This story is from the World of George. It takes place in San Diego, New Year's Eve on 12-31-2012. These stories will become part of my book, San Diego, Tale of Two Rabbis. I had relocated there to do research on my Schindler Story and i also needed a change.
It is New Year's Eve and I have made a date with me...Yes me, George. Sounds ridiculous you say, but not I! I would make it the happiest day of my life in lovely San Diego. But just hold on for a moment. I heard somebody banging on my window of my Y.M.C. A. cell. Oh it is only Sir Godfrey. I met the angle sent from God over one year ago during the Jewish New Year of Rosh Hashanah. I celebrated it at the Manchester Hyatt Hotel in San Diego, under Rabbi Carlback.
It takes a few minutes to open the stuck window. A few spiders scamper to another pane. Godfrey floats inside. He resembles my Grandfather Schneider. He is small, wears a white robe covering him except for his golden chained watch. But it is his smile, yes his smile and warm glow that overwhelms me.
"How is everything upstairs?"
"Things are fine. Your grandmother still prepares chicken on the Sabbath, and it still is burnt. But we get along just fine now. We heard about the cliffhanger the President is having with Congress. Doesn't he understand that there are three equal branches of government. Seems to me he had an inferiority complex....My Angel friend Dan told me you broke up with your girlfriend. Is that true?"
"Yes our President is playing Russian Roulette with Congress...Yet no matter what, Obama still prints money when he is wishes to go on many of his golf trips. Seldom is he inside the oval office. He has flown to more countries than any other president, not doubt to get away from the heat of Washington. Why he even forgets the color of the White House."
"But George, didn't it bother you to break up with the lass from Montreal, Hazel?"
"Listen Godfrey, when a gal tells a fella he is "ugly and boring" not just once but several times it is time to call it quits. Hell, my blood pressure spiked every time we met. What I need is long lasting battery that energizes mine...The love I had for her is now diffused into my writing, music and traveling."
'I am glad you have become of man of action...So what do you plan to do today, the Eve of our New Year?"
"This morning I have already been to It's a Grind Coffee Shop on Front and G street. I milked a hot chocolate and read the book, A Perfect Storm. Across the street I used the blood pressure machine at Ralph's. Mine was a bit elevated but much lower since I had become a Jew again. I used my daughter's gift card gift card and splurged....I bought a one pound New York steak, a dozen eggs, one lemon, dental floss and two combs....With my beanie to keep my head warm during the early morn crisp cold morning, I enjoyed the sun's rays, but it was my stomach that ached for meat. Inside the Y's dining area, I prepared the five dollar steak, and threw in three scrambled. "
"Then I listened to my little transistor radio and set the dial to the music station, 105.9 on the FM dial. I needed some Strauss waltz music to caress my mind. I do play the piano at the Senior Center in Encinitas."
"But George what are you going to do this afternoon?"
" I will take the 901 bus that travels over the Coronado Bridge to visit their fine library. The bus ride takes me over San Diego Bay, and what a view it makes. All of the Navy piers are busy fixing ships or cranes are unloading. You can make out the Mexican border and also Shelter Island from the oval. On my return I will nap and early evening take in a picture of Lincoln playing on Fifth Street inside the Gas Lamp area. I will then ask twelve girls to give me a kiss."
"Forgot to tell you George, I am also here to speak with Silas, the kid you sponsored. I here he is moving to an apartment in East San Diego on 13 street. You did a great job keeping him off the bottle for a year."
"You are a bit late. After one binge, the guitar friend of mine was picked up by he meat wagon and taken to boot hill. Felt bad a man of forty had to go this way. He was just another Naval Veteran forgotten too soon."
"Send my love to your two daughters and of course Derick and Baby Olivia."
"Do me one favor. Flavor my life with a new flame since the old one died."
Nuts and bolts for New Year's: Make it simple, and with luck you'll find one wishing quality time with you.
