I got up once last night. That in itself is a miracle. It is great living again with my number two daughter -- and her dog Oscar. It was my best sleep in years. Unlike San Diego, the temps go down at night, and how!
"Down Oscar,down!" My daughter's Terrier had been abused and thinks all men are evil. He tore at my pants. Guess he must have had a flash back to his original owner.
I ready myself for a brand new life. The air for asthmatics is so much better here than the heavy air in San Diego. It is no accident that Hollywood fled here in the twenties and suburbs like Beverly Hills, Santa Monica, and Century City shot up like pop corn. The Pacific Ocean is our air conditioner.
Before busing to the Beverly Hills Library, I walked down Pico to Beverwil Drive and crossed the street to Ralph's...at least it said Ralph's. Inside I saw rows and rows of cakes, just cakes. To the right was a salad bar. Today it is $7.95 for a selected salad, two dollars more than four years ago. Fruit and vegetable racks stood behind the cashiers.
I picked up a L.A. Times and two bagels with packages of raisins and a banana . A Starbucks coffee clutch was next to the northeast door. I bought a cup and sat in a stool by the north window. It felt great to be with my people, Persian Jews-well at least the Jew part. I felt glad that Obama would fight for the Estonians, Latvia and Lithuania. Hell most kids never heard of these countries. .
Of course I had changed,by golly a lot. No longer did I walk in God's shoes. He walked inside mine. I wished to show Hashem things he needed to change before our New Year, the 24th. At nine o'clock cars stood still on Pico Blvd. I walked towards he apartment to unpack and ready myself for the number 14 bus. It would take me through Beverly Hills towards the library. I just love buses although it is too bad that L.A.does not have San Diego's transit system.
I took my black nap sack and strode down the street. The orange #14 had not arrived. I walked towards the Glat Market and entered the Shoe Store a store down. I needed new laces. I received a pair and then walked to the bus stop on Beverly Glen.
On the Metro bus bench, I laced up the new after throwing away the old. An A Italian couple practiced their English. Beside me a demented lady screamed obscenities to passing cars. The number 14 arrived. His machine didn't work so we climbed aboard free.
I got off at his last stop on Canon Drive. It was fun to walk and watch the cars speed by. The Beverly Hills library had changed. It gave you one free hour but for more you needed to pay a dollar for each additional hour. It seemed a lot quieter than before. Some executives now used several up-to-date large screen computers.
My keyboard work began at about ten thirty. It was cemetery quiet. At about twelve I walked outside to have my lunch of raisins, a bagel, and four apricots. A red haired Latina fondled her patient and laughed while on her cell. A lady sat beside me and removed one cookie from her bag. The Latina laughed since there was little room on the wired bench.
I expected the #14 bus to come anytime. From one until two I waited for the bus that never came. I walked down Canon Drive, and named it the street of while table cloths. At each west restaurant each patron spoke different dialects. Wine and cheese was served everywhere. Several #14 buses swept passed me going the wrong direction. Mine finally arrived-and in the nick of time.
I knew why the tourists took buses to see this heirloom called Beverly Hills .In the forties, it could have been a cow pasture. There were no high rises but merely a conventional city. . Even in the sixties, I sold clocks to Bed and Bath, Gary's and also Pioneer Hardware. In fact it was at one of those luggage stores that Schindler's list evolved from.
The Sterling building was a movie house in my day, and rabbits still ran across the highway.
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