You can just bet that somewhere in the stands Saturday, Li'l Amby Schindler is watching the game from his forty yard line seats.
'Leg's Schindler is still awarded two tickets for every game, that is while he is still alive. He is 97 years of age at the time of this writing. and is the only one kicking from his 1939 Trojans under Howard Jones. is at 76 years of age, and he us the only one kicking from the 1930 teams of Howard Jones.
But what you may not know is that Schindler came out of the Los Angeles Good Samaritan Hospital with his two San Diego buddies and suited up for the pivotal 1939 game, game against the Bruins. in 1939. He and several mates had come down with the flu. . The boys from Westwood came into the last game with a brilliant record except for two tie games. U.S.C. had only one tie game. If they could tie the Bruins, they would be elected to go to their sixth Rose Bowl.
Howard Jones was the consummate chess player. He could get into the mind of the opposing team and his Assistant Coach, Sam Barry who doubled as a scout, knew what plays came from each formation. The Trojans were scholarly coached and Jones had a chance to go to Pasadena for the sixth time without a defeat.
U.S.C. barely scrapped by the Washington Huskies earlier that season. With the Trojans trailing late in the fourth quarter, Howard Jones pulled Doyle Nave in favor of Schindler who banged the Husky line toward their end zone. Schindler threw an errant pass so Jones yanked him in favor of 'Fog over Pasadena's' Grenny Landsdell. John Stonebraker snatched victory out of the hands of those Huskies. He caught a last minute pass from Grenny keeping the Rose Bowl hunt in view.
In 1939, U.C.L.A chose to pass instead of run with the ball on fourth down. Robertson flicked the ball out of Jackie Robinson's hands on fourth down. Now the Trojans had the ball close to their end zone In the "waning moments of the tie game", Doyle Nave decided to pass. Jones pulled Nave for Schindler with orders "to freeze the ball. He did and the Trojans prepared for their sixth Rose Bowl.
Tuesday, November 18, 2014
Monday, November 17, 2014
A Perfect Racing Day
"George, you did not prepare for our group. You could have edited your Del Mar story earlier! Everyone at my North County Writer's Group got on my case. They were correct so I apologized.This is the story I had written about the Del Mar Meet in November. A gentle on shore breeze gave me the pick up I sorely needed on this clear sunny day in November.
I drove to the Carlsbad commuter lot, parked my car, and boarded the Breeze 101 coastal bus. Not too bad and it cost me only seventy five cents for a ride that dropped me out at the train station in Solana Beach after it had passed Leucadia and Encinitas . With my good luck, a Breeze 101 going to La Jolla stopped at besides the train station and only seventy five cents was needed to board it. The bus passed Leucadia and then Encinitas before lumbering on to Solana Beach.
Taking advantage of large waves, the surfers looked like small dots in the ocean. My station arrived and I crossed P.C.H. and made my way to one of the British Double Decker buses. These buses I had first rode while in London in 1967. Clem and I stayed there with his grandma and aunt.
I took up a seat inside the grandstand and was in a state of euphoria all day. I was there for the pomp and stomp of these thoroughbreds. Again I did not bet, just maybe one race, and read my clips for my football story. When the horses circled and turned for home, I looked at the fans. One better told his wife he had won the race.
"Dear I won. I have a show ticket on number one!" Of course he really lost money since his horse to win came in last and his show ticket only produced $2.85 for his two dollar ticket. But he didn't seem to mine since he had a chance to cash a ticket."
"Dear looks like you know how to bet. Who do you pick in the next race?"
It amazed me that one winning ticket could make it a big-day for the family. I took the escalator downstairs to watch the grooms and trainers saddle their horses. I read the program to tell the name of the jockeys. The jockeys wore the colors or emblem of the owners. Each wore a grin while they ambled to the numbered spot where the owners had some last minute instruction. Each wore a smile on their face and gave the wives a heavy hug.
On this perfect sunny day, I ambled downstairs to the finish line. The horses coming around the far turn for there to try to be first at the finish energized me. The once cloud of horses became only two as each tried to collar the other and tried to be first. I left totally relaxed as the Double Decker returned me to the train station and a Coaster bus drove me back to Carlsbad where my car was waiting.
But the day was not finished. I ordered a small artichoke pizza at the Pizza Palace on Carlsbad Village Blvd. and my day was complete. Each slice tasted out of this world.
I drove to the Carlsbad commuter lot, parked my car, and boarded the Breeze 101 coastal bus. Not too bad and it cost me only seventy five cents for a ride that dropped me out at the train station in Solana Beach after it had passed Leucadia and Encinitas . With my good luck, a Breeze 101 going to La Jolla stopped at besides the train station and only seventy five cents was needed to board it. The bus passed Leucadia and then Encinitas before lumbering on to Solana Beach.
