a tellers booth, I met two who engaged in talk and a Pepsi coke. I spoke
I am out of breath. I wished to speak to the manager of Balboa Park." The two smiled and the one on the left put down her drink.
"May I help you. I am Mary Wiggins and the Supervisor of this Park."
I was told last Sunday by Missing Tooth that the piano was out of bounds for me. And why would a piano sit inside the ballroom if we could not hit his keys? Also, the air conditioner did not work. I needed to leave earlier during our heat wave in San Diego.
"Don't worry, I will let the employee know. We have had problems with the air conditioner and are aware of the problems."
I then returned to President's Way and drove west to the parking lot opposite the ballroom. It was now four thirty in the afternoon. I felt hungry and wished to put a hallow on the day with a visit to my Happy Hour eatery, the Prado Restaurant. But I had more time to enjoy the park.
Above me a few large Date Palms doffed their wings at me. I could not get over how majestic they looked. Up ahead I said hello to Mr. Torrey Pines Whereas the first produced beans, the second made nuts. I fell into a deep trance. I felt like a friend among friends.
I stopped along the way and sat down at Archery Corner. I removed a few locquats from my bag and indulged. But my stomach could no longer wait. I trudged up the hill towards the Prado and entered the hospital.
We are sorry for the inconvenience but we are closed. A waitress inside told me there would be a private party. My stomach could not be denied. It belched, "Ug...ug...bel...to you." Of course my serenity had been overruled by Big Money.
Yet outside the Museum of Science I dropped down my canvas. I put my stuff down on a round table and marveled at the outside a circular water fountain. I bought a Asian Chicken salad inside to satisfy my stomach. Of course a fuller stomach put my mind to sleep. A young man interrupted my solitude.
"You from Chicago I see."
No, I stole the hat...My you have a good looking daughter...about two?
"No she is eighteen months. I am wiping the water off her shirt. She jumped into the fountain."
Well my Grand Daughter did that two years ago. She so much wished to join the fish inside the Lilly Pond. I guess you can't control kids from having fun. Where is your wife?
"We are divorced. I get Carol four days a week and live in the North Hills area of San Diego. I design software.
I cut out part of this picture and now will focus on the dancing party inside Balboa's Ballroom. The party began at seven and yes I did play the piano, to the delight of other dancing friends. Of course I had a ball and was delighted to see that Christie showed up. At first I gave turned away, but who could turn away from a ravishing blond with a body out of Mars.
I danced with a few forgettable looking damsels but wow, the one I couldn't get enough from the one from Mars. Every Time she glanced at me, I felt her candy spreading over me. I turned around to show her one of my routines and she kicked me up my ass.
Then it happened. Just when I was about to ask her for her phone number, A tall Chinese grabbed her away from me. He took her off in the corner for lessons. The Koreans never make any mistakes. They take notes and pictures. They must get it right or else. Istood there with chocolate covering my face.
Well I am not quite finished with the above dance, but wish to get away from Christie and go to today-in my next blog
Friday, April 11, 2014
Dyslexia Film showing at San Diego Library
I just hope there is a library in heaven, and a Ancestry.com. Where did I come from and how?
"Good monin old man."
That is my next door neighbor who I call Burnt Toast. He came to the 'Y' about two months ago and slept a big one off. I think we have taken a liking to each other. At first he ignored me. After my shower, I said my 'good-by's' to the old hotel. A sparrow told me it had been sold and Counsel President gave the OK'ed the deal. It could use air conditioners. Why my Target filter drowned in dirt, and what it didn't filter drifted into my nasal passages.
I made a Bumble Bee Tuna on rye sandwich with a Roma tomato to boot. Inside the corner Seven Eleven on C Street, a homeless entered and picked up a coupon. It read one dollar off a big pizza with the purchase of a Coke or Pepsi. I bought two bananas and chips to go with my sandwich.
Inside the Orange Trolley, a thin angular man entered. The bearded one held a gigantic guitar, made even bigger by his anemic looking skin and bones. He wore a white and blue bandanna and strummed a tune on his instrument. I felt relieved. Sam, the taxi man, was home and getting ready for a trip to Mexico. My daughter finally got a prescription for the dog bite and sounded happy.
"Sorry Dad, I did not wish to alarm you. Kaiser reinstated my health insurance. They will be sending you a paper to sign in the mail. From now on, I will not pull two fighting dogs apart-especially if one is a big bull dog. Have a great day. I love you as always."
Her voice last night was music in my ear. Now the Trolley curved around C Street and headed towards Market on Park. I got off two blocks from the library and walked towards Eleventh Avenue. I then headed south towards the entrance to the library.
I sat on a post with the Library parking lot below me. Since Eleventh is one way going north I plotted how one could get there. It was easy. They could go south on Tenth Avenue and make a U-turn at J Street and a left to Eleventh. The entrance is only a few yards away. I asked the security guard about the parking fees.
" Two hours are free with a library validation. It is one dollar and forty cents for each additional twenty minutes....But on game day like today, it is closed four hours before the game begins." Oh yes, the game is at seven o'clock."
Alert: Saturday the Library is showing a film on Dyslexia. The viewing and question period will be from ten until one o'clock.
"Good monin old man."
