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.
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