Taking advantage of large waves, the surfers looked like small dots in the ocean. My station arrived and I crossed P.C.H. and made my way to one of the British Double Decker buses. These buses I had first rode while in London in 1967. Clem and I stayed there with his grandma and aunt.
I took up a seat inside the grandstand and was in a state of euphoria all day. I was there for the pomp and stomp of these thoroughbreds. Again I did not bet, just maybe one race, and read my clips for my football story. When the horses circled and turned for home, I looked at the fans. One better told his wife he had won the race.
"Dear I won. I have a show ticket on number one!" Of course he really lost money since his horse to win came in last and his show ticket only produced $2.85 for his two dollar ticket. But he didn't seem to mine since he had a chance to cash a ticket."
"Dear looks like you know how to bet. Who do you pick in the next race?"
It amazed me that one winning ticket could make it a big-day for the family. I took the escalator downstairs to watch the grooms and trainers saddle their horses. I read the program to tell the name of the jockeys. The jockeys wore the colors or emblem of the owners. Each wore a grin while they ambled to the numbered spot where the owners had some last minute instruction. Each wore a smile on their face and gave the wives a heavy hug.
On this perfect sunny day, I ambled downstairs to the finish line. The horses coming around the far turn for there to try to be first at the finish energized me. The once cloud of horses became only two as each tried to collar the other and tried to be first. I left totally relaxed as the Double Decker returned me to the train station and a Coaster bus drove me back to Carlsbad where my car was waiting.
But the day was not finished. I ordered a small artichoke pizza at the Pizza Palace on Carlsbad Village Blvd. and my day was complete. Each slice tasted out of this world.
Monday, November 10, 2014
God was my Co-pilot
Fog greeted me at my arrival at the Oceanside Transit Station. From Union Station in Los Angeles, I had taken the Metro-Link to Oceanside from I had taken the Metro-Link Link arrived at the Oceanside Transit Center at 6:30. The Corsica had been parked at the lot. I wiped the fog from my window and tried to make it down the Coast Highway to Dennis. My stomach yearned for their turkey special.
Earlier that day, I spent it at the Central Los Angeles Library. A subway train took me back to the Union Station. The ten dollar-all-day ticket would return me where I had purchased the ticket, Oceanside. Only on the weekends can you use these all day tickets
I drove to Dennis in Oceanside as the train ride gave me a heft appetite. After I had filled my stomach with turkey slices,and mashed potatoes I asked the gal at the register how to get to the 5 Freeway and took her directions. It was still somewhat foggy.
I hoped to save $60 and spend the evening at the Aliso rest stop, just outside of Oceanside. I made a right turn but instead of the 5 Freeway found my way in a line of cars in front of several gates that led to the Marine camp. The gates were all lit up. I could only see shapes out of my front window. Now in no way did I wish to enlist and told the guard how to get me back to the #5 going north.
I heard the sound of my heart pumping for help. The first guard told me to go to the second one for directions. A tired George asked God to take over. The second guard gave me a quizzical look. .
"Well sir I can tell you are too old to join. What's the problem?"
"I am lost, and trying to find the 5 freeway."
"Well see that red barrier. Turn around and at the first exit go right. It will pull you on the Five Freeway.
"I sure as hell see nothing!"
The guard walked in front of my car and signaled the waiting Marines to halt for a misguided senior. I found the Five and found the Aliso Rest Stop. It was beginning to fill up. Others refused to drive in the blanket fog. Nothing could be seen out of my front mirror.
I tossed and turned during the night. I new the freeway was expanding and at my first exit became a staging area for the work. Some idiot wished to expand the road and it would take up to two years. At six in the morning, I thought the worst of the fog had lifted. I did not wish to be the two cabs that had spilled over the barrier and one had caught fire the day the rains came.
I prayed and asked God to pilot me safely home. I followed the large white lines to my right. A mile up ahead was a bright light signaling one lane up ahead. Since nothing could be seen from both windows, I looked at my side-view mirror and noticed a few other lights going my way.
I edged over one lane at a time and followed a tail light to my earliest exit, the San Onofre one. I returned back to the five and made my way back to Oceanside in one piece. No more will I take the five out or into San Diego. God was all tuckered out. With daily construction on the five, you have to be an idiot to drive to San Diego.
I will be choosing Metro-Link out of Oceanside from now on, and if desperate, will pay a few more dollars for Amtrak.
Nuts and Bolts: Two days later I needed to go pee just outside of San Clemente. A bus drive told me her number one bus goes on the Pacific Coastal route all the way to Long Beach and Seventh Street. In fact it also stops on Beach Blvd. From now on, I will no longer drive the Five out of San Diego. With a pass it cost one dollar and fifty cents, but takes over two hours, the same as by car.