That is my next door neighbor who I call Burnt Toast. He came to the 'Y' about two months ago and slept a big one off. I think we have taken a liking to each other. At first he ignored me. After my shower, I said my 'good-by's' to the old hotel. A sparrow told me it had been sold and Counsel President gave the OK'ed the deal. It could use air conditioners. Why my Target filter drowned in dirt, and what it didn't filter drifted into my nasal passages.
I made a Bumble Bee Tuna on rye sandwich with a Roma tomato to boot. Inside the corner Seven Eleven on C Street, a homeless entered and picked up a coupon. It read one dollar off a big pizza with the purchase of a Coke or Pepsi. I bought two bananas and chips to go with my sandwich.
Inside the Orange Trolley, a thin angular man entered. The bearded one held a gigantic guitar, made even bigger by his anemic looking skin and bones. He wore a white and blue bandanna and strummed a tune on his instrument. I felt relieved. Sam, the taxi man, was home and getting ready for a trip to Mexico. My daughter finally got a prescription for the dog bite and sounded happy.
"Sorry Dad, I did not wish to alarm you. Kaiser reinstated my health insurance. They will be sending you a paper to sign in the mail. From now on, I will not pull two fighting dogs apart-especially if one is a big bull dog. Have a great day. I love you as always."
Her voice last night was music in my ear. Now the Trolley curved around C Street and headed towards Market on Park. I got off two blocks from the library and walked towards Eleventh Avenue. I then headed south towards the entrance to the library.
I sat on a post with the Library parking lot below me. Since Eleventh is one way going north I plotted how one could get there. It was easy. They could go south on Tenth Avenue and make a U-turn at J Street and a left to Eleventh. The entrance is only a few yards away. I asked the security guard about the parking fees.
" Two hours are free with a library validation. It is one dollar and forty cents for each additional twenty minutes....But on game day like today, it is closed four hours before the game begins." Oh yes, the game is at seven o'clock."
Alert: Saturday the Library is showing a film on Dyslexia. The viewing and question period will be from ten until one o'clock.
Thursday, April 10, 2014
Dead Meat on Tenth Avenue
You niga..a..a. I give you pussy...and is that way to treat lady?"
Next to my 'Y' cell I overheard this exchange. Yet my trigger is turned off. No words bother me. The second floor is loaded with drug addicts and some prostitutes. Silly, but exciting for me. Somehow I made it through the night after an unpleasant call from my daughter.
Yesterday, though, was a perfect day. I swam downstream and forgot time. In fact I wished for more. I did not take my small blood pressure pill-not needed. My mind worked like the one of a two year old. Until six o'clock I scrolled down on the ninth floor's digital microfiche computer. The year 1938 excited me. I crept inside the world of events and sports. One might say I was in cruise control-or in God's hands the entire day.
My trigger had been removed from my mind-that is until the number 901, or Coronado Bus dropped me off on First and Broadway. Below the court house and next to the curb slept a body. Dust covered it. It didn't even have a Ralph's shopping cart next to it. The walkers did not even stop or stare. They were immune to the sight of death.
The sight of a dead man returned a trigger to my mind. I felt mad that our new City Mayor, the Honorable Folklore and ex-Mayor Sanders thought about placing a new football stadium inside the City of Denial, San Diego.
I continued on my way, the burrito from Lolita's energizing me. It is my favorite restaurant next to the Library. I made it back to my little Broadway cell and turned over in bed. It was not just hot, but morbidly so. Somehow, I fell into a deep coma...only to be awakened by a phone call.
"Dad, I was bitten by a bull dog. I tried to separate Oscar from the other dog. The bull dog had one month to live. Somehow, my hand got entangled in the other dogs teeth. It would not let go. I took two buses to get to Kaiser, and needed to wait all day for a doctor.
Why in hell do you wish to break them up. You know better!
"But Dad, it had only one month to live. And afterwards, Kaiser would not fill my prescription for the bite. They wanted your signature on a paper."
But dear, I gave you the paper. Didn't you make a copy of it. And.....
Her phone hung up. She released her trigger and hung up on the world. It is my daughter's way of taking a time out when events are beyond her control. Of course my trigger was set and cocked, but I took action and took the Trolley to Old Town. From there I drove to down Sport's Arena to Ralph's on the west side of the street. and Ralph's. I needed a treat to relax my gun. I bought some black licorice, dried dates and a fried chicken breast.
My trigger now removed, I returned to my hotel and went into a deep sleep. I forgot about dogs and thought about the ladies who had left me. I sorely need one to comfort me. (First draft)
Next to my 'Y' cell I overheard this exchange. Yet my trigger is turned off. No words bother me. The second floor is loaded with drug addicts and some prostitutes. Silly, but exciting for me. Somehow I made it through the night after an unpleasant call from my daughter.
Yesterday, though, was a perfect day. I swam downstream and forgot time. In fact I wished for more. I did not take my small blood pressure pill-not needed. My mind worked like the one of a two year old. Until six o'clock I scrolled down on the ninth floor's digital microfiche computer. The year 1938 excited me. I crept inside the world of events and sports. One might say I was in cruise control-or in God's hands the entire day.
My trigger had been removed from my mind-that is until the number 901, or Coronado Bus dropped me off on First and Broadway. Below the court house and next to the curb slept a body. Dust covered it. It didn't even have a Ralph's shopping cart next to it. The walkers did not even stop or stare. They were immune to the sight of death.