Wednesday, December 30, 2015
Tuesday, December 22, 2015
From the "Amby" Schindler Story
The football story of the San Diego Golden Boy introduced me to the events of the day. I became a microfilm freak and spent gobs of time researching sports and all of a sudden, how the events of the day effected the way we looked at the modern game of football...Hope you won't mind this time out to review New Year's Day from one of hour favorite newspapers, the Examiner. I [paraphrased the newspapers article.
January First of 1937 Pasadena Rose Parade was witnessed by a throng of over one million spectators on Colorado Blvd and believe it or not, the weather forecasters called the wrong play. They had forecast rain and mud for the game, but were wrong, to the chagrin of the Washington Husky dogs who played in the muck, slush and mud up north in Washington.
The big game featured the Washington Huskies against "Jock" Sutherland's Pittsburg Panthers. The Washington leaders promised the ducats would go quickly and they did for two and up a-piece. The Panthers wished to put their lackluster performance of the past three Rose Bowl's behind them. They had been more than humiliated and their coach, the "Dundee" Dentist wished to make amends.
The rooters at L.S.U. and Alabama had been robbed according to many local writers. But it just may have been the ghost of Andrew Carnegie who had helped in polling them ahead of the other two. The majority of writers believed that Pittsburg had the best team in the nation with only one loss to mar their [perfect season.
I was named after one of their standout players, "Biggie" Goldberg as Marshall was his middle name, and on August 16 of 1939 it would become mine. My namesake stood only five ten and weighed in at 176 pounds, but had been there spark plug at the running back position. He had averaged over five yards a carry in 1936 and handled the pigskin 151 times for a gain of 861 yards. Non other than the greatest sports writer Grantland Rice called Mr. Goldberg one of the best ball handlers of that year.
The Panthers practiced their craft in the mountains of Big Bear and the a favorite spot foe the movie stars, Lake Arrowhead. Unlike the Panthers, the Huskies worked out in Santa Barbara with lots of distraction since the city provided lots of variety with a gorgeous ocean view. Besides football, the Examiner wished happy birthdays to Marion Davies, Sid Silver, and also Ida Lupinno.
But a different game of football was practiced in the South Pacific and the continent of Europe. The Japanese invaded Korea, Indochina, Manchuria and eased their way into the Chinese sphere of influence. Chang Kai-Shek had been kidnapped and then freed and the Russians and Germans had a pregame warm-up inside Spain, where it rained bullets and the Nazi's of Germany won out in the end and would soon set up Franco as the new dictator of Spain.
All awhile, Schindler was taking advantage of some time off at U.S.C. to take his treasure future birde to the Mission Bay Ball room in San Diego and enjoy his Mom's roast beef and potatoes. The U.S. consensus stated he paid them rent for a room inside their San Diego's Golden Hill's address.
And oh yes, the Panthers would win the game to stop their Rose Bowl losing streak at three.
For those interested in my book, they can reach me at chicagoallstar@gmail.com
January First of 1937 Pasadena Rose Parade was witnessed by a throng of over one million spectators on Colorado Blvd and believe it or not, the weather forecasters called the wrong play. They had forecast rain and mud for the game, but were wrong, to the chagrin of the Washington Husky dogs who played in the muck, slush and mud up north in Washington.
The big game featured the Washington Huskies against "Jock" Sutherland's Pittsburg Panthers. The Washington leaders promised the ducats would go quickly and they did for two and up a-piece. The Panthers wished to put their lackluster performance of the past three Rose Bowl's behind them. They had been more than humiliated and their coach, the "Dundee" Dentist wished to make amends.
The rooters at L.S.U. and Alabama had been robbed according to many local writers. But it just may have been the ghost of Andrew Carnegie who had helped in polling them ahead of the other two. The majority of writers believed that Pittsburg had the best team in the nation with only one loss to mar their [perfect season.