Earlier that day, I spent it at the Central Los Angeles Library. A subway train took me back to the Union Station. The ten dollar-all-day ticket would return me where I had purchased the ticket, Oceanside. Only on the weekends can you use these all day tickets
I drove to Dennis in Oceanside as the train ride gave me a heft appetite. After I had filled my stomach with turkey slices,and mashed potatoes I asked the gal at the register how to get to the 5 Freeway and took her directions. It was still somewhat foggy.
I hoped to save $60 and spend the evening at the Aliso rest stop, just outside of Oceanside. I made a right turn but instead of the 5 Freeway found my way in a line of cars in front of several gates that led to the Marine camp. The gates were all lit up. I could only see shapes out of my front window. Now in no way did I wish to enlist and told the guard how to get me back to the #5 going north.
I heard the sound of my heart pumping for help. The first guard told me to go to the second one for directions. A tired George asked God to take over. The second guard gave me a quizzical look. .
"Well sir I can tell you are too old to join. What's the problem?"
"I am lost, and trying to find the 5 freeway."
"Well see that red barrier. Turn around and at the first exit go right. It will pull you on the Five Freeway.
"I sure as hell see nothing!"
The guard walked in front of my car and signaled the waiting Marines to halt for a misguided senior. I found the Five and found the Aliso Rest Stop. It was beginning to fill up. Others refused to drive in the blanket fog. Nothing could be seen out of my front mirror.
I tossed and turned during the night. I new the freeway was expanding and at my first exit became a staging area for the work. Some idiot wished to expand the road and it would take up to two years. At six in the morning, I thought the worst of the fog had lifted. I did not wish to be the two cabs that had spilled over the barrier and one had caught fire the day the rains came.
I prayed and asked God to pilot me safely home. I followed the large white lines to my right. A mile up ahead was a bright light signaling one lane up ahead. Since nothing could be seen from both windows, I looked at my side-view mirror and noticed a few other lights going my way.
I edged over one lane at a time and followed a tail light to my earliest exit, the San Onofre one. I returned back to the five and made my way back to Oceanside in one piece. No more will I take the five out or into San Diego. God was all tuckered out. With daily construction on the five, you have to be an idiot to drive to San Diego.
I will be choosing Metro-Link out of Oceanside from now on, and if desperate, will pay a few more dollars for Amtrak.
Nuts and Bolts: Two days later I needed to go pee just outside of San Clemente. A bus drive told me her number one bus goes on the Pacific Coastal route all the way to Long Beach and Seventh Street. In fact it also stops on Beach Blvd. From now on, I will no longer drive the Five out of San Diego. With a pass it cost one dollar and fifty cents, but takes over two hours, the same as by car.
Chuckles laughed all the way to the barn
It was eleven twenty. The Coaster train appeared that took me to the Solano Beach Train Station. From there, a British Double Decker would transport me to the track to the Del Mar Race Track and mine you in November. I had bought a foot-long sub and a nap sack full of fruit from Just Peachy, in Leucadia. .
Inside the British Double Decker bus sat Cleo. I met her a few minutes earlier at the Subway sandwich store cross the street from the Solana Beach Train station. Her smile and sweet personality interested me.
"Hey Cleo, any tips today?"
"No, the only tips I give is to my girlfriend Bessie. My friend got me hooked on horses. We used to go together but illness has kept her at home. I bought a sub because mine was left in the fridge.
"How long have you been coming to Del Mar?"
"Since 1957, I love to bet. Every summer I return to Del Mar, eve since I retired from the phone company. I pay $250 for my own seat and $25 for a season's admission. I'm lucky since I have survived breast and stomach cancer.
This Oceanside gal appeared too spry to be only 73. What upset her was that the phone company dropped her from their health coverage. Cleo showed me a card that gave her free admission for the entire meet, including this November one This meet changed its menu to racing only from Thursday until Sundays. The bus pulled up opposite the West Grandstand and entrance.
She gave me a free pass admission. I thanked her and took the elevator to the third floor. My mind was in shambles from my catastrophic experience the day before, but something about November racing and a bright new day provided a spark of life.
An exhausted me sat inside the grandstand. Sleep and I had been strangers the night before. Of course the first fog of the season made driving impossible. Nothing could stir my funkiness-that is until the fifth race.
A horse named Chuckles tossed its jockey before it could be loaded into the starting gate. Chuckles took-off running the race of its life, but the wrong way. She headed for the box seats and then the grandstand area. A trickle of applause grew louder as the black gelding came our way.
The gelding was now out of energy and two outriders ushered her back to the barn. The crowd let out a large cheer as Chuckles seemed to nod in appreciation.
