Those under the age of eighteen must provide permission from a guardian to read this post. It begins at the downtown Central Library and ends inside Long Beach...and later Westminster.
Hope Street is the southern exit for the Los Angeles Public Central Library. Outside now, I buy a coke at the Market Café for shade and get ready for my trip back to Huntington Beach. The downtown temperatures register eight today. I head towards Seventh Street and the Blue Line Trolley..
Earlier inside the library, I posted a few pictures from the Chicago Tribune of August of 1940. Inside that issue on the front pages, it appeared that Hitler had a new weapon to aid an army ready to channel it and invade England. Bombs hit major cities as there was little hope for peace.
But only a few cared. August meant the College All Star Game. The best collegians football players would go up against Green Bay Packers. Moneys from these games went to crippled children hospitals. Polio and infantile paralysis were the scourge of the times. Archie Ward was he editor of the Chicago Tribune who brought the games to Soldier Field. Schindler had told him that his Dad retired as a Captain n the British Navy.
But after my research I needed time to finish my Panda Express meal, bought inside the library. The buildings toward over me and the slight westerly flow gave me a serene feeling that the Surf City just could not provide. But it was two o'clock and time to return to reality, oh shucks.
I remove a quarter and a dime from my pocket and tap my card in the machine. Before rush hour, it is thirty five cents to return to Long Beach for a senior. I tap my card again at a turn-style
and head down an escalator to the platform for the Expo and Long Beach lines.
A few homeless stake out their seats as I remove a People magazine and take a north side seat headed to Long Beach. Still it upsets me that the writers of the rag the Register did not print any of the football exploits of Ambrose Schindler who had a hand in two victories against Ohio State in both 1937 and 1938...There Cotton Bowl game is scheduled for today.
The train lurches forward to the first stop, the :Pico station. I relax in the knowledge that my book will compete with the best biographies ever published. Earlier in the day, I had provided copies of my Ohio Chapter to the Manager of the U.S.C. book store. To my chagrin, the campus was closed for the week. On the seats in back of me, a middle age girl tells her friend that the connection to the Green Line will return her to Redondo Beach. A speaker comes on as it generally does on each trip to Long Beach, so unsafe that the police never enter these cars.
"Please report any touching, indecent exposure...Also don't buy from anybody and keep valuables close to you...Thank you."
I ignore a radio that plays rap music and read my magazine. I peak at the downtown skyline and at :Pico station, two new buildings are going up to the heavens. I have never seen so many tall cranes! I take a sip of my coke when I hear a shrill noise
"Chargers for sell...Get your chargers!"
One passenger buys one and at the next stop, another vendor comes aboard at the L.A.Trade Tech station.
"Cold drinks, Doritos. candy, all for a dollar."
In a trance, I ignore the travesty on the train and focus at the stores on Washington now as we head to the San Pedro Station. Graffiti covers most of these small buildings as their day had been gone a long time ago. Must have been grand living downtown then. I dream about settling downtown as the underground transportation and tall buildings make it exciting.. Besides, U.S.C. and the Central Library are a few blocks away.
The coke bottle is finished as the train swerves onto Long Beach and sallies forth to Firestone, Watts towers, and finally to Anaheim and downtown. I feel refreshed since I did not driven at all today. The 91 bus on Fifth takes me to my bus stop on Seventh, across from the VA building. There is nothing like seeing downtown L.A. and I get a rush of energy. I grab a red vine from my Trader Joe bag and wait for the 560 Westminster bus.
I am totally relaxed and get off at Magnolia. On the corner is my Vietnamese fish market. It is large and I pick out a two pound Perch. Another is ahead of me and he has about seven fish being cut up with the inners removed. Besides the Perch, I buy some ice berg lettuce and also large navel orange. My #33 bus will arrive soon to return me to Garfield.
HAPPY NEW YEAR.
Friday, December 29, 2017
Tuesday, December 19, 2017
The Life and Times of s of Amby Schindler
It is only fitting that I write about the greatest athlete to come out of San Diego and play for the Trojans in the late 30's in the eve of the game against the Ohio State Buckeyes.
Those who wish an attachment for the 37 and 38 Ohio State games can send me e mails to me ...The following notes of the 1936 game against the Bruins of U.C.L.A. will be provided here. A knee injury prevented the 100 year old Schindler from suiting up for the game against their cross town rivals, U.C.L.A.
"I missed the last two games of the 1937 season so I sat on the bench wearing in my civvies. It appeared the game was in the bag while I walked across the field with my crutches and turned around before exiting through a tunnel to witness a long pass to the unguarded Herschel for a long touchdown."
'I returned to the bench and asked our coach if I could suit up. It appeared that Lansdell, my replacement, didn't listen to Jones in the locker room as Hershel was his new assignment. I decided to watch the game until the end which we finally won. Lansdell was caught grazing in their backfield when he turned around to see that his man had gone the distance for a touchdown"
"Kenny Washington, the Bruin quarterback, was the best gun- slinger that I had ever seen. He had flicked the ball with little effort over 60 yards and hit his man in the eye. He was also one hell of a runner and played great defense.
My e-mail is chicagoallstar@gmail.com
Those who wish an attachment for the 37 and 38 Ohio State games can send me e mails to me ...The following notes of the 1936 game against the Bruins of U.C.L.A. will be provided here. A knee injury prevented the 100 year old Schindler from suiting up for the game against their cross town rivals, U.C.L.A.
"I missed the last two games of the 1937 season so I sat on the bench wearing in my civvies. It appeared the game was in the bag while I walked across the field with my crutches and turned around before exiting through a tunnel to witness a long pass to the unguarded Herschel for a long touchdown."
'I returned to the bench and asked our coach if I could suit up. It appeared that Lansdell, my replacement, didn't listen to Jones in the locker room as Hershel was his new assignment. I decided to watch the game until the end which we finally won. Lansdell was caught grazing in their backfield when he turned around to see that his man had gone the distance for a touchdown"
"Kenny Washington, the Bruin quarterback, was the best gun- slinger that I had ever seen. He had flicked the ball with little effort over 60 yards and hit his man in the eye. He was also one hell of a runner and played great defense.
My e-mail is chicagoallstar@gmail.com
Saturday, December 16, 2017
A Pomeranian Visits Surf City
"The tall and leave room...thanks"
Just sat down at the Waterfront Hilton on P.C.H. and peaked at the Los Angles Times just after I had dropped two jars of honey and half and half into my coffee. Saw that Trump would probably try to stop the ties between him and Russia by firing the chief investigator when out of the corner of my eye a lady dressed in black pants pushed a baby carriage my way.
On closer examination, discovered that it was a dog. But what a dog! With white hair and large ears that worked as an antenna, it searched me up and down. I just had to ask the lady in black.
"Excuse me, but what kind of a dog is that...it is lovely."
"A Pomeranian," with a warm smile that evoked further discourse.
She stopped and I examined further the dog who owned a long pointed nose with lovably blue eyes.
"How old is it?"
"Nine."
"Where did you buy it?"
"Didn't. I had visited my Mom's family in Tulsa, Oklahoma. She had died of Rheumatoid Arthritis and a school friend called and told me about a Pomeranian at the pound who was about to be put down."
"I took it from the pound and somehow bought a ticket for it on American, Dog class. It must have made an impression since American did not ticket me for five month old dog."
"Is this your first dog?"
"Grew up with dogs. Made up my mind that Rusty would become my child and my engineer husband agreed....Name is Trina and used to live in Long Beach....Here for a medical convention the doctors are our guests.
"What do you feed it?"
" Rusty has an enlarge pancreas and we need to feed it special food...Live in Mission Vallejo now. ."
"Do you mind if I use your name in my blog?" "No go right ahead and glad to meet you. Where are you headed."
"To the pool. a trainer is going to teach Rusty to ride a surf board."
She left and I looked at the Sport's pages of the Times. My pocket watch told me it was time to go go to the bus stop below as the number 25 would be dropping my off on Main, on a damp cool day, a day to walk a dog.
Just sat down at the Waterfront Hilton on P.C.H. and peaked at the Los Angles Times just after I had dropped two jars of honey and half and half into my coffee. Saw that Trump would probably try to stop the ties between him and Russia by firing the chief investigator when out of the corner of my eye a lady dressed in black pants pushed a baby carriage my way.
On closer examination, discovered that it was a dog. But what a dog! With white hair and large ears that worked as an antenna, it searched me up and down. I just had to ask the lady in black.
"Excuse me, but what kind of a dog is that...it is lovely."
"A Pomeranian," with a warm smile that evoked further discourse.
She stopped and I examined further the dog who owned a long pointed nose with lovably blue eyes.
"How old is it?"
"Nine."
"Where did you buy it?"
"Didn't. I had visited my Mom's family in Tulsa, Oklahoma. She had died of Rheumatoid Arthritis and a school friend called and told me about a Pomeranian at the pound who was about to be put down."
"I took it from the pound and somehow bought a ticket for it on American, Dog class. It must have made an impression since American did not ticket me for five month old dog."
"Is this your first dog?"
"Grew up with dogs. Made up my mind that Rusty would become my child and my engineer husband agreed....Name is Trina and used to live in Long Beach....Here for a medical convention the doctors are our guests.
"What do you feed it?"
" Rusty has an enlarge pancreas and we need to feed it special food...Live in Mission Vallejo now. ."
"Do you mind if I use your name in my blog?" "No go right ahead and glad to meet you. Where are you headed."
"To the pool. a trainer is going to teach Rusty to ride a surf board."
She left and I looked at the Sport's pages of the Times. My pocket watch told me it was time to go go to the bus stop below as the number 25 would be dropping my off on Main, on a damp cool day, a day to walk a dog.
Friday, December 15, 2017
My Great Escape
It's great to lie back and leave the world behind. A retaining wall separates the sand from the bike path from the beach. The Great Escape, about 10 Hungarian Jews who fled Budapest in the nick of time before the war is my , is my food while I enjoy the four o'clock breeze. My sun block is the retaining wall and serves as my bed stand. I prop my head up and lie down. My lungs relax and I can breath again.
The number one across from the Waterfront Hilton took me three stops to my exit. Homelessness is pervasive on this bus. Black bags, knap sacks and depressive looks greeted me before my exit. The Mexican bus driver is stoic and has no smile for me or for the man who boarded after me. Bags and bodies are strewn everywhere. Some appear dead, and I feel lucky to have s roof over my head.
"Didn't you see me? What is your hurry you f..."
The bus driver does not react to the man with three full bags. They are his lives possessions. He will sleep at a shelter or find a store front to place his sleeping bag tonight. With the Santa Ana's it is clear without a hint of rain in the air.
My #33 bus will come at the entrance of the Magnolia and P.C.H.stop in about forty minutes. In between glances of the book, I enjoy watching the bikers. It is their way to unwind from a hectic day. Some are built for two or even three to ride them
In back of me the mechanics of volleyball are taught to a college from the Harbor. I listen in while I sit on a small retaining wall with the Catalina mountains and a beautiful orange and yellow hue as the sun begins its descent into tomorrow as my back drop. The instructor is strict as she tells her student how to bump the ball.
"Spread your legs, and get them close to ground....Good but even lower!"
She throws the marble to her pupil and the pupil leans to one side hitting an angular pellet.
"Told you to stay down, and not move your legs. Point and lift the gall with your arms parallel to each other.
Now as a volleyball guru I know that staying down and letting the body energize the arms is the way to bump the ball...but I see that my number 33 bus has arrived. I say good by to the beach and head to Von's off of Atlantic.