I was named after one of their standout players, "Biggie" Goldberg as Marshall was his middle name, and on August 16 of 1939 it would become mine. My namesake stood only five ten and weighed in at 176 pounds, but had been there spark plug at the running back position. He had averaged over five yards a carry in 1936 and handled the pigskin 151 times for a gain of 861 yards. Non other than the greatest sports writer Grantland Rice called Mr. Goldberg one of the best ball handlers of that year.
The Panthers practiced their craft in the mountains of Big Bear and the a favorite spot foe the movie stars, Lake Arrowhead. Unlike the Panthers, the Huskies worked out in Santa Barbara with lots of distraction since the city provided lots of variety with a gorgeous ocean view. Besides football, the Examiner wished happy birthdays to Marion Davies, Sid Silver, and also Ida Lupinno.
But a different game of football was practiced in the South Pacific and the continent of Europe. The Japanese invaded Korea, Indochina, Manchuria and eased their way into the Chinese sphere of influence. Chang Kai-Shek had been kidnapped and then freed and the Russians and Germans had a pregame warm-up inside Spain, where it rained bullets and the Nazi's of Germany won out in the end and would soon set up Franco as the new dictator of Spain.
All awhile, Schindler was taking advantage of some time off at U.S.C. to take his treasure future birde to the Mission Bay Ball room in San Diego and enjoy his Mom's roast beef and potatoes. The U.S. consensus stated he paid them rent for a room inside their San Diego's Golden Hill's address.
And oh yes, the Panthers would win the game to stop their Rose Bowl losing streak at three.
For those interested in my book, they can reach me at chicagoallstar@gmail.com
Saturday, December 19, 2015
Los Angeles, A Dread-Locked City
This story was written at McDonald's inside Walmart's in Huntington Beach. I go there at seven or more to buy my coffee and keep warm and get my mind running...little lean Jose is getting another refill for his 85 cent coffee. Today he has bought a pack of Fruit and the Loom underwear. He removes a few napkins from the dispenser and leaves for his toilet. Long Hair is loading up on half-and-half cups and several packages of sweet-and low.
Long Hair is a "gringo" like me and sleeps inside his shelled-truck. The tall angular one looks as if he might be half-Comanche since he his face is almost black. And there is Mrs. House speaking to anybody within a two table radius. She would die without food or talk...And here I am writing about L.A before I coat myself with religion later today on Warner Avenue's Chabad
The last race of the day began at the Costco store off of Washington Blvd in Culver City. I had bought a package of Naked Juice and eggs for my daughter. With only one exit five cars tried to out-muscle me but somehow I exited. "Go F...k yourself" one car blew off steam at me. But I made it out of the parking lot alive to live another day. Shelly, my Chevy Compact snaked along west on Washington.
Fifteen minutes later I made it to Inglewood Blvd and decided to try a quicker route. I made my left but no-such-luck. Cars were gutted back waiting for a light to change. Yet they would be out-of-luck at six o'clock. Dinner would have to wait. Cars packaged the intersection of every corner. Shelly nudged, screamed and butted heads but no dent in the line. Finally I made it to Venice Blvd and thought about going to Italy on my next holiday.
Christmas lights flickered everywhere. My hunger pains became louder. I glanced to my right and saw a Mexican lady pushing her cart. I rolled down Shelly's window.
"'Pour favor, Que vende?"
"Tomales", she replied.
"Dar me vente!"
Now of course cars screamed for me to advance buy i needed nutrition to get me back to my daughter's apartment in West Los Angeles. It became six thirty and Shelly made it to Sawtelle but barely. She began to heat-up as the gauge registered warm.
My stomach relieved after swallowing three in one bite, I made my way back to Washington by-way-of-a gas station and returned to Washington Blvd. A few minutes later, a right and another left put me on the Santa Monica Freeway east bound.
Overland Blvd has already had five face lifts. But just wait until the Expo-Line goes through -- as these trains will hold up traffic every five or ten minutes. Too bad the City of L.A. did not start a under-land route, but guess that Goodrich, Firestone, or Dunlap Tires wanted more cars on the road. In any case, this line will be the busiest trolley in the Northern Hemisphere when completed in early April.