No longer sick and anxious, I finished my Tuna sub and read from one of my journals. Laughter lifted my tension. After the sixth race I took the escalator to the ground floor and walked over to the walking ring. I wished to take a few pictures.
Oh yes, before I forget, I did not bet one race that day but went home a winner. Depression left me in the starting gate and I chuckled my way to the train station. My laughter left depression in the starting gate.
My mind became clear now and I remember more about Chuckle s before her number was removed. "By order of the stewards, the number 7 horse has been scratched."
Chuckles could care less about being scratched. She won this race going away. Even I, in my deep despair, could not help but grin a bit. An outrider gave chase but the runaway would have non-of-it. The cheers turned to jeers when an outrider tried to catch up with him.
The clapping grew louder while Chuckles' eyed the grandstand tossed its head back and forth and took off again, after acknowledging the applause with a shake of his head. Now three outriders tried to corner him. They did but somehow, he got out of their grasp and tried to circle again, the other way. Finally he had had enough and a pony rider grabbed its harness and lead him back to its groom at the finish line.
Sorry I made you wait, just the way Chuckles would have liked it. .
Inside the British Double Decker bus sat Cleo. I met her a few minutes earlier at the Subway sandwich store cross the street from the Solana Beach Train station. Her smile and sweet personality interested me.
"Hey Cleo, any tips today?"
"No, the only tips I give is to my girlfriend Bessie. My friend got me hooked on horses. We used to go together but illness has kept her at home. I bought a sub because mine was left in the fridge.
"How long have you been coming to Del Mar?"
"Since 1957, I love to bet. Every summer I return to Del Mar, eve since I retired from the phone company. I pay $250 for my own seat and $25 for a season's admission. I'm lucky since I have survived breast and stomach cancer.
This Oceanside gal appeared too spry to be only 73. What upset her was that the phone company dropped her from their health coverage. Cleo showed me a card that gave her free admission for the entire meet, including this November one This meet changed its menu to racing only from Thursday until Sundays. The bus pulled up opposite the West Grandstand and entrance.
She gave me a free pass admission. I thanked her and took the elevator to the third floor. My mind was in shambles from my catastrophic experience the day before, but something about November racing and a bright new day provided a spark of life.
An exhausted me sat inside the grandstand. Sleep and I had been strangers the night before. Of course the first fog of the season made driving impossible. Nothing could stir my funkiness-that is until the fifth race.
A horse named Chuckles tossed its jockey before it could be loaded into the starting gate. Chuckles took-off running the race of its life, but the wrong way. She headed for the box seats and then the grandstand area. A trickle of applause grew louder as the black gelding came our way.
The gelding was now out of energy and two outriders ushered her back to the barn. The crowd let out a large cheer as Chuckles seemed to nod in appreciation.
No longer sick and anxious, I finished my Tuna sub and read from one of my journals. Laughter lifted my tension. After the sixth race I took the escalator to the ground floor and walked over to the walking ring. I wished to take a few pictures.
Oh yes, before I forget, I did not bet one race that day but went home a winner. Depression left me in the starting gate and I chuckled my way to the train station. My laughter left depression in the starting gate.
My mind became clear now and I remember more about Chuckle s before her number was removed. "By order of the stewards, the number 7 horse has been scratched."
Chuckles could care less about being scratched. She won this race going away. Even I, in my deep despair, could not help but grin a bit. An outrider gave chase but the runaway would have non-of-it. The cheers turned to jeers when an outrider tried to catch up with him.
The clapping grew louder while Chuckles' eyed the grandstand tossed its head back and forth and took off again, after acknowledging the applause with a shake of his head. Now three outriders tried to corner him. They did but somehow, he got out of their grasp and tried to circle again, the other way. Finally he had had enough and a pony rider grabbed its harness and lead him back to its groom at the finish line.
Sorry I made you wait, just the way Chuckles would have liked it. .
Wednesday, November 5, 2014
Del Mar Friday, Opening Day
Del Mar will take over for Hollywood Parks winter season this Friday, the Seventh of November. Those wishing to save time and money must read this blog. ..First post is one o'clock
This blog will drive you to Del Mar the best and cheapest way. Your main concern is how to get to Del Mar without grinding out on freeway traffic. Now you might be able to reach Del Mar by the sea, but you'll never get out of the rip-tide back to Los Angeles.
There is Metro-Link or the other, Amtrak that can provide the transportation from the Los Angeles Union Station to Del Mar. "Allow me to take you to where the surf meets the turf, at Old Del Mar."