Vons' Market is my favorite market for meat when on sell. Juan, their butcher told me that a New York cut would be on sell for three ninety five a pound. I buy three of them and some greens and sit next to the register and watch the whales cart their many groceries out the door. Why some have filled two, yes two shopping carts, and their bodies show it.
Buy now, got to grill my steaks, medium well...if you please.
The number one across from the Waterfront Hilton took me three stops to my exit. Homelessness is pervasive on this bus. Black bags, knap sacks and depressive looks greeted me before my exit. The Mexican bus driver is stoic and has no smile for me or for the man who boarded after me. Bags and bodies are strewn everywhere. Some appear dead, and I feel lucky to have s roof over my head.
"Didn't you see me? What is your hurry you f..."
The bus driver does not react to the man with three full bags. They are his lives possessions. He will sleep at a shelter or find a store front to place his sleeping bag tonight. With the Santa Ana's it is clear without a hint of rain in the air.
My #33 bus will come at the entrance of the Magnolia and P.C.H.stop in about forty minutes. In between glances of the book, I enjoy watching the bikers. It is their way to unwind from a hectic day. Some are built for two or even three to ride them
In back of me the mechanics of volleyball are taught to a college from the Harbor. I listen in while I sit on a small retaining wall with the Catalina mountains and a beautiful orange and yellow hue as the sun begins its descent into tomorrow as my back drop. The instructor is strict as she tells her student how to bump the ball.
"Spread your legs, and get them close to ground....Good but even lower!"
She throws the marble to her pupil and the pupil leans to one side hitting an angular pellet.
"Told you to stay down, and not move your legs. Point and lift the gall with your arms parallel to each other.
Now as a volleyball guru I know that staying down and letting the body energize the arms is the way to bump the ball...but I see that my number 33 bus has arrived. I say good by to the beach and head to Von's off of Atlantic.
Vons' Market is my favorite market for meat when on sell. Juan, their butcher told me that a New York cut would be on sell for three ninety five a pound. I buy three of them and some greens and sit next to the register and watch the whales cart their many groceries out the door. Why some have filled two, yes two shopping carts, and their bodies show it.
Buy now, got to grill my steaks, medium well...if you please.
Saturday, December 9, 2017
A Xmas Story
Lady Luck was on my side a few months ago...I was at the end of my rope. The Lady in the Cage pushed me to the edge of sanity. Helen had placed a letter on my door a few months earlier that led me to assume that I would be given my third year lease....In fact a line underlined in yellow, that I would need to visit her cage to sign my extended lease.
When I arrived at her window in back of the front door, she apologized that the "new lease had not been ready, and to come back later."
I really did not wish to remain there since I never felt at home there, and under the watchful eye of Lady Helen. But as you will see, Lady Luck won out in the end.
Even before I landed at the Five Points Senior Apartments, I had been forewarned by other managers that the corner property on the corner of Florida and Main had a bad history of management. They warned me that anyone who entered would be too happy to leave with their lives. The property had history of poor management, and apartments were always available there. .but the homeless can't be too choosy and besides, my daughter wished a roof over the head land not lean on Motel Six when my pockets were full.
I believe it was July of 2015 that I co-signed the lease papers which included a parking stall in a secure area. Helen forgot to give me a copy of the lease and also the key to the room. Reluctantly with persistence she gave me both without so much as an apology...a word not in her vocabulary.
A hoard of flies attacked me that first week. Kept awake for a few nights, I found a crack in the bedroom screen window. That fixed, as well as a dirty patio compressor, the door was hard to open. I was attacked by flies my first week there and noticed a problem with the door. The bedroom screen had a crack in the corner, and finally the first of five maintenance men entered and produced a new screen and cleaned the compressor of the outside A/C. I began to feel happy and my chronic bronchitis began to disappear.
One morning I felt like taking my breakfast of eggs and bacon outside to eat and get some fresh air. Just as I walked down the hall from room 1001, she came running towards me and walked in front of me.
"The only place you can eat is in your room." She came towards me, like my mom did as a kid with a broom. Gripping my plate, I fled outside with the mad dog at my heals. I turned when I reached Florida Street and noticed she had returned to her glass cage. I had to keep my emotions in check, somehow but deep down, knew it was not a lady, but the devil
October of the same month, we had one of our worst ever Santa Ana's, where the temperature hit one hundred. I felt like heading to the third floor and reading a book...since I knew that there was a A/C unit inside the library. there....wrong. it had been disconnected so I returned to my room. The door was ajar and would not budge. Finally It opened and called Lady Helen to my room.
"George, the owners disconnected the A/C's since the "Old People forget to turn them off."
"But I moved in strictly because of the good cold air inside the library.
In her guttural raspy voice she shrugged me off and returned to her cage. I still had trouble with the door and the fist maintenance man tried to skirt the issue by reinstalling a metal bar at the bottom. It didn't work. I approached the cage again and told her of my dilemma.
"Just go out and buy some graphite...yes graphite"
I spent the next day at the Kaiser Clinic on Beach. I was placed in a wheel chair. A doctor prescribed a different inhaler for me. It cost fifty dollars but it worked. In the meantime, A handy man they worked for them years earlier came and inserted a new lock.
Now I must convey to the reader that this writer did not know what neat meant. I was filthy, but with money issues, did not have enough to hire a cleaning lady. My daughter brought me a refrigerator that helped a great deal and I begn to pick up and clean.
In October, I was hit with a family problem and turned to God. My San Diego Rabbi had told me that a cousin had a synagogue on Warner in Huntington Beach. My heart stopped shaking the first five minutes inside this sanctuary. It felt as if for the first time in my life. Hashem was guiding me, since in no way did I see the road anymore. I began to put my life on auto pilot.
But it was a day in February that placed my life in jeopardy. I returned to my car after a brief nap and saw my stall empty. I had been away for not more than two hours and called the police. A Westminster Policeman came and took my report while Danny Rodriguez, the maintenance man, and Mark the Owner ignored us. He remarked that if I had my keys inside the car, somebody must have know it and taken it.
"Your car is in a lot but is not driveable. The car was in a crash and the two inside it ran away" The next day my daughter and I tried to retrieve the car from their station but found out that Mel had to be there to claim it. Mel at the time was in the hospital with double pneumonia.
At the Huntington Beach Police department, I got nowhere. The man who I gave the report to told me that they were too busy and a highway man would come to look at the tapes. I felt pissed and thought the police were stupid. I asked a man named Rocket a few question to confirm how dumb they were.
"Who was the second president of the U.S.?"
"Don't know. I majored in science."
"Who was Einstein?" He never heard of the scientist who discovered the theory of relativity.
A video camera was inside the garage. Lisa, an office manager told me that I could not view the tapes without an officer at my side. That never happened. Danny had asked me if they had found my car the day after.
So I needed to renew my expertise in boarding buses. It took about four buses for me to get to the Kindred Hospital in Santa Ana close to the Santa Ana City College. I can't remember walking so much and nobody at the college ever heard of it...Mel could barely get out of bed but in two months would be cleared to return to the Spartan Pacific Assistant Living Center in Huntington Beach.
A look of what looked like exasperation greeted me as I entered the door off of Main. Helen had reached down for a candy and gave me such a look, as if she had seen the devil.
Helen did not know that this crusty old Jew could bus it to get around. She never apologized or took note that my car had been missing.
About one year after Mel's car had been stolen, an Officer Ricci called me and left a message. To paraphrase it he said "I found something about your stolen car that you might find interesting. You can pick up report number 16-002089 at our precinct...a couple months later, I took the bus to pick up the report.
A desk lady told me that they would need the approval of a supervisor before the report would be handed to me...When I returned a few days later, an audacious policeman told me that the case had been closed. And I will never forget his pungent words and the way he administered them.
"Sir, the case has been closed! Unless you saw the one who took the car, we can't do anything for you ."
I was mad as hell, but no cop can tell a Jew what is the truth. That night, I was visited by my friend, a squirrel. It tapped on the bedroom window where his home used to be in a fir tree. The complex spent thousands on landscape and removed the tree next to my window. The squirrel too was beside himself, ever since Matt, the owner removed his tree and spent thousands on flower and grass, no doubt have more patrons sign a lease at the Five Points. He even advertised an entire page in the Register.
"Hey George, got something to tell you. But first give me some of the leftover tuna...thanks."
"Well Jerry, out with it. You woke me up for what?"
"I know who stole your car. My wife Betty told me that she heard through the grape vine that Danny Rodriguez had taken it on orders from his boss, Helen. You know that he was just fired for having a party inside Marcia's apartments when she had gone away. Marcia had a camera that proved it.
I received a letter in September stating that all I needed to come to her cage and sign the new lease. Shaded in yellow were some of the important words. When I had the courage to come to the office she spoke in her raspy cigarette voice.
"No quite ready...Come back later."
A trip to her cage felt like a trip to the gallows during the French revolution. It is hard to smile when the swordsman has an ax ready to remove your head. And so it felt going to her cage. She never smiled or said "hello". A couple of days later, another one inside the cage told me she was on a vacation.
One late afternoon just as I was doffing off to sleep for my senior citizen nap, I heard a noise. It sounded louder so I went to the door and opened it a bit. There stood the Lady in the Cage.
"Ill be nice to you George...Given you sixty days to leave."
Barely catching my breath, I took the notice as if in a dream. When I came to my senses, I put on clothes and walked to her cage. I showed her my neat apartment, but it did no good.
"George, we have a high class of people who live here, and you are far below it. and I don't like Cockroaches."
Of course living month to month, I needed my retirement check as a months rent if I found a new apartment. My daughter looked for me and told me about the Beach Inn in Fountain Valley. One early morning, I heard a tapping on my bedroom window. It was Tommy the squirrel. I had befriended it until her fir tree was removed replaced with un-needed landscaping.
"George, you are lucky to have been shown the door. Most of my family died because of the putrid water. But I will help you all the way since you shared your bagels with us. Make an appointment to see the Beach Inn. It is far from perfect but is a first step in freedom. This place means death for you."
I made an appointment to see the Beach Inn on Magnolia, not far from the Fountain Valley swamplands. Lola seemed distressed as a friend had been killed in Las Vegas. She seemed to like me and had me sign many papers. Her boss, a Jewish owner, peered in on a video and wished that I add a co-signer. My daughter did sign the lease as a co-renter.
I knew that I couldn't come up with the $1,650 a month rent with a double security deposit. The streets and the Motel Six was looking as my last resort. Again I heard a tapping at my bedroom window.
"Go to your mail box. You will find a check that will provide the needed extra security deposit."
In the middle of the night, I strode to my mailbox and to my delight saw a small envelope. Inside was the money for the extra security deposit. The next day, I rode three buses to get to her location off of Talbert Street. Lola was busy and wished to show an apartment to q young couple. I waited in the billiard room next to the office. It seemed like hours but she did finally return.
"George, I am going to dispense with the credit check. Just give me the first month's and the two security deposits."
I removed a wad of Big Ben Bills from my rubber band and counted thirty six if then for her. She smiled and took the bills.
"Here is the keys to the apartment along with the garage and mail box key. Welcome to our apartment."
Exhausted and hungry, I walked across the street to Taco Bell and celebrated. I had a few bucks left for the rest of the month but now clutched the key in my hand. Somehow I felt alive again as this thorny one in the cage could not rumple my life anymore. Yet I still had to stay there until my stuff was removed to the new place.
I had been placing things inside boxes and throwing out a lot of stuff. It was me against the world. After two weeks, I just could not stand it anymore. The building reeked of her witchlike look. Without furniture, I walked to the bus stop and made a last call.
