No longer do I need to surf the web to find pure air for my asthmatic lungs. Between Los Angeles and San Diego lies the best air for asthmatics. But allow me to develop the story while we visit my brother at the Rustic Assistant living center. The Center lies at the beginning of Midway City, a small city which separates Huntington Beach and Westminster.
It was on Saturday morning, the 31st of January. It proved to become a memorable day for me. I've been seeing my brother Mel for over eight years. His one-third of the sell of my parents house fed all the restaurants up and down Beach Blvd. in Huntington Beach. It took three firemen to lift his diabetic 350 body up and deliver him to the Huntington Beach Hospital. Yet lets get one with today, and give January a great send-off.
I had left Carlsbad at seven in the morning and went north to the Five freeway. The Five took me to the 405 and the Santa Monica Freeway. I got off on Beach and went north to Balsa. After a right turn, I made another one and found myself on the steps of the assistant living center.
I walked through the patio area of the Rustic Assistant Living Center and saw a large body in the middle of the room. I walked in and Mel screamed, "Hi George!" He seemed content to see me. Bee entered and then Pat. Bee is a Philipino and Pat is from London.
Now it was serving time. One pancake and one bacon for each inmate was now served. A lady served up the cups of medicine for everyone. Each small paper cup carried what appeared to be sugar. She poured the sugar into my brother's cereal and watched him spoon-it to his mouth. In the past, Mel would spit it out or store it inside his mouth until the witnesses had left.
A thin Asian was fed by another worker. Between gulps, he coughed. "God dam it! Won't you cover your mouth." That was smiling Betty. Her oxygen thermos sat next to her. She must have given up nicotine since she no longer coughed and put on several pounds. The Asian had a few dark blotches on his skin, and needed a lot of help.
At least half of these wheel chair or walker inmates have their diapers changed once a day. I dare say I have yet to see any Anglo Saxons doing this type of work. The Mexicans seem to take it in stride and joke about it.
"This is bacon day today. Every-third day we get served lean bacon." Mel had finished his cereal and now concentrated on his lone pancake and two bacon. Mel thanked two people who gave him theirs." Mel has always enjoyed bacon. In fact Farmer John, a popular brand in our day, was always a member of our refrigerator. While Mel continued chewing bacon, Bee collected ice for her three glasses. She's a fan of ice water at night.
Pat was unhappy since she does not partake in packaged food. I found out that Pat and I are the same age. We are Leos. She told me that a few years after "World War 2 had finished, a parade with Russian soldiers marched down one of their major streets. I gave flowers to one of them." Noise from the corner interrupted Pat.
"You God dam son-of-a-bitch. Can't you watch where you are going." That was crazy Betty. She sits by the door inside a chariot. She hears and notices everything. Pat continued speaking.
"The other day, Debby removed her pants and threw her diaper at Betty. You should have heard the ruckus??
Now it was time to get some free Vitamin D. The Huntington Park residents may call it Surf City but I call it Sun City. Seldom do I see any fog. There is always an ocean breeze coming off of the ocean. The next day, their local paper, the Register's back page informed the readers of the air quality. It had moderate air quality but - get this- no pollen or mold.
Since I am a bit color blind, I asked a bench tourist drinking a blend if it was true. He affirmed what my giggling lungs already knew. My asthmatic lungs had a day off, so much so, that I stayed an extra day in Huntington Beach.
I removed my camera and had my brother sing a few Eddie Fisher ditties. Again I took a few videos of the surf and volleyball players. The beach was a melting pot of tourist, Asians and locals. The locals played volleyball, surfed or hung out at the numerous bars and eateries. There seemed to be a Super Bowl hype today. Dogs were a plentiful and each dog owner flashed certificates of how pure their mongrel was. In fact, without the dogs, the beach would have been too quiet.
I felt energized. My lungs could breath on their own. I even played a game of two-man volleyball on Sunday. I guess that proves how great the all-year-weather Huntington Beach owned.
The day was not yet over. Mel became hungry at about one. I drove my disabled car from Main Street to Beach Blvd, annoyed that another Old Navy store had closed it doors. We missed the In-and Out so settled on Norms.
He ordered the T-bone steak - what else? It came with gumbo soup, a baked potato, shrimp and salad-all for eleven ninety five. A glass of Pepsi topped off a wonderful day with Brother Mel.
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