I have taken the commuter Metro-Link several times. Their weekend rate of ten dollars all day is fantastic. This train links Oceanside to Los Angeles. There is one early train to Oceanside on the weekend days. It makes every stop so will take a bit longer than Amtrak. Amtrak leaves about every hour and does stop at the foot of Del Mar or the Solano Beach Train Station. From there, Double-Decker buses shuttle you right to the track-- so you bypass the parking fee and hassle leaving.
Downtown's Red Line Subway takes you to the Grand Central Station--as it used to be called. From Santa Monica the #10 Rapid can get you to the train station for about one dollar. Those of you that take the Metro-Link can transfer to the #110 Breeze bus or the Coaster Train. Each can drop you off at Solano Beach. The Metro-Link leaves a bit earlier than Amtrak but it is real cheap. It leaves off of track number 8 whereas Amtrak runs about every hour.
The Santa Monica Rapid ten bus takes you to Union Station. There is also the #720 bus that takes you to the Station. For me, I prefer to tap my subway card and take the Red Line to the Union Station. There are many parking places in central Los Angeles. You buy the card, put in the dollar or two and tap it again and you are on your way to the Union Station.
San Diego to Del Mar is easier. The Coaster Commuter drops you off also in Solano Beach. Six Amtrak trains accept a Coaster ticket. The two trains leave at eight and ten twenty in the mornings. It just may be hot so bring lots of water and sandwiches for the train ride. Also, take a book and camera since the views along the coastal route are out-of-this-world.
Of course everything is chaotic today, so I will check to make corrections and additions to the blog.
Nuts and Bolts for Today: The Statue of Liberty is smiling for the first time in years. I am not a fighting Republican who stands for the one the Federalist brought to power in 1776. A 17 Trillion debt is obnoxious.
This blog will drive you to Del Mar the best and cheapest way. Your main concern is how to get to Del Mar without grinding out on freeway traffic. Now you might be able to reach Del Mar by the sea, but you'll never get out of the rip-tide back to Los Angeles.
There is Metro-Link or the other, Amtrak that can provide the transportation from the Los Angeles Union Station to Del Mar. "Allow me to take you to where the surf meets the turf, at Old Del Mar."
I have taken the commuter Metro-Link several times. Their weekend rate of ten dollars all day is fantastic. This train links Oceanside to Los Angeles. There is one early train to Oceanside on the weekend days. It makes every stop so will take a bit longer than Amtrak. Amtrak leaves about every hour and does stop at the foot of Del Mar or the Solano Beach Train Station. From there, Double-Decker buses shuttle you right to the track-- so you bypass the parking fee and hassle leaving.
Downtown's Red Line Subway takes you to the Grand Central Station--as it used to be called. From Santa Monica the #10 Rapid can get you to the train station for about one dollar. Those of you that take the Metro-Link can transfer to the #110 Breeze bus or the Coaster Train. Each can drop you off at Solano Beach. The Metro-Link leaves a bit earlier than Amtrak but it is real cheap. It leaves off of track number 8 whereas Amtrak runs about every hour.
The Santa Monica Rapid ten bus takes you to Union Station. There is also the #720 bus that takes you to the Station. For me, I prefer to tap my subway card and take the Red Line to the Union Station. There are many parking places in central Los Angeles. You buy the card, put in the dollar or two and tap it again and you are on your way to the Union Station.
San Diego to Del Mar is easier. The Coaster Commuter drops you off also in Solano Beach. Six Amtrak trains accept a Coaster ticket. The two trains leave at eight and ten twenty in the mornings. It just may be hot so bring lots of water and sandwiches for the train ride. Also, take a book and camera since the views along the coastal route are out-of-this-world.
Of course everything is chaotic today, so I will check to make corrections and additions to the blog.
Nuts and Bolts for Today: The Statue of Liberty is smiling for the first time in years. I am not a fighting Republican who stands for the one the Federalist brought to power in 1776. A 17 Trillion debt is obnoxious.
Monday, November 3, 2014
The Midway City Assistant Living Center.
My brother Max lives at the Starlight Assistant Living Center in Midway City, California. He has lived at the little city between Huntington Beach and Westminster for over seven years. The first one called the Golden Year's kicked him out because of my complaint. Some moron knocked Max down on leaving the elevator. Max tore up his back and had a shiner underneath his dead eye.
I complained, so the owners sent him to a cuckoos nest in Newport Beach. The owners wished to farm him out- like most Living Centers. The can't stand somebody looking over their own Last Chance Hotel'..
My parents left each of us one third after the sell of their modest Beverly Hills house. They had spent over and wasted over two hundred thousand dollars to cure my sister Diane. Her mental outlook improved after they took the less stressful route to heaven. Max took his share and split it up at every restaurant in Huntington Beach.
