This story is from the World of George. It takes place in San Diego, New Year's Eve on 12-31-2012. These stories will become part of my book, San Diego, Tale of Two Rabbis. I had relocated there to do research on my Schindler Story and i also needed a change.
It is New Year's Eve and I have made a date with me...Yes me, George. Sounds ridiculous you say, but not I! I would make it the happiest day of my life in lovely San Diego. But just hold on for a moment. I heard somebody banging on my window of my Y.M.C. A. cell. Oh it is only Sir Godfrey. I met the angle sent from God over one year ago during the Jewish New Year of Rosh Hashanah. I celebrated it at the Manchester Hyatt Hotel in San Diego, under Rabbi Carlback.
It takes a few minutes to open the stuck window. A few spiders scamper to another pane. Godfrey floats inside. He resembles my Grandfather Schneider. He is small, wears a white robe covering him except for his golden chained watch. But it is his smile, yes his smile and warm glow that overwhelms me.
"How is everything upstairs?"
"Things are fine. Your grandmother still prepares chicken on the Sabbath, and it still is burnt. But we get along just fine now. We heard about the cliffhanger the President is having with Congress. Doesn't he understand that there are three equal branches of government. Seems to me he had an inferiority complex....My Angel friend Dan told me you broke up with your girlfriend. Is that true?"
"Yes our President is playing Russian Roulette with Congress...Yet no matter what, Obama still prints money when he is wishes to go on many of his golf trips. Seldom is he inside the oval office. He has flown to more countries than any other president, not doubt to get away from the heat of Washington. Why he even forgets the color of the White House."
"But George, didn't it bother you to break up with the lass from Montreal, Hazel?"
"Listen Godfrey, when a gal tells a fella he is "ugly and boring" not just once but several times it is time to call it quits. Hell, my blood pressure spiked every time we met. What I need is long lasting battery that energizes mine...The love I had for her is now diffused into my writing, music and traveling."
'I am glad you have become of man of action...So what do you plan to do today, the Eve of our New Year?"
"This morning I have already been to It's a Grind Coffee Shop on Front and G street. I milked a hot chocolate and read the book, A Perfect Storm. Across the street I used the blood pressure machine at Ralph's. Mine was a bit elevated but much lower since I had become a Jew again. I used my daughter's gift card gift card and splurged....I bought a one pound New York steak, a dozen eggs, one lemon, dental floss and two combs....With my beanie to keep my head warm during the early morn crisp cold morning, I enjoyed the sun's rays, but it was my stomach that ached for meat. Inside the Y's dining area, I prepared the five dollar steak, and threw in three scrambled. "
"Then I listened to my little transistor radio and set the dial to the music station, 105.9 on the FM dial. I needed some Strauss waltz music to caress my mind. I do play the piano at the Senior Center in Encinitas."
"But George what are you going to do this afternoon?"
" I will take the 901 bus that travels over the Coronado Bridge to visit their fine library. The bus ride takes me over San Diego Bay, and what a view it makes. All of the Navy piers are busy fixing ships or cranes are unloading. You can make out the Mexican border and also Shelter Island from the oval. On my return I will nap and early evening take in a picture of Lincoln playing on Fifth Street inside the Gas Lamp area. I will then ask twelve girls to give me a kiss."
"Forgot to tell you George, I am also here to speak with Silas, the kid you sponsored. I here he is moving to an apartment in East San Diego on 13 street. You did a great job keeping him off the bottle for a year."
"You are a bit late. After one binge, the guitar friend of mine was picked up by he meat wagon and taken to boot hill. Felt bad a man of forty had to go this way. He was just another Naval Veteran forgotten too soon."
"Send my love to your two daughters and of course Derick and Baby Olivia."
"Do me one favor. Flavor my life with a new flame since the old one died."
Nuts and bolts for New Year's: Make it simple, and with luck you'll find one wishing quality time with you.
Wednesday, December 30, 2015
Tuesday, December 22, 2015
From the "Amby" Schindler Story
The football story of the San Diego Golden Boy introduced me to the events of the day. I became a microfilm freak and spent gobs of time researching sports and all of a sudden, how the events of the day effected the way we looked at the modern game of football...Hope you won't mind this time out to review New Year's Day from one of hour favorite newspapers, the Examiner. I [paraphrased the newspapers article.
January First of 1937 Pasadena Rose Parade was witnessed by a throng of over one million spectators on Colorado Blvd and believe it or not, the weather forecasters called the wrong play. They had forecast rain and mud for the game, but were wrong, to the chagrin of the Washington Husky dogs who played in the muck, slush and mud up north in Washington.
The big game featured the Washington Huskies against "Jock" Sutherland's Pittsburg Panthers. The Washington leaders promised the ducats would go quickly and they did for two and up a-piece. The Panthers wished to put their lackluster performance of the past three Rose Bowl's behind them. They had been more than humiliated and their coach, the "Dundee" Dentist wished to make amends.
The rooters at L.S.U. and Alabama had been robbed according to many local writers. But it just may have been the ghost of Andrew Carnegie who had helped in polling them ahead of the other two. The majority of writers believed that Pittsburg had the best team in the nation with only one loss to mar their [perfect season.
I was named after one of their standout players, "Biggie" Goldberg as Marshall was his middle name, and on August 16 of 1939 it would become mine. My namesake stood only five ten and weighed in at 176 pounds, but had been there spark plug at the running back position. He had averaged over five yards a carry in 1936 and handled the pigskin 151 times for a gain of 861 yards. Non other than the greatest sports writer Grantland Rice called Mr. Goldberg one of the best ball handlers of that year.
The Panthers practiced their craft in the mountains of Big Bear and the a favorite spot foe the movie stars, Lake Arrowhead. Unlike the Panthers, the Huskies worked out in Santa Barbara with lots of distraction since the city provided lots of variety with a gorgeous ocean view. Besides football, the Examiner wished happy birthdays to Marion Davies, Sid Silver, and also Ida Lupinno.
But a different game of football was practiced in the South Pacific and the continent of Europe. The Japanese invaded Korea, Indochina, Manchuria and eased their way into the Chinese sphere of influence. Chang Kai-Shek had been kidnapped and then freed and the Russians and Germans had a pregame warm-up inside Spain, where it rained bullets and the Nazi's of Germany won out in the end and would soon set up Franco as the new dictator of Spain.
All awhile, Schindler was taking advantage of some time off at U.S.C. to take his treasure future birde to the Mission Bay Ball room in San Diego and enjoy his Mom's roast beef and potatoes. The U.S. consensus stated he paid them rent for a room inside their San Diego's Golden Hill's address.
And oh yes, the Panthers would win the game to stop their Rose Bowl losing streak at three.
For those interested in my book, they can reach me at chicagoallstar@gmail.com
January First of 1937 Pasadena Rose Parade was witnessed by a throng of over one million spectators on Colorado Blvd and believe it or not, the weather forecasters called the wrong play. They had forecast rain and mud for the game, but were wrong, to the chagrin of the Washington Husky dogs who played in the muck, slush and mud up north in Washington.
The big game featured the Washington Huskies against "Jock" Sutherland's Pittsburg Panthers. The Washington leaders promised the ducats would go quickly and they did for two and up a-piece. The Panthers wished to put their lackluster performance of the past three Rose Bowl's behind them. They had been more than humiliated and their coach, the "Dundee" Dentist wished to make amends.
The rooters at L.S.U. and Alabama had been robbed according to many local writers. But it just may have been the ghost of Andrew Carnegie who had helped in polling them ahead of the other two. The majority of writers believed that Pittsburg had the best team in the nation with only one loss to mar their [perfect season.
I was named after one of their standout players, "Biggie" Goldberg as Marshall was his middle name, and on August 16 of 1939 it would become mine. My namesake stood only five ten and weighed in at 176 pounds, but had been there spark plug at the running back position. He had averaged over five yards a carry in 1936 and handled the pigskin 151 times for a gain of 861 yards. Non other than the greatest sports writer Grantland Rice called Mr. Goldberg one of the best ball handlers of that year.
The Panthers practiced their craft in the mountains of Big Bear and the a favorite spot foe the movie stars, Lake Arrowhead. Unlike the Panthers, the Huskies worked out in Santa Barbara with lots of distraction since the city provided lots of variety with a gorgeous ocean view. Besides football, the Examiner wished happy birthdays to Marion Davies, Sid Silver, and also Ida Lupinno.
But a different game of football was practiced in the South Pacific and the continent of Europe. The Japanese invaded Korea, Indochina, Manchuria and eased their way into the Chinese sphere of influence. Chang Kai-Shek had been kidnapped and then freed and the Russians and Germans had a pregame warm-up inside Spain, where it rained bullets and the Nazi's of Germany won out in the end and would soon set up Franco as the new dictator of Spain.
All awhile, Schindler was taking advantage of some time off at U.S.C. to take his treasure future birde to the Mission Bay Ball room in San Diego and enjoy his Mom's roast beef and potatoes. The U.S. consensus stated he paid them rent for a room inside their San Diego's Golden Hill's address.
And oh yes, the Panthers would win the game to stop their Rose Bowl losing streak at three.
For those interested in my book, they can reach me at chicagoallstar@gmail.com
Saturday, December 19, 2015
Los Angeles, A Dread-Locked City
This story was written at McDonald's inside Walmart's in Huntington Beach. I go there at seven or more to buy my coffee and keep warm and get my mind running...little lean Jose is getting another refill for his 85 cent coffee. Today he has bought a pack of Fruit and the Loom underwear. He removes a few napkins from the dispenser and leaves for his toilet. Long Hair is loading up on half-and-half cups and several packages of sweet-and low.
Long Hair is a "gringo" like me and sleeps inside his shelled-truck. The tall angular one looks as if he might be half-Comanche since he his face is almost black. And there is Mrs. House speaking to anybody within a two table radius. She would die without food or talk...And here I am writing about L.A before I coat myself with religion later today on Warner Avenue's Chabad
The last race of the day began at the Costco store off of Washington Blvd in Culver City. I had bought a package of Naked Juice and eggs for my daughter. With only one exit five cars tried to out-muscle me but somehow I exited. "Go F...k yourself" one car blew off steam at me. But I made it out of the parking lot alive to live another day. Shelly, my Chevy Compact snaked along west on Washington.
Fifteen minutes later I made it to Inglewood Blvd and decided to try a quicker route. I made my left but no-such-luck. Cars were gutted back waiting for a light to change. Yet they would be out-of-luck at six o'clock. Dinner would have to wait. Cars packaged the intersection of every corner. Shelly nudged, screamed and butted heads but no dent in the line. Finally I made it to Venice Blvd and thought about going to Italy on my next holiday.
Christmas lights flickered everywhere. My hunger pains became louder. I glanced to my right and saw a Mexican lady pushing her cart. I rolled down Shelly's window.
"'Pour favor, Que vende?"
"Tomales", she replied.
"Dar me vente!"
Now of course cars screamed for me to advance buy i needed nutrition to get me back to my daughter's apartment in West Los Angeles. It became six thirty and Shelly made it to Sawtelle but barely. She began to heat-up as the gauge registered warm.
My stomach relieved after swallowing three in one bite, I made my way back to Washington by-way-of-a gas station and returned to Washington Blvd. A few minutes later, a right and another left put me on the Santa Monica Freeway east bound.
Overland Blvd has already had five face lifts. But just wait until the Expo-Line goes through -- as these trains will hold up traffic every five or ten minutes. Too bad the City of L.A. did not start a under-land route, but guess that Goodrich, Firestone, or Dunlap Tires wanted more cars on the road. In any case, this line will be the busiest trolley in the Northern Hemisphere when completed in early April.
I finally arrived on Pico and miraculously found a place to park my car. My daughter made some coffee for me and I took my senior citizen nap. We left for the West L.A. Kaiser later on where my daughter wished to refill some medicine. I waited for her at the Polo Loco eatery. A man dressed in a Christmas suit addressed me as Mr. Trump.
He kept jabbering away at me until my two meat burritos had enough. WE left for the pharmacy where my daughter's name was called. She stood in line and I walked by her side when she walked up to a cashier.
"You's got to stand in line...Sir!..We all need to stand in line!" Well I felt too good to react to one so foolish and obviously prejudiced. I smiled and pointed at my daughter. She apologized for her manner of speaking."
After i dropped off my daughter, I returned to Overland for the 10 On-ramp. Again cars were busy toe to toe with each other. One hour later I made it to bed in Huntington Beach, happy not to be on any-more freeways for awhile
And don't think that by taking a bus you'll get to your destination on time. 3 to 8 P.M. are the times not to travel inside Los Angeles, in my day called the City of Angles where driving was easy not dreaded as it is today.
Long Hair is a "gringo" like me and sleeps inside his shelled-truck. The tall angular one looks as if he might be half-Comanche since he his face is almost black. And there is Mrs. House speaking to anybody within a two table radius. She would die without food or talk...And here I am writing about L.A before I coat myself with religion later today on Warner Avenue's Chabad
The last race of the day began at the Costco store off of Washington Blvd in Culver City. I had bought a package of Naked Juice and eggs for my daughter. With only one exit five cars tried to out-muscle me but somehow I exited. "Go F...k yourself" one car blew off steam at me. But I made it out of the parking lot alive to live another day. Shelly, my Chevy Compact snaked along west on Washington.
Fifteen minutes later I made it to Inglewood Blvd and decided to try a quicker route. I made my left but no-such-luck. Cars were gutted back waiting for a light to change. Yet they would be out-of-luck at six o'clock. Dinner would have to wait. Cars packaged the intersection of every corner. Shelly nudged, screamed and butted heads but no dent in the line. Finally I made it to Venice Blvd and thought about going to Italy on my next holiday.
Christmas lights flickered everywhere. My hunger pains became louder. I glanced to my right and saw a Mexican lady pushing her cart. I rolled down Shelly's window.
"'Pour favor, Que vende?"
"Tomales", she replied.
"Dar me vente!"
Now of course cars screamed for me to advance buy i needed nutrition to get me back to my daughter's apartment in West Los Angeles. It became six thirty and Shelly made it to Sawtelle but barely. She began to heat-up as the gauge registered warm.
My stomach relieved after swallowing three in one bite, I made my way back to Washington by-way-of-a gas station and returned to Washington Blvd. A few minutes later, a right and another left put me on the Santa Monica Freeway east bound.
Overland Blvd has already had five face lifts. But just wait until the Expo-Line goes through -- as these trains will hold up traffic every five or ten minutes. Too bad the City of L.A. did not start a under-land route, but guess that Goodrich, Firestone, or Dunlap Tires wanted more cars on the road. In any case, this line will be the busiest trolley in the Northern Hemisphere when completed in early April.
I finally arrived on Pico and miraculously found a place to park my car. My daughter made some coffee for me and I took my senior citizen nap. We left for the West L.A. Kaiser later on where my daughter wished to refill some medicine. I waited for her at the Polo Loco eatery. A man dressed in a Christmas suit addressed me as Mr. Trump.
He kept jabbering away at me until my two meat burritos had enough. WE left for the pharmacy where my daughter's name was called. She stood in line and I walked by her side when she walked up to a cashier.
"You's got to stand in line...Sir!..We all need to stand in line!" Well I felt too good to react to one so foolish and obviously prejudiced. I smiled and pointed at my daughter. She apologized for her manner of speaking."
After i dropped off my daughter, I returned to Overland for the 10 On-ramp. Again cars were busy toe to toe with each other. One hour later I made it to bed in Huntington Beach, happy not to be on any-more freeways for awhile
And don't think that by taking a bus you'll get to your destination on time. 3 to 8 P.M. are the times not to travel inside Los Angeles, in my day called the City of Angles where driving was easy not dreaded as it is today.
Tuesday, December 15, 2015
A Trader Joe's Apple Tree.
I placed a few items on my budget list when I first moved into the Huntington Beach area. Florida Street off of Main spills into the Five Points Shopping Center. Trader Joe's serves as the flag store for the other stores.
