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.
Saturday, October 31, 2015
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.
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