Happy Mother's Day-Edith

I could hardly wait to get to Los Angeles to see daughter number two. I will name her Jennifer-the name of my Polish grandmother. Besides her 31st birthday, it was also Mother's Day. It still upset me that daughter number two, who I will name Miriam, in honor of my aunt, would not allow Jennifer the privilege of seeing the two babies.
    I felt still perturbed that somebody use the distasteful word, Resettlement on top of the eviction notice. I again took the 567 Amtrak to Encinitas. My weather beaten car waited there for me. I kept thinking about what Miriam has told me.
   "Dad, it is time for a change. You need an apartment and a new life." I felt excited to leave the old 'Y' in downtown San Diego, but a new move for a soon-to-be seventy five year old was scary. Yet  I knew my own apartment would give the chance to invite a girl friend over. My second daughter was right after all.
   The Amtrak train stopped in  Encinitas and I got off. A little old Mexican lady also got off.  She and her two bags of luggage appeared lost. The little old wrinkled one came up to me. "Qunado Le train a San Diego va llegar." I smiled and showed her the platform schedule. "Muchas gracias."
   I filled my tank with gas and bi-passed the Metro-Link Station in Oceanside. It was going on nine thirty. The half sleeping pill made the drive to Los Angeles a slam-dunk. I took one pit stop in Huntington Beach and it dawned on me. My radar fixed on Huntington Beach. Besides, my blind brother Mel lives in an Assistant Living place there.
   The beach air made my lungs sing, and my sinuses smile. Yes, I would make my new home in Huntington Beach. I could play volleyball and help my brother Mel. I ate one of the two tuna sandwiches I had packed and returned to the freeway.
   I scuffled a bit getting into the city. Even though there were more lanes, the freeway builders could not widen the off-ramp streets. Pico Blvd. While driving on the Santa Monica Freeway, I thought about my Mother Edith.
  
   Edith died too young at  eighty one.   But in no way could I have found my identity today if it weren't for Edie. Never did I call her Mom, since she broke too many brooms over my head. But when I needed her, she never failed. I just hope my mom is listening to me in heaven
   I remember the milk fights with brother Mel. I was two years younger than me. I can still hear my Mom scream. "Go outside to fight, but don't you dare dirty my carpet" or "Put on a clean pair of underwear and also clean socks" or "Finish your liver before you leave the table...Remember I brought you into this world and I can kick you out."
   The event I remember my Mom the most for was my fight with Jeffery King on Holt Avenue. The entire Jewish neighborhood watched the fight. Jeffery  was  bashing my head on the sidewalk cement. My Mom heard the ruckus and watched it on the porch. 
    I heard my Mother's scream, "Knock the shit out of him Georgie!" I got up off the pavement and  flipped the bully over on his back. I jumped on him and swung a battery of blows to his head.  Sheldon and Allen managed to pull me off.
   Now going on four years of age. Mom delighted in providing me with a dime. A dime meant everything to me at four o'clock. That was when I heard the music, Mary Had a Little Lamb coming from the Good Humor truck. Max always knew what I wanted, a chocolate chip ice cream cup.  "Here is another dime Max, I just beat up Jeffery." "Keep it Georgie. this one is on the truck"
   But most of all, she got me glasses when I could not see. Edith took my to the orthodontist to fix my teeth. She even paid $20 for a psychologist when I had the first of many breakdowns. Edith always called, during good and bad. But the best day-by far-was Sunday. Nobody could beat better batters on our waffle iron. The smell of bacon and syrup was all I needed to skip out of bed.
   Hey, if Harry is with you in heaven, tell him I eat great fruits all the time. I just bought six for .39 cents each at the Ranch Market in back of the Tip Top Restaurant. Make sure to wish Sally, Bella and the other mothers a Happy Mother's Day.  

  Well I arrived at my daughter's apartment. It took her awhile to wake up. Her service dog, Oscar did not bark this time. She is familiar with my smell. She was celebrating her 31st birthday on Mothers Day. I bought her, also, a Mother's Day card since she has been a doting mother for her dog. She bought it four years ago. We walked up to Coffee Bean on Wilshire.
   "Dad, what do you want?" Just get me water. I was finished with my tuna sandwich. She told me that many restaurants had already paid back the two million that the basketball owner Sterling  had already paid. She then spoke about his son.
   "Scott shot my buddy at Beverly High School. Now he walks with a cane. By the way, Cheviot Hills was abuzz two nights ago. We heard drones all night." It was probably Obama's flying circus He spends more time campaigning than attending to business inside the oval office. (Not finished.)