Yesterday it was only 104 degrees. But today, the temperature will decrease to only 97, yet it is still a strain to breath. Yet I have learned to deal with global warming. Outside I wear a mask that at least keeps out the dirt and grime from the toxic air.
I am waiting for the number 25 bus to deliver me to the new Huntington Beach Senior Center. Good cold clean air is the bait as well as to meet charming old people my age. But it is at lunch when all hell breaks lose, and laughter becomes another visitor to the dinning room, and while at it, have sa three bit lunch. My $22 monthly bus pass is well worth it.
Yesterday the Center was host to channel three who filmed the wrong piano player. It was channel three who wished to unveil the new center to the T.V. audience. While waiting for my turkey with cranberries Tony came to my table and screamed, "The wrong guy is being filmed. He can't play a lick of piano like you."
Yesterday's meal and lost of laughs gave me the battery charge I sorely needed. To my right was Mildred, from the bay area by way of Wisconsin and who worked for the Flying Tigers, and to my left, my cigar store Indian Andy from Sweden who build parts for the airlines.
The hellish weekend, that really began Thursday evening. At dinner time at the assistant living facility, Mel closed down. He could not stand, open his eyes and it all was in living coma. His left eye, the barely good one had closed to and I waited for the fire trucks and ambulance to be called. He had not really eaten for a few weeks so I knew something was amiss, as it always is at this assistant living center.
But that is where the Huntington Beach Senior Center comes in handy. I have the chance to vent, play the piano, and eat with some good friends where laughter is served up free. The only restriction is that each new visitor to the back table has to sign a release stating that any stroke or heart attach is entirely their fault -- like the paper I signed when my brother Mel was admitted. A Huntington Beach doctor called me on Friday evening stating what the medial problems" Conjunctivitis, infected bladder as well as an infected ear. We had a delightful conversation.
The next day Saturday it took a gigantic effort to move him. At least he was hungry, yet the Sea Cliff Nursing home, a block from me, had a different item on its menu-- a blackout. Wheel chairs roamed the hallway. At eight o'clock and manger told me it would be fixed by eight.
In the meantime, the freezer stopped working. Mel, for lunch, was treated to pees and a biscuit. His weight had trimmed down to a bit over two hundred pounds. One wheel chair screamed for attention. Another tried to leave the facility. I could not even watch college football.
Mel, through it all, could now see out of his conjunctivitis left eye. He could see the T.V. And slowly he began to eat again. By six o'clock the electric came on and things began to get back in order.
Monday I needed a break -- so I bussed it to the Senior Center. I arrived early and was able to get seating for the sliced turkey and vegetable lunch. Two others came late and had to watch us eat. Of of course it was bingo day -- the big day for many seniors. A time to remove the troubles for a game or two.
So as the song says, just leave your troubles in a large brown bag and play, play, play... or at least something like that. With clean air, and friendly people, "who could want for anything more." I enjoy scrabble day on Wednesday and of course chess on Monday.
No matter what you like, you'll find the flavor of your choice at the new Senior Center
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