I finally arrived on Pico and miraculously found a place to park my car. My daughter made some coffee for me and I took my senior citizen nap. We left for the West L.A. Kaiser later on where my daughter wished to refill some medicine. I waited for her at the Polo Loco eatery. A man dressed in a Christmas suit addressed me as Mr. Trump.
He kept jabbering away at me until my two meat burritos had enough. WE left for the pharmacy where my daughter's name was called. She stood in line and I walked by her side when she walked up to a cashier.
"You's got to stand in line...Sir!..We all need to stand in line!" Well I felt too good to react to one so foolish and obviously prejudiced. I smiled and pointed at my daughter. She apologized for her manner of speaking."
After i dropped off my daughter, I returned to Overland for the 10 On-ramp. Again cars were busy toe to toe with each other. One hour later I made it to bed in Huntington Beach, happy not to be on any-more freeways for awhile
And don't think that by taking a bus you'll get to your destination on time. 3 to 8 P.M. are the times not to travel inside Los Angeles, in my day called the City of Angles where driving was easy not dreaded as it is today.
Long Hair is a "gringo" like me and sleeps inside his shelled-truck. The tall angular one looks as if he might be half-Comanche since he his face is almost black. And there is Mrs. House speaking to anybody within a two table radius. She would die without food or talk...And here I am writing about L.A before I coat myself with religion later today on Warner Avenue's Chabad
The last race of the day began at the Costco store off of Washington Blvd in Culver City. I had bought a package of Naked Juice and eggs for my daughter. With only one exit five cars tried to out-muscle me but somehow I exited. "Go F...k yourself" one car blew off steam at me. But I made it out of the parking lot alive to live another day. Shelly, my Chevy Compact snaked along west on Washington.
Fifteen minutes later I made it to Inglewood Blvd and decided to try a quicker route. I made my left but no-such-luck. Cars were gutted back waiting for a light to change. Yet they would be out-of-luck at six o'clock. Dinner would have to wait. Cars packaged the intersection of every corner. Shelly nudged, screamed and butted heads but no dent in the line. Finally I made it to Venice Blvd and thought about going to Italy on my next holiday.
Christmas lights flickered everywhere. My hunger pains became louder. I glanced to my right and saw a Mexican lady pushing her cart. I rolled down Shelly's window.
"'Pour favor, Que vende?"
"Tomales", she replied.
"Dar me vente!"
Now of course cars screamed for me to advance buy i needed nutrition to get me back to my daughter's apartment in West Los Angeles. It became six thirty and Shelly made it to Sawtelle but barely. She began to heat-up as the gauge registered warm.
My stomach relieved after swallowing three in one bite, I made my way back to Washington by-way-of-a gas station and returned to Washington Blvd. A few minutes later, a right and another left put me on the Santa Monica Freeway east bound.
Overland Blvd has already had five face lifts. But just wait until the Expo-Line goes through -- as these trains will hold up traffic every five or ten minutes. Too bad the City of L.A. did not start a under-land route, but guess that Goodrich, Firestone, or Dunlap Tires wanted more cars on the road. In any case, this line will be the busiest trolley in the Northern Hemisphere when completed in early April.
I finally arrived on Pico and miraculously found a place to park my car. My daughter made some coffee for me and I took my senior citizen nap. We left for the West L.A. Kaiser later on where my daughter wished to refill some medicine. I waited for her at the Polo Loco eatery. A man dressed in a Christmas suit addressed me as Mr. Trump.
He kept jabbering away at me until my two meat burritos had enough. WE left for the pharmacy where my daughter's name was called. She stood in line and I walked by her side when she walked up to a cashier.
"You's got to stand in line...Sir!..We all need to stand in line!" Well I felt too good to react to one so foolish and obviously prejudiced. I smiled and pointed at my daughter. She apologized for her manner of speaking."