The sight of a dead man returned a trigger to my mind. I felt mad that our new City Mayor, the Honorable Folklore and ex-Mayor Sanders thought about placing a new football stadium inside the City of Denial, San Diego.
I continued on my way, the burrito from Lolita's energizing me. It is my favorite restaurant next to the Library. I made it back to my little Broadway cell and turned over in bed. It was not just hot, but morbidly so. Somehow, I fell into a deep coma...only to be awakened by a phone call.
"Dad, I was bitten by a bull dog. I tried to separate Oscar from the other dog. The bull dog had one month to live. Somehow, my hand got entangled in the other dogs teeth. It would not let go. I took two buses to get to Kaiser, and needed to wait all day for a doctor.
Why in hell do you wish to break them up. You know better!
"But Dad, it had only one month to live. And afterwards, Kaiser would not fill my prescription for the bite. They wanted your signature on a paper."
But dear, I gave you the paper. Didn't you make a copy of it. And.....
Her phone hung up. She released her trigger and hung up on the world. It is my daughter's way of taking a time out when events are beyond her control. Of course my trigger was set and cocked, but I took action and took the Trolley to Old Town. From there I drove to down Sport's Arena to Ralph's on the west side of the street. and Ralph's. I needed a treat to relax my gun. I bought some black licorice, dried dates and a fried chicken breast.
My trigger now removed, I returned to my hotel and went into a deep sleep. I forgot about dogs and thought about the ladies who had left me. I sorely need one to comfort me. (First draft)
Wednesday, April 9, 2014
Was it the Wild Salmon?
"George, I don't feel pain! I don't feel pain!" It is eight o'clock Tuesday night.
We are inside the eleventh floor elevator of the Mercy Scripp's Hospital. Taxi driver Sam has just had his third procedure-the biggest so far. "My heart is Okay. They just need to monitor it. I am the luckiest Taxi man in the whole wide world."
"Well I am going to take you for a treat. Sam, your the man. . We will eat Wild Salmon tonight. Ralph's is just two blocks away."
"George, Albertson's Salmon is better and cheaper. Ralph's plasters their fish with too much paint. too much paint on their Salmon. [places too much paint on theirs. I don't wish to die."
Tonight we dine out, in front of Albertson's. We buy three packages of this wild fish, along with a bunch of grapes. A small round table sits in front of the store. It looks south over Washington Blvd and a number 10 bus that has just stopped. The #10 bus goes both ways to the Mercy hospital. But today San Diego set a heat record of 86. I am too smart to wait for buses in this heat.
"George I can walk without sharp pain. It is a miracle."
"Well Sam, your helped God along by losing thirty pounds. Just you wait. Your mind will see what you have missed before. All you need now is constant exercise, and your legs should feel more power now. Three of your legs have been cleaned, so everyday bike riding will keep it that way.
"I can hardly wait to get on my bike. First, I wish to vacation in Mexico. Do you have a passport George? And you know George, the Wild Salmon in my diet, the fat oozed off my body. I have never felt so good. The loss of over thirty pounds kept me alive until Mr. Obama kicked in with my insurance.
Monday morning, I had picked Sam up and drove him to the oldest hospital in San Diego. He was scheduled for possible a heart valve or bypass surgery. He made plans to have a Jewish burial. We arrived at the hospital at one thirty. The surgery had been postponed two times. His insurance was dropped and reinstated twice-causing him unneeded anguish. On the second floor, he was led in at 2:30.
Monday evening I returned. I heard his voice from room 1107. . "That is Big George. I hear his voice." A nurse removed herself and I took her place. He looked excited when he saw me. He wore a black Yalmaka over his head and held a prayer book in one hand. I set down the black bag that carried his cell phone.
"George, before the surgery, the doctor told me a heart operation was not needed. operation on my heart was not needed. 'The root of all of your pain is the blockage in the leg.' A feeling of joy came over me. I am hungry. Can you go and get me Wild Dry Salmon? Make sure it is the pepper kind.
The first time I went to the Ralph's store on the south corner of Washington. They did not have the pepper kind but bought him two anyway. I treated myself to the biggest fried chicken breasts and drove back to room 1107 on the eleventh floor.
I felt exhausted but higher than a kite. Sam and I had met over two years ago in a small Jewish church off of Third and Island. We both studied the Old Testament. Both of us were reborn Jews. Little Sam ate, and breathed the Talmud, while I gave it lip service since I walk in his shoes.
The rest of the story came at the beginning. He desires to go to Israel and make a new start with a wife and kids. The good Mercy Hospital and its Doctor Kildaire made it happen. Tuesday evening I drove a new Sam home. The excitement had caught up to both of us.
Last night, I slept soundly, only to get up five times for Mother Nature. (Now edited)
We are inside the eleventh floor elevator of the Mercy Scripp's Hospital. Taxi driver Sam has just had his third procedure-the biggest so far. "My heart is Okay. They just need to monitor it. I am the luckiest Taxi man in the whole wide world."
"Well I am going to take you for a treat. Sam, your the man. . We will eat Wild Salmon tonight. Ralph's is just two blocks away."
"George, Albertson's Salmon is better and cheaper. Ralph's plasters their fish with too much paint. too much paint on their Salmon. [places too much paint on theirs. I don't wish to die."
Tonight we dine out, in front of Albertson's. We buy three packages of this wild fish, along with a bunch of grapes. A small round table sits in front of the store. It looks south over Washington Blvd and a number 10 bus that has just stopped. The #10 bus goes both ways to the Mercy hospital. But today San Diego set a heat record of 86. I am too smart to wait for buses in this heat.
