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.