After i dropped off my daughter, I returned to Overland for the 10 On-ramp. Again cars were busy toe to toe with each other. One hour later I made it to bed in Huntington Beach, happy not to be on any-more freeways for awhile
And don't think that by taking a bus you'll get to your destination on time. 3 to 8 P.M. are the times not to travel inside Los Angeles, in my day called the City of Angles where driving was easy not dreaded as it is today.
Tuesday, December 15, 2015
A Trader Joe's Apple Tree.
I placed a few items on my budget list when I first moved into the Huntington Beach area. Florida Street off of Main spills into the Five Points Shopping Center. Trader Joe's serves as the flag store for the other stores.
After my move into an apartment off of Main, I trooped into the store to see if there were any good found out it did have a few good buys -- and needed only a short walk across the Main Street to find buys. I loved the package of small chocolates at the end of the day. It cost me only one dollar. But soon their $2.75 cent dozen eggs got my attention. At $2.75 a dozen, Trader Joe's organic eggs tasted way-better than those from other markets and their 19 cent bananas slipped into my bag too. The paper bag I used for kitchen trash.
About one month ago, God told me to start eating apples...and I always listen to God. My back bedroom had a picture of Johnny Appleseed planting apples as out settlers wagon-trained west. Since summer fruits left, I decided to try apples again, even though two months earlier, I had criticized Trader Joe's produce department. Their pomegranate tasted mushy and the grapefruits too dry.
A couple of weeks ago, I decided to try Joe's apple section. I looked over the Spartan, Gala and Fuji. One polished Fuji got my attention. Its smooth shiny face said, "Eat me". I took a bag of eggs, bananas and the lone apple to my apartment across the street, avoiding the rocky-road called Main.
But there Gala and Fugi apples tasted crisp and juicy -- especially after I roasted them inside my microwave. I cut them up and spread sugar and cinnamon on top. I even ate the core of the applie -- since in now way could it do any harm, or so I thought. What a treat?
Well a couple of weeks ago, I could not keep any food down. I threw up what looked like a small tree. Why it could not have been more than one inch long. I placed it inside a pot alongside my bedroom window. I padded its bed with mulch and dirt. Every morning I sprinkled water over it...and guess what? Yes, it began to speak!
"Kin ya lift me hiya...can't see ya?" I lifted my head off my bed. In now way could an apple tree speak, but the tree made a believer out of me.
"Kind sir, could you place me closer to the window. I need cold to grow better, don't you know?"
"Now who am I to argue with a Fugi apple tree, In no way did I wish to go to war. Why all the apple trees might invade my little apartment. I moved her a bit closer to the window. One of her thin branches touched my nose.
"That is the apple tree's way of kissing. You have saved my life by moving me closer to the window. By and by, I took root inside your stomach since I found your fish oily stomach and nuts simply divine."
"Don't thank me, but thank Spouts Market for selling mixed nuts for 99 cents a pound. And they have the largest supply of produce in Huntington Beach."
At that point the little tree tucked her trunk inside to take a nap. My line phone rang. Somebody called Jonathon was on the phone. Again it was a squeaky voice. (Not finished.)
.
After my move into an apartment off of Main, I trooped into the store to see if there were any good found out it did have a few good buys -- and needed only a short walk across the Main Street to find buys. I loved the package of small chocolates at the end of the day. It cost me only one dollar. But soon their $2.75 cent dozen eggs got my attention. At $2.75 a dozen, Trader Joe's organic eggs tasted way-better than those from other markets and their 19 cent bananas slipped into my bag too. The paper bag I used for kitchen trash.
About one month ago, God told me to start eating apples...and I always listen to God. My back bedroom had a picture of Johnny Appleseed planting apples as out settlers wagon-trained west. Since summer fruits left, I decided to try apples again, even though two months earlier, I had criticized Trader Joe's produce department. Their pomegranate tasted mushy and the grapefruits too dry.