For seven years he ate, slept and beached himself in Surf City U.S.A. An early death of our parents and his share spent to fast made him a giant at three hundred and fifty pounds. One day he couldn't rise and the firemen drove him to the Huntington Beach Hospital. A botched laser operation due to early Glaucoma made him blind in one eye. Now he is almost totally blind. Social Security pays a eleven hundred a month and a portion is for the disability.
I had left the Aliso Rest stop in the early morning hours and arrived early in Midway City getting off on Beach, a town between Westminster and Huntington beach. At five o'clock, I ate the special Slammer Breakfast at Norms on Beach Blvd.
At about six thirty I entered his upstairs room after knocking three times. Inside the room nobody was in bed number two but he saw enough of me to know it was me, his brother.
"Is that you George?...The guy in the next bed fell and has been in the hospital."
"Mel, I am short of cash but will take you to the In-And-Out Burger later. Do you have a clean diaper on?...I will be in the T.V. room."
I took up a seat at the seven o'clock early bird breakfast table. Also at the table were Pat, Ruth, and Pam. I found a chair and joined them. They were a closely knit group who held each other up-so to speak.
The dining room sat about forty patrons. The severs were just up from Mexico. It has to be the hardest job available since a new diaper changers turned over every month or two-that is until a better job availed itself.
"Well Pat what brings you here? You-sure-as-hell don't look or sound disabled."
"It is either this or the street George. My social security is not enough for an apartment." Ruth then speaks up.
"I want real syrup, not this imitation stuff....Where is your book George? Ain't you finished with it yet? I told her four years ago she would get my first book.
In back of me, I noticed the Betty no longer needed an oxygen tube. She told me that while in the hospital she decided to quit cigarettes. She looked a lot chipper.
We took a trip to Surf City, or Huntington Beach. He had been going there for over twenty years. He lived for the ocean. The water did wonders for his migraine headaches. I drove down Beach to Pacific and made a right turn. We found a spot two blocks from the beach. I walked slow with Mel close by. He had had a stroke several years ago and has not been the same, but it is swell to still have my parents son alive. He has had many close calls with Mr Death.
I sat Mel down by the concrete bleachers and took up residence down below. It was a perfect volleyball day, but with nobody to play with, I watched. Like the Salmon run, there is something about the ocean that says good-by to stress. Later we drove to the Old Navy Store just before Beach Blvd and Max's eye widened when he saw the dark sweat pants and shirt. I told him we would buy it another day.
A slight wind blew from the ocean that opened up my nasal passages. There were surf board and sportswear stores everywhere on Main Street. We stayed about two hours there and I knew that Mel hungered for a burger.
I tied his sweats and helped him into my little car. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw people stop and stare at us as if he were a dog and I pulled the leach. The one hundred or more older bungalows made we wish to have been born a long time ago. Today's life style is too quick and empty, but the beach remains the same.
The burgers and french fries high-lighted the day. Why brother Mel could have eaten several but settled for only one double double with fries. We then returned him to his apartment and tried to take a few winks. I needed to rest before the drive back to San Diego.
"What are you doing in Mel's room. You are not allowed in his room. Get out this minute!"
That was your typical owner manager. He uses his muscles and intimidates everyone. I apologized and left with Mel visibly distraught.
Nuts and Bolts for today: Am currently advising the Encinitas' Senior Counsel about the components of an effective senior housing center. Too bad that those with limited incomes need to resort to street living or to enter an Assistant Living House.
I complained, so the owners sent him to a cuckoos nest in Newport Beach. The owners wished to farm him out- like most Living Centers. The can't stand somebody looking over their own Last Chance Hotel'..
My parents left each of us one third after the sell of their modest Beverly Hills house. They had spent over and wasted over two hundred thousand dollars to cure my sister Diane. Her mental outlook improved after they took the less stressful route to heaven. Max took his share and split it up at every restaurant in Huntington Beach.
For seven years he ate, slept and beached himself in Surf City U.S.A. An early death of our parents and his share spent to fast made him a giant at three hundred and fifty pounds. One day he couldn't rise and the firemen drove him to the Huntington Beach Hospital. A botched laser operation due to early Glaucoma made him blind in one eye. Now he is almost totally blind. Social Security pays a eleven hundred a month and a portion is for the disability.
I had left the Aliso Rest stop in the early morning hours and arrived early in Midway City getting off on Beach, a town between Westminster and Huntington beach. At five o'clock, I ate the special Slammer Breakfast at Norms on Beach Blvd.
At about six thirty I entered his upstairs room after knocking three times. Inside the room nobody was in bed number two but he saw enough of me to know it was me, his brother.
"Is that you George?...The guy in the next bed fell and has been in the hospital."