"George I can walk without sharp pain. It is a miracle."
"Well Sam, your helped God along by losing thirty pounds. Just you wait. Your mind will see what you have missed before. All you need now is constant exercise, and your legs should feel more power now. Three of your legs have been cleaned, so everyday bike riding will keep it that way.
"I can hardly wait to get on my bike. First, I wish to vacation in Mexico. Do you have a passport George? And you know George, the Wild Salmon in my diet, the fat oozed off my body. I have never felt so good. The loss of over thirty pounds kept me alive until Mr. Obama kicked in with my insurance.
Monday morning, I had picked Sam up and drove him to the oldest hospital in San Diego. He was scheduled for possible a heart valve or bypass surgery. He made plans to have a Jewish burial. We arrived at the hospital at one thirty. The surgery had been postponed two times. His insurance was dropped and reinstated twice-causing him unneeded anguish. On the second floor, he was led in at 2:30.
Monday evening I returned. I heard his voice from room 1107. . "That is Big George. I hear his voice." A nurse removed herself and I took her place. He looked excited when he saw me. He wore a black Yalmaka over his head and held a prayer book in one hand. I set down the black bag that carried his cell phone.
"George, before the surgery, the doctor told me a heart operation was not needed. operation on my heart was not needed. 'The root of all of your pain is the blockage in the leg.' A feeling of joy came over me. I am hungry. Can you go and get me Wild Dry Salmon? Make sure it is the pepper kind.
The first time I went to the Ralph's store on the south corner of Washington. They did not have the pepper kind but bought him two anyway. I treated myself to the biggest fried chicken breasts and drove back to room 1107 on the eleventh floor.
I felt exhausted but higher than a kite. Sam and I had met over two years ago in a small Jewish church off of Third and Island. We both studied the Old Testament. Both of us were reborn Jews. Little Sam ate, and breathed the Talmud, while I gave it lip service since I walk in his shoes.
The rest of the story came at the beginning. He desires to go to Israel and make a new start with a wife and kids. The good Mercy Hospital and its Doctor Kildaire made it happen. Tuesday evening I drove a new Sam home. The excitement had caught up to both of us.
Last night, I slept soundly, only to get up five times for Mother Nature. (Now edited)
Monday, April 7, 2014
A Cure for Cancer?...Why not?
Cantor David spoke about a cure for cancer, of course in conjunction with Dr. Simon. I entered the synagogue at nine o'clock on a Sabbath Saturday. His small bible study class had doubled, from three to six. It was all because of Dr. Simon. He and the Cantor put their heads together and came up with a concoction that might cure cancer. Since I didn't go to their evening service, I had to make something out of these terms.
How can one live a pure life without reacting to his human frailties. In stronger terms, live life and not reacting to another's. than reacting to it. Cantor David spoke about the evils of gossip. "Why do people degrade other people daily. And worse, why do they think evil thoughts during the day." Cantor David used terms like "trigger" and "switch".
"We all have cancer cells just ready to be awakened. All they need is for someone to pull their trigger and the bad cells will destroy the good ones."
Now being the creative genius, I know I am, I pondered these thoughts while showering at the 'Y'. In fact it was a one hour shower, and I maybe came up with the answer that doctors have been looking for. And to think those who work the San Diego Trolleys provided me with the answer.
About one year ago, the M.T.S. worked on making the trolleys more efficient. Workers dug and dug and put switches along several parts of the line. Now an Orange Line Train could switch to the other track to avoid hitting the Blue Line Trolley. It could switch to the other line without bumping into the Blue Trolley.
Not only did this save time and congestion, but whenever there there were too many passengers going across the border, both lines now could become Blue Line Trolleys.
But now you ask, "What in Sam Hell does a switch have to do with a trigger. What if we could remove the trigger that causes cancer? Is is more than eating the right foods and more exercise? What if we did not have a trigger to begin with? What if we lived perfect lives, just like a new born baby?
The past three years, I spent my time enjoying God's creation. I remove my anger switch from my brain and turn it over to God. Now I have created a purer life for me and those around me. Even my two grand daughters see it in my eyes. My six month year old is not aware of anger yet. She drinks milk anytime she wishes. Her diapers are changed instantly.
The Cantor compared our troubles to our teeth. Is it better to fix a cavity or simply remove its roots? Yet what if our diet contained food that cleaned our teeth. The same holds true for our lives. But what if we never had any problems in the first place. Or we lived in harmony with our divine spirit and God.
How can one live a pure life without reacting to his human frailties. In stronger terms, live life and not reacting to another's. than reacting to it. Cantor David spoke about the evils of gossip. "Why do people degrade other people daily. And worse, why do they think evil thoughts during the day." Cantor David used terms like "trigger" and "switch".
"We all have cancer cells just ready to be awakened. All they need is for someone to pull their trigger and the bad cells will destroy the good ones."
Now being the creative genius, I know I am, I pondered these thoughts while showering at the 'Y'. In fact it was a one hour shower, and I maybe came up with the answer that doctors have been looking for. And to think those who work the San Diego Trolleys provided me with the answer.
