Three beaches compete for the title of the Surfing Capital of the U.S.A. They are Ocean, Huntington and Santa Cruz beaches. Today on Sunday, I am to travel to Huntington Beach for my brother Mel's birthday. It is his 74th-about two years younger than mine.
My Chevy Cavalier is my hero. This reliable car has saved my life countless time. The car is parked at the Encinitas commuter lot. Amtrak accept Coaster cars on six different times. It is free, cool, and quiet--compared to the Coaster trains. Amtrak has curtains for the sun, push back seats, and a foot rest.
I have visited Mel for eight years in Huntington Beach. Brother Mel discovered it over forty years ago. It has a clean air westerly flow and deep sand -- good for umbrellas and volleyball. The waves break slow and long. Many years ago Black Gold was found -- so much that the beach goers had a time removing the oil from their feet. Hermosa Beach also was known for Black Tarry Gold.
Beside the many restaurants, I enjoy sitting on the bleachers with Mel. He walks like a turtle and can barely see out of his good eye. The bad one died about eight years ago from a bungled lazar job by a Vietnamese doctor. The cities of Westminster, and Garden Grove are home to more Vietnamese than any other ethnic group.
Huntington Beach arrives a few miles north from Laguna Beach and Costa Mesa. The John Wayne Airport services the area. John today rides planes and not horses. and not a plane. rides a horse and not a plane for those commuting there. Today, I need to make a pit stop in Jamboree. The off-ramp is in the city of Irvine. I am lost, at first, when I enter a large hotel to the south.
A sea of Japanese are everywhere. They are quite thin and small. The air is a lot cleaner than it is in San Diego. I feel good, but need a bathroom bad. I enter the Soup Plantation across from the Marriot's Residence Inn. I sit but can't find the toilet seat-at first. I drop down further and find it.
I feel relieved but now my stomach hungers for a tuna sandwich stored in my trunk. Again, the Residence Inn was a swarm of little Japanese. They had filled the Soup Plantation at nine thirty. The restaurant opens earlier on Sunday.
On a bench next to me, two were comparing their shoes. One removed a golden laced shoe to show a sore on a toe. They treat their feet like God's. I finished my sandwich and got on the 5 again to Huntington Beach and got off at Beach Blvd. I made a left on Bolsa and entered my brother's assistant living apartments.
Mel no longer lived in his room. A Latina pointed to his new accommodations. It was in a wing and again with a new man. I saw him coming his hair. But it was a different Mel today. No grin greeted me today, only death.
"George, I knew you might be coming. I feel mad they lied. Owner Ed told me they needed to clean my room and not locate me to another one. He lied, as usual. I don't feel like the beach today, but a In-and-Out Burger might do."
Mel had trouble locating a shirt. He is almost totally blind. I picked one out for him. He no longer smiled, but smelled like death, His diaper reminded me why he needed to be here. We took the elevator to the first sitting. The table set for four was missing two.
"Ruth is totally senile. Both of them are in hospitals." A gal on a walker came by and summarized the lunch menu. Her dialogue excited a heavy set lady at the next table. She wore large face and a torso that made May West's bosom look anemic. She had a laughing fit and her two watermelons went round and round like a circus clown.
"Let's leave. I want to go to In-and-Out!
Ok Mel, I said, we will go now. We walked to the car and I waited for him to catch up. He needed to be close to follow me. We drove down Beach Blvd for several miles and found its golden triangle.
"Can I have the double-double with fries and a coke." He asked the waitress. She gave us a number and we took a booth. I hid my disgust and depression. A man starred at us. I felt like punching him out. Our number was called.
He had no trouble clutching the burger. They butcher and package their meets the same day in Baldwin Park. Mel picked up the burger with both hands and chomped down on it. In no time it was gone. He smiled and asked to go the beach now
Main Street is Huntington. The gals show off their new bikinis or Botox jobs. The Sugar Shack has an army of people waiting. There are endless volleyball contests going on along with surfers, fishermen and families. Excitement is in the air.
I told him that now we could not get parking. Yet I knew that after the meal he might have an accident. I drove him home and gave him a twenty. Again he smiled. I returned to the Five freeway and glad that we both lived to celebrate his May 27th birthday.
Yet there was something wrong with it. It was Memorial Day and I remembered Uncle Henry who was awarded a bronze star for crawling and carrying a fellow soldier in the battle of Guadalcanal. I will never forget how balled he looked after the war. There was also both Barney's and Irving on my Mom's side.
How our great country has changed from 1945. Now we are looked down upon. Many that enter our services do so for other reasons. Our great traditions and life style is dead. At least Mel and I can remember when our transistor radios were the cell phones of yesteryear and ten cents meant a chocolate chip cup from the Good Humor Ice Cream Truck.
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