"Lola, do you know of any movers."
"Yes I will get back to you George."
When I arrived at her window in back of the front door, she apologized that the "new lease had not been ready, and to come back later."
I really did not wish to remain there since I never felt at home there, and under the watchful eye of Lady Helen. But as you will see, Lady Luck won out in the end.
Even before I landed at the Five Points Senior Apartments, I had been forewarned by other managers that the corner property on the corner of Florida and Main had a bad history of management. They warned me that anyone who entered would be too happy to leave with their lives. The property had history of poor management, and apartments were always available there. .but the homeless can't be too choosy and besides, my daughter wished a roof over the head land not lean on Motel Six when my pockets were full.
I believe it was July of 2015 that I co-signed the lease papers which included a parking stall in a secure area. Helen forgot to give me a copy of the lease and also the key to the room. Reluctantly with persistence she gave me both without so much as an apology...a word not in her vocabulary.
A hoard of flies attacked me that first week. Kept awake for a few nights, I found a crack in the bedroom screen window. That fixed, as well as a dirty patio compressor, the door was hard to open. I was attacked by flies my first week there and noticed a problem with the door. The bedroom screen had a crack in the corner, and finally the first of five maintenance men entered and produced a new screen and cleaned the compressor of the outside A/C. I began to feel happy and my chronic bronchitis began to disappear.
One morning I felt like taking my breakfast of eggs and bacon outside to eat and get some fresh air. Just as I walked down the hall from room 1001, she came running towards me and walked in front of me.
"The only place you can eat is in your room." She came towards me, like my mom did as a kid with a broom. Gripping my plate, I fled outside with the mad dog at my heals. I turned when I reached Florida Street and noticed she had returned to her glass cage. I had to keep my emotions in check, somehow but deep down, knew it was not a lady, but the devil
October of the same month, we had one of our worst ever Santa Ana's, where the temperature hit one hundred. I felt like heading to the third floor and reading a book...since I knew that there was a A/C unit inside the library. there....wrong. it had been disconnected so I returned to my room. The door was ajar and would not budge. Finally It opened and called Lady Helen to my room.
"George, the owners disconnected the A/C's since the "Old People forget to turn them off."
"But I moved in strictly because of the good cold air inside the library.
In her guttural raspy voice she shrugged me off and returned to her cage. I still had trouble with the door and the fist maintenance man tried to skirt the issue by reinstalling a metal bar at the bottom. It didn't work. I approached the cage again and told her of my dilemma.
"Just go out and buy some graphite...yes graphite"
I spent the next day at the Kaiser Clinic on Beach. I was placed in a wheel chair. A doctor prescribed a different inhaler for me. It cost fifty dollars but it worked. In the meantime, A handy man they worked for them years earlier came and inserted a new lock.
Now I must convey to the reader that this writer did not know what neat meant. I was filthy, but with money issues, did not have enough to hire a cleaning lady. My daughter brought me a refrigerator that helped a great deal and I begn to pick up and clean.
In October, I was hit with a family problem and turned to God. My San Diego Rabbi had told me that a cousin had a synagogue on Warner in Huntington Beach. My heart stopped shaking the first five minutes inside this sanctuary. It felt as if for the first time in my life. Hashem was guiding me, since in no way did I see the road anymore. I began to put my life on auto pilot.
But it was a day in February that placed my life in jeopardy. I returned to my car after a brief nap and saw my stall empty. I had been away for not more than two hours and called the police. A Westminster Policeman came and took my report while Danny Rodriguez, the maintenance man, and Mark the Owner ignored us. He remarked that if I had my keys inside the car, somebody must have know it and taken it.
"Your car is in a lot but is not driveable. The car was in a crash and the two inside it ran away" The next day my daughter and I tried to retrieve the car from their station but found out that Mel had to be there to claim it. Mel at the time was in the hospital with double pneumonia.
At the Huntington Beach Police department, I got nowhere. The man who I gave the report to told me that they were too busy and a highway man would come to look at the tapes. I felt pissed and thought the police were stupid. I asked a man named Rocket a few question to confirm how dumb they were.
"Who was the second president of the U.S.?"
"Don't know. I majored in science."
"Who was Einstein?" He never heard of the scientist who discovered the theory of relativity.
A video camera was inside the garage. Lisa, an office manager told me that I could not view the tapes without an officer at my side. That never happened. Danny had asked me if they had found my car the day after.
So I needed to renew my expertise in boarding buses. It took about four buses for me to get to the Kindred Hospital in Santa Ana close to the Santa Ana City College. I can't remember walking so much and nobody at the college ever heard of it...Mel could barely get out of bed but in two months would be cleared to return to the Spartan Pacific Assistant Living Center in Huntington Beach.
A look of what looked like exasperation greeted me as I entered the door off of Main. Helen had reached down for a candy and gave me such a look, as if she had seen the devil.
Helen did not know that this crusty old Jew could bus it to get around. She never apologized or took note that my car had been missing.
About one year after Mel's car had been stolen, an Officer Ricci called me and left a message. To paraphrase it he said "I found something about your stolen car that you might find interesting. You can pick up report number 16-002089 at our precinct...a couple months later, I took the bus to pick up the report.
A desk lady told me that they would need the approval of a supervisor before the report would be handed to me...When I returned a few days later, an audacious policeman told me that the case had been closed. And I will never forget his pungent words and the way he administered them.
"Sir, the case has been closed! Unless you saw the one who took the car, we can't do anything for you ."
I was mad as hell, but no cop can tell a Jew what is the truth. That night, I was visited by my friend, a squirrel. It tapped on the bedroom window where his home used to be in a fir tree. The complex spent thousands on landscape and removed the tree next to my window. The squirrel too was beside himself, ever since Matt, the owner removed his tree and spent thousands on flower and grass, no doubt have more patrons sign a lease at the Five Points. He even advertised an entire page in the Register.
"Hey George, got something to tell you. But first give me some of the leftover tuna...thanks."
"Well Jerry, out with it. You woke me up for what?"
"I know who stole your car. My wife Betty told me that she heard through the grape vine that Danny Rodriguez had taken it on orders from his boss, Helen. You know that he was just fired for having a party inside Marcia's apartments when she had gone away. Marcia had a camera that proved it.
I received a letter in September stating that all I needed to come to her cage and sign the new lease. Shaded in yellow were some of the important words. When I had the courage to come to the office she spoke in her raspy cigarette voice.
"No quite ready...Come back later."
A trip to her cage felt like a trip to the gallows during the French revolution. It is hard to smile when the swordsman has an ax ready to remove your head. And so it felt going to her cage. She never smiled or said "hello". A couple of days later, another one inside the cage told me she was on a vacation.
One late afternoon just as I was doffing off to sleep for my senior citizen nap, I heard a noise. It sounded louder so I went to the door and opened it a bit. There stood the Lady in the Cage.
"Ill be nice to you George...Given you sixty days to leave."
Barely catching my breath, I took the notice as if in a dream. When I came to my senses, I put on clothes and walked to her cage. I showed her my neat apartment, but it did no good.
"George, we have a high class of people who live here, and you are far below it. and I don't like Cockroaches."
Of course living month to month, I needed my retirement check as a months rent if I found a new apartment. My daughter looked for me and told me about the Beach Inn in Fountain Valley. One early morning, I heard a tapping on my bedroom window. It was Tommy the squirrel. I had befriended it until her fir tree was removed replaced with un-needed landscaping.
"George, you are lucky to have been shown the door. Most of my family died because of the putrid water. But I will help you all the way since you shared your bagels with us. Make an appointment to see the Beach Inn. It is far from perfect but is a first step in freedom. This place means death for you."
I made an appointment to see the Beach Inn on Magnolia, not far from the Fountain Valley swamplands. Lola seemed distressed as a friend had been killed in Las Vegas. She seemed to like me and had me sign many papers. Her boss, a Jewish owner, peered in on a video and wished that I add a co-signer. My daughter did sign the lease as a co-renter.
I knew that I couldn't come up with the $1,650 a month rent with a double security deposit. The streets and the Motel Six was looking as my last resort. Again I heard a tapping at my bedroom window.
"Go to your mail box. You will find a check that will provide the needed extra security deposit."
In the middle of the night, I strode to my mailbox and to my delight saw a small envelope. Inside was the money for the extra security deposit. The next day, I rode three buses to get to her location off of Talbert Street. Lola was busy and wished to show an apartment to q young couple. I waited in the billiard room next to the office. It seemed like hours but she did finally return.
"George, I am going to dispense with the credit check. Just give me the first month's and the two security deposits."
I removed a wad of Big Ben Bills from my rubber band and counted thirty six if then for her. She smiled and took the bills.
"Here is the keys to the apartment along with the garage and mail box key. Welcome to our apartment."
Exhausted and hungry, I walked across the street to Taco Bell and celebrated. I had a few bucks left for the rest of the month but now clutched the key in my hand. Somehow I felt alive again as this thorny one in the cage could not rumple my life anymore. Yet I still had to stay there until my stuff was removed to the new place.
I had been placing things inside boxes and throwing out a lot of stuff. It was me against the world. After two weeks, I just could not stand it anymore. The building reeked of her witchlike look. Without furniture, I walked to the bus stop and made a last call.
"Lola, do you know of any movers."
"Yes I will get back to you George."
Saturday, December 2, 2017
Jackie Robinson as a football player
"Bill me for three donuts also...and where, may I ask are the papers?
"To your right and do you wish for a bag?
I placed the roast, orange, potato, and onion inside my knapsack and took a seat next to the Starbucks at the Von's. Am at the store off of Magnolia and Atlantic.
To the left of the sport's page was a picture of the retired Dodger broadcaster. He was at the stadium as a statue of Jackie Robinson was to be unveiled showing him as a football player. It reminded me of my notes about Jackie I had taken from the Pasadena library and what Schindler told me. it reminded me of what I had written about the four letter man from Altadena, California
In 1937 played for a local team in Pasadena to play a baseball game against the Chicago White Sox. Jimmy Dykes, their manager, became awestruck while watching Robinson play against his team. He corralled Jackie and told him that he would become a great player if only he had been white. Pasadena Star News also pictured Joe Louis, a heavy weight fighter, playing the harmonica while he brought a band of softball players for a game. Jackie Robinson received 24 letters while at U.C.L.A and also defeated a local handball champion even though he had never played the sport in his life.
Schindler mentioned that Robinson had been in Jail prior to the 1939 game against the Trojans but I found nothing to colaberate this tale. Schindler did work for the Los Angeles Sheriff's Department and may have received the news from one of their staff.
A headline in the paper showed big time prejudice reigned in Pasadena as a it stated that a "Negro Thief Given a Long Term. My Dad Harry was pulled over by a cop and jailed because his name was Goldberg. His Dad Louis heeded to bail him out.
The paper mentioned that Robinson had trouble with the law...or even better, he stood up for his rights. In 1937, Bill Spaulding quipped that his lanky Negro, had a cold and a sprained finger and might miss an upcoming game. He spoke about Kenny Washington. Izzy Cantor or Hal Hirshon would replace him. At the same time, the Trojans prepared for Francis Schmidt and his razzle dazzle style of play against the Trojans and Schindler.
Betty Grable, a movie star known for her legs, must have dazzled them at the Grand Central Station as in all probability the Trojan head coach had sent her there to greet them. Ohio State had clobbered Columbia to the tune of 70-0 before entraining to Southern California.
In other news of in 1939, Culver City was going to shut down gambling dens. Hitler blamed the British and the Jews for an assasination attempt on his life And in the upcoming game, Robinson had a bad knee and Kenny Washington was an outstanding threat and a defensive stalwart. Robinson had a bad knee and didn't suit up. Robinson was rested prior to the U.S.C. game in 1939.