About one year ago, the M.T.S. worked on making the trolleys more efficient. Workers dug and dug and put switches along several parts of the line. Now an Orange Line Train could switch to the other track to avoid hitting the Blue Line Trolley. It could switch to the other line without bumping into the Blue Trolley.
Not only did this save time and congestion, but whenever there there were too many passengers going across the border, both lines now could become Blue Line Trolleys.
But now you ask, "What in Sam Hell does a switch have to do with a trigger. What if we could remove the trigger that causes cancer? Is is more than eating the right foods and more exercise? What if we did not have a trigger to begin with? What if we lived perfect lives, just like a new born baby?
The past three years, I spent my time enjoying God's creation. I remove my anger switch from my brain and turn it over to God. Now I have created a purer life for me and those around me. Even my two grand daughters see it in my eyes. My six month year old is not aware of anger yet. She drinks milk anytime she wishes. Her diapers are changed instantly.
The Cantor compared our troubles to our teeth. Is it better to fix a cavity or simply remove its roots? Yet what if our diet contained food that cleaned our teeth. The same holds true for our lives. But what if we never had any problems in the first place. Or we lived in harmony with our divine spirit and God.
A Side Trip to San Juan Capistrano
My daughter called Saturday evening to tell me my two grandchildren, Summer and Spring, would be at the Petting Zoo in San Juan Capistrano this Saturday. Springtime is almost seven months and Summer is three. They are a handful, but a blessing for our family.
San Juan Capistrano is about an hour and a half drive from San Diego. But I seldom drive. My younger daughter told me several years back that "anyone over fifty should never drive", and I listen to both of my daughters. My life has changed since then. I never drive if a bus, train, trolley are more handy. It has removed half of my daily stress and kept my legs healthier and wiser. Besides, it beats smelling freeway smoke.
I paid my eleven bucks at the Santa Fe Station. The ticket paid from Oceanside to San Juan Capistrano. My Compass card gave me a free trip up to Oceanside. I would meet my family at the San Juan station at ten o'clock. The #567 Amtrak pulled out of San Diego at eight twenty seven. It felt good leaving the driving to Amtrak. (I have since renamed it the Blue Eyed Special.)
I pulled out the window blinds to shade my eyes. It would be another Santa Ana day in the South Bay. I brought my inhaler along. I knew asthma would attack me but was ready.I read my Dickens book along the way and marveled at the scenery.
I arrived at the San Juan station at ten o'clock and met my family. Well I did not see them but heard a sweet sound in back of me.
"Hi Grand D...a...d."
I picked up Summer and showed her off to the information officer. I then greeted my daughter and took a peek at spring. Her eyes riveted towards mine. Happiness filled my soul. I felt glad to have made it to seventy five years of age.
We began at a little patio cafe. My daughter brought me a croissant and coffee. I congratulated them for winning a grant to go back east for two weeks. Summer could not be restrained. She behaved like a bull in heat. Her blue eyes saw something down the way.
"I see petting zoo. I see petting zoo." In back of the cafe was the petting zoo. We soon walked in back and I have never seen a kid so excited. It reminded me of when I bought my first ice cream from a Good Humor truck."
Summer pawed one of the many rabbits. They had bought some raw vegetables in a small container. She fed the rabbits while two ornery hens squawked and pranced around showing off their feathers. All awhile, Spring's eyes bolted at mine. Her big blue eyes could zeroed in on me. I felt like she had known me her whole life.
Summer then went on a real horse. One word summed up the day: Excitement. I picked up Spring and she gave a look I will never forget. She seemed enveloped in me - that is until she needed more milk, and of course my daughter came to the rescue.
Afterwards, we ate at Ruben's. I had purchased my return fare back to Oceanside for eleven dollars. The Amtrak train would leave at one forty. I packed have of my uneaten chicken salad away and we all walked back to the station.
Again, Spring kept a vigil on me with her eyes. I was delighted to have two blue eyes watching me today. The next time I go north I will call my train the Blue Eyed Special.
At Oceanside, The 101 Breeze bus took me to my car in Encinitas. I needed to pick it up and go back to San Diego. I looked forward to learning the Quick Step at the Balboa Park Bay Club.
San Juan Capistrano is about an hour and a half drive from San Diego. But I seldom drive. My younger daughter told me several years back that "anyone over fifty should never drive", and I listen to both of my daughters. My life has changed since then. I never drive if a bus, train, trolley are more handy. It has removed half of my daily stress and kept my legs healthier and wiser. Besides, it beats smelling freeway smoke.
I paid my eleven bucks at the Santa Fe Station. The ticket paid from Oceanside to San Juan Capistrano. My Compass card gave me a free trip up to Oceanside. I would meet my family at the San Juan station at ten o'clock. The #567 Amtrak pulled out of San Diego at eight twenty seven. It felt good leaving the driving to Amtrak. (I have since renamed it the Blue Eyed Special.)
I pulled out the window blinds to shade my eyes. It would be another Santa Ana day in the South Bay. I brought my inhaler along. I knew asthma would attack me but was ready.I read my Dickens book along the way and marveled at the scenery.
I arrived at the San Juan station at ten o'clock and met my family. Well I did not see them but heard a sweet sound in back of me.
"Hi Grand D...a...d."
I picked up Summer and showed her off to the information officer. I then greeted my daughter and took a peek at spring. Her eyes riveted towards mine. Happiness filled my soul. I felt glad to have made it to seventy five years of age.