After my move into an apartment off of Main, I trooped into the store to see if there were any good found out it did have a few good buys -- and needed only a short walk across the Main Street to find buys. I loved the package of small chocolates at the end of the day. It cost me only one dollar. But soon their $2.75 cent dozen eggs got my attention. At $2.75 a dozen, Trader Joe's organic eggs tasted way-better than those from other markets and their 19 cent bananas slipped into my bag too. The paper bag I used for kitchen trash.
About one month ago, God told me to start eating apples...and I always listen to God. My back bedroom had a picture of Johnny Appleseed planting apples as out settlers wagon-trained west. Since summer fruits left, I decided to try apples again, even though two months earlier, I had criticized Trader Joe's produce department. Their pomegranate tasted mushy and the grapefruits too dry.
A couple of weeks ago, I decided to try Joe's apple section. I looked over the Spartan, Gala and Fuji. One polished Fuji got my attention. Its smooth shiny face said, "Eat me". I took a bag of eggs, bananas and the lone apple to my apartment across the street, avoiding the rocky-road called Main.
But there Gala and Fugi apples tasted crisp and juicy -- especially after I roasted them inside my microwave. I cut them up and spread sugar and cinnamon on top. I even ate the core of the applie -- since in now way could it do any harm, or so I thought. What a treat?
Well a couple of weeks ago, I could not keep any food down. I threw up what looked like a small tree. Why it could not have been more than one inch long. I placed it inside a pot alongside my bedroom window. I padded its bed with mulch and dirt. Every morning I sprinkled water over it...and guess what? Yes, it began to speak!
"Kin ya lift me hiya...can't see ya?" I lifted my head off my bed. In now way could an apple tree speak, but the tree made a believer out of me.
"Kind sir, could you place me closer to the window. I need cold to grow better, don't you know?"
"Now who am I to argue with a Fugi apple tree, In no way did I wish to go to war. Why all the apple trees might invade my little apartment. I moved her a bit closer to the window. One of her thin branches touched my nose.
"That is the apple tree's way of kissing. You have saved my life by moving me closer to the window. By and by, I took root inside your stomach since I found your fish oily stomach and nuts simply divine."
"Don't thank me, but thank Spouts Market for selling mixed nuts for 99 cents a pound. And they have the largest supply of produce in Huntington Beach."
At that point the little tree tucked her trunk inside to take a nap. My line phone rang. Somebody called Jonathon was on the phone. Again it was a squeaky voice. (Not finished.)
.
After my move into an apartment off of Main, I trooped into the store to see if there were any good found out it did have a few good buys -- and needed only a short walk across the Main Street to find buys. I loved the package of small chocolates at the end of the day. It cost me only one dollar. But soon their $2.75 cent dozen eggs got my attention. At $2.75 a dozen, Trader Joe's organic eggs tasted way-better than those from other markets and their 19 cent bananas slipped into my bag too. The paper bag I used for kitchen trash.
About one month ago, God told me to start eating apples...and I always listen to God. My back bedroom had a picture of Johnny Appleseed planting apples as out settlers wagon-trained west. Since summer fruits left, I decided to try apples again, even though two months earlier, I had criticized Trader Joe's produce department. Their pomegranate tasted mushy and the grapefruits too dry.
A couple of weeks ago, I decided to try Joe's apple section. I looked over the Spartan, Gala and Fuji. One polished Fuji got my attention. Its smooth shiny face said, "Eat me". I took a bag of eggs, bananas and the lone apple to my apartment across the street, avoiding the rocky-road called Main.
But there Gala and Fugi apples tasted crisp and juicy -- especially after I roasted them inside my microwave. I cut them up and spread sugar and cinnamon on top. I even ate the core of the applie -- since in now way could it do any harm, or so I thought. What a treat?
Well a couple of weeks ago, I could not keep any food down. I threw up what looked like a small tree. Why it could not have been more than one inch long. I placed it inside a pot alongside my bedroom window. I padded its bed with mulch and dirt. Every morning I sprinkled water over it...and guess what? Yes, it began to speak!
"Kin ya lift me hiya...can't see ya?" I lifted my head off my bed. In now way could an apple tree speak, but the tree made a believer out of me.
"Kind sir, could you place me closer to the window. I need cold to grow better, don't you know?"
"Now who am I to argue with a Fugi apple tree, In no way did I wish to go to war. Why all the apple trees might invade my little apartment. I moved her a bit closer to the window. One of her thin branches touched my nose.
"That is the apple tree's way of kissing. You have saved my life by moving me closer to the window. By and by, I took root inside your stomach since I found your fish oily stomach and nuts simply divine."
"Don't thank me, but thank Spouts Market for selling mixed nuts for 99 cents a pound. And they have the largest supply of produce in Huntington Beach."
At that point the little tree tucked her trunk inside to take a nap. My line phone rang. Somebody called Jonathon was on the phone. Again it was a squeaky voice. (Not finished.)
.
Tuesday, December 8, 2015
Sunday in Santa Monica
Like the salmon run, I needed to return to my beginning. In the forties, Mom always brought along a punch bowl, sandwiches, potato chips and a large multicolored wooden umbrella. She drove a Packard with wooden doors. I can still see and hear her.
"Wait for thirty minutes before going back into the ocean."
"Mom can I have more punch, and can you remove the sand inside my eye."
Santa Monica has undergone changes, but a few things remain the same. My Merry-go-round carousel still plays music but the horses have changed. The Soda Jerk store sells ice cream for a few dollars. For a few bucks, you can stage a birthday party inside the old wooden home. The Santa Monica Pier still stands with Bubba Gumps replacing another eatery. There is still the arcade, a place for dance, and a little amusement park. Spade Cooley and his orchestra no longer plays.
Still there to the North lie Malibu Hills and further up Zuma Beach. On the other side the coast winds its way to Palos Verdes. But besides the pristine views, what makes Santa Monica great on a clear day is it view. Picasso could not duplicate it today.
But for me, it is the air. I drank pure air in the forties. My bronchial tubes opened up and I got gobs of vitamin D and an awful suntan. Back in the forties, nobody knew about skin cancer, and we allowed only good ozone.
My did I itch coming home. It felt like crabs were having a picnic inside my shorts. Mel hogged the shower and used all of the hot water -- it was luke warm when my turn came.
But today it is about the Third Street promenade. People come from all over to take the walk on the Piccadilly Circus of all walks. It is a must.
I had a grand stand seat, just watching. Excitement filled the air. A few had just come from the outside skating ring. Everyone smiled and looked inside the trendy stores. The boots were so high they could touch the sky. I imagined myself walking with some of these five star ladies.
I must have sat for about one hour, cracking two hard boiled and unwrapping two Cutie tangerines with a Fuji apple to boot. Rebooted now, I walked down Broadway to the Palisades. And there in front of my very eyes was Camelot. The ocean and sky caressed with the Malibu Hills and endless sand looking up.
I walked the pier and then the strand. I walked over to where Muscle Beach began. There in front of me I imagined Jack La lane, Governor Schwarzenegger, Moe Most, doing their stunts with a beach load of onlookers around the platform.
Beach two-man volleyball was going on in front of me. I sauntered over to watch. Never that good, but good enough to hang around these courts with Dick s, Ron, Bobby Barber, and a bunch of others. I remembered when I served two rather good Russians off he court and sent them packing with four straight aces.
Well it was time to return to my daughter's. I promised to take her to the West Side Pavilion off of Pico. I walked to Fourth Street and picked up the Big Blue Bus. Sunday is the only time there is no rush hour. Back home, my daughter wished to buy a sweater so I hung around. It felt great being alive to enjoy the fruits of my creation. (Not finished.)
"Wait for thirty minutes before going back into the ocean."
"Mom can I have more punch, and can you remove the sand inside my eye."
Santa Monica has undergone changes, but a few things remain the same. My Merry-go-round carousel still plays music but the horses have changed. The Soda Jerk store sells ice cream for a few dollars. For a few bucks, you can stage a birthday party inside the old wooden home. The Santa Monica Pier still stands with Bubba Gumps replacing another eatery. There is still the arcade, a place for dance, and a little amusement park. Spade Cooley and his orchestra no longer plays.
Still there to the North lie Malibu Hills and further up Zuma Beach. On the other side the coast winds its way to Palos Verdes. But besides the pristine views, what makes Santa Monica great on a clear day is it view. Picasso could not duplicate it today.
But for me, it is the air. I drank pure air in the forties. My bronchial tubes opened up and I got gobs of vitamin D and an awful suntan. Back in the forties, nobody knew about skin cancer, and we allowed only good ozone.
My did I itch coming home. It felt like crabs were having a picnic inside my shorts. Mel hogged the shower and used all of the hot water -- it was luke warm when my turn came.
But today it is about the Third Street promenade. People come from all over to take the walk on the Piccadilly Circus of all walks. It is a must.
I had a grand stand seat, just watching. Excitement filled the air. A few had just come from the outside skating ring. Everyone smiled and looked inside the trendy stores. The boots were so high they could touch the sky. I imagined myself walking with some of these five star ladies.
I must have sat for about one hour, cracking two hard boiled and unwrapping two Cutie tangerines with a Fuji apple to boot. Rebooted now, I walked down Broadway to the Palisades. And there in front of my very eyes was Camelot. The ocean and sky caressed with the Malibu Hills and endless sand looking up.
I walked the pier and then the strand. I walked over to where Muscle Beach began. There in front of me I imagined Jack La lane, Governor Schwarzenegger, Moe Most, doing their stunts with a beach load of onlookers around the platform.
Beach two-man volleyball was going on in front of me. I sauntered over to watch. Never that good, but good enough to hang around these courts with Dick s, Ron, Bobby Barber, and a bunch of others. I remembered when I served two rather good Russians off he court and sent them packing with four straight aces.
Well it was time to return to my daughter's. I promised to take her to the West Side Pavilion off of Pico. I walked to Fourth Street and picked up the Big Blue Bus. Sunday is the only time there is no rush hour. Back home, my daughter wished to buy a sweater so I hung around. It felt great being alive to enjoy the fruits of my creation. (Not finished.)
Tuesday, December 1, 2015
A Surf City Thanksgiving
The Chabad on Warner Avenue gave me the stuffing I needed to end a perfect Thanksgiving. I celebrate the Sabbath from Friday evening till Saturday at sun down.The more I nurture my soul, the more serene I become. The soul lasts for eternity, unlike the body with a sixty or seventy year warranty
. The Rabbi was at his best today. His message was loud and clear.
"WE have been fighting the offspring of Esau for over two thousand years. Jacob had the answer when he arrived in Canaan and saw his brother come towards him.He enriched his soul with prayer and also an offering when he arrived. He had served under Laban for 14 years and had taken his two daughters, now his wives back to the promised land. Israel became his new name. He built a sturdy house and shelter for his animals. Above all, while a captive in the House of Laban, he still studied Torah and remained a Jew.
A famous Hebrew teacher was visited by a guest. The guest wished to know why he didn't have a bed or furniture.
"These are only temporary things. But what I teach will last for eternity."
This great teacher was a man of my heart. I too don't have a bed or nice furniture. I have lots of books and a little Wall Mart radio. But the best filling he left for last.
"A couple of weeks ago, a family celebrated the marriage of their daughter. On the way to Jerusalem, machine guns lit up their car. The father and brother died, but the kids survived. The family decided to go ahead with the celebration."
"Ten thousand people jammed the city to make it quite a feast. The show must continue no matter what a few terrorists decided to do."
A turkey dinner on Thursday began the festive holiday for us. My son-in-law made quite a succulent turkey and got up at four in the morning to shop at Ralph's and spread paint over it. The yam, cranberries and mashed potatoes could not be matched anywhere. Even Mel, my brother could not find words to describe its taste. He resides at the Pacific Spartan Assistance living center.
Yet Friday was something else again. I needed to exercise to remove some of the fat from the feast of the other night. Again, you could touch Santa Catalina the sky was so clear. I jogged the entire length of the pier and took a breather in back of Ruby's restaurant.
I heard some people holler. Over the railing, a baby seal rolled over on its back while its mother spread sun screen over it. Next to them, two mallards dove into below the surface and returned with sardines. Fish were not biting at the end of the pier.
On my return trip, a fisherman yanked seven, yes seven mackerel out of the sea on one line. He gushed with laughter and removed them to his bucket. I studied the Vietnamese in motion. He knew where to place his line, and came up, time and time again with more fish.
Again I continued my return but stopped to watch two-man volleyball games in progress. I finally made it back to my car parked on Main Street, and thank God I stayed around to enjoy my two grandchildren, Summer and Spring. .
. The Rabbi was at his best today. His message was loud and clear.
"WE have been fighting the offspring of Esau for over two thousand years. Jacob had the answer when he arrived in Canaan and saw his brother come towards him.He enriched his soul with prayer and also an offering when he arrived. He had served under Laban for 14 years and had taken his two daughters, now his wives back to the promised land. Israel became his new name. He built a sturdy house and shelter for his animals. Above all, while a captive in the House of Laban, he still studied Torah and remained a Jew.
A famous Hebrew teacher was visited by a guest. The guest wished to know why he didn't have a bed or furniture.
"These are only temporary things. But what I teach will last for eternity."
This great teacher was a man of my heart. I too don't have a bed or nice furniture. I have lots of books and a little Wall Mart radio. But the best filling he left for last.
"A couple of weeks ago, a family celebrated the marriage of their daughter. On the way to Jerusalem, machine guns lit up their car. The father and brother died, but the kids survived. The family decided to go ahead with the celebration."
"Ten thousand people jammed the city to make it quite a feast. The show must continue no matter what a few terrorists decided to do."
A turkey dinner on Thursday began the festive holiday for us. My son-in-law made quite a succulent turkey and got up at four in the morning to shop at Ralph's and spread paint over it. The yam, cranberries and mashed potatoes could not be matched anywhere. Even Mel, my brother could not find words to describe its taste. He resides at the Pacific Spartan Assistance living center.
Yet Friday was something else again. I needed to exercise to remove some of the fat from the feast of the other night. Again, you could touch Santa Catalina the sky was so clear. I jogged the entire length of the pier and took a breather in back of Ruby's restaurant.
I heard some people holler. Over the railing, a baby seal rolled over on its back while its mother spread sun screen over it. Next to them, two mallards dove into below the surface and returned with sardines. Fish were not biting at the end of the pier.
On my return trip, a fisherman yanked seven, yes seven mackerel out of the sea on one line. He gushed with laughter and removed them to his bucket. I studied the Vietnamese in motion. He knew where to place his line, and came up, time and time again with more fish.
Again I continued my return but stopped to watch two-man volleyball games in progress. I finally made it back to my car parked on Main Street, and thank God I stayed around to enjoy my two grandchildren, Summer and Spring. .
Friday, November 20, 2015
Surf Cities Good Time Singers
For the second time in my life, I fell deeply in love. Yes , we shared the same DNA in our protoplasm. And what is life without the right blood type?
Let's back up to the beginning. A new resident of Huntington Beach, I had heard a lot about their troop of seventy singers. Two months ago, I visited the Rodger's Senior Center to play a few ditties on their grand piano. Inside the main dinning area, they sang as a conductor conducted and a lady accompanied them on the piano. Several sang solo. I could not believe the harmony and excitement generated by these now-young old timers. Why they became young-at-heart again! Music does wonders for wrinkles.
The singers left after ten and then I began to play. Of course I began with my Mom's favorite, Don't throw bouquets at me, and a few others. Eleven o'clock approached and I closed the keyboard and looked up. A lady sat all by her lonesome. She looked my way, at least it appeared that way. Andrew the Swede sat down with me. He is always perfectly dressed with he usual quip, "I feel a bit less than perfect." A server brought the milk. I began to open the straw and again looked her way.
Well now. Nothing good happens in life unless chances are taken. I half-walked up towards her and motioned that she join our table. Slowly, ever so slowly, she stumbled over and sat. I dared not to gander at her -- scared that it had been a mirage.
The pork and rice were served. Food now took a second seating. To my left sat the most beautiful gal in the world, even better than Shelly, my first love. I felt scared speechless. I could barely open my mouth to speak.