Studabakers and Pontiacs showed strong sells as that month of December, you couldn't buy a Pontiac if you wanted to. 13 football teams remained unbeaten into November of 39 among them were Tennessee, Cornell and some team named Slippery Rock. At the Pan Pacific Auditorium there was skating and badminton and a Dr. James Naismith, the inventor of basketball was fighting for his life.
Cornell Tires were advertising at Pep Boys for $4.65 and a battery for your car was $4.44. Don Dallessandro led the coast league with a .368 batting average and Ripper Collins of the Angels had collected 26 home runs.
In the game at South Bend in 1939, Schindler was moved from quarterback to fullback.
The New York Times mentioned that a license was needed to shoot duck or hunt for deer...None was needed to jail Hebrews or Negroes. (Unedited)
"To your right and do you wish for a bag?
I placed the roast, orange, potato, and onion inside my knapsack and took a seat next to the Starbucks at the Von's. Am at the store off of Magnolia and Atlantic.
To the left of the sport's page was a picture of the retired Dodger broadcaster. He was at the stadium as a statue of Jackie Robinson was to be unveiled showing him as a football player. It reminded me of my notes about Jackie I had taken from the Pasadena library and what Schindler told me. it reminded me of what I had written about the four letter man from Altadena, California
In 1937 played for a local team in Pasadena to play a baseball game against the Chicago White Sox. Jimmy Dykes, their manager, became awestruck while watching Robinson play against his team. He corralled Jackie and told him that he would become a great player if only he had been white. Pasadena Star News also pictured Joe Louis, a heavy weight fighter, playing the harmonica while he brought a band of softball players for a game. Jackie Robinson received 24 letters while at U.C.L.A and also defeated a local handball champion even though he had never played the sport in his life.
Schindler mentioned that Robinson had been in Jail prior to the 1939 game against the Trojans but I found nothing to colaberate this tale. Schindler did work for the Los Angeles Sheriff's Department and may have received the news from one of their staff.
A headline in the paper showed big time prejudice reigned in Pasadena as a it stated that a "Negro Thief Given a Long Term. My Dad Harry was pulled over by a cop and jailed because his name was Goldberg. His Dad Louis heeded to bail him out.
The paper mentioned that Robinson had trouble with the law...or even better, he stood up for his rights. In 1937, Bill Spaulding quipped that his lanky Negro, had a cold and a sprained finger and might miss an upcoming game. He spoke about Kenny Washington. Izzy Cantor or Hal Hirshon would replace him. At the same time, the Trojans prepared for Francis Schmidt and his razzle dazzle style of play against the Trojans and Schindler.
Betty Grable, a movie star known for her legs, must have dazzled them at the Grand Central Station as in all probability the Trojan head coach had sent her there to greet them. Ohio State had clobbered Columbia to the tune of 70-0 before entraining to Southern California.
In other news of in 1939, Culver City was going to shut down gambling dens. Hitler blamed the British and the Jews for an assasination attempt on his life And in the upcoming game, Robinson had a bad knee and Kenny Washington was an outstanding threat and a defensive stalwart. Robinson had a bad knee and didn't suit up. Robinson was rested prior to the U.S.C. game in 1939.
Studabakers and Pontiacs showed strong sells as that month of December, you couldn't buy a Pontiac if you wanted to. 13 football teams remained unbeaten into November of 39 among them were Tennessee, Cornell and some team named Slippery Rock. At the Pan Pacific Auditorium there was skating and badminton and a Dr. James Naismith, the inventor of basketball was fighting for his life.
Cornell Tires were advertising at Pep Boys for $4.65 and a battery for your car was $4.44. Don Dallessandro led the coast league with a .368 batting average and Ripper Collins of the Angels had collected 26 home runs.
In the game at South Bend in 1939, Schindler was moved from quarterback to fullback.
The New York Times mentioned that a license was needed to shoot duck or hunt for deer...None was needed to jail Hebrews or Negroes. (Unedited)
Monday, November 20, 2017
Frank Sinatra Sings Beverly Drive
"Happy Birthday to you...Happy Birthday to you...."
Nate and Al's had a birthday party today. No it was not about their 72 years on this touristy blvd, but Angela's birthday. She has been the host of this historic eatery for eighteen years and has memorized each name by heart with a contagious smile.
"Thank you. This table will do."
It is a festive occasion today, as outside the Benny Goodman band is playing and old Blue Eyes is singing Strangers in the Night. Every tavble is now taken.
"I will have the matzo ball soup please. and of course with pickles and rye toast....Thanks."
The waiter set the pickles and water down and I began to munch them when a guest arrived to my table.
"Why...you are not...no way...are you Frank Sinatra?"
"Yes George, I am..and am here on a mission. I am told that some witch evicted you from the Five Points Senior Apartments. Is that right?"
"Well, Frankie. I heard your voice but no how in hell you arrived in Beverly Hills."
"Well George, New York is not my only town. Why I love Beverly Hills too. .I did a lot of singing at the Palomar and the Brown Derby ages ago. But first, what mischief can we make to rid ourselves of that manager of your old apartments.
"Well she hates music. I just know that if she heard you sing non stop for a day, she would expire."
Just then, Dean Martin joined us. He looked as if he hadn't aged a bit and carried a dry martini with him. He kissed Frankie on the cheek and took up a seat.
"Was this I hear about New York...Why San Francisco is my kind of town...He George, order me a eggs Benedict with and a black coffee. ..Thanks.
"Oder more pickles and let me sing Witchcraft for you." (not edited)
Nate and Al's had a birthday party today. No it was not about their 72 years on this touristy blvd, but Angela's birthday. She has been the host of this historic eatery for eighteen years and has memorized each name by heart with a contagious smile.
"Thank you. This table will do."
It is a festive occasion today, as outside the Benny Goodman band is playing and old Blue Eyes is singing Strangers in the Night. Every tavble is now taken.
"I will have the matzo ball soup please. and of course with pickles and rye toast....Thanks."
The waiter set the pickles and water down and I began to munch them when a guest arrived to my table.
"Why...you are not...no way...are you Frank Sinatra?"
"Yes George, I am..and am here on a mission. I am told that some witch evicted you from the Five Points Senior Apartments. Is that right?"
"Well, Frankie. I heard your voice but no how in hell you arrived in Beverly Hills."
"Well George, New York is not my only town. Why I love Beverly Hills too. .I did a lot of singing at the Palomar and the Brown Derby ages ago. But first, what mischief can we make to rid ourselves of that manager of your old apartments.
"Well she hates music. I just know that if she heard you sing non stop for a day, she would expire."
Just then, Dean Martin joined us. He looked as if he hadn't aged a bit and carried a dry martini with him. He kissed Frankie on the cheek and took up a seat.
"Was this I hear about New York...Why San Francisco is my kind of town...He George, order me a eggs Benedict with and a black coffee. ..Thanks.
"Oder more pickles and let me sing Witchcraft for you." (not edited)
A Super Bug in Los Angeles
"Yes, Sally, be right over!"
At the Marriott Hotel now, I knocked on room 2007. Sally opened the door, and told me that she had suffered excruciating pain, worse than labor. Her daughter Ida Rose was still asleep.
"Your symptoms sound like my brother's a few years back..Mel had a his bladder removed and survived but almost died with what a nurse called E-Coli disease. At the Anaheim rehab hospital Mel could not take any food or liquid without throwing it up. How long have you been nauseous Sally."
"For about three days now. It feels like a beach ball rolling back and forth inside my stomach. I have not been able to sleep a wink, and when I do fall asleep, my daughter awakes me. I ven went to emergency on Wednesday and they found nothing wrong although they did take a swab sample from my nose.
"What you say we go to the U.C.L.A emergency hospital. Let me call a taxi while you get Ida Rose dressed."
The Westwood hospital was packed with at least fifty people inside the E.R. Many were homeless and it felt unsafe to sit next to any of them for fear of coming down with Hepatitis, Whooping cough or T.B. While living in San Diego, I found those from across the border who entered San Diego harbored several diseases.
After checking her vital signs and taking a urine sample and blood test, a nurse took us to a room, It was not too easy since we had a toddler with us. Sally put a patient's gown on and we waited for the doctor. Finally a doctor Berry entered. He resembled a black bear with large eyes and dark black hairy eye brows
"See that you have a pain in the abdomen. So far the tests results show that your kidneys are fine and there does not seem to be anything out of the ordinary." I sat on the side as he poked around her belly and back. He told us that he would return which he did in about five minutes.
The sample from the nose show that you have a virus. I will return a little later but will have you take an I.V to replenish the water.
It appeared that the I.V. was not working so I got a nurse to enter and she told us that the arm must be flat for the drips to fall...Soon the drips fell...At about eleven the nurse brought another bag, and hooked it up to the same IV.
"Sally is very low on Potassium It should take a few hours for this one as Potassium comes down a lot slower than the other one." Sally was totally exhausted and her daughter slept beside her in the hospital bed. We were there until six and they took another blood sample.
The symptoms remained unchanged the next day, but at least she did not worry about kidney stones and now knew that a "good engine does not run without gas....and water and potassium is that gas."
She still had all of the symptoms the next day but had more energy, enough to go to C.V.S down the street for potassium pills and a walk down Jerusalem Street or or Pico between Beverly Drive and Fairfax.
Ida Rose enjoyed my arms as she was too heavy for Sally to carry. We met the proprietor of a hew thrift shop who
"What a gorgeous baby. Are you the father?"
"No, must a friend of Sally. This is Sally."
"My name if Goldman. I am half Persian and half Israeli. My Dad left Tehran many years ago and immigrated to the United States. He sold antiquities to the big dealers. I have had this shop now for one year....Buy any ten items and each is one dollar.
"Maybe next time. I was hungry and saw Nick's, a block west of Pico. It was packed with enthusiastic eaters so we waited. Baby Ida was waving and smiling to all. One couple were so entrapped by her gorgeous green eyes that they offered two seats for us.
And what is life without a baby?
At the Marriott Hotel now, I knocked on room 2007. Sally opened the door, and told me that she had suffered excruciating pain, worse than labor. Her daughter Ida Rose was still asleep.
"Your symptoms sound like my brother's a few years back..Mel had a his bladder removed and survived but almost died with what a nurse called E-Coli disease. At the Anaheim rehab hospital Mel could not take any food or liquid without throwing it up. How long have you been nauseous Sally."
"For about three days now. It feels like a beach ball rolling back and forth inside my stomach. I have not been able to sleep a wink, and when I do fall asleep, my daughter awakes me. I ven went to emergency on Wednesday and they found nothing wrong although they did take a swab sample from my nose.
"What you say we go to the U.C.L.A emergency hospital. Let me call a taxi while you get Ida Rose dressed."
The Westwood hospital was packed with at least fifty people inside the E.R. Many were homeless and it felt unsafe to sit next to any of them for fear of coming down with Hepatitis, Whooping cough or T.B. While living in San Diego, I found those from across the border who entered San Diego harbored several diseases.
After checking her vital signs and taking a urine sample and blood test, a nurse took us to a room, It was not too easy since we had a toddler with us. Sally put a patient's gown on and we waited for the doctor. Finally a doctor Berry entered. He resembled a black bear with large eyes and dark black hairy eye brows
"See that you have a pain in the abdomen. So far the tests results show that your kidneys are fine and there does not seem to be anything out of the ordinary." I sat on the side as he poked around her belly and back. He told us that he would return which he did in about five minutes.