We began at a little patio cafe. My daughter brought me a croissant and coffee. I congratulated them for winning a grant to go back east for two weeks. Summer could not be restrained. She behaved like a bull in heat. Her blue eyes saw something down the way.
"I see petting zoo. I see petting zoo." In back of the cafe was the petting zoo. We soon walked in back and I have never seen a kid so excited. It reminded me of when I bought my first ice cream from a Good Humor truck."
Summer pawed one of the many rabbits. They had bought some raw vegetables in a small container. She fed the rabbits while two ornery hens squawked and pranced around showing off their feathers. All awhile, Spring's eyes bolted at mine. Her big blue eyes could zeroed in on me. I felt like she had known me her whole life.
Summer then went on a real horse. One word summed up the day: Excitement. I picked up Spring and she gave a look I will never forget. She seemed enveloped in me - that is until she needed more milk, and of course my daughter came to the rescue.
Afterwards, we ate at Ruben's. I had purchased my return fare back to Oceanside for eleven dollars. The Amtrak train would leave at one forty. I packed have of my uneaten chicken salad away and we all walked back to the station.
Again, Spring kept a vigil on me with her eyes. I was delighted to have two blue eyes watching me today. The next time I go north I will call my train the Blue Eyed Special.
At Oceanside, The 101 Breeze bus took me to my car in Encinitas. I needed to pick it up and go back to San Diego. I looked forward to learning the Quick Step at the Balboa Park Bay Club.
Friday, April 4, 2014
The California Room
San Diego's new library has opened up new horizons for me. I just can't get enough of the California room. That is where one can find out about their ancestry. Yet for me it is the break I need to recharge my batteries and put more juice into my stories.
One of the areas in this ninth floor room houses many old books. But anybody who wishes to find out their past must be floored by the immense number of books it holds. The digital microfiche machine keeps me so busy with old newspaper articles, I forget to eat lunch. Excuse me, another traveling tour has entered. It is a bevy of young ladies from a retirement home in Carlsbad. A man in his early nineties peers over my shoulder.
"Hey, I remember the name of Kenny Washington. And I remember reading that paper."
"Sir, this is the 1938 Los Angeles Times. I am doing research for a football story."
All twenty hovered over me and the machine. They wished to know more about me and my book. I have never had so many beauties hovering over me at one time. I gave their leader my card and promised to have a book signing there.
I needed a lunch break. The California room is on the ninth floor and conceivably the best view of one of the sights of California can be seen on its patio. It overlooks the Harbor, Petco Park and of course the Coronado Bridge. I sat away from the wind and ate my tuna sandwich with a tomato. My eyes told me I needed a nap.
The elevator took me down to the lobby and I exited west to the bus stop. The number 901 bus stopped and took me to Broadway where I got off. I needed to bump up my Compass Card, but the Transit Center had a line out the door. I crossed Front street and notice a body next to a trash can. I thought it must be dead. I decided to take on a ledge to see if anybody took notice.
One walked over it. Another around and so forth. Finally a siren sounded. I felt mortified that Obama care could not have helped him. My spirits now were broken. There are ten thousand homeless waiting just like the trash can man.
One of the areas in this ninth floor room houses many old books. But anybody who wishes to find out their past must be floored by the immense number of books it holds. The digital microfiche machine keeps me so busy with old newspaper articles, I forget to eat lunch. Excuse me, another traveling tour has entered. It is a bevy of young ladies from a retirement home in Carlsbad. A man in his early nineties peers over my shoulder.
"Hey, I remember the name of Kenny Washington. And I remember reading that paper."
"Sir, this is the 1938 Los Angeles Times. I am doing research for a football story."
All twenty hovered over me and the machine. They wished to know more about me and my book. I have never had so many beauties hovering over me at one time. I gave their leader my card and promised to have a book signing there.
I needed a lunch break. The California room is on the ninth floor and conceivably the best view of one of the sights of California can be seen on its patio. It overlooks the Harbor, Petco Park and of course the Coronado Bridge. I sat away from the wind and ate my tuna sandwich with a tomato. My eyes told me I needed a nap.
The elevator took me down to the lobby and I exited west to the bus stop. The number 901 bus stopped and took me to Broadway where I got off. I needed to bump up my Compass Card, but the Transit Center had a line out the door. I crossed Front street and notice a body next to a trash can. I thought it must be dead. I decided to take on a ledge to see if anybody took notice.
One walked over it. Another around and so forth. Finally a siren sounded. I felt mortified that Obama care could not have helped him. My spirits now were broken. There are ten thousand homeless waiting just like the trash can man.
Wednesday, April 2, 2014
Another Hair Cut at Ron's
Sponsor Ed told me it was time for a haircut. "You got a hair on your nose and you didn't comb today George. Now you know you are handsome, but how the gals going to find out. With all of that hair they just can't see your face!"
"Well, I will be back. Ron's is up the street. He will fix it."
For those who don't know about Ron's Carlsbad Barber Shop, they can look at my previous blogs. Ron's shop is what America used to be about. It is a piece of apple pie, and chocolate ice cream to boot. Only patron was ahead of me, while Ron was removing the others bib. He left and the other got aboard.
"Dam those Angeles. Can't their bull pen hold a lead?...Going to Vegas again this weekend. Got comps...Can you break this?...I need the change."