"Mel, I am short of cash but will take you to the In-And-Out Burger later. Do you have a clean diaper on?...I will be in the T.V. room."
I took up a seat at the seven o'clock early bird breakfast table. Also at the table were Pat, Ruth, and Pam. I found a chair and joined them. They were a closely knit group who held each other up-so to speak.
The dining room sat about forty patrons. The severs were just up from Mexico. It has to be the hardest job available since a new diaper changers turned over every month or two-that is until a better job availed itself.
"Well Pat what brings you here? You-sure-as-hell don't look or sound disabled."
"It is either this or the street George. My social security is not enough for an apartment." Ruth then speaks up.
"I want real syrup, not this imitation stuff....Where is your book George? Ain't you finished with it yet? I told her four years ago she would get my first book.
In back of me, I noticed the Betty no longer needed an oxygen tube. She told me that while in the hospital she decided to quit cigarettes. She looked a lot chipper.
We took a trip to Surf City, or Huntington Beach. He had been going there for over twenty years. He lived for the ocean. The water did wonders for his migraine headaches. I drove down Beach to Pacific and made a right turn. We found a spot two blocks from the beach. I walked slow with Mel close by. He had had a stroke several years ago and has not been the same, but it is swell to still have my parents son alive. He has had many close calls with Mr Death.
I sat Mel down by the concrete bleachers and took up residence down below. It was a perfect volleyball day, but with nobody to play with, I watched. Like the Salmon run, there is something about the ocean that says good-by to stress. Later we drove to the Old Navy Store just before Beach Blvd and Max's eye widened when he saw the dark sweat pants and shirt. I told him we would buy it another day.
A slight wind blew from the ocean that opened up my nasal passages. There were surf board and sportswear stores everywhere on Main Street. We stayed about two hours there and I knew that Mel hungered for a burger.
I tied his sweats and helped him into my little car. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw people stop and stare at us as if he were a dog and I pulled the leach. The one hundred or more older bungalows made we wish to have been born a long time ago. Today's life style is too quick and empty, but the beach remains the same.
The burgers and french fries high-lighted the day. Why brother Mel could have eaten several but settled for only one double double with fries. We then returned him to his apartment and tried to take a few winks. I needed to rest before the drive back to San Diego.
"What are you doing in Mel's room. You are not allowed in his room. Get out this minute!"
That was your typical owner manager. He uses his muscles and intimidates everyone. I apologized and left with Mel visibly distraught.
Nuts and Bolts for today: Am currently advising the Encinitas' Senior Counsel about the components of an effective senior housing center. Too bad that those with limited incomes need to resort to street living or to enter an Assistant Living House.
Love on Track Number 2
In previous blogs I warned you not to drive to San Diego. I mentioned five bad thingincluded another, waiting six hours on Freeway 5 going North. Over the water-logged weekend, I noticed an overturned crane, a crash, the cab of a truck over the dividers, and the #5 being widened. Yet I failed to mention the most important reason for taking the rails instead of driving.
Yes, Cupid hit me right in eye on Metro-Link commuter on its way to L.A. I bought a ticket on Metro-Link at the Oceanside Transit Center. I was about six o'clock on Saturday after a deluge of rain poured on my car at the Alisa Rest Stop, five miles north of Oceanside. The Alisa Motel is free for those who need to budget their money.
After a forgettable breakfast at the Transit Center Burger King, I bought my ten dollar all-day ticket at the one machine that worked. Since my motto is, "NO-DAY-THE-SAME", I knew the eight twenty going to L.A. would provide a pristine view of the coast, after the early morning rain.
Across from me sat a tall angular gal skimming a Kindle tablet. Her tossed salad hair hid her large face, and just as well, I needed to relax, read, and take in the pristine view. I took up a seat with an eastern view with ample leg room.
The train had left the Oceanside Station on track number 2 at eight thirty, destination Los Angeles. I lay back and removed my book about the Irish Revolt in 1920 and peered out my window. . The clouds had moved away while the train stopped at the San Clemente pier. I removed a water bottle from my knap-sack and set it beside me.
"Next stop San Juan Capistrano. Don't forget your possessions The stop will be brief. Step lively, the doors will be shutting...Next stop, San Juan Capistrano."
The train made stops at the cities of Leisure World, Orange and Santa Ana. Then somebody tapped me on my shoulder.
"My kind sir, is this yours?" She pointed towards me water bottle.
"Yes it's mine. Guess we hit a curve. Thanks a lot."
The floppy disk had a face now, not too shabby for one about my age. Although she sagged in the wrong places, there was something interesting about this flash-in-the-pan. The train now neared Anaheim and out my window I saw a long beautiful rainbow. Before I could hold it back, my jabber--mouth invited her to look at the rainbow before it disappeared.