Well like mostly all old ladies, she looked like a retread from the thirties; But it must have been her face, yes her face. Well Santa could take lessons on how to smile. I found out her name was Mildred.
"May I ask what brings you here?"
"I am a member of the Good Time Singers. I heard you playing the keys and fell in love with your playing. You played the same way my artist husband played. I ask where you learned to play so, so well?"
At that point, her eyes attacked me, like a drill bit entering wood. My knees shook and on second look, she had the face of an angel. I did not know if I was dreaming or what?
"You are the tonic I need. I just buried my fourth husband and need some cheering up."
The above occurred about two months ago. I have been seeing more of her lately, and discovered my first feeling for Mildred still held water. I noticed a hop in my step lately and my writing is by-and-by a bit better.
Mildred's picture I took and shared with you. Now some of you might think she does not look all that cute. But she is a lot better looking than my first love. And guess what? At the Surf City movies, she shares her banana and peanuts with me. I'm mighty glad that Santa brought me her none too late.
The Senior Center has become a memorable part of my day. I love to play the piano and am appreciated by all. This week have been playing Christmas Carols and getting better at the piano. I have the gift to play what I hear. The sound of music make the old feel young again. It tends to relax the mind and give it a chance to unwind....Just wait a minute. A volunteer has just served ice cream to Andrews. She told me that my music reminds her of Liberace. .
"Why does he get ice cream and not me?"
"He got the cold meal and with it came the desert."
I left the Rodgers Senior Center and took Main Street to the In-And-Out. There I ordered a chocolate shake for $2.40. I strawed a few inches and dripped a few ounces of root bear from the dispenser. Of course now it became a root beer float -- which became my ice cream for a day.
I continued on Main till I got to Bolsa and made a right. Mel's senior center was to the left. Mel was watching the same I Love Lucy Show with others inside the T.V. room.
"Mel, did you ever hear of the Good Time Singers?"
"Sure they come here every Christmas."
It now was four o'clock and time for the dinner Mel had the first sitting and as always was the first to grab a seat -- well almost the first. Bea, the little Vietnamese gal was singing Three Coins in the Fountain. She laughed while Julie grabbed a dish of prunes.
Yes, without a song the day would never end. (Almost finished.)
Let's back up to the beginning. A new resident of Huntington Beach, I had heard a lot about their troop of seventy singers. Two months ago, I visited the Rodger's Senior Center to play a few ditties on their grand piano. Inside the main dinning area, they sang as a conductor conducted and a lady accompanied them on the piano. Several sang solo. I could not believe the harmony and excitement generated by these now-young old timers. Why they became young-at-heart again! Music does wonders for wrinkles.
The singers left after ten and then I began to play. Of course I began with my Mom's favorite, Don't throw bouquets at me, and a few others. Eleven o'clock approached and I closed the keyboard and looked up. A lady sat all by her lonesome. She looked my way, at least it appeared that way. Andrew the Swede sat down with me. He is always perfectly dressed with he usual quip, "I feel a bit less than perfect." A server brought the milk. I began to open the straw and again looked her way.
 |
| Mildred, |
The pork and rice were served. Food now took a second seating. To my left sat the most beautiful gal in the world, even better than Shelly, my first love. I felt scared speechless. I could barely open my mouth to speak.
Well like mostly all old ladies, she looked like a retread from the thirties; But it must have been her face, yes her face. Well Santa could take lessons on how to smile. I found out her name was Mildred.
"May I ask what brings you here?"
"I am a member of the Good Time Singers. I heard you playing the keys and fell in love with your playing. You played the same way my artist husband played. I ask where you learned to play so, so well?"
At that point, her eyes attacked me, like a drill bit entering wood. My knees shook and on second look, she had the face of an angel. I did not know if I was dreaming or what?
"You are the tonic I need. I just buried my fourth husband and need some cheering up."
The above occurred about two months ago. I have been seeing more of her lately, and discovered my first feeling for Mildred still held water. I noticed a hop in my step lately and my writing is by-and-by a bit better.
Mildred's picture I took and shared with you. Now some of you might think she does not look all that cute. But she is a lot better looking than my first love. And guess what? At the Surf City movies, she shares her banana and peanuts with me. I'm mighty glad that Santa brought me her none too late.
The Senior Center has become a memorable part of my day. I love to play the piano and am appreciated by all. This week have been playing Christmas Carols and getting better at the piano. I have the gift to play what I hear. The sound of music make the old feel young again. It tends to relax the mind and give it a chance to unwind....Just wait a minute. A volunteer has just served ice cream to Andrews. She told me that my music reminds her of Liberace. .
"Why does he get ice cream and not me?"
"He got the cold meal and with it came the desert."
I left the Rodgers Senior Center and took Main Street to the In-And-Out. There I ordered a chocolate shake for $2.40. I strawed a few inches and dripped a few ounces of root bear from the dispenser. Of course now it became a root beer float -- which became my ice cream for a day.
I continued on Main till I got to Bolsa and made a right. Mel's senior center was to the left. Mel was watching the same I Love Lucy Show with others inside the T.V. room.
"Mel, did you ever hear of the Good Time Singers?"
"Sure they come here every Christmas."
It now was four o'clock and time for the dinner Mel had the first sitting and as always was the first to grab a seat -- well almost the first. Bea, the little Vietnamese gal was singing Three Coins in the Fountain. She laughed while Julie grabbed a dish of prunes.
Yes, without a song the day would never end. (Almost finished.)
Thursday, November 19, 2015
Surf City Visited by a Stork
The brisk cold winds felt like needles to my skin. I felt mad my budget did not include a wind breaker. . My legs felt heavy, but I needed a change. I passed the Sugar Shack and Main Street eateries on the way to the pier.. A cold northerly replaced Surf City's three month heat wave. I crossed Ocean and made it to the concrete pier.
I began a fast walk, but not too fast. My body felt heavy today. A crowd of people watched the surfers dare to catch a set of large nine foot waves. I peered over the railings . The boards looked like dots waiting for a set of monster wave and send them dashing towards shore. Only the brave dared to catch a wave today...Why even a Father held his son in front of him as a roller sent them crashing to shore. Yes it was a magical mountain-sea-day today. I began to jog and then run. I could make out Long Beach and even the rolling hills of Palos Verdes. Why I even could see Trump playing golf at his Terran-ea Resort.
I rubbed my eyes. I could not believe the picture up ahead. Now at 76, I have seen just about everything there is to see. .But this?..No-way!. I rubbed my eyes some more. Yes, it was a Stork begging for food. The large beak was covered with shades of orange. It could rotate its head from side to side just like a ping pong ball to make sure an enemy was not lurking.
A fisherman walked over with a Bonita slice and parked it inside its long curved horn. The Stork tried and tried to gullet it down. It was a bit too big. But finally, Susie lifted her long beak and shuttled it down. She turned her head half-around, but not worried that a shark or whale would attack her. A crowd of about twenty circled Sue to take pictures, and Susie with a full stomach obliged. She even kissed one who got too close. Too bad I didn't have my camera.
Edith, my Mom, first told me about the Storks when she returned from the hospital in 1948. I remember it well at nine years of age.
"George, I wish to introduce Louise to you. A Stork brought her last night She is your new baby sister."
My brother Mel and I must have kissed Louise's head too much. Hair never grew there for her first three years. I grew to hate her and even the Stork that brought her. She received all the attention while me and Mel received the left-overs.
I never had to ask how babies arrived. I just new that when couples marry, they send a note to Santa and he ships a baby air delivered by a Stork.
I continued to jog to the end of the pier and the well lighted Ruby's. I sat to listen to the sounds of the thirties. Ruby's installed speakers outside. I watched a young kid watch a young kid throw a baby sting ray back into the waters.
When I returned to jog back, to my surprise, there were two long necks birds. I gave the name of the other Shelly. Storks often paired up when skimming the sea. But what brought them to the pier today?.
The next day I found out. Wind gusts of fifty to sixty miles an hour lashed my apartment. I even took Tom's advise to buy a heater -- it was that cold!
Nuts and Bolts for today: Sometimes it is better to remain inside until your troubles blow over, just like Sue and Shelly did. (Not finished).
I began a fast walk, but not too fast. My body felt heavy today. A crowd of people watched the surfers dare to catch a set of large nine foot waves. I peered over the railings . The boards looked like dots waiting for a set of monster wave and send them dashing towards shore. Only the brave dared to catch a wave today...Why even a Father held his son in front of him as a roller sent them crashing to shore. Yes it was a magical mountain-sea-day today. I began to jog and then run. I could make out Long Beach and even the rolling hills of Palos Verdes. Why I even could see Trump playing golf at his Terran-ea Resort.
I rubbed my eyes. I could not believe the picture up ahead. Now at 76, I have seen just about everything there is to see. .But this?..No-way!. I rubbed my eyes some more. Yes, it was a Stork begging for food. The large beak was covered with shades of orange. It could rotate its head from side to side just like a ping pong ball to make sure an enemy was not lurking.
A fisherman walked over with a Bonita slice and parked it inside its long curved horn. The Stork tried and tried to gullet it down. It was a bit too big. But finally, Susie lifted her long beak and shuttled it down. She turned her head half-around, but not worried that a shark or whale would attack her. A crowd of about twenty circled Sue to take pictures, and Susie with a full stomach obliged. She even kissed one who got too close. Too bad I didn't have my camera.
Edith, my Mom, first told me about the Storks when she returned from the hospital in 1948. I remember it well at nine years of age.
"George, I wish to introduce Louise to you. A Stork brought her last night She is your new baby sister."
My brother Mel and I must have kissed Louise's head too much. Hair never grew there for her first three years. I grew to hate her and even the Stork that brought her. She received all the attention while me and Mel received the left-overs.
I never had to ask how babies arrived. I just new that when couples marry, they send a note to Santa and he ships a baby air delivered by a Stork.
I continued to jog to the end of the pier and the well lighted Ruby's. I sat to listen to the sounds of the thirties. Ruby's installed speakers outside. I watched a young kid watch a young kid throw a baby sting ray back into the waters.
When I returned to jog back, to my surprise, there were two long necks birds. I gave the name of the other Shelly. Storks often paired up when skimming the sea. But what brought them to the pier today?.
The next day I found out. Wind gusts of fifty to sixty miles an hour lashed my apartment. I even took Tom's advise to buy a heater -- it was that cold!
Nuts and Bolts for today: Sometimes it is better to remain inside until your troubles blow over, just like Sue and Shelly did. (Not finished).
Friday, November 13, 2015
Christmas Time at Starbucks
About four weeks ago I survived the Darkest Friday of my life. Somehow I lived another day, but barely. I promised to keep that day a secret but it did change my life. And thanks to God, I still live-and how! I owe much of my new born faith to a Chabad Rabbi in Huntington Beach. In last Saturday's story, he spoke about Abraham and Sarah last Saturday.
Yes, I owe God one and promised him to honor the Jewish Sabbath. So I go to the little Synagogue on Warner Avenue to surf the Old Testaments. And I am having a blast, and why not?
Allow me to paraphrase what the dynamic Rabbi spoke about on last weekends Parsha. The wife of Abraham, died at about 125 years of age, about the same time that her husband Abe married for a second time and bore six kids. Sarah wished see her son Issac's bride before she left this world for another one. She found her kind and gentle. Relieved, she relaxed and went to heaven. But Abe still had some wild oats to sew. He continued to thrive and even took Lot along with him to the new land.
Now for those of you who disbelieve how long they lived, just listen to me. Back in the day over 3000 years ago, there were no restaurants like In-N-Out or Jack in the Box. Nobody ate breakfast at Starbucks or paid for an energy drinks or drag at Seven Eleven. The wanderers then ate organic with the best cuts of goat or lambs meat. Instead of bread, they ate a flat bread without salt.They did not believe in false idols. They coated their diets with prayer.
On another note, the Rabbi spoke about how we need to make each day precious. "We can't change the past or fore-tale he future. So today, we need every minute to count, rather than to count each minute. Time flies when we live it!
For me since I don't own a T.V. or radio, I read, read and read some more. Thank God I don't need to watch T.V..anymore. The pictures get in the way of Godliness. Just maybe I will buy an F.M. radio. For me the chants of yesterday consume and nurture my soul. My head sings the same Hebrew spirituals sung by my ancestors, Goldberg and Schneider clan in the forties. Like a car getting another coat of paint, my shell gets stronger the longer God replaces me in every day life. Whenever God speaks to me more than once, I do it without rancor, even though I feel like doing something else.
Yesterday, the 12th of November, the Huntington Beach Express dropped me off on Seventh and Figueroa in downtown Los Angeles. I had taken my rabbis advise to make the day memorable -- and besides, the downtown Metro would later transport me to West L.A. to visit my number two daughter, my energy bar.
Across Figueroa sat a well lighted Starbucks. I arrived at six thirty, after a forty five minute bus drive from the Surf City Transit station. A man dressed in a sailor outfit asked for the bathroom combination while I ordered my house coffee for the day. The sailor wore head plugs and a computer and paper sat by his round table. He was in a jovial mood and sang a few Baptist spirituals, no doubt to celebrate Christmas. First jazz and then Christmas songs played: The First Noel, White Christmas, Deck the Halls followed by at least twenty others.
The caffeine must have been heavy. I felt exalted to be alive at seven in the morning. A swarm of patrons lined up for their favorite latte, along with a quick cake to boot. The lined coiled in front of two busy cashiers. Across the street sat the old Bank of American. A Brinks truck parked on a curb. To the north,workman were building a 50 story Korean Bank building. To the right was a Victoria's Secret store
All the women wore multi-colored sashes, scarfs with pants and shoes to match. Those with legs wore thin high heals showing off their walkers. Those without legs wore large wooden shoes, Uggs, or just a slip-on. Excuse me for a second...
"Dayagot spare change for coffee?" Startled, I looked up ,mad that somebody entered my space. A well cropped beard covered his face but could not hide his thin nose. He had sat in the corner holding a L.A. Times.
"Not today kind sir, but have a Merry Xmas.?"
While inside the line was thirty deep. I could not get over how colorful the procession was. I asked a worker who wiped off the crumbs from a table how many patrons they serve in a day.
"At this time, we serve 134 in thirty minutes."
"Are you kidin me?"
Everywhere there was laughter and joy as these Starbucks' worshipers dipped their rolls into their latte's,, mocha drinks and other flavors I had brought my own, since I am on a budget. I finished my tangerines and banana and removed the meat from a left-over Costco chicken. Why I could have eaten a whole chicken this morn.
Diagonally across the street a clock over the building and the Seventh Street Metro said eight thirty, I opened the door and saw the homeless man get lucky for asking. I was too early for the Central Library so took the 720 Rapid Red to Western and Wilshire. From their the Rapid Blue took me to my daughters apartment.
I could not believe how gorgeous she had become. Her dog Oscar growled at me. I had not bought any doggy treats that morn. She made me a French Toast before we eloped to Coffee Bean and favorite drink. We sat and chatted for an hour before we said our good-by's and I retreated back to the downtown area.
It took me all of two hours to arrive back in Huntington Beach on the Express, but the day will live as long as lines form at Starbucks.
Nuts and bolt for today: Put aside the T.V. cell or other devise and begin to listen to your kids.
Yes, I owe God one and promised him to honor the Jewish Sabbath. So I go to the little Synagogue on Warner Avenue to surf the Old Testaments. And I am having a blast, and why not?
Allow me to paraphrase what the dynamic Rabbi spoke about on last weekends Parsha. The wife of Abraham, died at about 125 years of age, about the same time that her husband Abe married for a second time and bore six kids. Sarah wished see her son Issac's bride before she left this world for another one. She found her kind and gentle. Relieved, she relaxed and went to heaven. But Abe still had some wild oats to sew. He continued to thrive and even took Lot along with him to the new land.
Now for those of you who disbelieve how long they lived, just listen to me. Back in the day over 3000 years ago, there were no restaurants like In-N-Out or Jack in the Box. Nobody ate breakfast at Starbucks or paid for an energy drinks or drag at Seven Eleven. The wanderers then ate organic with the best cuts of goat or lambs meat. Instead of bread, they ate a flat bread without salt.They did not believe in false idols. They coated their diets with prayer.