You guessed it. Like myself, Ron had become his shrink. Too bad his wife never let him speak, so he took it out on Ron. Now it was my turn in the hot seat. I took a look at my head and remarked, "Gee, as I get older, I see hair growing in the wrong places."
A partly bald gentleman looked up and put away his cell phone. He eyed me and spoke. "Well, sir, I am a bit younger than you, but would sure like to have some of your hair. What did you do to keep it so long?"
"Well I could tell you my Dad's name was Harry. But I think genetics has a lot to do with me reaching seventy five. Also, most of my time I spend laughing. I guess laughter eases my mind and relaxes the top of my head.
Ron was just about finished with me. "Take a little more off, just in case I forget to comb it again...And can you take a picture of me in the chair...Thanks Ron."
I returned to Colonel Edward at the Carlsbad Library up the street. I felt woozy from a spider bite at my 'Y' Hotel. "You look a lot better now George. You should always look at your head before you leave you hotel."
"Well Ed, I really don't need to market myself like you, since those who like me care about my insides."
With that Ed began laughing. I always make him laugh, guess that I am always funny. I had him take my picture since Facebook requested it and I also took his.
I returned to the Encinitas Senior Center and to my dismay, saw Lady Barbara sitting on a parking lot curb. It was undignified for her fragile bone to sit in the cold wind Her escort, Ron, came up to me and told me her "lift had forgotten her...Also, Pam inside the office told me the taxi company will not pick up."
"Just wait about fifteen minutes. I will be happy to take her if they don't show up."
Not to bore my readers, they didn't and I had no help from the office. I drove a happier Barbara back to her home off of Saxony Blvd, in back of the Mobile Station. I met her good neighbor and also her dog Caleb. She lived in a spacious back yard setting. Inside her downstairs room she had a large living room with a grand piano. She had copies of books written by Patrick Henry and also George Washington.
I always knew Lady Barbara was a true patriot. But I had to return to finish this blog. I returned the way I came and down Saxony St. I looked across the road and again cried. Why did some idiot in Encinitas allow a In-and-Out Burger joint just below a church and Catholic school. The Anglo Saxons would have taken off their heads.
No longer in the mood to write, drove to the Encinitas Parking lot but found it full with Padre fans. They had a day game today. I returned to the Tip Top for lamb chops to boost my spirits and finally back to the Commuter Station at five O'clock.
Again I felt miserable with my infected spider bite. But what bit into my head the most was that dam In-and-Out almost finished. Why that Anglo Saxons would never have heard of it. And by and by, the Dodgers beat the Padres 3-2. Got-to-go now. The computers work so slow everyone has left to the library down below.
"Well, I will be back. Ron's is up the street. He will fix it."
For those who don't know about Ron's Carlsbad Barber Shop, they can look at my previous blogs. Ron's shop is what America used to be about. It is a piece of apple pie, and chocolate ice cream to boot. Only patron was ahead of me, while Ron was removing the others bib. He left and the other got aboard.
"Dam those Angeles. Can't their bull pen hold a lead?...Going to Vegas again this weekend. Got comps...Can you break this?...I need the change."
You guessed it. Like myself, Ron had become his shrink. Too bad his wife never let him speak, so he took it out on Ron. Now it was my turn in the hot seat. I took a look at my head and remarked, "Gee, as I get older, I see hair growing in the wrong places."
A partly bald gentleman looked up and put away his cell phone. He eyed me and spoke. "Well, sir, I am a bit younger than you, but would sure like to have some of your hair. What did you do to keep it so long?"
"Well I could tell you my Dad's name was Harry. But I think genetics has a lot to do with me reaching seventy five. Also, most of my time I spend laughing. I guess laughter eases my mind and relaxes the top of my head.
Ron was just about finished with me. "Take a little more off, just in case I forget to comb it again...And can you take a picture of me in the chair...Thanks Ron."
I returned to Colonel Edward at the Carlsbad Library up the street. I felt woozy from a spider bite at my 'Y' Hotel. "You look a lot better now George. You should always look at your head before you leave you hotel."
"Well Ed, I really don't need to market myself like you, since those who like me care about my insides."
With that Ed began laughing. I always make him laugh, guess that I am always funny. I had him take my picture since Facebook requested it and I also took his.
I returned to the Encinitas Senior Center and to my dismay, saw Lady Barbara sitting on a parking lot curb. It was undignified for her fragile bone to sit in the cold wind Her escort, Ron, came up to me and told me her "lift had forgotten her...Also, Pam inside the office told me the taxi company will not pick up."
"Just wait about fifteen minutes. I will be happy to take her if they don't show up."
Not to bore my readers, they didn't and I had no help from the office. I drove a happier Barbara back to her home off of Saxony Blvd, in back of the Mobile Station. I met her good neighbor and also her dog Caleb. She lived in a spacious back yard setting. Inside her downstairs room she had a large living room with a grand piano. She had copies of books written by Patrick Henry and also George Washington.
I always knew Lady Barbara was a true patriot. But I had to return to finish this blog. I returned the way I came and down Saxony St. I looked across the road and again cried. Why did some idiot in Encinitas allow a In-and-Out Burger joint just below a church and Catholic school. The Anglo Saxons would have taken off their heads.
No longer in the mood to write, drove to the Encinitas Parking lot but found it full with Padre fans. They had a day game today. I returned to the Tip Top for lamb chops to boost my spirits and finally back to the Commuter Station at five O'clock.
