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.