On another note, the Rabbi spoke about how we need to make each day precious. "We can't change the past or fore-tale he future. So today, we need every minute to count, rather than to count each minute. Time flies when we live it!
For me since I don't own a T.V. or radio, I read, read and read some more. Thank God I don't need to watch T.V..anymore. The pictures get in the way of Godliness. Just maybe I will buy an F.M. radio. For me the chants of yesterday consume and nurture my soul. My head sings the same Hebrew spirituals sung by my ancestors, Goldberg and Schneider clan in the forties. Like a car getting another coat of paint, my shell gets stronger the longer God replaces me in every day life. Whenever God speaks to me more than once, I do it without rancor, even though I feel like doing something else.
Yesterday, the 12th of November, the Huntington Beach Express dropped me off on Seventh and Figueroa in downtown Los Angeles. I had taken my rabbis advise to make the day memorable -- and besides, the downtown Metro would later transport me to West L.A. to visit my number two daughter, my energy bar.
Across Figueroa sat a well lighted Starbucks. I arrived at six thirty, after a forty five minute bus drive from the Surf City Transit station. A man dressed in a sailor outfit asked for the bathroom combination while I ordered my house coffee for the day. The sailor wore head plugs and a computer and paper sat by his round table. He was in a jovial mood and sang a few Baptist spirituals, no doubt to celebrate Christmas. First jazz and then Christmas songs played: The First Noel, White Christmas, Deck the Halls followed by at least twenty others.
The caffeine must have been heavy. I felt exalted to be alive at seven in the morning. A swarm of patrons lined up for their favorite latte, along with a quick cake to boot. The lined coiled in front of two busy cashiers. Across the street sat the old Bank of American. A Brinks truck parked on a curb. To the north,workman were building a 50 story Korean Bank building. To the right was a Victoria's Secret store
All the women wore multi-colored sashes, scarfs with pants and shoes to match. Those with legs wore thin high heals showing off their walkers. Those without legs wore large wooden shoes, Uggs, or just a slip-on. Excuse me for a second...
"Dayagot spare change for coffee?" Startled, I looked up ,mad that somebody entered my space. A well cropped beard covered his face but could not hide his thin nose. He had sat in the corner holding a L.A. Times.
"Not today kind sir, but have a Merry Xmas.?"
While inside the line was thirty deep. I could not get over how colorful the procession was. I asked a worker who wiped off the crumbs from a table how many patrons they serve in a day.
"At this time, we serve 134 in thirty minutes."
"Are you kidin me?"
Everywhere there was laughter and joy as these Starbucks' worshipers dipped their rolls into their latte's,, mocha drinks and other flavors I had brought my own, since I am on a budget. I finished my tangerines and banana and removed the meat from a left-over Costco chicken. Why I could have eaten a whole chicken this morn.Diagonally across the street a clock over the building and the Seventh Street Metro said eight thirty, I opened the door and saw the homeless man get lucky for asking. I was too early for the Central Library so took the 720 Rapid Red to Western and Wilshire. From their the Rapid Blue took me to my daughters apartment.
I could not believe how gorgeous she had become. Her dog Oscar growled at me. I had not bought any doggy treats that morn. She made me a French Toast before we eloped to Coffee Bean and favorite drink. We sat and chatted for an hour before we said our good-by's and I retreated back to the downtown area.
It took me all of two hours to arrive back in Huntington Beach on the Express, but the day will live as long as lines form at Starbucks.
Nuts and bolt for today: Put aside the T.V. cell or other devise and begin to listen to your kids.
Friday, November 6, 2015
Santa Monica, Third Street Mall
I use the quality of the meat to classify each beach city in California. I call Santa Monica and its beaches a cut above the rest. Santa Monica is the filet of steak meat while the others are rumps and for the rest.
And I consider myself an expert since I played two-man volleyball from 2089 until recently in the same cove that many of the greatest body builders did their routines or lifted weights. Of course a visit to the piers merry-go-round as a kid will always be remembered.
Yesterday, Sunday, I visited my daughter who lives on Pico
Blvd across the street from the Museum of Tolerance. I enjoyed my visit with my daughter and helped her buy a new cell phone. Just like Verizon, Sprint charges a restock fee, even is you bring the gadget back five minutes later. I became upset when we dove to return the cell phone, and wish to apologize to the staff at Sprint.
I would travel by bus to God's favorite playground, Santa Monica Beach. My Mom Edith took me and brother Mel there every day in the summer. In the forties I carried the punch bowl, my brother the sandwich bag, and Mom the humongous umbrella. We did not know about skin cancer then, but used it for shade only. But today, over seventy years later the Santa Monica Third Street Mall beckoned. .
The Big Blue Bus picked me up on the corner of Pico and Roxbury at three in the afternoon. The old Owen's market is no longer and another is about to take its place. The cool brisk westerly told me mountains to the north were plummeted with mounds of snow. I paid my senior fifty cents and sat down holding my brown lunch bag.
I ate the remainder of my chopped liver on rye and opened up several tangerines. The first of the morning liver came from Nate and Al's and the fruit from the Glatt market. It was fabulous not to drive my car in a city pock-market by streets bruised by too much traffic and always street maintenance.
In back of me two lovely young Latinos practiced kissing, another worked on her eye brows, and one needed to shave the mustache over her mouth. The bus lumbered on and crossed Lincoln, Colorful jerseys told me a football game was in progress at Santa Monica High School. The bus made a right on Fourth Street and charged down the boulevard to Santa Monica Blvd, where I tumbled off and strolled to the rest room on the Palisades.
The temperature was about five degrees warmer with no longer a heavy wind. The city sits in a bowl, walled off from extreme temperatures -- it is always moderate here. No longer a cold wind lashed at my face. I needed another piece of cloth inside my black turtle nicked sweater. I headed to the large thrift shop on the corner, across from the new city library.
I tried on a T-shirt that was too small for my large shoulders. Inside the try-on room sat a well used skate board. I asked a few kids if it might just be theirs.
"My God thank you sir. Can I buy you a drink somewhere?"
"No but find me a extra large t-shirt and we will call it even."
"Got the one for you. Try this one on."
"Don't need to, it looks perfect."
I paid my one dollar and ninety cents and pulled it over my other shirt. Yes it was a two-shirted day today. I looked up at the bus stop and noticed that the Rapid Purple bus stopped there.The neon signs now showed the times of the arrival of the next buses..I treated myself to a special blend tea at Philz and then entered the Corner Credit Union Bank.
The manager schooled me in now the bank handles liens and levy's. He was warm and cordial an told me to watch out for computers of our government. "The computers withdraw your money when nobody is looking."
I then walked to the only Barns and Noble store of of Third and Wilshire .A couple of guitar acts were in progress and after Victoria's Secret, I saw that the Tesla car that runs on batteries. . I could no get over how black and shiny it looked. Why is headlight beckoned me to enter but I needed to buy a book at Barns and Noble.
Everyone smiled, as every store glittered with the sun bounding off the ocean and Mr. Sun playing peek-a-boo with the sun. . I bought a book without coffee and returned to the Fourth and Colorado for the long, one our, bus ride home. Why I felt like a babe bathed by Mom with talcum again, so was the infectious smile of the Mall.
But before entering the bus, I needed to drink water. Britannia's' Tavern. was the ticket for a coke a water only two and change. Football games flashed on several screens.
"What you having sir?"
"Coke and nother glass of water?"
"That'll be two fifty five sir?"
Now that my thirst was quenched I spoke up a conversation with the stool next to mine. He appeared to be a young lad of thirty-or there-abouts.
"Where you from Lady?"
"Bolder...Got tired of showing people how to sky or working inside hotels...Brother is into interior decorating and needed help in his Hollywood store."
"Where you livin?"
"One bed on twelve and Santa Monica...Rent is high at sixteen a month...but worth it...I love it here."
While we chatted, my other eye, my stomach, had its mouth open for the delicious fish salad next to me. I told my gut to wait till next week. I needed gas money to return to Surf City.
'One bottle for each...its on the house. Thirty hands jumped on deck, all except mine."
After a trip to the Men's I went to the fourth street pick up spot to take me back to West Los Angeles. Just like Tesla, my battery had been recharged at the best mall on the coast.
I walked to the Big Blue Bus stop, across the street from the new Salvation Army building. What looked like a curled up dead body slept beside a store. I've seen it before. It happens every day in California.
The Rapid Blue came and picked up passengers. Some would go on the downtown bus that links the Blue Metro with the other arteries. Oh yes, a police got the man to stand and escorted him to the nearest park -- out of sight and out of mind.
Back at my daughters, we had a few swags of mocha and then I sailed home back to Surf City.
.
And I consider myself an expert since I played two-man volleyball from 2089 until recently in the same cove that many of the greatest body builders did their routines or lifted weights. Of course a visit to the piers merry-go-round as a kid will always be remembered.
Yesterday, Sunday, I visited my daughter who lives on Pico
Blvd across the street from the Museum of Tolerance. I enjoyed my visit with my daughter and helped her buy a new cell phone. Just like Verizon, Sprint charges a restock fee, even is you bring the gadget back five minutes later. I became upset when we dove to return the cell phone, and wish to apologize to the staff at Sprint.
I would travel by bus to God's favorite playground, Santa Monica Beach. My Mom Edith took me and brother Mel there every day in the summer. In the forties I carried the punch bowl, my brother the sandwich bag, and Mom the humongous umbrella. We did not know about skin cancer then, but used it for shade only. But today, over seventy years later the Santa Monica Third Street Mall beckoned. .
The Big Blue Bus picked me up on the corner of Pico and Roxbury at three in the afternoon. The old Owen's market is no longer and another is about to take its place. The cool brisk westerly told me mountains to the north were plummeted with mounds of snow. I paid my senior fifty cents and sat down holding my brown lunch bag.
I ate the remainder of my chopped liver on rye and opened up several tangerines. The first of the morning liver came from Nate and Al's and the fruit from the Glatt market. It was fabulous not to drive my car in a city pock-market by streets bruised by too much traffic and always street maintenance.
In back of me two lovely young Latinos practiced kissing, another worked on her eye brows, and one needed to shave the mustache over her mouth. The bus lumbered on and crossed Lincoln, Colorful jerseys told me a football game was in progress at Santa Monica High School. The bus made a right on Fourth Street and charged down the boulevard to Santa Monica Blvd, where I tumbled off and strolled to the rest room on the Palisades.
The temperature was about five degrees warmer with no longer a heavy wind. The city sits in a bowl, walled off from extreme temperatures -- it is always moderate here. No longer a cold wind lashed at my face. I needed another piece of cloth inside my black turtle nicked sweater. I headed to the large thrift shop on the corner, across from the new city library.
I tried on a T-shirt that was too small for my large shoulders. Inside the try-on room sat a well used skate board. I asked a few kids if it might just be theirs.
"My God thank you sir. Can I buy you a drink somewhere?"
"No but find me a extra large t-shirt and we will call it even."
"Got the one for you. Try this one on."
"Don't need to, it looks perfect."
I paid my one dollar and ninety cents and pulled it over my other shirt. Yes it was a two-shirted day today. I looked up at the bus stop and noticed that the Rapid Purple bus stopped there.The neon signs now showed the times of the arrival of the next buses..I treated myself to a special blend tea at Philz and then entered the Corner Credit Union Bank.
The manager schooled me in now the bank handles liens and levy's. He was warm and cordial an told me to watch out for computers of our government. "The computers withdraw your money when nobody is looking."
I then walked to the only Barns and Noble store of of Third and Wilshire .A couple of guitar acts were in progress and after Victoria's Secret, I saw that the Tesla car that runs on batteries. . I could no get over how black and shiny it looked. Why is headlight beckoned me to enter but I needed to buy a book at Barns and Noble.
Everyone smiled, as every store glittered with the sun bounding off the ocean and Mr. Sun playing peek-a-boo with the sun. . I bought a book without coffee and returned to the Fourth and Colorado for the long, one our, bus ride home. Why I felt like a babe bathed by Mom with talcum again, so was the infectious smile of the Mall.
But before entering the bus, I needed to drink water. Britannia's' Tavern. was the ticket for a coke a water only two and change. Football games flashed on several screens.
"What you having sir?"
"Coke and nother glass of water?"
"That'll be two fifty five sir?"
Now that my thirst was quenched I spoke up a conversation with the stool next to mine. He appeared to be a young lad of thirty-or there-abouts.
"Where you from Lady?"
"Bolder...Got tired of showing people how to sky or working inside hotels...Brother is into interior decorating and needed help in his Hollywood store."
"Where you livin?"
"One bed on twelve and Santa Monica...Rent is high at sixteen a month...but worth it...I love it here."
While we chatted, my other eye, my stomach, had its mouth open for the delicious fish salad next to me. I told my gut to wait till next week. I needed gas money to return to Surf City.
'One bottle for each...its on the house. Thirty hands jumped on deck, all except mine."
After a trip to the Men's I went to the fourth street pick up spot to take me back to West Los Angeles. Just like Tesla, my battery had been recharged at the best mall on the coast.
I walked to the Big Blue Bus stop, across the street from the new Salvation Army building. What looked like a curled up dead body slept beside a store. I've seen it before. It happens every day in California.
The Rapid Blue came and picked up passengers. Some would go on the downtown bus that links the Blue Metro with the other arteries. Oh yes, a police got the man to stand and escorted him to the nearest park -- out of sight and out of mind.
Back at my daughters, we had a few swags of mocha and then I sailed home back to Surf City.
.
Monday, November 2, 2015
A Beverly Hills Sunday
My plan today was to hightail it into Beverly Hills in he early morning and then visit my daughter. By six o'clock I was on the freeway. It felt good to remove myself and visit my daughter in familiar surroundings. To me, Surf City is about the beaches and that is about it.
I took the 405 to the 10 and exited at National. Two right turns and Overland showed its ugly face. Ugly I say since this street had been torn up, kicked around, and made somehow into a major artery. The once thin road linked Culver City with West Los Angeles. It stops at the Mormon Temple on Santa Monica Blvd. I has been widened into three lanes each way.
To compound problems, the new Expo Line travels through it. It is bad enough that it can take over one hour to finally get to the 10 freeway off of Overland, but hat is no lie. Now cars will stop to allow the train to go the beaches of Santa Monica or Seventh Street in downtown.
I blinked when I looked at all the homes that looked bald on the street. Spanish, Mediterranean, adn English Tudor homes cried as their front yards had turned into scrub or deserted lots. Yes, the water crises has hit Los Angles in a big way yet prices are still rising
At six thirty my fist stop was Starbucks on the legendary street of Beverly Drive. The large Sterling building stood watch as a sentry as I parked down the street. I parked and noticed that Nate and Al's had opened. It is the last to the stores to call the street their own.
Now inside Starbucks, a small man wearing a French cap and acting like one, ordered a toasted coffee. I ordered the same and proud of it. No longer did I need to hide my smile. I now wore an upper plate with teeth.
"Good gracious", I said to myself. Unlike other cities. I did not need a combination to do my toilet. I was somewhat taken back to find my coffee cup had been cut down to size. The cups were twice the size a year ago...But like i said in a previous blog, Everybody is cutting back.
My oh my did it feel good to be wearing a full set of teeth. Inside a few bowling balls danced into the coffee shop and made sure everyone noticed them.. On had muscles out to their and used a Harry Belafonte voice to place their orders.
I focused on the man across from me. He kept fidgeting with his coffee and coke and kept moving them around for a minute or so. He placed a small screen computer before him and adjusted his ear plugs. Now with his sun glasses on, he might just be noticed by a talent scout.
Another man who had his nose molded to fit his thin face paced back and forth. The thin man wore green tennis shoes with fancy purple laces. Other shoes were not made of leather but carefully threaded to meet the mold of the men's feet. I just could not keep my eyes off the shoes. Yes it was the shoes worn in Beverly Hills that separated it from other towns.
The Sunday farmer's market was about to open. I walked down Little Santa Monica and looked into the Chamber of Commerce office. Inside the front window was a display that described how to save water.
