An Old Town Reunion

It had been a few months since I visited Old Town, San Diego. I wished to see how my fig tree and grape vine were faring in this dry spell.
   The grape arbor looked just fine, but with too many leaves and not enough fruit. The few clusters were still too green to eat. They needed more seasoning -- about one week before I could harvest their nectar. I noticed that last year's Loquat tree missed more leaves than before, but the two ahead made up for this naked tree. (Many Loquat trees bare every-other year. The cumquat tree was loaded with its sweet fruit.) 
   I headed for the large fig tree. Back at Ralph's they sold for seven dollars a small basket of seven. The tree did bear fruit, but not many as last year. I did manage to reach and pluck a few from the top most branches. The treat was not as sugary as before.
  Even the black birds knew better than hunt for black. I decided to call it a day and headed for the old cigar store. Wooden Indian Joe said "Hello," and there was the antique silver scale. A few Chinese took pictures on it but were dumbfounded that it didn't work. They did not know it took a quarter function..
  The Chinese never need to weigh themselves. They each weigh the same, less than eighty pound wet. They are also the most color-conscious of any race. Since they are thin, they are easy to fit into their blues and yellows. The parade of flower gardens walked passed me, nary any without a large smile. They wore matching hats and soft quilted shoes. They were a delight to watch.
  As usual the Chinese took over the park. Every-so-often an ugly American showed their face with drooping bodies held up with canes and walkers. What a shame they live for food and football. The scales did not go over two hundred and fifty pounds.
  The Chinese took pictures of each other under the yellow blossom tree and large fig. The fig does not give fruit but does provide shade. Since I was hungry and a bit winded do to the hot eighty degree weather I felt like a bite to eat.
  It felt good to have a bank under my belt. Walmart, bless its soul,  cashed my retirement check and my left pocket overflowed with Ben Franklin's, of course in a white envelope. Bella Pizza was up ahead, but its insides did not have air-conditioning.
  I ordered a large antipasto salad and that with water did the trick. It was a pick-me-up. Now with energy I returned to the Old Town Transit Center and tried to buy Coaster ticket going north. One hitch however, the dam ticket machine faced the five o'clock sun. I prayed that I hit the right buttons and slid in my three dollars. And as if by magic it worked.
  The commuter train picked me up at five forty five. Inside were tired workers, looking forward to dinner and an affectionate kiss from their wives. Almost everyone held a smart phone with connecting wires to their ears. Life would never be the same without their bibles or cell phones.
   My eyes riveted on a bicycle traveler. His black biking uniform and a svelte sinewy athletic body made me wonder why not I? The  girls did not even give this hunk-of-man a second look. He was a regular.
   The body flexed  his muscles, arched his back and made like Adonis. He ought to have been born during g the Golden age of Greece. A smile came over my face. I felt relaxed and in my prime. It was great to be on a train. I got off at Encinitas but it was too early to fight the five freeway. I drove to Moonlight Bay, and to my surprise it looked like the Fourth of July.
    I parked my car on a hill and down bellow saw the plumbs of smoke from barbecue pits. Hot dogs and various types of meat were spread over grates. Old lumber was staked high and kids threw footballs and played jump rope.
    The majestic sun made it a day to reflect and remember. I sat on my beach chair closer to the shore. Five children frolicked with their parents. The came towards me and each hollered, "One two three four" and lunged down a steep hill. Mom was placing chips in the mouth of each and every-so-often giving her proud husband a kiss on the lips for these blond urchins.
    The sun began to set and I returned running up a path to my car. I never felt so excited. The drive home was unhindered except for the anguish I felt for my friend Ron. You see at the Senior Center, he was thrown out because of a smelly bag. Some Dingbat complained. Now what if we threw out all bags that had an odor. There no longer would be a need for Senior Centers. The manager there was not polite when he kicked him out of the billiard room. He bothered nobody but some idiot who has a fetish with cleanliness.
   They did not know that Ron had spent, a few months back, a week in a hospital for high blood pressure. Too bad they thought it was worth it to mar my day and his. More respect and less neglect should be given to Seniors like me. I also thought about Sheldon who played the piano during lunch. He played the classics with ease.
   I returned to the safety of my apartment in Huntington Beach and celebrated with eating fruit from Simply Peachy. It is the best produce store in North County San Diego.