A couple of weeks ago, I decided to try Joe's apple section. I looked over the Spartan, Gala and Fuji. One polished Fuji got my attention. Its smooth shiny face said, "Eat me". I took a bag of eggs, bananas and the lone apple to my apartment across the street, avoiding the rocky-road called Main.
But there Gala and Fugi apples tasted crisp and juicy -- especially after I roasted them inside my microwave. I cut them up and spread sugar and cinnamon on top. I even ate the core of the applie -- since in now way could it do any harm, or so I thought. What a treat?
Well a couple of weeks ago, I could not keep any food down. I threw up what looked like a small tree. Why it could not have been more than one inch long. I placed it inside a pot alongside my bedroom window. I padded its bed with mulch and dirt. Every morning I sprinkled water over it...and guess what? Yes, it began to speak!
"Kin ya lift me hiya...can't see ya?" I lifted my head off my bed. In now way could an apple tree speak, but the tree made a believer out of me.
"Kind sir, could you place me closer to the window. I need cold to grow better, don't you know?"
"Now who am I to argue with a Fugi apple tree, In no way did I wish to go to war. Why all the apple trees might invade my little apartment. I moved her a bit closer to the window. One of her thin branches touched my nose.
"That is the apple tree's way of kissing. You have saved my life by moving me closer to the window. By and by, I took root inside your stomach since I found your fish oily stomach and nuts simply divine."
"Don't thank me, but thank Spouts Market for selling mixed nuts for 99 cents a pound. And they have the largest supply of produce in Huntington Beach."
At that point the little tree tucked her trunk inside to take a nap. My line phone rang. Somebody called Jonathon was on the phone. Again it was a squeaky voice. (Not finished.)
.
Tuesday, December 8, 2015
Sunday in Santa Monica
Like the salmon run, I needed to return to my beginning. In the forties, Mom always brought along a punch bowl, sandwiches, potato chips and a large multicolored wooden umbrella. She drove a Packard with wooden doors. I can still see and hear her.
"Wait for thirty minutes before going back into the ocean."
"Mom can I have more punch, and can you remove the sand inside my eye."
Santa Monica has undergone changes, but a few things remain the same. My Merry-go-round carousel still plays music but the horses have changed. The Soda Jerk store sells ice cream for a few dollars. For a few bucks, you can stage a birthday party inside the old wooden home. The Santa Monica Pier still stands with Bubba Gumps replacing another eatery. There is still the arcade, a place for dance, and a little amusement park. Spade Cooley and his orchestra no longer plays.
Still there to the North lie Malibu Hills and further up Zuma Beach. On the other side the coast winds its way to Palos Verdes. But besides the pristine views, what makes Santa Monica great on a clear day is it view. Picasso could not duplicate it today.
But for me, it is the air. I drank pure air in the forties. My bronchial tubes opened up and I got gobs of vitamin D and an awful suntan. Back in the forties, nobody knew about skin cancer, and we allowed only good ozone.
My did I itch coming home. It felt like crabs were having a picnic inside my shorts. Mel hogged the shower and used all of the hot water -- it was luke warm when my turn came.
But today it is about the Third Street promenade. People come from all over to take the walk on the Piccadilly Circus of all walks. It is a must.
I had a grand stand seat, just watching. Excitement filled the air. A few had just come from the outside skating ring. Everyone smiled and looked inside the trendy stores. The boots were so high they could touch the sky. I imagined myself walking with some of these five star ladies.
I must have sat for about one hour, cracking two hard boiled and unwrapping two Cutie tangerines with a Fuji apple to boot. Rebooted now, I walked down Broadway to the Palisades. And there in front of my very eyes was Camelot. The ocean and sky caressed with the Malibu Hills and endless sand looking up.
I walked the pier and then the strand. I walked over to where Muscle Beach began. There in front of me I imagined Jack La lane, Governor Schwarzenegger, Moe Most, doing their stunts with a beach load of onlookers around the platform.