Under the library'y parking and the next street over, stalls were being set up for the farmer's market. My budget did not even allow me to buy a coffee. but it did purchase a view of the San Gabriel mountains.
It was a blistery Santa Ana day, without so much as a cloud in the sky. Parents checked out little plastic shopping carts for their kiddies. The conversation in back of me was the usual.
"I am going to buy a bag or oranges. The strawberries don't look too sweet? Who do you like for a Republican candidate? My daughter is having a grand kid next summer..so forth a so on."
Well, I had to go and pick up my number two daughter. It took two hours to pick up a prescription. Kaiser in West Los Angles is more like a Baptist revival meeting. There is a lot of pomp and ceremony. They would not fill my prescription so I had to go to urgent car. Nurse Tomorrow placed rubber over my left arm and began rubbing it.
"Phone fo you. Can you get it?"
Nurse Tomorrow left the room to get her message. When she returned she screamed, "Yo pressure is high: 150-20. Try again. She grabbed my arms again and told me to relax. Now how can I relax with an electric eel is massaging my arm"
I told her to leave. Dr. St Gregory entered and filled my prescription. Nurse Tomorrow was still on the phone when I left. I drove my daughter home and freewayed it to Alpine Village. A life band began at four so I meandered over to the swap meet. I danced with only two old timers but got a change to speak with one -- two bits on the heavy side.
"Are you German?"
"Just because I have blond hair and blue eyes does not make me German. I am a Jewish survivor.
"But are you German?"
Well she repeated her self again. The German music put my now irregular heart beat in place. I felt relaxed by the end of the day.
Cruisin'George says: In life we have the dealers and those who are dealt the hand. But never do you need to stick to the hand that you are dealt.
I took the 405 to the 10 and exited at National. Two right turns and Overland showed its ugly face. Ugly I say since this street had been torn up, kicked around, and made somehow into a major artery. The once thin road linked Culver City with West Los Angeles. It stops at the Mormon Temple on Santa Monica Blvd. I has been widened into three lanes each way.
To compound problems, the new Expo Line travels through it. It is bad enough that it can take over one hour to finally get to the 10 freeway off of Overland, but hat is no lie. Now cars will stop to allow the train to go the beaches of Santa Monica or Seventh Street in downtown.
I blinked when I looked at all the homes that looked bald on the street. Spanish, Mediterranean, adn English Tudor homes cried as their front yards had turned into scrub or deserted lots. Yes, the water crises has hit Los Angles in a big way yet prices are still rising
At six thirty my fist stop was Starbucks on the legendary street of Beverly Drive. The large Sterling building stood watch as a sentry as I parked down the street. I parked and noticed that Nate and Al's had opened. It is the last to the stores to call the street their own.
Now inside Starbucks, a small man wearing a French cap and acting like one, ordered a toasted coffee. I ordered the same and proud of it. No longer did I need to hide my smile. I now wore an upper plate with teeth.
"Good gracious", I said to myself. Unlike other cities. I did not need a combination to do my toilet. I was somewhat taken back to find my coffee cup had been cut down to size. The cups were twice the size a year ago...But like i said in a previous blog, Everybody is cutting back.
My oh my did it feel good to be wearing a full set of teeth. Inside a few bowling balls danced into the coffee shop and made sure everyone noticed them.. On had muscles out to their and used a Harry Belafonte voice to place their orders.
I focused on the man across from me. He kept fidgeting with his coffee and coke and kept moving them around for a minute or so. He placed a small screen computer before him and adjusted his ear plugs. Now with his sun glasses on, he might just be noticed by a talent scout.
Another man who had his nose molded to fit his thin face paced back and forth. The thin man wore green tennis shoes with fancy purple laces. Other shoes were not made of leather but carefully threaded to meet the mold of the men's feet. I just could not keep my eyes off the shoes. Yes it was the shoes worn in Beverly Hills that separated it from other towns.
The Sunday farmer's market was about to open. I walked down Little Santa Monica and looked into the Chamber of Commerce office. Inside the front window was a display that described how to save water.
Under the library'y parking and the next street over, stalls were being set up for the farmer's market. My budget did not even allow me to buy a coffee. but it did purchase a view of the San Gabriel mountains.
It was a blistery Santa Ana day, without so much as a cloud in the sky. Parents checked out little plastic shopping carts for their kiddies. The conversation in back of me was the usual.
"I am going to buy a bag or oranges. The strawberries don't look too sweet? Who do you like for a Republican candidate? My daughter is having a grand kid next summer..so forth a so on."
Well, I had to go and pick up my number two daughter. It took two hours to pick up a prescription. Kaiser in West Los Angles is more like a Baptist revival meeting. There is a lot of pomp and ceremony. They would not fill my prescription so I had to go to urgent car. Nurse Tomorrow placed rubber over my left arm and began rubbing it.
"Phone fo you. Can you get it?"
Nurse Tomorrow left the room to get her message. When she returned she screamed, "Yo pressure is high: 150-20. Try again. She grabbed my arms again and told me to relax. Now how can I relax with an electric eel is massaging my arm"
I told her to leave. Dr. St Gregory entered and filled my prescription. Nurse Tomorrow was still on the phone when I left. I drove my daughter home and freewayed it to Alpine Village. A life band began at four so I meandered over to the swap meet. I danced with only two old timers but got a change to speak with one -- two bits on the heavy side.
"Are you German?"
"Just because I have blond hair and blue eyes does not make me German. I am a Jewish survivor.
"But are you German?"
Well she repeated her self again. The German music put my now irregular heart beat in place. I felt relaxed by the end of the day.
Cruisin'George says: In life we have the dealers and those who are dealt the hand. But never do you need to stick to the hand that you are dealt.
Saturday, October 31, 2015
Stinginess in Surf City
Random House Dictionary defines the word Parsimony as people who are stingy, niggardly, and thrifty. Guess who I am describing? No not you, but Huntington Beach. I am thoroughly pissed!
I have graduated my first fourth months inside Thrift City. It is Halloween today, and Surf City's will trick or treat as Uncle Scrooge, remember him from the Charley Dickens, Christmas Carols. Like Scrooge, Surf City is ever quick to rob the people and place extra money into their own coffers.
Why two days ago, Thrift City removed another five meals from the Rodgers Center. These robber barons already forgot to place air conditioning into the building; so on hot days, old people like me stay home or visit the library...could you wait a second, somebody is pounding at the door....
That was only the Manager Owner Helen of the Five Points Senior Center. She advised me that residents are complaining that I have been making too much noise in the library. Now she is the same one at the who told me to use "graphite on the door" to unlock it. Their the stingy ones who disconnected the AC in the same library. Many apartment owners like the Helen's exemplify Parsimony; and I am paying $1,600 a month.
Already parking meter rates have gone up another quarter each hour. And with the Pacific Center now completed, finding a parking place will be impossible; Beach Blvd is already a sea of cars, made worse by even more structures being built. Main Street has been a sea of ditches and gulches.
At a meeting the other day inside the Central Library, a resident complained that her rented mobile unit had gone up from $700 when she moved in to $1,600. Another example of Parsimony. Even
Verizon became a member of the Thrift City ; They charge a leg and an arm if you return their equipment early.
Of course their rail line transportation stinks. Both San Diego and Los Angeles have great trans portion. To travel the 29A bus to the Metro Link takes one hour and a half with thirty stops in between. The purple bus in L.A. takes thirty minutes with seven stops to get to the underground rail system. Soon he Expo line will take passengers clear to Santa Monica Beaches.
But today is special. It was when my Grand Daughter Olivia was born in Long Beach. She will be five years old. I dread the fact she will have to contend with a Parsimonious government that promotes polluted air and busy streets.
Got to go now. Chabad on Warner Avenue, Bolsa Chica Synagogue is playing the best tune in town. The psalms have played for over three thousand year. o
Cruisin' George says: Bet on God, you'll cash a winning ticket every time -- and the good news is there is now co-pay. Remember that spirituality works with your body to make it impervious to disease. Don't forget Del Mar racing begins this week. My Mom Edith always bet the one and six, since my birth day was the 16th o August.
I have graduated my first fourth months inside Thrift City. It is Halloween today, and Surf City's will trick or treat as Uncle Scrooge, remember him from the Charley Dickens, Christmas Carols. Like Scrooge, Surf City is ever quick to rob the people and place extra money into their own coffers.
Why two days ago, Thrift City removed another five meals from the Rodgers Center. These robber barons already forgot to place air conditioning into the building; so on hot days, old people like me stay home or visit the library...could you wait a second, somebody is pounding at the door....
That was only the Manager Owner Helen of the Five Points Senior Center. She advised me that residents are complaining that I have been making too much noise in the library. Now she is the same one at the who told me to use "graphite on the door" to unlock it. Their the stingy ones who disconnected the AC in the same library. Many apartment owners like the Helen's exemplify Parsimony; and I am paying $1,600 a month.
Already parking meter rates have gone up another quarter each hour. And with the Pacific Center now completed, finding a parking place will be impossible; Beach Blvd is already a sea of cars, made worse by even more structures being built. Main Street has been a sea of ditches and gulches.
At a meeting the other day inside the Central Library, a resident complained that her rented mobile unit had gone up from $700 when she moved in to $1,600. Another example of Parsimony. Even
Verizon became a member of the Thrift City ; They charge a leg and an arm if you return their equipment early.
Of course their rail line transportation stinks. Both San Diego and Los Angeles have great trans portion. To travel the 29A bus to the Metro Link takes one hour and a half with thirty stops in between. The purple bus in L.A. takes thirty minutes with seven stops to get to the underground rail system. Soon he Expo line will take passengers clear to Santa Monica Beaches.
But today is special. It was when my Grand Daughter Olivia was born in Long Beach. She will be five years old. I dread the fact she will have to contend with a Parsimonious government that promotes polluted air and busy streets.
Got to go now. Chabad on Warner Avenue, Bolsa Chica Synagogue is playing the best tune in town. The psalms have played for over three thousand year. o
Cruisin' George says: Bet on God, you'll cash a winning ticket every time -- and the good news is there is now co-pay. Remember that spirituality works with your body to make it impervious to disease. Don't forget Del Mar racing begins this week. My Mom Edith always bet the one and six, since my birth day was the 16th o August.
Tuesday, October 27, 2015
An Amby Schindler Sighting
This morning I e-mailed the U.S.C. Archive Director, Claud Zachary, whose office was inside the Doheny Library. I knew he would be interested in my Amby Schindler story now being edited. I told the director that Schindler not only was alive, but would most assuredly reach 100 years of age. He was only ninety eight.
"You are in luck Mr. Garrett. There is an obit on Nick Pappas in the Times." His e-mail was received a few minutes ago at the Central Huntington Beach Library. Pappas' obituary was in the Los Angeles Times. He quarterbacked for the 1935 and 1936 Trojan teams. The Trojan yearlings uprooted his first string status.
In 1936, eleven yearlings from the frosh team kicked many veterans off the first team. Davy Davis, the Martinez Midget and Schindler took over at quarterback. Oceanside Thompson and Kelleher were three and four with Pappas now five on the quarterback depth charts.
Yesterday morning, I left Huntington Beach and took the 405 freeway all the way to Palos Verdes via Torrance and Hawthorn Blvd's. I wished to see if my girl friend Pearl would accept my marriage proposal and also visit Amby to find out if he still was kicking. Thank God the reaction of my once girl friend was negative. I drove the coastal route north until it swung around to the Holiday Rivera section of Redondo Beach.
I made a right turn and charged up the hills and then made a right turn. He probably was dead and his son had kept him on ice these last two years, so I thought. I hoped his son would be away, he was and there was a new caregiver. His son Charles had been furious with me since I had become intimate with him. A young Filipina caregiver opened the door. She didn't understand a word I said but finally let me inside.
"He eating. What is yo name?"
I was in luck. His son Charley must have been in the San Francisco area. And Josie, the regular older Filipina had the day off. -- she would have slammed the door in my face. It was ten o'clock and his feeding time.
I felt exuberant that he sill lived, and me too. Why together we registered one hundred and seventy four years. I did not see him at first, only a black beanie. He sat at the end of the small kitchen spooning mouthfuls of Oat Meal cereal, the way he had done since the age of three years old.
"Nice to see you Mr. Schindler. Your story is finished. Here is the book cover." I was obvious he did not recognize me but did his picture taken on the practice field called Bovard in 1935. He smiled.
" I was handsome then, not like today." He gave me the Amby smile.
"Do you remember Oliver Day and Jeff Sohn?"
He smiled and mumbled something about it was Day who had taught him the quarterback position at San Diego. High School.
I said good-by to my friend happy that one of two smiled at me.
"You are in luck Mr. Garrett. There is an obit on Nick Pappas in the Times." His e-mail was received a few minutes ago at the Central Huntington Beach Library. Pappas' obituary was in the Los Angeles Times. He quarterbacked for the 1935 and 1936 Trojan teams. The Trojan yearlings uprooted his first string status.
In 1936, eleven yearlings from the frosh team kicked many veterans off the first team. Davy Davis, the Martinez Midget and Schindler took over at quarterback. Oceanside Thompson and Kelleher were three and four with Pappas now five on the quarterback depth charts.
Yesterday morning, I left Huntington Beach and took the 405 freeway all the way to Palos Verdes via Torrance and Hawthorn Blvd's. I wished to see if my girl friend Pearl would accept my marriage proposal and also visit Amby to find out if he still was kicking. Thank God the reaction of my once girl friend was negative. I drove the coastal route north until it swung around to the Holiday Rivera section of Redondo Beach.
I made a right turn and charged up the hills and then made a right turn. He probably was dead and his son had kept him on ice these last two years, so I thought. I hoped his son would be away, he was and there was a new caregiver. His son Charles had been furious with me since I had become intimate with him. A young Filipina caregiver opened the door. She didn't understand a word I said but finally let me inside.
"He eating. What is yo name?"
I was in luck. His son Charley must have been in the San Francisco area. And Josie, the regular older Filipina had the day off. -- she would have slammed the door in my face. It was ten o'clock and his feeding time.
I felt exuberant that he sill lived, and me too. Why together we registered one hundred and seventy four years. I did not see him at first, only a black beanie. He sat at the end of the small kitchen spooning mouthfuls of Oat Meal cereal, the way he had done since the age of three years old.
"Nice to see you Mr. Schindler. Your story is finished. Here is the book cover." I was obvious he did not recognize me but did his picture taken on the practice field called Bovard in 1935. He smiled.
" I was handsome then, not like today." He gave me the Amby smile.
"Do you remember Oliver Day and Jeff Sohn?"
He smiled and mumbled something about it was Day who had taught him the quarterback position at San Diego. High School.
I said good-by to my friend happy that one of two smiled at me.
Friday, October 23, 2015
The Surf City Pier
15 pounds. Yes 15 pounds less I weighed today. I gave up food for life. No breakfast for me today. Instead, I will run across the Pier and dance to the sounds of the big bands at the end of the pier.
A joyous Friday morning greeted me. Outside my bedroom window a humming bird woke me up. I jumped from my sleeping bag and removed a few bread crumbs and tossed them outside. the birdie smiled and flew away.
Yes four Fridays ago, big changes came into my life. It had been a blackest Friday of my life. But today, a halo of Red Roses sprinkled my soul . I drove to Main Street and parked my car. Today I would run the pier -- and at the end dance to the sounds of Benny Goodman, Harry James and the voices of the Ink Spots.
I ran the one half mile distance of the pier. It felt great to relieve my body of unneeded weight. At the end I did a jig while listening to the big band sound from a speaker outside of Ruby's. Ruby's is well lit diner at the end of the pier- but it is out of my budget today.
A sheet of fog receded in the west while several Vietnamese fisherman slung their lines over the railings. It is their custom everyday to bring strollers, wagons or baskets to carry their buckets and tools for their catch of the day.
The sounds of the big bands energized my soul. No. No T.V. for me. Hell if I wish to look at Assad, Putin, Trump or our misguided president. No! For me give me life and liberty to enjoy his creation. My legs could not stop dancing.