We shared life's special treats and from then on, we talked until the train made the Grand Central Station. I will summarize the major potions of what she said. Anther friend told me I would make a good detective since I get to the "chase faster than anyone." Instead of her real name I will call her Diane
"I was married for several years and lived in the Los Angeles area most of my life. He was from Israel and wrote music. Yet, like my Mom, he was a controller. I got out of the marriage and moved to Oceanside. I live by myself in a home besides a golf course."
"Diane, are you dating anyone now?" Of course I did not wish to waist my ammunition on one taken.
"No, I gave up on guys a few years ago. I am a happily retired teacher who still subs now-and-then.My name is Jane, what is yours?"
"My name is George and I am now in transit....I mean I live in motels and outside until I find a gal with a big house and willing ears. I love to write and play the piano."
"Well, I dabble in piano myself and have one for sell. Also I had a bad experience renting a two years ago. I belong to a sea of singers who call on Assistant Living Centers and also to those on the footsteps of death. I go with a few others to brighten lives before the end comes.."
The train left Norwalk and soon took the circular route to the train station. Graffiti painted an bright colors told me the Grand Central Station was ahead.
"What are you reading. I see you like books and enjoy writing. Here is my card. Call me anytime. I can't remember having more fun on any train."
I remained on the train a awhile longer allowing the rest to fight their way down. I too have never had a more interesting conversation anywhere or Time. Just Maybe Cupid hit me on Track Number Two-and just at the right time.
s but now
Yes, Cupid hit me right in eye on Metro-Link commuter on its way to L.A. I bought a ticket on Metro-Link at the Oceanside Transit Center. I was about six o'clock on Saturday after a deluge of rain poured on my car at the Alisa Rest Stop, five miles north of Oceanside. The Alisa Motel is free for those who need to budget their money.
After a forgettable breakfast at the Transit Center Burger King, I bought my ten dollar all-day ticket at the one machine that worked. Since my motto is, "NO-DAY-THE-SAME", I knew the eight twenty going to L.A. would provide a pristine view of the coast, after the early morning rain.
Across from me sat a tall angular gal skimming a Kindle tablet. Her tossed salad hair hid her large face, and just as well, I needed to relax, read, and take in the pristine view. I took up a seat with an eastern view with ample leg room.
The train had left the Oceanside Station on track number 2 at eight thirty, destination Los Angeles. I lay back and removed my book about the Irish Revolt in 1920 and peered out my window. . The clouds had moved away while the train stopped at the San Clemente pier. I removed a water bottle from my knap-sack and set it beside me.
"Next stop San Juan Capistrano. Don't forget your possessions The stop will be brief. Step lively, the doors will be shutting...Next stop, San Juan Capistrano."
The train made stops at the cities of Leisure World, Orange and Santa Ana. Then somebody tapped me on my shoulder.
"My kind sir, is this yours?" She pointed towards me water bottle.
"Yes it's mine. Guess we hit a curve. Thanks a lot."
The floppy disk had a face now, not too shabby for one about my age. Although she sagged in the wrong places, there was something interesting about this flash-in-the-pan. The train now neared Anaheim and out my window I saw a long beautiful rainbow. Before I could hold it back, my jabber--mouth invited her to look at the rainbow before it disappeared.
We shared life's special treats and from then on, we talked until the train made the Grand Central Station. I will summarize the major potions of what she said. Anther friend told me I would make a good detective since I get to the "chase faster than anyone." Instead of her real name I will call her Diane
"I was married for several years and lived in the Los Angeles area most of my life. He was from Israel and wrote music. Yet, like my Mom, he was a controller. I got out of the marriage and moved to Oceanside. I live by myself in a home besides a golf course."
"Diane, are you dating anyone now?" Of course I did not wish to waist my ammunition on one taken.
"No, I gave up on guys a few years ago. I am a happily retired teacher who still subs now-and-then.My name is Jane, what is yours?"
"My name is George and I am now in transit....I mean I live in motels and outside until I find a gal with a big house and willing ears. I love to write and play the piano."
"Well, I dabble in piano myself and have one for sell. Also I had a bad experience renting a two years ago. I belong to a sea of singers who call on Assistant Living Centers and also to those on the footsteps of death. I go with a few others to brighten lives before the end comes.."
The train left Norwalk and soon took the circular route to the train station. Graffiti painted an bright colors told me the Grand Central Station was ahead.
"What are you reading. I see you like books and enjoy writing. Here is my card. Call me anytime. I can't remember having more fun on any train."
I remained on the train a awhile longer allowing the rest to fight their way down. I too have never had a more interesting conversation anywhere or Time. Just Maybe Cupid hit me on Track Number Two-and just at the right time.
s but now
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