The sample from the nose show that you have a virus. I will return a little later but will have you take an I.V to replenish the water.
It appeared that the I.V. was not working so I got a nurse to enter and she told us that the arm must be flat for the drips to fall...Soon the drips fell...At about eleven the nurse brought another bag, and hooked it up to the same IV.
"Sally is very low on Potassium It should take a few hours for this one as Potassium comes down a lot slower than the other one." Sally was totally exhausted and her daughter slept beside her in the hospital bed. We were there until six and they took another blood sample.
The symptoms remained unchanged the next day, but at least she did not worry about kidney stones and now knew that a "good engine does not run without gas....and water and potassium is that gas."
She still had all of the symptoms the next day but had more energy, enough to go to C.V.S down the street for potassium pills and a walk down Jerusalem Street or or Pico between Beverly Drive and Fairfax.
Ida Rose enjoyed my arms as she was too heavy for Sally to carry. We met the proprietor of a hew thrift shop who
"What a gorgeous baby. Are you the father?"
"No, must a friend of Sally. This is Sally."
"My name if Goldman. I am half Persian and half Israeli. My Dad left Tehran many years ago and immigrated to the United States. He sold antiquities to the big dealers. I have had this shop now for one year....Buy any ten items and each is one dollar.
"Maybe next time. I was hungry and saw Nick's, a block west of Pico. It was packed with enthusiastic eaters so we waited. Baby Ida was waving and smiling to all. One couple were so entrapped by her gorgeous green eyes that they offered two seats for us.
And what is life without a baby?
Wednesday, November 15, 2017
Santa Monica Place and Mattel
"Well Sally, the best way to see Los Angeles and its arteries is by bus. I will meet you at the Marriott Pico at about eleven o'clock....must see my daughter at Coffee Bean first."
We met in Henderson City about eight years ago. She worked at the Fiesta Hotel while I took a vacation from L.A. We hung out a few nights together and kept in touch. Her marriage produced Baby Ida Rose Goldberg who she brought along. The hotel is off of Beverly Drive and Pico, the gateway to Beverly Hills and Beverly Wood. I arrived at a little after eleven, after four bus connections and two trains. She waited inside the lobby for me. She hadn't changed one bit, all except now she came with a crawling baby. Her husband was a pit boss at Caesar's Palace and she was a full time mom.
"Why you haven't changed one speck Sally. Sally was a tall dark lady with a permanent smile. We hugged and...Get the baby, she is trying to go outside...Wow? I have never seen a baby crawl so fast."
The number Rapid Blue Seven arrives each thirty minutes. We bought some fresh plums from the Glatt Market and got on the bus. Baby Ida allowed me to hold her while ladies sat beside us. None could get over how penetrating her eyes were. We got off on Fourth and Broadway and walked to Santa Monica place and up the elevator to the Food Court. Up ahead was U.C.L.A.'s Mattel children's play area.
We found a table and I ordered a Persian plate of Pita bread, rice, shish kebab, lamb and chicken for thirteen dollars including drink. Sally ate from my plate and cut off pieces of meat for her baby. Her eight teeth had no trouble devouring the meat
"Did you know that Ruth Handler was my Mom's maid of honor at her wedding? She developed the Barbie Doll and later Ken, using the names of her kids. They developed these dolls in a garage a few blocks down in Beverly Wood. These dolls sprang Mattel into what it is today. Elliot and Ruth owned horses and I met them at Hollywood park several times."
Baby Ida was getting antsy so we took her inside the large play area. The other children were older but as soon as we placed the baby down, she tried to emulate the others. A web of ropes covered the play area and Ida tried to stand and did, but fell time and time again. Eager to copy the older kids, she continued to climb steps or have the ropes carry her higher to no avail. For three hours, she would not leave her play pen. Her eyes, yes her big green eyes implored every kid to play with her -- and some did.
Of course for me, I saw my Mom Edith looking down on us, and even speaking to me. You are doing great and please keep Mel alive. He probably will be looking forward to Derik's Turkey Leg again. I know that the Sea Cliff is a last station before the crematorium but you can do it.
Well Ma, he has again been scheduled for an ear operation to remove the cancerous bump from his ear...but you know it will never happen. I made sure he got spaghetti with meat balls and changed to turkey sandwiches with mustard...You know how he abhors mayonnaise.
If Ruth Handler should be up there, thank her for her play area in Santa Monica Place.
Nuts and bolts for today: I am changing so fast I can't keep up with myself
We met in Henderson City about eight years ago. She worked at the Fiesta Hotel while I took a vacation from L.A. We hung out a few nights together and kept in touch. Her marriage produced Baby Ida Rose Goldberg who she brought along. The hotel is off of Beverly Drive and Pico, the gateway to Beverly Hills and Beverly Wood. I arrived at a little after eleven, after four bus connections and two trains. She waited inside the lobby for me. She hadn't changed one bit, all except now she came with a crawling baby. Her husband was a pit boss at Caesar's Palace and she was a full time mom.
"Why you haven't changed one speck Sally. Sally was a tall dark lady with a permanent smile. We hugged and...Get the baby, she is trying to go outside...Wow? I have never seen a baby crawl so fast."
The number Rapid Blue Seven arrives each thirty minutes. We bought some fresh plums from the Glatt Market and got on the bus. Baby Ida allowed me to hold her while ladies sat beside us. None could get over how penetrating her eyes were. We got off on Fourth and Broadway and walked to Santa Monica place and up the elevator to the Food Court. Up ahead was U.C.L.A.'s Mattel children's play area.
We found a table and I ordered a Persian plate of Pita bread, rice, shish kebab, lamb and chicken for thirteen dollars including drink. Sally ate from my plate and cut off pieces of meat for her baby. Her eight teeth had no trouble devouring the meat
"Did you know that Ruth Handler was my Mom's maid of honor at her wedding? She developed the Barbie Doll and later Ken, using the names of her kids. They developed these dolls in a garage a few blocks down in Beverly Wood. These dolls sprang Mattel into what it is today. Elliot and Ruth owned horses and I met them at Hollywood park several times."
Baby Ida was getting antsy so we took her inside the large play area. The other children were older but as soon as we placed the baby down, she tried to emulate the others. A web of ropes covered the play area and Ida tried to stand and did, but fell time and time again. Eager to copy the older kids, she continued to climb steps or have the ropes carry her higher to no avail. For three hours, she would not leave her play pen. Her eyes, yes her big green eyes implored every kid to play with her -- and some did.
Of course for me, I saw my Mom Edith looking down on us, and even speaking to me. You are doing great and please keep Mel alive. He probably will be looking forward to Derik's Turkey Leg again. I know that the Sea Cliff is a last station before the crematorium but you can do it.
Well Ma, he has again been scheduled for an ear operation to remove the cancerous bump from his ear...but you know it will never happen. I made sure he got spaghetti with meat balls and changed to turkey sandwiches with mustard...You know how he abhors mayonnaise.
If Ruth Handler should be up there, thank her for her play area in Santa Monica Place.
Nuts and bolts for today: I am changing so fast I can't keep up with myself
Friday, November 3, 2017
The white clouds smiled down at me
Again I am huddled at the Huntington Waterfront Hilton. Black suits stand at the front patio enjoying the view of Catalina, the Pacific and the lovely white pillow looking clouds overhead. Like clones of the others, these well dressed suitors strut and carry with them their smart phones. At the end of each stage of walk, they remove their cell phones. The size and number of apps of each phone tell you how important it is to their identity. I have never seen a lovelier sky than the one today.
I stand out like a mutated black lion among hundreds of Zebras. This is my day. My state teachers check arrived at my old apartments. And since I had not given the keys, had access to my mail box. I leaped for joy when I glanced down and saw the state letter. In fact I felt so good I bought a bag of licorice at Trader Joes, and played the fourth floor piano.
Yes I was on a high and it felt good to stroke a few white and blacks keys, that is until a grey ghost entered the activity room and destroyed serenity. She wore grandma's old robe with hair grayer than
"You are a crazy old man! Why must you play so loud?"
"Well I am sorry but my brother Mel just died and I needed to pound the keys."
"Well old man, you better stop or else!"
Now this scene had been played before. It had been obvious that the Five Points Apartments let anyone lease their rooms. I finally let loose with the F word and she disrobed to her room
In order to lease my new apartment on Magnolia, I had to provide for not one, but two security checks totaling $3, 600. That left me with fifty dollars to live on for the month.
To live on five dollars a day is not my cup of tea but the new apartments wished for a double security deposit-of course cutting into my food bill. My brother Mel bailed me out by donating money from his petty cash account.
"I'll take the usual...a tall black with room for half and half."
"That will be three twenty two please."
To the side of the coffee clutch area was a counter with small glass containers of honey, half and half and several types of sugars. I milked the large cup and tossed the honey around and around. My body jumped with the first sip of the straws brew.
Don't mind if I do, and borrowed a L.A. Times to look at the news before my number 25 bus arrived. I felt tickled to death that Long Beach would address the dirty air and clean up the trucks whose exhaust cause most of it...but what about the schools without AC, I thought.
It was now eight fifteen so replaced the paper the same way I had found it on a rack and strode outside. Yes, the blue sky with white fluffy clouds made me feel more alive. But outside many black early model cars had lined up to make a turn on Huntington Street. Traffic had been backed up and when I saw my bus I left the safety of the sidewalk and began to direct traffic.
"Hey, what is this convention all about?"
"A southern wine convention."
I halted the traffic so my bus could turn left. He stopped and opened his doors. to take me to the library and senior center And the good news was that this library would now be opened on Sunday afternoon, just like Beverly Hills. (No edited )
Nuts and Bolts for today: Del Mar's thoroughbred's season had begun. Like my Mom did, bet on the one and six. And don't drive there...Take the Amtrak or Metro and then the Coaster. The Big Red British bus will take you to grandstand.
I stand out like a mutated black lion among hundreds of Zebras. This is my day. My state teachers check arrived at my old apartments. And since I had not given the keys, had access to my mail box. I leaped for joy when I glanced down and saw the state letter. In fact I felt so good I bought a bag of licorice at Trader Joes, and played the fourth floor piano.
Yes I was on a high and it felt good to stroke a few white and blacks keys, that is until a grey ghost entered the activity room and destroyed serenity. She wore grandma's old robe with hair grayer than
"You are a crazy old man! Why must you play so loud?"
"Well I am sorry but my brother Mel just died and I needed to pound the keys."
"Well old man, you better stop or else!"
Now this scene had been played before. It had been obvious that the Five Points Apartments let anyone lease their rooms. I finally let loose with the F word and she disrobed to her room
In order to lease my new apartment on Magnolia, I had to provide for not one, but two security checks totaling $3, 600. That left me with fifty dollars to live on for the month.
To live on five dollars a day is not my cup of tea but the new apartments wished for a double security deposit-of course cutting into my food bill. My brother Mel bailed me out by donating money from his petty cash account.
"I'll take the usual...a tall black with room for half and half."
"That will be three twenty two please."
To the side of the coffee clutch area was a counter with small glass containers of honey, half and half and several types of sugars. I milked the large cup and tossed the honey around and around. My body jumped with the first sip of the straws brew.
Don't mind if I do, and borrowed a L.A. Times to look at the news before my number 25 bus arrived. I felt tickled to death that Long Beach would address the dirty air and clean up the trucks whose exhaust cause most of it...but what about the schools without AC, I thought.