A fisherman lured about five Mackerel over the railings. He didn't even use any bait. And each was quite big. The fog continued its journey under the sea while in back of me the sun began its assent. It felt good to be among happy fishermen. They caught enough Mackerel for several dinners. The bones they used for mulch for their backyards.
Back inside my apartment, I showered and didn't shave. I would be going to the Synagogue tonight. I cleaned and drove to the Huntington Beach Library. The used book area was having a big sell.
Bag as many books as you can for only five dollars. Since my Grand Daughter was having her fifth birthday, I bought ten dollars worth of books.
Well I have to go now. I am going to the Rodger's Senior Center to break bread with my old friends and play their large grand piano. Think I will play White Christmas today.
Cruisin' George says: Without a song, the day will never end, so throw your flat screens out the window and sing along with Mitch.
Thursday, October 22, 2015
The San Diego Commuter Train
I took the San Diego Coaster for the first time on September of 2010. The commuter train took me to downtown San Diego for a few dollars. I purchased the ticket at a machine at the Carlsbad Train Station..
And I have been training it ever since. Nobody in their right mind wants to take the five to downtown San Diego, unless they have hours to spare and low blood pressure. It afforded me time to read, write, talk or just take in the sights. I saved on gas, time, and lots of stress.
The trains movement places me in the womb of my Mom. Yes it is comforting to look through the windows at the Pacific Ocean and a group of Pelicans and one lonely stork hovering over the ocean. to the right I see a few thoroughbred galloping around the Del Mar Oval. Racing Season begins next month.
Even though I didn't have my $41 monthly senior pass, I had made up my mind to take the rails rather than the stalled freeway. I landed on the seven twenty and the train arrived in downtown San Diego at about eight o'clock. I got off and a one legged-pants homeless one welcomed me. One leg showed thread but the other only flesh.
San Diego's Lighthouse is Starbucks on the corner of Senator Kettner and Broadway. The 235 Express drops off its passengers just as the 992 bus stops to pick up his patrons. Many work at the Airport while a few are homeless but carry a Compass card. They keep warm and enjoy the sights In much colder weather, the homeless are the first to board at about four thirty in the morning.
The new library opened at ten o'clock. I paid one dollar and a quarter and got aboard the Blue Line Trolley. This train speaks Spanish and gets you to the border. Thousands of domestics, laborers and those seeking a new country board it each day. A few take advantage of our health system to have procedures done at our hospitals.
With all the hangings in Mexico, soon a flood of a different kind will be crossing our borders.
My stop was Market and Park. I felt good to have finished my Amby Schindler Story. He had played football for the Cavers of San Diego and also U.S.C. and at last look, still lived at 98 years of age. I presented my manuscript to two librarians who would give it the once over. I knew being a novice my chance of finding a publisher was impossible. The elevator lifted me to the ninth floor and the California room. I turned over my Schindler manuscript to two librarians and sunk into the computers.
I looked over the microfilms of 1927 to find out more about the life and time of Charles Lindbergh. A genealogist volunteer helped me verify what I had found out about Schindler's Mom Nellie Parks. The 1920 U.S. Census had them living at 4182 Ingalls Street in the Mission Hills area. It showed Lil Amby to be two years and nine months old. Marjory, was four years older than Lil Amby.
His father Charles had been born in the Clay Township of Minnesota. Its census showed that his Dad had five siblings: Chris, Lizzie, Victoria, Lena, and Cecilia. But I was interested to verify that his Mom had an earlier marriage.
And there in the 1897 Iowa Census confirmed that a Robert Noffzinger was a saloon keeper living with several others in Sioux City. Nellie was one of them and it looked like Robert was the father and Maud the mother. A sisters name was Opel. Well I did what I had to do. I just love the California room with its old maps, pictures and books. Not too many frequent this ninth floor and don't know what they are missing.
I returned on the Coaster to my car parked in Carlsbad's commuter lot. What a great two days!
Nuts and Bolts for today: Sometimes a black Friday turns into a Red Rose Monday -- as it did for me! .
And I have been training it ever since. Nobody in their right mind wants to take the five to downtown San Diego, unless they have hours to spare and low blood pressure. It afforded me time to read, write, talk or just take in the sights. I saved on gas, time, and lots of stress.
The trains movement places me in the womb of my Mom. Yes it is comforting to look through the windows at the Pacific Ocean and a group of Pelicans and one lonely stork hovering over the ocean. to the right I see a few thoroughbred galloping around the Del Mar Oval. Racing Season begins next month.
Even though I didn't have my $41 monthly senior pass, I had made up my mind to take the rails rather than the stalled freeway. I landed on the seven twenty and the train arrived in downtown San Diego at about eight o'clock. I got off and a one legged-pants homeless one welcomed me. One leg showed thread but the other only flesh.
San Diego's Lighthouse is Starbucks on the corner of Senator Kettner and Broadway. The 235 Express drops off its passengers just as the 992 bus stops to pick up his patrons. Many work at the Airport while a few are homeless but carry a Compass card. They keep warm and enjoy the sights In much colder weather, the homeless are the first to board at about four thirty in the morning.
The new library opened at ten o'clock. I paid one dollar and a quarter and got aboard the Blue Line Trolley. This train speaks Spanish and gets you to the border. Thousands of domestics, laborers and those seeking a new country board it each day. A few take advantage of our health system to have procedures done at our hospitals.
With all the hangings in Mexico, soon a flood of a different kind will be crossing our borders.
My stop was Market and Park. I felt good to have finished my Amby Schindler Story. He had played football for the Cavers of San Diego and also U.S.C. and at last look, still lived at 98 years of age. I presented my manuscript to two librarians who would give it the once over. I knew being a novice my chance of finding a publisher was impossible. The elevator lifted me to the ninth floor and the California room. I turned over my Schindler manuscript to two librarians and sunk into the computers.
I looked over the microfilms of 1927 to find out more about the life and time of Charles Lindbergh. A genealogist volunteer helped me verify what I had found out about Schindler's Mom Nellie Parks. The 1920 U.S. Census had them living at 4182 Ingalls Street in the Mission Hills area. It showed Lil Amby to be two years and nine months old. Marjory, was four years older than Lil Amby.
His father Charles had been born in the Clay Township of Minnesota. Its census showed that his Dad had five siblings: Chris, Lizzie, Victoria, Lena, and Cecilia. But I was interested to verify that his Mom had an earlier marriage.
And there in the 1897 Iowa Census confirmed that a Robert Noffzinger was a saloon keeper living with several others in Sioux City. Nellie was one of them and it looked like Robert was the father and Maud the mother. A sisters name was Opel. Well I did what I had to do. I just love the California room with its old maps, pictures and books. Not too many frequent this ninth floor and don't know what they are missing.
I returned on the Coaster to my car parked in Carlsbad's commuter lot. What a great two days!
Nuts and Bolts for today: Sometimes a black Friday turns into a Red Rose Monday -- as it did for me! .
Murder on Sixth Avenue
Just a homeless drifter who had nothing better to do. I've seen it many times while living in downtown San Diego for five years. Many of the over 10,000 homeless drift in and out of traffic, not caring about the metal that might take their life.
So was the case of John Doe, another orphan of Obama World, probably living in a tent on Park or Commerce Streets. Buzzed out of his mind held up with a fried body, he had nothing better to do than jump in-and-out of traffic. Seen it many-a-time while living downtown at the Y.M.C.A on Broadway. Two of San Diego's finest motorcycle cops gave chase and when he turned around holding a pistol they shot him dead. Now back in the day, Wyatt Earp would have something to say about this and probably shot the police dead in their tracks. But he had died a long time ago in San Diego's Gas Lamp area.
And why am I writing about this you ask? I had driven from Huntington Beach for a much needed vacation and remove myself from Black Friday and the three months of heat. I buzzed down the 405 to the 5 and entered Carlsbad. I entered the Motel Six and as expected got a room. October is the off-season.
Room 236 cost only $54 for seniors. The Motel off of Carlsbad Village Drive had been recently renovated. I took a long hot shower and sat back to watch T.V. for the fist time in months. I just hate T.V. ever since I have tried to Detox from it. Every San Diego channel produced the same story. A homeless man disturbed traffic in the Gas Lamp quarter. two motorcycle cops gave chase, without turning on their cameras. He ran and they followed. He stopped showing a pistol. They shot him dead.
Newscasts of a downpour in Julian, and Putin head to head with Syria's Asad also were mentioned but the death of a homeless one disturbed me. Why are so many African Americans being gunned down?
Yet I had other objectives. I needed to make a copy of a document and a volunteer at the Encinitas Senior Center would be just the ticket. I had been breaking bread and playing the piano there for the last three years. Judy did and I hope she will now help me publish my book about Amby Schindler
I had a great spaghetti lunch there before driving to a print shop next to Napa Parts on Encinitas Blvd. I needed a copy of my football story to be delivered to the main Central Library in San Diego. I had time to see Tony Hall at the Mobil Station. He had taken a keen interest in my car Dolly and kept it running for the past two years. Why for a few bucks he fixed a window and changed a few other things for a reasonable price.
"Nice to see you Tony...How you doin?"
"Just fine Mr. Garrett."
"Here is the cover of my football story...I have a oil leak. How much?"
He smiled and looked me straight in the face. He was in no hurry. We chatted and he checked on his computer for an earlier diagnoses of Dolly.
"Ya need a head gasket. Be about one hundred forty seven... Please telephone me about two days before you return to the station.
Yes. I would travel fifty miles to go where trust and humility make the Mobil Station a place to service your car. He radiates charm and the spirit of an upright manger By the way, you can say hello to him at (760) 753-1000. The Washington Post covered a feature article on him on March of 1991. (Part 1, not edited yet.)
So was the case of John Doe, another orphan of Obama World, probably living in a tent on Park or Commerce Streets. Buzzed out of his mind held up with a fried body, he had nothing better to do than jump in-and-out of traffic. Seen it many-a-time while living downtown at the Y.M.C.A on Broadway. Two of San Diego's finest motorcycle cops gave chase and when he turned around holding a pistol they shot him dead. Now back in the day, Wyatt Earp would have something to say about this and probably shot the police dead in their tracks. But he had died a long time ago in San Diego's Gas Lamp area.
And why am I writing about this you ask? I had driven from Huntington Beach for a much needed vacation and remove myself from Black Friday and the three months of heat. I buzzed down the 405 to the 5 and entered Carlsbad. I entered the Motel Six and as expected got a room. October is the off-season.
Room 236 cost only $54 for seniors. The Motel off of Carlsbad Village Drive had been recently renovated. I took a long hot shower and sat back to watch T.V. for the fist time in months. I just hate T.V. ever since I have tried to Detox from it. Every San Diego channel produced the same story. A homeless man disturbed traffic in the Gas Lamp quarter. two motorcycle cops gave chase, without turning on their cameras. He ran and they followed. He stopped showing a pistol. They shot him dead.
Newscasts of a downpour in Julian, and Putin head to head with Syria's Asad also were mentioned but the death of a homeless one disturbed me. Why are so many African Americans being gunned down?
Yet I had other objectives. I needed to make a copy of a document and a volunteer at the Encinitas Senior Center would be just the ticket. I had been breaking bread and playing the piano there for the last three years. Judy did and I hope she will now help me publish my book about Amby Schindler
I had a great spaghetti lunch there before driving to a print shop next to Napa Parts on Encinitas Blvd. I needed a copy of my football story to be delivered to the main Central Library in San Diego. I had time to see Tony Hall at the Mobil Station. He had taken a keen interest in my car Dolly and kept it running for the past two years. Why for a few bucks he fixed a window and changed a few other things for a reasonable price.
"Nice to see you Tony...How you doin?"
"Just fine Mr. Garrett."
"Here is the cover of my football story...I have a oil leak. How much?"
He smiled and looked me straight in the face. He was in no hurry. We chatted and he checked on his computer for an earlier diagnoses of Dolly.
"Ya need a head gasket. Be about one hundred forty seven... Please telephone me about two days before you return to the station.
Yes. I would travel fifty miles to go where trust and humility make the Mobil Station a place to service your car. He radiates charm and the spirit of an upright manger By the way, you can say hello to him at (760) 753-1000. The Washington Post covered a feature article on him on March of 1991. (Part 1, not edited yet.)
Saturday, October 17, 2015
Palisades, Santa Monica Beach
"Well have to shave that tooth a bit, otherwise the mouth piece won't fit properly."
"Go ahead Doc. Probably need to pull it later. This is only a temporary until my mouth is fitted for the undertaker...Do you enjoy being a dentist?"
'I had been a biochemist but as they say, degrees don't matter. It is all about money. I loved my first profession but it did not provide for family of five. It is work!"
I am sitting at Beach Dental in Huntington Beach getting a new stent fitted for my mouth. Dr. Tran is doing the honors. I had lost my front tooth about one month ago. I had bitten down on a crust of Ralph's French bread it bolted out. That was one month ago, and I have learned to live with a hole in my mouth.
Albertsons is the flag store for this street mall. It shares space with a recycle store. The large black bags carry cans, bottles and other plastic waste items. It is early and several are lighting up an electric cigarettes. Inside Albertsons, Starbucks is already doing a hefty business. Sample coffee cakes with Mocha drinks and lattes are sold every two minutes.
There is a FedEx and hair salon next to the large store. The Hoag Hospital is to my left. Inside it resembles a Hilton Hotel, unlike Kaiser's that looks like rush hour traffic in downtown Cairo, Egypt. Beach Dental sits in front of the mall expecting a large draft of customers. I was drafted about one month ago, and that is where I am now having a mouth piece adjusted. Like a pipe stem molder, the thin Vietnamese doctor is molding and the piece to fit inside my 76 year old mouth.
"How old are the kids."
"One is five, another two and the baby four and a half months."
"Just bet you get little sleep. Do you have A.C."
'Sure do! Wife would leave me without it. How in the hell could she breast feed the baby in this stifling heat...Did you know Mr. Garrett that the Egyptians were the first to do root canals. They replaced teeth with wooden fillers."
While Dr. Tram adjusted my mouth piece, I reflected on the Egyptian mummies. Why yesterday nary-a-one read a book in the lobby of the Beach Dental Group. .I spied seven Mom's and their tigers on cell phones -- and of course neglecting the conversing skills.
Why it was my God Hashem who told the Jews to worship him, and not false idols. I smiled when my eyes focused on a little gal studying from her notebook. I wondered if kids today even owned notebooks.
Yet I still needed to go to Los Angeles, the once City of Angels, to visit my daughter. Even a tooth that bolted from the top, and a nasty phone call from Helen my manager could not keep me from my number two daughter.
Twelve thirty is the best time to take the 405 to Los Angeles. The legendary Factors Deli is on Pico off of Beverly Blvd. Since our Yorkie came with us, the hostess ushered us to an outside back table. Both of us ordered Matza Ball soup. She wanted fresh pickles. I also ordered half of a pastrami sandwith also a not pastrami.
The pastrami was just what I needed to jump start my body after the long drive. Even Oscar, our Yorkie got pastrami end-cuts -- and my oh my how his tail wagged. Why he just about jumped on the table. The $25 bill was a bit steep, say I, but across from me sat my creation, my own flesh-in-blood daughter.
Now I had a few hours to blow before I went to a 12 step meeting in Roxbury Park. The Big Blue off of Pico took my to Santa Monica. The other riders got off in Santa Monica with their little kids but I got off on Fourth and Santa Monica Blvd.
There is something about Santa Monica in October that makes me feel that Xmas time is hear. I walk towards Ocean and Palisades Park. No western breeze hits me. Instead its a..."Watch out with those skate boards, you could have killed me.!" I cross Third Street, or tried to cross it when a black Cadillac almost polished my shoes.
A cross section of the world are the tourists. The Japanese carry cameras and take pictures of everything. The British Pub is busy as usual as the smell of draft caresses my nose I feel like a pint of larger but know my budget does not allow it. A few homeless cuss Obama as I walk across Ocean Blvd.
