A Day at the Beverly Hills Library

The main Huntington Beach Library does not come close to others that I have occupied. Why the last I tried, the microfilm machine had been on the blink for three months -- thanks to the ineptness of  its director. Their Dell computers should have been tossed years ago and upgraded.
    So I've been riding the Metro-Link twice every week into L.A. and have traversed to West L.A. and finally the Beverly Hills Library. The Rapid Blue has taken me all the way to West L.A where I transfer to the #14 city bus.
     Today the last day in May I had the bus drop me off on Canon and Little Santa Monica.  I had not had breakfast or  my daily cup of coffee. Ever since I had switched to Trader Joe's Fish with its frozen vegetables, my memory has enlarged -- of course busing all over Orange County has made me fit as a fiddle. (My car had been stolen in February at the Five Points Senior Apartments.)
     Nate and Al's, my favorite deli waited for me for its matzo ball soup. And my favorite waitress awaits me with plenty of warmth and a host of pickles to go with the just-made Jewish rye. I carried my bag pack across Canon and lumbered up towards Beverly. I passed the Chamber of Commerce Building, and skirted a  left at the Bank of America-going through remodeling.
     I could smell the iconic restaurant up ahead and could just taste those two balls with noodles. a smiling greeter escorted me to a corner table.My waitress saw me and was ready. She set a host of pickles and two fresh rye slices at my small table.
     Before I took a bite I reflected on the joy of my Memorable Barbecue in Long Beach. Not only Lauren surprise me be being named the Teacher of the Year for the City of Lomita, but it was the first time I had an actually conversed with my older five year old.
     After we had played a dice game earlier and this time, this slim five year old who goes by Olivia with blue eyes that could knock you out,  sat next to me for a meal fit for George the Third of England. I dug into my tasty-on-sell steak when she asked me this darn question.
      "Grapa, aw you goin to marry agin.?"
      "When you grow up, I will marry you."
       "I can't grapa, since you don't have any teeth."
    Lauren had already completed her meal and mine had just begun. It is hard to eat a steak without teeth, but i mashed and mashed till the meat was finished.  "Pass me the chicken. That succulent steak increased my appetite Olivia gave me the chicken leg and all-awhile Baby Allison was hanging out with a long hot dog.
    The waitress served me the matzo ball soup, but it ignored it. I opened several packages of jam and with butter, liberally spread it over the crunchy rye. I jawed one piece of rye until it was gone. I then poked my spoon into one of the matzo balls with a noodle or two.
    Well all I can tell you is that the second half of the meal was better than the first. I finished of the last of the six pickles and left Maggie a two dollar tip. The bill came to $7.50 and the good news was that my belly was satisfied.
    I reversed my steps and walked across Little Santa Monica. The library was up ahead with its up graded computers. My Schindler story needed to be edited a bit more, but i now was in contact with Kindle and received needed help from the librarians. It was great sitting inside the well-air-conditioned library.  Unlike Surf City, it is quiet and well managed with beefed up security.
    I began to get my Schindler story ready for publication. But what overshadowed the story still remained my conversation with my artistic daughter, Olivia. It feels great to be approaching 77 years of age with a memory that is sharper due to a new computer for my mind.