It was now eight fifteen so replaced the paper the same way I had found it on a rack and strode outside. Yes, the blue sky with white fluffy clouds made me feel more alive. But outside many black early model cars had lined up to make a turn on Huntington Street. Traffic had been backed up and when I saw my bus I left the safety of the sidewalk and began to direct traffic.
"Hey, what is this convention all about?"
"A southern wine convention."
I halted the traffic so my bus could turn left. He stopped and opened his doors. to take me to the library and senior center And the good news was that this library would now be opened on Sunday afternoon, just like Beverly Hills. (No edited )
Nuts and Bolts for today: Del Mar's thoroughbred's season had begun. Like my Mom did, bet on the one and six. And don't drive there...Take the Amtrak or Metro and then the Coaster. The Big Red British bus will take you to grandstand.
Friday, October 27, 2017
A Dish Rag in Huntington Beach
Had a wonderful day at the Huntington Park Senior Center. The breaded fish with couscous was just what I needed to awake my hungry body. Of course of few friends at the back table awarded me seconds and thirds. Jim gave me his fish, and Rosa added another along with a milk and crackers.
It had been a tough week as I tried to live on a few dollars a day. You see, the owner of the Cracker Box apartments on Maggie Street had taken two security deposits and the second one really hurt my pocket books as well as my stomach.
Before leaving the Senior Center I felt like playing a few ditties on the grand piano. It felt good to lay my hands on the white keys as the piano must have been serviced. After 'Spanish Eyes', I began to play 'Let Me Call You Sweet Heart', when I heard a thud on the piano.
"It's Bingo Time and you must stop playing now. You must sign up to play the piano!!
"Fuck you" I thought but thought better of it and didn't say it. "May, do you have a husband?" I screamed...You don't...Well I can see why.
But I had better things to do and no dingbat could destroy my serenity. Outside the #25 bus took me to the PCH where the #29 took me back to my old apartment. They had given me an eviction notice but It was I who was going to evict them!
Low on money, I walked to the Health Center Nursing Home and asked my brother to withdraw a few bucks from his account. Mel had a five day growth and could barely leave the bed. He withdrew fifty dollars from his account and signed a paper. We returned to his 136 B room.
The man in the next bed looked as if he was dying. They removed him as well as his possessions. He had contacted Agent Orange as well as Parkinson's disease during the Korean War. Mel seemed upset that he was leaving as he didn't know what kind of an animal would replace him in Bed one.
"George, ever since you left they have been treating me like a dish rag. And the two still shout every day and night. My neck hurts and Jennings came in and told me they would take care of the cancer inside my ear."
I left for Trader Joes and later, returned with tangerines and two steaks. Mel felt like eating at four o'clock. He reminded me that his steaks must be medium rare, as I took them to the cafeteria and told them how to prepare the meat.
Back at my old apartment I took a two hour nap and fell into a deep sleep. When I awoke at six thirty I again trudged up the street to see Mel. He had just been brought two steaks, but I thought what the hell, and indulged anyhow. Both plates included peas and mashed potatoes. Mel ate with flourish and began to smile.
I put one a Pro football game and we enjoyed each others company.
"George, when you are away, they treat me like a dish rag. Why they don't bring me hot chocolate and forget to shave me...on purpose. Thank God you are back."
It had been a tough week as I tried to live on a few dollars a day. You see, the owner of the Cracker Box apartments on Maggie Street had taken two security deposits and the second one really hurt my pocket books as well as my stomach.
Before leaving the Senior Center I felt like playing a few ditties on the grand piano. It felt good to lay my hands on the white keys as the piano must have been serviced. After 'Spanish Eyes', I began to play 'Let Me Call You Sweet Heart', when I heard a thud on the piano.
"It's Bingo Time and you must stop playing now. You must sign up to play the piano!!
"Fuck you" I thought but thought better of it and didn't say it. "May, do you have a husband?" I screamed...You don't...Well I can see why.
But I had better things to do and no dingbat could destroy my serenity. Outside the #25 bus took me to the PCH where the #29 took me back to my old apartment. They had given me an eviction notice but It was I who was going to evict them!
Low on money, I walked to the Health Center Nursing Home and asked my brother to withdraw a few bucks from his account. Mel had a five day growth and could barely leave the bed. He withdrew fifty dollars from his account and signed a paper. We returned to his 136 B room.
The man in the next bed looked as if he was dying. They removed him as well as his possessions. He had contacted Agent Orange as well as Parkinson's disease during the Korean War. Mel seemed upset that he was leaving as he didn't know what kind of an animal would replace him in Bed one.
"George, ever since you left they have been treating me like a dish rag. And the two still shout every day and night. My neck hurts and Jennings came in and told me they would take care of the cancer inside my ear."
I left for Trader Joes and later, returned with tangerines and two steaks. Mel felt like eating at four o'clock. He reminded me that his steaks must be medium rare, as I took them to the cafeteria and told them how to prepare the meat.
Back at my old apartment I took a two hour nap and fell into a deep sleep. When I awoke at six thirty I again trudged up the street to see Mel. He had just been brought two steaks, but I thought what the hell, and indulged anyhow. Both plates included peas and mashed potatoes. Mel ate with flourish and began to smile.
I put one a Pro football game and we enjoyed each others company.
"George, when you are away, they treat me like a dish rag. Why they don't bring me hot chocolate and forget to shave me...on purpose. Thank God you are back."
Friday, October 20, 2017
Disneyland on the 33 bus.
After a two mile run on Magnolia to a Vons store. I stocked up on coffee and bought a bag of eight fried chickens. Was I hungry? It was going on eight and he AC at Vons put me in a better frame of mind.
The #33 bus would be coming momentarily to take me to the PCH and the #1. I wished to get to Pacific City's shopping center with its majestic view of the beachgoers, pier and hopefully Catalina. My mind began to crystalize into why my manager tried to kill me. Officer Rizzo had told me to get a report on the theft of Dolly, my brother's car, but I had been stonewalled and the Huntington Beach police here would not give it to me.
"Your case has been closed."
The Magnolia bus finally arrived. They go every one and a half hours on weekends. I half feel asleep and when I awoke, I was headed in the direction of Disneyland and no longer at the end of Magnolia wish spills out at the beach and fire station.
"Hey, what is going on here. We are supposed to be on Magnolia, yea?!!
Totally disgruntled, she remarked, "Jus wait till I find out where I am...You know I am a new driver and..."
"Mam, I have asthma and need to get back to the PCH!!!
"Is get you back. Now have directions"
The driver circled around and repeated her performance driving in the opposite direction. She returned me to "Maggy" Street and the Octa sign. There is where the one bus would pick me up. It was hot, real hot. I reached into my white Von's bag of chicken, but no longer did I have it. I had left it on the bus and it would be no use to squawk.
The number one bus arrived and I felt safe at last...That is until Beach came up. The bus driver mumbled something and made a right instead of maintaining a PCH direction.
"We have a slight detour. I am going to turn around at Warner, circle and come back to the highway."
Shit.. God dam son-of-a-bitch. I will walk the highway!!
So I got off and began to walk...But it felt strange.. Yes I carried my knap sack but had forgotten my jacket with my Cell phone inside. And it was unbearably hot. Real hot. But I needed my cell phone even if it meant trading my food money for another cell.
I then went to my apartment on Florida and napped for a few minutes with the AC on full blast. With my rekindled nerves. I visited station four and brother Mel. I put on the T.V. so he could watch th game.
"Did you bring a steak?"
"No Mel, out of money. Take about one hundred out of your trust account and I can fill you up on meat as well as ice burg lettuce. Mel allowed me to eat one of his two hotdogs and I returned to my Florida apartment.
I still wondered why the manager refused to fix my lock and told me to use "graphite". Thank God my daughter made the call to save my life that October. In the same Indian summer month, I had to go to Kaiser and get a new drug for my asthma.
The #33 bus would be coming momentarily to take me to the PCH and the #1. I wished to get to Pacific City's shopping center with its majestic view of the beachgoers, pier and hopefully Catalina. My mind began to crystalize into why my manager tried to kill me. Officer Rizzo had told me to get a report on the theft of Dolly, my brother's car, but I had been stonewalled and the Huntington Beach police here would not give it to me.
"Your case has been closed."
The Magnolia bus finally arrived. They go every one and a half hours on weekends. I half feel asleep and when I awoke, I was headed in the direction of Disneyland and no longer at the end of Magnolia wish spills out at the beach and fire station.
"Hey, what is going on here. We are supposed to be on Magnolia, yea?!!
Totally disgruntled, she remarked, "Jus wait till I find out where I am...You know I am a new driver and..."
"Mam, I have asthma and need to get back to the PCH!!!
"Is get you back. Now have directions"
The driver circled around and repeated her performance driving in the opposite direction. She returned me to "Maggy" Street and the Octa sign. There is where the one bus would pick me up. It was hot, real hot. I reached into my white Von's bag of chicken, but no longer did I have it. I had left it on the bus and it would be no use to squawk.
The number one bus arrived and I felt safe at last...That is until Beach came up. The bus driver mumbled something and made a right instead of maintaining a PCH direction.
"We have a slight detour. I am going to turn around at Warner, circle and come back to the highway."
Shit.. God dam son-of-a-bitch. I will walk the highway!!
So I got off and began to walk...But it felt strange.. Yes I carried my knap sack but had forgotten my jacket with my Cell phone inside. And it was unbearably hot. Real hot. But I needed my cell phone even if it meant trading my food money for another cell.
I then went to my apartment on Florida and napped for a few minutes with the AC on full blast. With my rekindled nerves. I visited station four and brother Mel. I put on the T.V. so he could watch th game.
"Did you bring a steak?"
"No Mel, out of money. Take about one hundred out of your trust account and I can fill you up on meat as well as ice burg lettuce. Mel allowed me to eat one of his two hotdogs and I returned to my Florida apartment.
I still wondered why the manager refused to fix my lock and told me to use "graphite". Thank God my daughter made the call to save my life that October. In the same Indian summer month, I had to go to Kaiser and get a new drug for my asthma.
Wednesday, October 18, 2017
A Surf City Eviction
I tried to fall asleep last night but the threat of eviction disturbed it. Yes I needed a sleeping pill. Over 1070 on your radio dial, I heard the shots that riddled our city, Huntington Beach. It was placed on video for the public to see.
It appeared that an off-duty policeman confronted another at the Seven Eleven not far from Warner Avenue and pelted him with bullets seven times. So what else is new, just another obsequious day in our city. I had written that Surf City has many skin heads, beards, tattoos, electric cigarette running with a screw loose over this city. Many our juiced up and have no control of their actions. Wait a second, that was my daughter.
"Dad she can't evict you. Aren't you a senior citizen?"
"Well daughter, as you can see, this Mom and Pop apartment treats us like dirt. Why on labor day, we had no water, security or maintenance. No doubt the manager has a bad case of OCD along with dementia..."
"I will put my trust on God, and thank God I have two daughters to take care of their old POP. had girls to take care of their old POP."
Two weeks later, my daughter took agency. She found me a place about a mile from the Mom and
Pop apartments. No far from Talbert off of Magnolia, the complex resembled a village of two story apartments with fir trees covering their roofs. Flowers graced each building with a few golden ponds on the way to the pool next to a Jacuzzi.
Exhausted and haunted by my first eviction notice, the manger had been crestfallen by the shootings in Vegas and it took all of three hours to sign the lease papers, after she decided to hand me the keys. Now I had taken three buses to get there so I limped to the Taco Bell across the street and treated myself to two regular soft tacos. I savored each bite and as always spoke to myself.