Palisades Park will soon be lighted up with Christmas displays. A bike nearly rear-end me. Nora's hot dog truck is selling dogs faster than you can put mustard on one. A patron told me that it is meaty with lots of condiments. He bought the longer six dollar dog. To my side is the bridge to the other side. But what a view. I remember in the forties when we belonged to a club with an indoor and outdoor pool. Down below to my right is a long tiled staircase that leads to the bridge to the beaches
While F.D.R. became president in 1932, the name changed to the Roosevelt Highway. Now it was called P.C.H for Pacific Coast. Along the way north are the cities of Malibu, Ventura. Santa Barbara and so forth. You might skip the freeways and take this scenic route to Moro Bay, Cambria and all the way to Carmel and Monterey.
It is time for me to return to Pico and Roxbury. I hear shouting. On Ocean Avenue pickets display anger that a worker at the Shore Hotel had been fired. It appears that the hotel fired her for exposing the hotel for their misdeeds. I picked up the Big Blue Bus on Fourth and Colorado. The Expo Line had been completed and soon Santa Monica will double in crime and population.
Nuts and Blots for today: There is only one truth-and it is God's. Just wait awhile and he will direct you -- and same lots of negative energy.
"Go ahead Doc. Probably need to pull it later. This is only a temporary until my mouth is fitted for the undertaker...Do you enjoy being a dentist?"
'I had been a biochemist but as they say, degrees don't matter. It is all about money. I loved my first profession but it did not provide for family of five. It is work!"
I am sitting at Beach Dental in Huntington Beach getting a new stent fitted for my mouth. Dr. Tran is doing the honors. I had lost my front tooth about one month ago. I had bitten down on a crust of Ralph's French bread it bolted out. That was one month ago, and I have learned to live with a hole in my mouth.
Albertsons is the flag store for this street mall. It shares space with a recycle store. The large black bags carry cans, bottles and other plastic waste items. It is early and several are lighting up an electric cigarettes. Inside Albertsons, Starbucks is already doing a hefty business. Sample coffee cakes with Mocha drinks and lattes are sold every two minutes.
There is a FedEx and hair salon next to the large store. The Hoag Hospital is to my left. Inside it resembles a Hilton Hotel, unlike Kaiser's that looks like rush hour traffic in downtown Cairo, Egypt. Beach Dental sits in front of the mall expecting a large draft of customers. I was drafted about one month ago, and that is where I am now having a mouth piece adjusted. Like a pipe stem molder, the thin Vietnamese doctor is molding and the piece to fit inside my 76 year old mouth.
"How old are the kids."
"One is five, another two and the baby four and a half months."
"Just bet you get little sleep. Do you have A.C."
'Sure do! Wife would leave me without it. How in the hell could she breast feed the baby in this stifling heat...Did you know Mr. Garrett that the Egyptians were the first to do root canals. They replaced teeth with wooden fillers."
While Dr. Tram adjusted my mouth piece, I reflected on the Egyptian mummies. Why yesterday nary-a-one read a book in the lobby of the Beach Dental Group. .I spied seven Mom's and their tigers on cell phones -- and of course neglecting the conversing skills.
Why it was my God Hashem who told the Jews to worship him, and not false idols. I smiled when my eyes focused on a little gal studying from her notebook. I wondered if kids today even owned notebooks.
Yet I still needed to go to Los Angeles, the once City of Angels, to visit my daughter. Even a tooth that bolted from the top, and a nasty phone call from Helen my manager could not keep me from my number two daughter.
Twelve thirty is the best time to take the 405 to Los Angeles. The legendary Factors Deli is on Pico off of Beverly Blvd. Since our Yorkie came with us, the hostess ushered us to an outside back table. Both of us ordered Matza Ball soup. She wanted fresh pickles. I also ordered half of a pastrami sandwith also a not pastrami.
The pastrami was just what I needed to jump start my body after the long drive. Even Oscar, our Yorkie got pastrami end-cuts -- and my oh my how his tail wagged. Why he just about jumped on the table. The $25 bill was a bit steep, say I, but across from me sat my creation, my own flesh-in-blood daughter.
Now I had a few hours to blow before I went to a 12 step meeting in Roxbury Park. The Big Blue off of Pico took my to Santa Monica. The other riders got off in Santa Monica with their little kids but I got off on Fourth and Santa Monica Blvd.
There is something about Santa Monica in October that makes me feel that Xmas time is hear. I walk towards Ocean and Palisades Park. No western breeze hits me. Instead its a..."Watch out with those skate boards, you could have killed me.!" I cross Third Street, or tried to cross it when a black Cadillac almost polished my shoes.
A cross section of the world are the tourists. The Japanese carry cameras and take pictures of everything. The British Pub is busy as usual as the smell of draft caresses my nose I feel like a pint of larger but know my budget does not allow it. A few homeless cuss Obama as I walk across Ocean Blvd.
Palisades Park will soon be lighted up with Christmas displays. A bike nearly rear-end me. Nora's hot dog truck is selling dogs faster than you can put mustard on one. A patron told me that it is meaty with lots of condiments. He bought the longer six dollar dog. To my side is the bridge to the other side. But what a view. I remember in the forties when we belonged to a club with an indoor and outdoor pool. Down below to my right is a long tiled staircase that leads to the bridge to the beaches
While F.D.R. became president in 1932, the name changed to the Roosevelt Highway. Now it was called P.C.H for Pacific Coast. Along the way north are the cities of Malibu, Ventura. Santa Barbara and so forth. You might skip the freeways and take this scenic route to Moro Bay, Cambria and all the way to Carmel and Monterey.
It is time for me to return to Pico and Roxbury. I hear shouting. On Ocean Avenue pickets display anger that a worker at the Shore Hotel had been fired. It appears that the hotel fired her for exposing the hotel for their misdeeds. I picked up the Big Blue Bus on Fourth and Colorado. The Expo Line had been completed and soon Santa Monica will double in crime and population.
Nuts and Blots for today: There is only one truth-and it is God's. Just wait awhile and he will direct you -- and same lots of negative energy.
Thursday, October 15, 2015
Another Wave hits Surf City
No Starbucks for me. I make my own brew and watch the others order lattes and mocha drinks. Each patron spends about six dollars with the pastry included.
My morning date with Starbucks, a sub station of Albertsons on Main and Yorktown, began last Friday. Yes last Friday still is a little bit fussy. Only a week-away from the pervious Friday's debacle, I had no idea today would be horrific too.
Only a couple of years ago, I survived another hurricane while living in San Diego. It was called Hurricane Julio. Why it made me do a fandango just to breathe. The Lindbergh Airport saved my life with its pure air-conditioning.
I had hopped to dodge the muggy Monsoon headed from Mexico. No such luck. Why Huntington Beach is known for its ocean breezes off the ocean. Ever since I moved into the El Loco apartments on Main and Florida, my life has been a roller coaster. Things have gone haywire in Surf City. Hell, whatever happened to those cool breezes?
That Friday, surf city temperature danced all the way to one hundred. That is correct. for an asthmatic it means death. I thought the Huntington Beach Central library would be just the ticket-wrong again. The Talbert library was built before the notion of Global Warming. I had been built with windows everywhere to take advantage of the views of the greenery outside.
Well last Friday it felt as if I carried two suitcases filled with bricks on my shoulders the entire day. I could not breathe. I slithered inside the walk-in Kaiser on Beach and luckily found a doctor who ordered Penicillin. It helped a great deal but not entirely. You see the blow-torch from Mexico carried on.
So I took action, still fuming when Crazy Helen told me that the "Old people forgot to turn off the library's AC so we had them disconnect. .An AC in the library was the reason I moved in -- and to compound my troubles the mad manager would not get me to new lock. I almost died during an earlier humid heat wave.
I found solace at the Chabad Synagogue on Warner Avenue. At least there I could gorge myself on clean pure air and the enjoy the spirituality of the place of worship. Like thousands of others, I made my way to the Century Movie Theater and took in two movies. That helped but the weather man didn't.
In the early morning I made my home at Albertson's, a few clocks south of my apartments. A line was forming. Lattes and Mochas were the order of the day along with pastry. It was plain to see why many owned large exteriors. Energy drinks and sweetness is a major part of their lives, especially during heat waves.
Surf city, you see, was built on a oil field, a little after the Signal Hill find that put derricks in line to pump black gold.. Firestone, Goodrich, Standard and countless other companies hoped to ride the crest of the wave to fortune. The rail lines serving Newport and Huntington Beach were cast aside in favor of cars and trucks.
In the late thirties, doctors diagnosed the first cases of lung cancer. During March of 1942, Standard Oil was investigated for trying to corner the rubber market. They tried to scuttle the makers of synthetic rubber needed for the war effort. A company owned by Baer began producing a special gas to put Jews to sleep inside crematoriums -- and so most of my Grandma Schneider's sisters and parents.
I find it amazing that in a beach city, so many are fat with some using wheel chairs, walkers and canes. And you ask why while in my day all of us were skinny. Just go outside and take a deep breathe. I spent a few days at the Hoag Hospital on Beach Blvd. Inside the air rivaled that of Albertsons. I spoke to a building inspector who confirmed that I should "follow the rain" to Seattle.
With the weekend approaching, I took a last stab at the Kaiser-Walk-in. I had been huffing and puffing but my prayers were answered. I sat in a wheel chair and told Dr. Kwoon my symptoms. "Qbar Mr Garrett will remove the slime inside your dead bronchial tubes. Begrudgingly I paid the $50 and inhaled the spray. To my amazement, all the crud inside my lungs flew out of the cage and hit the head pharmacist.
Well got to go now. I need to eat and play the piano at the Rodger's Senior Center. AS long as I breathe, I will play the song, "You were only fooling...while I was falling in love." (Not yet edited.)
My morning date with Starbucks, a sub station of Albertsons on Main and Yorktown, began last Friday. Yes last Friday still is a little bit fussy. Only a week-away from the pervious Friday's debacle, I had no idea today would be horrific too.
Only a couple of years ago, I survived another hurricane while living in San Diego. It was called Hurricane Julio. Why it made me do a fandango just to breathe. The Lindbergh Airport saved my life with its pure air-conditioning.
I had hopped to dodge the muggy Monsoon headed from Mexico. No such luck. Why Huntington Beach is known for its ocean breezes off the ocean. Ever since I moved into the El Loco apartments on Main and Florida, my life has been a roller coaster. Things have gone haywire in Surf City. Hell, whatever happened to those cool breezes?
That Friday, surf city temperature danced all the way to one hundred. That is correct. for an asthmatic it means death. I thought the Huntington Beach Central library would be just the ticket-wrong again. The Talbert library was built before the notion of Global Warming. I had been built with windows everywhere to take advantage of the views of the greenery outside.
Well last Friday it felt as if I carried two suitcases filled with bricks on my shoulders the entire day. I could not breathe. I slithered inside the walk-in Kaiser on Beach and luckily found a doctor who ordered Penicillin. It helped a great deal but not entirely. You see the blow-torch from Mexico carried on.
So I took action, still fuming when Crazy Helen told me that the "Old people forgot to turn off the library's AC so we had them disconnect. .An AC in the library was the reason I moved in -- and to compound my troubles the mad manager would not get me to new lock. I almost died during an earlier humid heat wave.
I found solace at the Chabad Synagogue on Warner Avenue. At least there I could gorge myself on clean pure air and the enjoy the spirituality of the place of worship. Like thousands of others, I made my way to the Century Movie Theater and took in two movies. That helped but the weather man didn't.
In the early morning I made my home at Albertson's, a few clocks south of my apartments. A line was forming. Lattes and Mochas were the order of the day along with pastry. It was plain to see why many owned large exteriors. Energy drinks and sweetness is a major part of their lives, especially during heat waves.
Surf city, you see, was built on a oil field, a little after the Signal Hill find that put derricks in line to pump black gold.. Firestone, Goodrich, Standard and countless other companies hoped to ride the crest of the wave to fortune. The rail lines serving Newport and Huntington Beach were cast aside in favor of cars and trucks.
In the late thirties, doctors diagnosed the first cases of lung cancer. During March of 1942, Standard Oil was investigated for trying to corner the rubber market. They tried to scuttle the makers of synthetic rubber needed for the war effort. A company owned by Baer began producing a special gas to put Jews to sleep inside crematoriums -- and so most of my Grandma Schneider's sisters and parents.
I find it amazing that in a beach city, so many are fat with some using wheel chairs, walkers and canes. And you ask why while in my day all of us were skinny. Just go outside and take a deep breathe. I spent a few days at the Hoag Hospital on Beach Blvd. Inside the air rivaled that of Albertsons. I spoke to a building inspector who confirmed that I should "follow the rain" to Seattle.
With the weekend approaching, I took a last stab at the Kaiser-Walk-in. I had been huffing and puffing but my prayers were answered. I sat in a wheel chair and told Dr. Kwoon my symptoms. "Qbar Mr Garrett will remove the slime inside your dead bronchial tubes. Begrudgingly I paid the $50 and inhaled the spray. To my amazement, all the crud inside my lungs flew out of the cage and hit the head pharmacist.
Well got to go now. I need to eat and play the piano at the Rodger's Senior Center. AS long as I breathe, I will play the song, "You were only fooling...while I was falling in love." (Not yet edited.)
Monday, October 5, 2015
Black Friday
Friday may have been the most productive day of my life -- although I have been sworn to secrecy. To balance that Black Friday, I needed spirituality for the rest of the weekend. What I needed was a little spirituality. I took action and mounted a charge onto Warner and Bolsa Chica. The Chabad service was waiting for me.
I enjoyed the Hebrew songs of yesteryear. Time flew out the door. My nose stopped running and I engaged myself in the Hebrew songs of many years ago. From nine thirty until three hours later, I involved myself in my own being. It's all about me anyway.
The Rabbi invited us for a Kiddish or lunch. A congregation member's donation made for the Sukkot feast-celebrating the harvest for the year's end. The feast comes just after the Day of Atonement. Like a black bird waiting its turn after a sea of people picked figs from its tree, I waded in and quietly grabbed a plate.
Olives, herring, salad, beans, pickles adorned my little plate for thirty minutes along with a small cup of wine. I took seconds and thirds, always a small portion not to seem too greedy. Nobody would know that I was pigging out. Now I had been brought up on herring and my Mom Edith had always placed a small plate of this delicacy for dinner each night for years. I picked a few dill's out and made my way back to my car parked a block down the street.
Still I had saved a few gas dollars for my return to Carlsbad on Sunday. I needed to pick up my state check at the city's post office. Still what the owners of the Five Points Apartment apartments did to me vexed me some -- hell I could have died. . Too bad the owners had disconnected the AC in the upstairs library, and I can still hear the manager's words when she told me that old people "forgot to turn it off". Of course I knew better and that they wished to save money....Well hell it almost cost me my life when they finally changed to lock-set on my door that did not open during the freakish heat wave.
The next day I woke up early for my drive to North County San Diego and Carlsbad. Huntington Beach offers no mass-transit. Beach Blvd is the sole artery into Surf City and the only way out is by car -- Firestone, Goodrich and other companies related to gas and oil could have given the city a mass transit plan but again Big Bucks spoke again.
Tickled pink my check arrived at the post office, I trucked the Five Freeway down south to Old Town. It was going on eight o'clock and parked a block from the Immaculate Conception Church. I walked inside and took a place in the back.
And then I heard the organ and peace came over me. I was home. Dr. Marsha Long also plays the organ and harp. She adds a world to the spiritual setting at this church. And then Father Ecker. showed. I was in luck. His sermon was about life and specifically how we should run ours. If I may let me summarize his main points.
"When God made Adam and Eve. he took a rib one and gave it to the other. They were one -- and so it is with the Art of Matrimony. We are one and equal in the eyes of God. Unlike Moses who could grab another, to bed down with him, we could take one and become one."
"Let me explain. A kid named Joey came home exhilarated. He told his Mom that he met the girl for him...The next day he returned home and told his Mom he no longer loved her...After hundreds of women had made his choice, and remember in Catholicism you get one, and only one."
"Well when Joey learned to love himself and became intimate with himself, he became ready for matrimony. He had met somebody mush like him and his ideals. But Joey asked her to become part of the act of matrimony -- which is God's Law and not the state of California's."