Beach two-man volleyball was going on in front of me. I sauntered over to watch. Never that good, but good enough to hang around these courts with Dick s, Ron, Bobby Barber, and a bunch of others. I remembered when I served two rather good Russians off he court and sent them packing with four straight aces.
Well it was time to return to my daughter's. I promised to take her to the West Side Pavilion off of Pico. I walked to Fourth Street and picked up the Big Blue Bus. Sunday is the only time there is no rush hour. Back home, my daughter wished to buy a sweater so I hung around. It felt great being alive to enjoy the fruits of my creation. (Not finished.)
"Wait for thirty minutes before going back into the ocean."
"Mom can I have more punch, and can you remove the sand inside my eye."
Santa Monica has undergone changes, but a few things remain the same. My Merry-go-round carousel still plays music but the horses have changed. The Soda Jerk store sells ice cream for a few dollars. For a few bucks, you can stage a birthday party inside the old wooden home. The Santa Monica Pier still stands with Bubba Gumps replacing another eatery. There is still the arcade, a place for dance, and a little amusement park. Spade Cooley and his orchestra no longer plays.
Still there to the North lie Malibu Hills and further up Zuma Beach. On the other side the coast winds its way to Palos Verdes. But besides the pristine views, what makes Santa Monica great on a clear day is it view. Picasso could not duplicate it today.
But for me, it is the air. I drank pure air in the forties. My bronchial tubes opened up and I got gobs of vitamin D and an awful suntan. Back in the forties, nobody knew about skin cancer, and we allowed only good ozone.
My did I itch coming home. It felt like crabs were having a picnic inside my shorts. Mel hogged the shower and used all of the hot water -- it was luke warm when my turn came.
But today it is about the Third Street promenade. People come from all over to take the walk on the Piccadilly Circus of all walks. It is a must.
I had a grand stand seat, just watching. Excitement filled the air. A few had just come from the outside skating ring. Everyone smiled and looked inside the trendy stores. The boots were so high they could touch the sky. I imagined myself walking with some of these five star ladies.
I must have sat for about one hour, cracking two hard boiled and unwrapping two Cutie tangerines with a Fuji apple to boot. Rebooted now, I walked down Broadway to the Palisades. And there in front of my very eyes was Camelot. The ocean and sky caressed with the Malibu Hills and endless sand looking up.
I walked the pier and then the strand. I walked over to where Muscle Beach began. There in front of me I imagined Jack La lane, Governor Schwarzenegger, Moe Most, doing their stunts with a beach load of onlookers around the platform.
Beach two-man volleyball was going on in front of me. I sauntered over to watch. Never that good, but good enough to hang around these courts with Dick s, Ron, Bobby Barber, and a bunch of others. I remembered when I served two rather good Russians off he court and sent them packing with four straight aces.
Well it was time to return to my daughter's. I promised to take her to the West Side Pavilion off of Pico. I walked to Fourth Street and picked up the Big Blue Bus. Sunday is the only time there is no rush hour. Back home, my daughter wished to buy a sweater so I hung around. It felt great being alive to enjoy the fruits of my creation. (Not finished.)
Tuesday, December 1, 2015
A Surf City Thanksgiving
The Chabad on Warner Avenue gave me the stuffing I needed to end a perfect Thanksgiving. I celebrate the Sabbath from Friday evening till Saturday at sun down.The more I nurture my soul, the more serene I become. The soul lasts for eternity, unlike the body with a sixty or seventy year warranty
. The Rabbi was at his best today. His message was loud and clear.
"WE have been fighting the offspring of Esau for over two thousand years. Jacob had the answer when he arrived in Canaan and saw his brother come towards him.He enriched his soul with prayer and also an offering when he arrived. He had served under Laban for 14 years and had taken his two daughters, now his wives back to the promised land. Israel became his new name. He built a sturdy house and shelter for his animals. Above all, while a captive in the House of Laban, he still studied Torah and remained a Jew.
A famous Hebrew teacher was visited by a guest. The guest wished to know why he didn't have a bed or furniture.