"Not too shabby George. You hung in there and had the $3,300 packaged neatly into one hundred dollar bills wrapped in a rubber band. No longer are you under the dominion of the Lady in the Cage...You are getting the hang of it when your daughter tells you to take agency. I kissed the third taco as if it were me."
I savored this day and enjoyed the three buses back to my Mom and Pop apartments across the street from Trader Joes on Main. I did not have the money to buy my ailing brother at the Sea Cliff Health Center but knew he had money in his trust account, maybe enough for a down for a car. Yes I felt jubilant that no longer would anybody to use the words "eviction" that come out of Helen mouth far too often.
Upstairs on the fourth floor, I kissed the upright and it sprang into action better than ever. Now I had heavy metal over my soul and I played White Christmas a bit early but who gives a hoot. I play the upright and read every night before I turn in. At Mel's nursing home, I had turned on the T.V. and made sure he could watch the baseball game. Mel wished for the Dodgers to make it to another World Series, and who knows, they just might win one.
And now that I am on my brother Mel, it is a good time to tweak the nursing center for the lack of transparency, accountability and team work. Still I don't know what Mel is being treated for even though he has not seen a doctor except some dermatologist. Mel had somehow survived the hospice are in area four, but perhaps all could have been avoided.
Too bad the nursing center is not updated with a password for each patient. As his next of kin, I should be able to hit a button and get a print out of what he is treated for. I have been totally in the dark.
Oh yes, the Lady in the Cage is my manager who monitors each patron as we leave or enter. Yes, it is much like a jail. Each morning, Stella polished the floors, and sprays everywhere to trick the new tenants into thinking that the entire building is that way. What a ruse!
It appeared that an off-duty policeman confronted another at the Seven Eleven not far from Warner Avenue and pelted him with bullets seven times. So what else is new, just another obsequious day in our city. I had written that Surf City has many skin heads, beards, tattoos, electric cigarette running with a screw loose over this city. Many our juiced up and have no control of their actions. Wait a second, that was my daughter.
"Dad she can't evict you. Aren't you a senior citizen?"
"Well daughter, as you can see, this Mom and Pop apartment treats us like dirt. Why on labor day, we had no water, security or maintenance. No doubt the manager has a bad case of OCD along with dementia..."
"I will put my trust on God, and thank God I have two daughters to take care of their old POP. had girls to take care of their old POP."
Two weeks later, my daughter took agency. She found me a place about a mile from the Mom and
Pop apartments. No far from Talbert off of Magnolia, the complex resembled a village of two story apartments with fir trees covering their roofs. Flowers graced each building with a few golden ponds on the way to the pool next to a Jacuzzi.
Exhausted and haunted by my first eviction notice, the manger had been crestfallen by the shootings in Vegas and it took all of three hours to sign the lease papers, after she decided to hand me the keys. Now I had taken three buses to get there so I limped to the Taco Bell across the street and treated myself to two regular soft tacos. I savored each bite and as always spoke to myself.
"Not too shabby George. You hung in there and had the $3,300 packaged neatly into one hundred dollar bills wrapped in a rubber band. No longer are you under the dominion of the Lady in the Cage...You are getting the hang of it when your daughter tells you to take agency. I kissed the third taco as if it were me."
I savored this day and enjoyed the three buses back to my Mom and Pop apartments across the street from Trader Joes on Main. I did not have the money to buy my ailing brother at the Sea Cliff Health Center but knew he had money in his trust account, maybe enough for a down for a car. Yes I felt jubilant that no longer would anybody to use the words "eviction" that come out of Helen mouth far too often.
Upstairs on the fourth floor, I kissed the upright and it sprang into action better than ever. Now I had heavy metal over my soul and I played White Christmas a bit early but who gives a hoot. I play the upright and read every night before I turn in. At Mel's nursing home, I had turned on the T.V. and made sure he could watch the baseball game. Mel wished for the Dodgers to make it to another World Series, and who knows, they just might win one.
And now that I am on my brother Mel, it is a good time to tweak the nursing center for the lack of transparency, accountability and team work. Still I don't know what Mel is being treated for even though he has not seen a doctor except some dermatologist. Mel had somehow survived the hospice are in area four, but perhaps all could have been avoided.
Too bad the nursing center is not updated with a password for each patient. As his next of kin, I should be able to hit a button and get a print out of what he is treated for. I have been totally in the dark.
Oh yes, the Lady in the Cage is my manager who monitors each patron as we leave or enter. Yes, it is much like a jail. Each morning, Stella polished the floors, and sprays everywhere to trick the new tenants into thinking that the entire building is that way. What a ruse!
Friday, September 29, 2017
A Bucket of Ice
I sit at the Waterfront Hilton, gazing at the many white tents. The Air Force is here this week as well as the Thunderbirds as an air show is scheduled Friday, Saturday and Sunday. The best place to watch is on the hills of Huntington Beach, just in back of the Regency Hyatt and in front of a few old majestic buildings.
Besides calling for my next apartment, I examine my stories that emanated out of San Diego. While I stayed at the 'Y" built in 1924, some of my stories had a Jewish twist to them. This one I wrote in 1912 and was copyrighted.
A Bucket of Ice "c" George Garrett 1912
It has been one year, yes one year since I had moved into the downtown Y.M.C.A. on Broadway's San Diego.. Down the hall on the second floor is an ice machine. I take my plastic bucket there to replenish it with ice -- to drink from during the night. To its brim I fill it and leave about one glass full of water.
The ice melts in about two hours and then I can drink ice cold water. It is another hot a humid day off the Harbor. I hurriedly gulp down the water and remembered a visiting professor from Alabama University who taught chemistry and lived in my hotel during the Convention at the Grant Hotel up the street. I had suffered with Asthmatic Bronchitis all of my life and San Diego's weather made it worse. In a matter of time, I would be in heaven, God be willing.
One late afternoon on the steps of the 'Y', I asked the small lean professor his secret of longevity as we sat on the steps of our building in the American Plaza section of San Diego. I call it Bankers Corner since three banks live there with one twenty stories tall.
"Well George, I am here for a convention and was born in India. Can't you tell?" His amicable smile relaxed me.
"May I ask your age kind sir?" He appeared younger than the wrinkles on his face.
"I am seventy five years old. You might think I am a lot younger, but there are three secrets to my youthful look. I eat only vegetables, fruit and nuts. Also I drink two quarts of water every day...It takes a little practice George but in time you will learn. We are just like car engines. When we keep them clean and use quality fuel, our hearts run better and softer."
The little Indian got up to leave, and I asked him for the third step of longevity.
"Sorry George, I got to go walk five miles. Yes, that is the third step."
About two months after our meeting, I made my usual walk again to the showers and toilets down the hall. After a shave I took a long, good look. Why I don't look a day over thirty nine. Again I left a little water inside my bucket while I filled it up with ice. But why am I always keeping some water at the bottom. OH.! It helps to melt the ice and I can drink it. It was then the idea came to me like a bolt of lightening.
The Rabbi spoke about removing our resentments during the Day of Atonement at the Hyatt Regency ballroom. Wouldn't it be great if each of us had a little water in our veins of resentment. We could remove past resentments and fulfill our lives with love...get it?
Now at my new synagogue on Warner Avenue in Huntington Beach, My Rabbi's message during a during a Pasha, that in order to get closer to HIM, we must pray each morning, put film on and also study, study and study the Talmud some more. some more the Talmud
Besides calling for my next apartment, I examine my stories that emanated out of San Diego. While I stayed at the 'Y" built in 1924, some of my stories had a Jewish twist to them. This one I wrote in 1912 and was copyrighted.
A Bucket of Ice "c" George Garrett 1912
It has been one year, yes one year since I had moved into the downtown Y.M.C.A. on Broadway's San Diego.. Down the hall on the second floor is an ice machine. I take my plastic bucket there to replenish it with ice -- to drink from during the night. To its brim I fill it and leave about one glass full of water.
The ice melts in about two hours and then I can drink ice cold water. It is another hot a humid day off the Harbor. I hurriedly gulp down the water and remembered a visiting professor from Alabama University who taught chemistry and lived in my hotel during the Convention at the Grant Hotel up the street. I had suffered with Asthmatic Bronchitis all of my life and San Diego's weather made it worse. In a matter of time, I would be in heaven, God be willing.
One late afternoon on the steps of the 'Y', I asked the small lean professor his secret of longevity as we sat on the steps of our building in the American Plaza section of San Diego. I call it Bankers Corner since three banks live there with one twenty stories tall.
"Well George, I am here for a convention and was born in India. Can't you tell?" His amicable smile relaxed me.
"May I ask your age kind sir?" He appeared younger than the wrinkles on his face.
"I am seventy five years old. You might think I am a lot younger, but there are three secrets to my youthful look. I eat only vegetables, fruit and nuts. Also I drink two quarts of water every day...It takes a little practice George but in time you will learn. We are just like car engines. When we keep them clean and use quality fuel, our hearts run better and softer."
The little Indian got up to leave, and I asked him for the third step of longevity.
"Sorry George, I got to go walk five miles. Yes, that is the third step."
About two months after our meeting, I made my usual walk again to the showers and toilets down the hall. After a shave I took a long, good look. Why I don't look a day over thirty nine. Again I left a little water inside my bucket while I filled it up with ice. But why am I always keeping some water at the bottom. OH.! It helps to melt the ice and I can drink it. It was then the idea came to me like a bolt of lightening.
The Rabbi spoke about removing our resentments during the Day of Atonement at the Hyatt Regency ballroom. Wouldn't it be great if each of us had a little water in our veins of resentment. We could remove past resentments and fulfill our lives with love...get it?
Now at my new synagogue on Warner Avenue in Huntington Beach, My Rabbi's message during a during a Pasha, that in order to get closer to HIM, we must pray each morning, put film on and also study, study and study the Talmud some more. some more the Talmud
Thursday, September 21, 2017
A murder in Huntington Beach
"All right, but you don't need to shove!...hey stop it...you,you, B..ch"
Yes I lost it on the day before the beginning of the Jewish New Year. Mildred Grey admonished me for taking a call from my cell phone. Still I had walked quietly away from the computers but she pushed me. I controlled my anger and finished the call with my daughter in the lobby of the worst beach library in California, Huntington Beach. (Mildred is a old spinster librarian.)
I can still hear Sir Wallis Flower scream at me, "Well our citizens love DVD's so that is where are money goes. To hell with the computers, we will fix them when we are ready. Our clients only wish for DVD's.
On another matter, I can still see evil eyes when I opened my door and peered once more to the vilest, most demented gal at the beach, my manager. could still hear the loud thump on my door. It was four and change in the afternoon. Now who would be banging on my door. Still half asleep, I opened it. SHIT it was Mrs. Evil Eyes, the manager of the Mom and Pop apartments on Main. Never in my life had I ever had the opportunity to live with a witch, but now my work was cut out for me. The grim reaper gave me one of her nasty looks and left me to world of slumber.
She poked a letter into my hand and told me I had sixty days to leave. I returned to my couch and tried to sleep with no avail. But why did I give the evil one so much value. Oh yes, she held the keys to my homelessness. In no way would I allow fat ass Evil Eye to provoke me like countless others in a shouting match. And then it hit me, use the crazy one in a Christmas Story: A Grinch Lives in Surf City.
But on a heavy matter. Two days ago after I had visited Mel at the Sea Cliff Health Center, I head at twilight the sound of a helicopter over head. He held that position so I knew a crime had been in progress or the deed already done.