Again I felt miserable with my infected spider bite. But what bit into my head the most was that dam In-and-Out almost finished. Why that Anglo Saxons would never have heard of it. And by and by, the Dodgers beat the Padres 3-2. Got-to-go now. The computers work so slow everyone has left to the library down below.
Tuesday, April 1, 2014
April Fool's Day i
I have never felt better in my life. All of those Balboa Park dancing lessons has made me feel like Peter Pan. You might just say I feel like flying.
I did a jig inside the 'Y's unisex shower. I broke down and opened up a new Bic razor. The old razor glided over my shampooed skin for three months. I turned on the high powered shower and pondered what today had in store for me.
After I made love to the shower head, wiped and put on my pajama bottoms, I marched back to my cell. Two hard boiled eggs and left over tuna would have to do today. It is not much of a breakfast but I am one who lives life, and not food. Food no longer interests me.
My Smart and Final shopping bag held my books and my breakfast. No longer do I need to back pack it today. I have simplified my life. Now that I am reaching 75 years of age, I'd rather read a good book or dance with a lovely old lady.
The 7:30 Coaster train would leave at seven thirty. I walked to the station and climbed aboard. Those de-boarding in San Diego looked dead tired. They trudged to work hoping to make it another day. There was no rain so far-although the weather man gave it a fifty-fifty chance.
A UT newspaper sat next to me. I could't believe the headlines. I took a double take: The City Counsel voted to have free parking for Electric Cars Park in San Diego. A smaller headline excited me even more. I will paraphrase it.
"The Old YMCA at 500 West Broadway will be bagged for one month. The cockroaches and bed bugs will be smoked out. After some remodeling, the first of many homeless will use the facility as their new home. There will be a on-site dentist and also doctor's office. Also, a 12 step program will be administered by Ex-Mayor Feltmore. Old hotels will give remove the homelessness in San Diego.
"Under consideration is to make San Diego into a four day work week City to alleviate the worsening air quality. Also, a Trolley spur to the airport is now under consideration. The one billion dollar Airport Double Deck has been a bust. The congestion at Terminal One is the worst ever."
Well the train pulled into Encinitas Station. I found my car, Dolly, dripping wet. The light rain did not escape the North County area. The two eggs and left over tuna I finished in the front seat before the drive to the Encinitas Senior Center.
I walked into the computer room. A lady greeted me. "My name is Hilda Fingers. I am a full time tutor. I will also take care of the printer. I was told that your privacy was at issue."
"I had warned Lynn about a year ago that we need more transparency and a full time computer tutor. She only laughed at me and said they did not include it in the budget. Of course like lots of young gals, they are too busy with their smart phones.
Anyone knows that a senior who knows how to handle a computer can add years on their life. Hundreds have been driven away by these idiotic servants here.
Each computer has its own personality. That is why somebody must come and man these machines. Stress is the leading cause of heart attacks, and our downtown fools have had a hand in it.
I did a jig inside the 'Y's unisex shower. I broke down and opened up a new Bic razor. The old razor glided over my shampooed skin for three months. I turned on the high powered shower and pondered what today had in store for me.
After I made love to the shower head, wiped and put on my pajama bottoms, I marched back to my cell. Two hard boiled eggs and left over tuna would have to do today. It is not much of a breakfast but I am one who lives life, and not food. Food no longer interests me.
My Smart and Final shopping bag held my books and my breakfast. No longer do I need to back pack it today. I have simplified my life. Now that I am reaching 75 years of age, I'd rather read a good book or dance with a lovely old lady.
The 7:30 Coaster train would leave at seven thirty. I walked to the station and climbed aboard. Those de-boarding in San Diego looked dead tired. They trudged to work hoping to make it another day. There was no rain so far-although the weather man gave it a fifty-fifty chance.
A UT newspaper sat next to me. I could't believe the headlines. I took a double take: The City Counsel voted to have free parking for Electric Cars Park in San Diego. A smaller headline excited me even more. I will paraphrase it.
"The Old YMCA at 500 West Broadway will be bagged for one month. The cockroaches and bed bugs will be smoked out. After some remodeling, the first of many homeless will use the facility as their new home. There will be a on-site dentist and also doctor's office. Also, a 12 step program will be administered by Ex-Mayor Feltmore. Old hotels will give remove the homelessness in San Diego.
"Under consideration is to make San Diego into a four day work week City to alleviate the worsening air quality. Also, a Trolley spur to the airport is now under consideration. The one billion dollar Airport Double Deck has been a bust. The congestion at Terminal One is the worst ever."
Well the train pulled into Encinitas Station. I found my car, Dolly, dripping wet. The light rain did not escape the North County area. The two eggs and left over tuna I finished in the front seat before the drive to the Encinitas Senior Center.
I walked into the computer room. A lady greeted me. "My name is Hilda Fingers. I am a full time tutor. I will also take care of the printer. I was told that your privacy was at issue."
"I had warned Lynn about a year ago that we need more transparency and a full time computer tutor. She only laughed at me and said they did not include it in the budget. Of course like lots of young gals, they are too busy with their smart phones.
Anyone knows that a senior who knows how to handle a computer can add years on their life. Hundreds have been driven away by these idiotic servants here.
Each computer has its own personality. That is why somebody must come and man these machines. Stress is the leading cause of heart attacks, and our downtown fools have had a hand in it.
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