"These are only temporary things. But what I teach will last for eternity."
This great teacher was a man of my heart. I too don't have a bed or nice furniture. I have lots of books and a little Wall Mart radio. But the best filling he left for last.
"A couple of weeks ago, a family celebrated the marriage of their daughter. On the way to Jerusalem, machine guns lit up their car. The father and brother died, but the kids survived. The family decided to go ahead with the celebration."
"Ten thousand people jammed the city to make it quite a feast. The show must continue no matter what a few terrorists decided to do."
A turkey dinner on Thursday began the festive holiday for us. My son-in-law made quite a succulent turkey and got up at four in the morning to shop at Ralph's and spread paint over it. The yam, cranberries and mashed potatoes could not be matched anywhere. Even Mel, my brother could not find words to describe its taste. He resides at the Pacific Spartan Assistance living center.
Yet Friday was something else again. I needed to exercise to remove some of the fat from the feast of the other night. Again, you could touch Santa Catalina the sky was so clear. I jogged the entire length of the pier and took a breather in back of Ruby's restaurant.
I heard some people holler. Over the railing, a baby seal rolled over on its back while its mother spread sun screen over it. Next to them, two mallards dove into below the surface and returned with sardines. Fish were not biting at the end of the pier.
On my return trip, a fisherman yanked seven, yes seven mackerel out of the sea on one line. He gushed with laughter and removed them to his bucket. I studied the Vietnamese in motion. He knew where to place his line, and came up, time and time again with more fish.
Again I continued my return but stopped to watch two-man volleyball games in progress. I finally made it back to my car parked on Main Street, and thank God I stayed around to enjoy my two grandchildren, Summer and Spring. .
. The Rabbi was at his best today. His message was loud and clear.
"WE have been fighting the offspring of Esau for over two thousand years. Jacob had the answer when he arrived in Canaan and saw his brother come towards him.He enriched his soul with prayer and also an offering when he arrived. He had served under Laban for 14 years and had taken his two daughters, now his wives back to the promised land. Israel became his new name. He built a sturdy house and shelter for his animals. Above all, while a captive in the House of Laban, he still studied Torah and remained a Jew.
A famous Hebrew teacher was visited by a guest. The guest wished to know why he didn't have a bed or furniture.
"These are only temporary things. But what I teach will last for eternity."
This great teacher was a man of my heart. I too don't have a bed or nice furniture. I have lots of books and a little Wall Mart radio. But the best filling he left for last.
"A couple of weeks ago, a family celebrated the marriage of their daughter. On the way to Jerusalem, machine guns lit up their car. The father and brother died, but the kids survived. The family decided to go ahead with the celebration."
"Ten thousand people jammed the city to make it quite a feast. The show must continue no matter what a few terrorists decided to do."
A turkey dinner on Thursday began the festive holiday for us. My son-in-law made quite a succulent turkey and got up at four in the morning to shop at Ralph's and spread paint over it. The yam, cranberries and mashed potatoes could not be matched anywhere. Even Mel, my brother could not find words to describe its taste. He resides at the Pacific Spartan Assistance living center.
Yet Friday was something else again. I needed to exercise to remove some of the fat from the feast of the other night. Again, you could touch Santa Catalina the sky was so clear. I jogged the entire length of the pier and took a breather in back of Ruby's restaurant.
I heard some people holler. Over the railing, a baby seal rolled over on its back while its mother spread sun screen over it. Next to them, two mallards dove into below the surface and returned with sardines. Fish were not biting at the end of the pier.
On my return trip, a fisherman yanked seven, yes seven mackerel out of the sea on one line. He gushed with laughter and removed them to his bucket. I studied the Vietnamese in motion. He knew where to place his line, and came up, time and time again with more fish.
Again I continued my return but stopped to watch two-man volleyball games in progress. I finally made it back to my car parked on Main Street, and thank God I stayed around to enjoy my two grandchildren, Summer and Spring. .
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