My day was not over since coffee and bagels were offered in the Rectory. I met Mrs. Brooke who told me her Husband of 32 years took that infamous walk on Bataan and died starved to death by the Japanese. I told her I would write her story with copies of the New York Times.
Nuts and Bolts for Today: To heighten you spirituality, enjoy the sounds of Dr. Marsh Long at the Immaculate Conception Church in Old Town. It will be a free harp mediation on October 31, at 7 P.M. and also one November 1 at 2 p.m. and November 2, at 2 and 4 pm.
The Nuts in Encinitas have downgraded the computer at the Senior Center and removed many of its tools. Those who made that decision will pay the price later for our misery. Again, it is all about saving pennies at the expense of seniors.
I enjoyed the Hebrew songs of yesteryear. Time flew out the door. My nose stopped running and I engaged myself in the Hebrew songs of many years ago. From nine thirty until three hours later, I involved myself in my own being. It's all about me anyway.
The Rabbi invited us for a Kiddish or lunch. A congregation member's donation made for the Sukkot feast-celebrating the harvest for the year's end. The feast comes just after the Day of Atonement. Like a black bird waiting its turn after a sea of people picked figs from its tree, I waded in and quietly grabbed a plate.
Olives, herring, salad, beans, pickles adorned my little plate for thirty minutes along with a small cup of wine. I took seconds and thirds, always a small portion not to seem too greedy. Nobody would know that I was pigging out. Now I had been brought up on herring and my Mom Edith had always placed a small plate of this delicacy for dinner each night for years. I picked a few dill's out and made my way back to my car parked a block down the street.
Still I had saved a few gas dollars for my return to Carlsbad on Sunday. I needed to pick up my state check at the city's post office. Still what the owners of the Five Points Apartment apartments did to me vexed me some -- hell I could have died. . Too bad the owners had disconnected the AC in the upstairs library, and I can still hear the manager's words when she told me that old people "forgot to turn it off". Of course I knew better and that they wished to save money....Well hell it almost cost me my life when they finally changed to lock-set on my door that did not open during the freakish heat wave.
The next day I woke up early for my drive to North County San Diego and Carlsbad. Huntington Beach offers no mass-transit. Beach Blvd is the sole artery into Surf City and the only way out is by car -- Firestone, Goodrich and other companies related to gas and oil could have given the city a mass transit plan but again Big Bucks spoke again.
Tickled pink my check arrived at the post office, I trucked the Five Freeway down south to Old Town. It was going on eight o'clock and parked a block from the Immaculate Conception Church. I walked inside and took a place in the back.
And then I heard the organ and peace came over me. I was home. Dr. Marsha Long also plays the organ and harp. She adds a world to the spiritual setting at this church. And then Father Ecker. showed. I was in luck. His sermon was about life and specifically how we should run ours. If I may let me summarize his main points.
"When God made Adam and Eve. he took a rib one and gave it to the other. They were one -- and so it is with the Art of Matrimony. We are one and equal in the eyes of God. Unlike Moses who could grab another, to bed down with him, we could take one and become one."
"Let me explain. A kid named Joey came home exhilarated. He told his Mom that he met the girl for him...The next day he returned home and told his Mom he no longer loved her...After hundreds of women had made his choice, and remember in Catholicism you get one, and only one."
"Well when Joey learned to love himself and became intimate with himself, he became ready for matrimony. He had met somebody mush like him and his ideals. But Joey asked her to become part of the act of matrimony -- which is God's Law and not the state of California's."
My day was not over since coffee and bagels were offered in the Rectory. I met Mrs. Brooke who told me her Husband of 32 years took that infamous walk on Bataan and died starved to death by the Japanese. I told her I would write her story with copies of the New York Times.
Nuts and Bolts for Today: To heighten you spirituality, enjoy the sounds of Dr. Marsh Long at the Immaculate Conception Church in Old Town. It will be a free harp mediation on October 31, at 7 P.M. and also one November 1 at 2 p.m. and November 2, at 2 and 4 pm.
The Nuts in Encinitas have downgraded the computer at the Senior Center and removed many of its tools. Those who made that decision will pay the price later for our misery. Again, it is all about saving pennies at the expense of seniors.
Tuesday, September 29, 2015
Chabad in Orange County
Never do I know where my old shoes will take me. It was Wednesday when I returned to a Jewish life off of Bolsa Chica and Warner Avenue. A Reb in San Diego had told me that a relative lived in i in Huntington Beach. He too was a Chabad Rabbi. I parked a few blocks from the temple and a nice gentleman let me inside the front door. Another asked my blue eyes and blond hair my religion -- since nobody suspects I am Jewish. It was the Jewish Day of Atonement.
I stood for three hours and enjoyed the Jewish rhythms of the past. ms of the past. Just before we prayed for our dead fathers and mothers, the Rabbi Berkowitz' second story was the one that made the congregation laugh. It was about the Democratic hopeful Donald Trump who had entered upstate Utica,New York. His last stop was inside an old beaten up Trump who tried to drum up votes inside a Assistant Living Center in upper-state Utica, New York.
Today the city looked like a war zone with Crock pots everywhere and streets that led to nowhere. The buildings had long lost their day during the heights of the Syracuse Sentinel days. It was then that Donald Trump entered and sat down next to a girl past beyond prime. She had been watching the I love Lucy Show for the fifth time inside the T.V room. Fifty or there-abouts glued to the T.V. The A/C was off of course to save the electric bill. He spoke to an elderly lady watching T.V. A care-giver was giving her a cup of pills with water. Her diapers had half slipped down.
"Do you know who-I-am?" He repeated it a few times until he shouted.
"Look at my blond curly hair, now do you know?" She gave a quizzical look at the man and continued with I Love Lucy show. Just then, Pearl sat down beside her and Donald trumpeted the same story with similar results. After the movie in which chocolate covered the face of Lucy, Pearl took him aside.
Kind sir, don't you worry. All of us have memory problems. At that point bingo games begun in activity room. Now the Trumpets of religion came into his life. He had forgotten but a long-lost Jewish Grandmother came on a cloud to speak to him.
"Donald, it is time you become a Jew. You can rekindle the memory problem of these inmates. Do you witness this number on my right arm. Yes, I died inside Auschwitz in 1943 when the last remaining Berlin Jews were carted off to trains on their way to the gas chamber. Now is your turn to turn in a good deed."
Donald sold one of his many hotels and kicked out a few walls at the older than time assistant living center. He dropped in air conditioning, large portions of fish food, as well as a bus that took them to various football games or the Atlantic City to gamble. He did not stop there. Each patron had his medication reduced and soon the short terms memories to return.
The Reb's next story dealt with the Jewish Day of Atonement -- a day when Jews around the world become one. It is a day when all Jews come together from all walks of live and ask our God to forgive the sins of the living, our forefathers, ancestors and those who gas chambered to death inside gas chambers.
'Now I don't believe in sports, but the name of Koufax, Sandy that is, will live in each Tabernacle until time goes by. It was a day that Dodger pitcher left his team uniform and returned to his God in heaven to become a player on God's team. Dodger pitcher chose to worship his God, Hashem, instead of the World Series game in Minnesota.
He told each member that on this Sunday, he could not pitch. Instead he walked over to a hotel to pray until a knock on his door beckoned. It was a local Rabbi. He allowed him to enter. "Mr. Koufax, what you did today will be remembered in the lives of all Jews. Rabbi Joab was astonished to see him wrap the Jewish film the correct way.
But my day did not end on Wednesday. No, I no longer am a Jew for a Day.I spent the entire Sabbath inside the Shul. and of course the old time hymns returned to me. Why even today, three days later, I still sings the songs of yesteryear when my Grandpa Schneider and Goldberg made me a Jew for a Day. (Not edited or finished.)
I stood for three hours and enjoyed the Jewish rhythms of the past. ms of the past. Just before we prayed for our dead fathers and mothers, the Rabbi Berkowitz' second story was the one that made the congregation laugh. It was about the Democratic hopeful Donald Trump who had entered upstate Utica,New York. His last stop was inside an old beaten up Trump who tried to drum up votes inside a Assistant Living Center in upper-state Utica, New York.
Today the city looked like a war zone with Crock pots everywhere and streets that led to nowhere. The buildings had long lost their day during the heights of the Syracuse Sentinel days. It was then that Donald Trump entered and sat down next to a girl past beyond prime. She had been watching the I love Lucy Show for the fifth time inside the T.V room. Fifty or there-abouts glued to the T.V. The A/C was off of course to save the electric bill. He spoke to an elderly lady watching T.V. A care-giver was giving her a cup of pills with water. Her diapers had half slipped down.
"Do you know who-I-am?" He repeated it a few times until he shouted.
"Look at my blond curly hair, now do you know?" She gave a quizzical look at the man and continued with I Love Lucy show. Just then, Pearl sat down beside her and Donald trumpeted the same story with similar results. After the movie in which chocolate covered the face of Lucy, Pearl took him aside.
Kind sir, don't you worry. All of us have memory problems. At that point bingo games begun in activity room. Now the Trumpets of religion came into his life. He had forgotten but a long-lost Jewish Grandmother came on a cloud to speak to him.
"Donald, it is time you become a Jew. You can rekindle the memory problem of these inmates. Do you witness this number on my right arm. Yes, I died inside Auschwitz in 1943 when the last remaining Berlin Jews were carted off to trains on their way to the gas chamber. Now is your turn to turn in a good deed."
Donald sold one of his many hotels and kicked out a few walls at the older than time assistant living center. He dropped in air conditioning, large portions of fish food, as well as a bus that took them to various football games or the Atlantic City to gamble. He did not stop there. Each patron had his medication reduced and soon the short terms memories to return.
The Reb's next story dealt with the Jewish Day of Atonement -- a day when Jews around the world become one. It is a day when all Jews come together from all walks of live and ask our God to forgive the sins of the living, our forefathers, ancestors and those who gas chambered to death inside gas chambers.
'Now I don't believe in sports, but the name of Koufax, Sandy that is, will live in each Tabernacle until time goes by. It was a day that Dodger pitcher left his team uniform and returned to his God in heaven to become a player on God's team. Dodger pitcher chose to worship his God, Hashem, instead of the World Series game in Minnesota.
He told each member that on this Sunday, he could not pitch. Instead he walked over to a hotel to pray until a knock on his door beckoned. It was a local Rabbi. He allowed him to enter. "Mr. Koufax, what you did today will be remembered in the lives of all Jews. Rabbi Joab was astonished to see him wrap the Jewish film the correct way.
But my day did not end on Wednesday. No, I no longer am a Jew for a Day.I spent the entire Sabbath inside the Shul. and of course the old time hymns returned to me. Why even today, three days later, I still sings the songs of yesteryear when my Grandpa Schneider and Goldberg made me a Jew for a Day. (Not edited or finished.)
Thursday, September 24, 2015
A Fish Surfs the Huntington Pier
My moods change as frequently as the winds. Today in Huntington Beach was no exception. I woke up with my nose clogged-up inside the Five Points Senior Apartments -- but a little asthma did not stop me today...Yesterday I honored the Jewish Day of Atonement and enjoyed Chabad on Warner Avenue.
I needed to get out of here. Earlier I had finished a $4.95 Costco Chicken and three Trader Joe's Eggs. My only regret Trader Joes did not carry candles. The manager told me they didn't consider the Day of Atonement a holiday but "would carry them in the future".
As a reborn Jew, I needed to plant candles for my parents, Edith and Harry a felt upset the Trader Joes did not fell that the holiest day of the year had not been a holiday. I felt sure they still went for the saw-buck rather than God.
The pier beckoned. I took my two mile walk and entered the pier. It was going on six o'clock and I made my way around Ruby's restaurant and sat on a bench. The same three Vietnamese had their fishing lines out. A man swung his line around and it landed. Four Mackerel danced in front of me.
He picked each up with a prong and removed the fish from the line. The silver bananas did not stop thrashing until he deposited them inside his bucket...Why yesterday I saw one Mackerel do the twist to the beat of a a big band number. Ruby's has a speaker that broadcasts big band sounds.
The electric wheel chair was busy also. Inside the man pressed a button and the automatic fishing pole slung the line over the pier into the water. Within a few minutes he caught another Mackerel. He smiled an calmly dropped the food inside his bag pack.
The fog slowly began to lift, just like my spirits. my day had just begun. A young kid swung around the end of the pier dancing on a skate board. I heard a thud, and the next moment the board slowly came my way, made a turn inside the bench, just missed the wheel chair and landed into the drink.
The young kid came my way. He looked for his skate board and turned my way. "Did you see my skate board.?
"Yes it slid down into the deep, a centimeter too small to be stopped by railing. ."
"The young man pulled out a cigarette and we began to chat. I whipped a few drops of dew from the upstairs roof at Ruby's.
"Hey kid, got a name...was the board expensive?"
"Hell no, it was only a penny board. Got a bigger one back home."
"Go to college?"
"Golden West for three days a year ago. Not my thing. I work at Pizza Hut in Westminster and do about everything there. I take orders, make the pizza, and do about everything a manager does."
"Is your pay about ten or eleven?"
"Hell no! I git only nine, but did take classes in Electricity early on. Society stinks, and think I will go to the mountains and hang out."
All of a sudden strange things happened. The wheel chair went over the side railings--with the man and bait. And then it happened...a n d you will not believe this. A large one pound or more Mackerel slid up on the penny board and with his tail kicked it up to the young kid. And by God it was the same darn fish that had done the twist the day before.
Just then a swish of water drowned us. The man with the wheel chair landed at my feet. Yet he stood up and now could walk.
I needed to get out of here. Earlier I had finished a $4.95 Costco Chicken and three Trader Joe's Eggs. My only regret Trader Joes did not carry candles. The manager told me they didn't consider the Day of Atonement a holiday but "would carry them in the future".
As a reborn Jew, I needed to plant candles for my parents, Edith and Harry a felt upset the Trader Joes did not fell that the holiest day of the year had not been a holiday. I felt sure they still went for the saw-buck rather than God.
The pier beckoned. I took my two mile walk and entered the pier. It was going on six o'clock and I made my way around Ruby's restaurant and sat on a bench. The same three Vietnamese had their fishing lines out. A man swung his line around and it landed. Four Mackerel danced in front of me.
He picked each up with a prong and removed the fish from the line. The silver bananas did not stop thrashing until he deposited them inside his bucket...Why yesterday I saw one Mackerel do the twist to the beat of a a big band number. Ruby's has a speaker that broadcasts big band sounds.
The electric wheel chair was busy also. Inside the man pressed a button and the automatic fishing pole slung the line over the pier into the water. Within a few minutes he caught another Mackerel. He smiled an calmly dropped the food inside his bag pack.
The fog slowly began to lift, just like my spirits. my day had just begun. A young kid swung around the end of the pier dancing on a skate board. I heard a thud, and the next moment the board slowly came my way, made a turn inside the bench, just missed the wheel chair and landed into the drink.
The young kid came my way. He looked for his skate board and turned my way. "Did you see my skate board.?
"Yes it slid down into the deep, a centimeter too small to be stopped by railing. ."
"The young man pulled out a cigarette and we began to chat. I whipped a few drops of dew from the upstairs roof at Ruby's.
"Hey kid, got a name...was the board expensive?"
"Hell no, it was only a penny board. Got a bigger one back home."
"Go to college?"
"Golden West for three days a year ago. Not my thing. I work at Pizza Hut in Westminster and do about everything there. I take orders, make the pizza, and do about everything a manager does."
"Is your pay about ten or eleven?"
"Hell no! I git only nine, but did take classes in Electricity early on. Society stinks, and think I will go to the mountains and hang out."
All of a sudden strange things happened. The wheel chair went over the side railings--with the man and bait. And then it happened...a n d you will not believe this. A large one pound or more Mackerel slid up on the penny board and with his tail kicked it up to the young kid. And by God it was the same darn fish that had done the twist the day before.
Just then a swish of water drowned us. The man with the wheel chair landed at my feet. Yet he stood up and now could walk.
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