That evening on dial 1070, the newscaster mentioned that a murder had been committed on Main and Elis...Later I discovered the old man murdered had lived not far from me...I felt lucky to be alive since I had also been attacked on Beach, not far from this scene. I thought about the kids, homeless, the bikers, skateboarders and shopping carts that roam Beach Blvd every day. Many wear tattoos, smoke electric and our chew Juicy Fruit Gum riddled with weed or coke.
A policeman you'll never see since they are usually huddled inside Yorktown reading the box scores of baseball games.
Yes I lost it on the day before the beginning of the Jewish New Year. Mildred Grey admonished me for taking a call from my cell phone. Still I had walked quietly away from the computers but she pushed me. I controlled my anger and finished the call with my daughter in the lobby of the worst beach library in California, Huntington Beach. (Mildred is a old spinster librarian.)
I can still hear Sir Wallis Flower scream at me, "Well our citizens love DVD's so that is where are money goes. To hell with the computers, we will fix them when we are ready. Our clients only wish for DVD's.
On another matter, I can still see evil eyes when I opened my door and peered once more to the vilest, most demented gal at the beach, my manager. could still hear the loud thump on my door. It was four and change in the afternoon. Now who would be banging on my door. Still half asleep, I opened it. SHIT it was Mrs. Evil Eyes, the manager of the Mom and Pop apartments on Main. Never in my life had I ever had the opportunity to live with a witch, but now my work was cut out for me. The grim reaper gave me one of her nasty looks and left me to world of slumber.
She poked a letter into my hand and told me I had sixty days to leave. I returned to my couch and tried to sleep with no avail. But why did I give the evil one so much value. Oh yes, she held the keys to my homelessness. In no way would I allow fat ass Evil Eye to provoke me like countless others in a shouting match. And then it hit me, use the crazy one in a Christmas Story: A Grinch Lives in Surf City.
But on a heavy matter. Two days ago after I had visited Mel at the Sea Cliff Health Center, I head at twilight the sound of a helicopter over head. He held that position so I knew a crime had been in progress or the deed already done.
That evening on dial 1070, the newscaster mentioned that a murder had been committed on Main and Elis...Later I discovered the old man murdered had lived not far from me...I felt lucky to be alive since I had also been attacked on Beach, not far from this scene. I thought about the kids, homeless, the bikers, skateboarders and shopping carts that roam Beach Blvd every day. Many wear tattoos, smoke electric and our chew Juicy Fruit Gum riddled with weed or coke.
A policeman you'll never see since they are usually huddled inside Yorktown reading the box scores of baseball games.
Tuesday, September 19, 2017
A Day at U.S.C.
My day began, as usual, at the Waterfront Hilton in Surf City, but a murder at downtown Los Angeles derailed my plans. I milked my Starbucks coffee while the number one bus drove me to the V.A. and the 91 bus. I tapped my card and inserted a dollar into the machine that worked. The train came my way and I boarded at about nine thirty. A somber note hit me over the train's speaker system.
"You will need to board another train. It will arrive in five minutes...There is a shuttle at Firestone that will take you to another train on you way to L.A."
Now on Pacific in Long Beach, I decided that no event would derail my serenity today. With the Prime Minister of England Disraeli in one hand and my brew in the other, I intoxicated myself with the view. I feast on good books and would rather read than make love with the prettiest girl in town. An I felt fine since I was also milking my coffee and eating to hard boiled with a banana. No nothing could bother my Day at U.S.C.
The train ambled past the Watt's Towers, Compton, and when it reached the Washington, the train stopped, and over the speaker it told us to board a bus. I had an enjoyable conversation with Sam on the train and told him to follow me.
Three buses lined up outside. Sam and I chose a bus and luckily he found a seat for his larger-than-life frame but I needed to beg for one in the back. A lady who looked like a man sat in the back hogging two spaces. I bowed and begged.
"Man, could you bare to give a seat to an old, old tired old man?
She didn't move or even look up from her magazine. Again I begged and wiped my brow. She looked up and in a brisk way moved two inches to the right. The guy by the window slept and in no way did I wish to bother this behemoth. I snuggled my thin frame body between these goal posts, one thin, and the other huge. Sam, on a side seat, had a kind face with a large body and continued our conversation.
"Too bad they removed those Red Cars for this. Why they never would have needed to tear up Wilshire if we had kept those trains....Call this progress?"
The shuttle bus now full, inched along until it made a right turn. I felt a trickle of water on my pants and surmised that the gal to my left had an accident. I said nothing, no doubt, for fear of being shot in the head...and I too needed a head but today had good control. After over one hour, we made it back to the rails and another train waited for us. We had moved about half a mile and no doubt could have walked on foot faster. I said my good-by to Sam and made a connection on the Expo line .
The U.S.C. station was my stop. I exited and at now twelve o'clock, felt tired but more hungry than tired. Before I went to the Student Union for grub, I sauntered to the library to lock up my nap sack and speak to Claude, my sponsor. I got a locker for my stuff and now it was time to stuff my stomach with some U.S.C. food.
It still was a bit hot, but I needed something to relax me. Inside I felt the cold A.C. and looked to my left. Deposited in a round food table were all types of salads and sandwiches. But up I saw a line waiting for a real hot lunch. At the counter one could order a roast or fried chicken. I felt like the roast that came with two sides.
"Take that roasted chicken and for my sides I will have the mashed and sting beans."
At nine and change the meal was in my price range. But the one hour on a bus made me thirsty. And who am I to deny myself for water. The bill came to twelve and change and leisurely I walked outside and found a shady spot on a couch.
Most everyone had paired off. Many ate or typed on their apple computer. They all seemed happy and most alert. I wished to get my twelve dollars worth so I just took my time and ate one string bean at a time along with spoonful's of mashed potatoes. I even used a plastic knife and fork to remove every bit of meat from the succulent chicken.
At about one o'clock I decided to buy a few U.S.C. shirts. The book and student store stood adjacent to the Student Store. I found three U.S.C sweat shirts, with one to go to my grand daughter Allison. I felt alive and now needed to get to where the Daily Trojan is published. The students didn't know but a young worker showed me the way.
A library lifted me to the fourth floor, but unfortunately, all the rooms were locked. An advertising man told me to return at four o'clock since they begin at four and work into the night. It figured since they probably had classes during the day. I wished to promote my Schindler story and give them pictures for a future publication.
I returned to the library and discovered how to get into the digitized past newspapers. Now going on two I took the Expo west to see my daughter.
"You will need to board another train. It will arrive in five minutes...There is a shuttle at Firestone that will take you to another train on you way to L.A."
Now on Pacific in Long Beach, I decided that no event would derail my serenity today. With the Prime Minister of England Disraeli in one hand and my brew in the other, I intoxicated myself with the view. I feast on good books and would rather read than make love with the prettiest girl in town. An I felt fine since I was also milking my coffee and eating to hard boiled with a banana. No nothing could bother my Day at U.S.C.
The train ambled past the Watt's Towers, Compton, and when it reached the Washington, the train stopped, and over the speaker it told us to board a bus. I had an enjoyable conversation with Sam on the train and told him to follow me.
Three buses lined up outside. Sam and I chose a bus and luckily he found a seat for his larger-than-life frame but I needed to beg for one in the back. A lady who looked like a man sat in the back hogging two spaces. I bowed and begged.
"Man, could you bare to give a seat to an old, old tired old man?
She didn't move or even look up from her magazine. Again I begged and wiped my brow. She looked up and in a brisk way moved two inches to the right. The guy by the window slept and in no way did I wish to bother this behemoth. I snuggled my thin frame body between these goal posts, one thin, and the other huge. Sam, on a side seat, had a kind face with a large body and continued our conversation.
"Too bad they removed those Red Cars for this. Why they never would have needed to tear up Wilshire if we had kept those trains....Call this progress?"
The shuttle bus now full, inched along until it made a right turn. I felt a trickle of water on my pants and surmised that the gal to my left had an accident. I said nothing, no doubt, for fear of being shot in the head...and I too needed a head but today had good control. After over one hour, we made it back to the rails and another train waited for us. We had moved about half a mile and no doubt could have walked on foot faster. I said my good-by to Sam and made a connection on the Expo line .
The U.S.C. station was my stop. I exited and at now twelve o'clock, felt tired but more hungry than tired. Before I went to the Student Union for grub, I sauntered to the library to lock up my nap sack and speak to Claude, my sponsor. I got a locker for my stuff and now it was time to stuff my stomach with some U.S.C. food.
It still was a bit hot, but I needed something to relax me. Inside I felt the cold A.C. and looked to my left. Deposited in a round food table were all types of salads and sandwiches. But up I saw a line waiting for a real hot lunch. At the counter one could order a roast or fried chicken. I felt like the roast that came with two sides.
"Take that roasted chicken and for my sides I will have the mashed and sting beans."
At nine and change the meal was in my price range. But the one hour on a bus made me thirsty. And who am I to deny myself for water. The bill came to twelve and change and leisurely I walked outside and found a shady spot on a couch.
Most everyone had paired off. Many ate or typed on their apple computer. They all seemed happy and most alert. I wished to get my twelve dollars worth so I just took my time and ate one string bean at a time along with spoonful's of mashed potatoes. I even used a plastic knife and fork to remove every bit of meat from the succulent chicken.
At about one o'clock I decided to buy a few U.S.C. shirts. The book and student store stood adjacent to the Student Store. I found three U.S.C sweat shirts, with one to go to my grand daughter Allison. I felt alive and now needed to get to where the Daily Trojan is published. The students didn't know but a young worker showed me the way.
A library lifted me to the fourth floor, but unfortunately, all the rooms were locked. An advertising man told me to return at four o'clock since they begin at four and work into the night. It figured since they probably had classes during the day. I wished to promote my Schindler story and give them pictures for a future publication.
I returned to the library and discovered how to get into the digitized past newspapers. Now going on two I took the Expo west to see my daughter.
Tuesday, September 5, 2017
A Labor Day Lift
Enjoyed watching T.V. with Brother Mel during the Labor Day weekend . Too bad his left eye lid still covered his eye -- as I had mentioned he needed a procedure to lift it. Then he could watch T.V. and perhaps the Dodgers in a Word Series Game. I had cooked two cobs of corn for him along with delicious Trader Joe's tangerines, and a couple of bananas. Mel looked to be in an exuberant mood -- even though he thinks he is blind.
For those new to my blog, Mel is two years younger and has lived at the Sea Cliff Heath Center on Florida Street nearing one year. After an episode of brain cancer, and other ailments, he is still depressed and relies on me to supplement his diet. Patients in the second, third or fourth areas seldom see the sun or stars anymore. and eating any fruit is rare.
Many, like an Indian who is 105, have outlives their next of kin. It is six thirty when I enter room 125 B. In bed one is a Korean Veteran. Mel has just finished his two hot doggies and is sipping his Milk. He is overjoyed today, for some reason on this Labor Day.
"What ya bring taday?"
"Got ya corn, bananas and tangerines...Let me peel the tangerines for you."
"Some game yesaday! You told me the Bruins would come back."
"Why you look so feisty today?
"Only took about six pills today."
I yanked a folding chair out of the closet and put on the T.V. The screamer down the hall was at it again. All she does is scream and this evening, she can be heard all over Surf City. I then tell Mel the news.
"Daughter bought a piano and looks like I will have a chance to make two little Mozart's out of Olivia and Allison...Dodgers lost again...and I told you that Bruins would come back." Stella entered to remove the dinner tray. She adds some flavor for this evening. A special on the comedian Jerry Lewis is on the Movie Channel. I listen in to the interview on channel 25.
"The biggest lift I received from the audience was when something unrehearsed came out of my mouth. When they laughed and even stood up, I felt as if I had a free ticket to remove money from a bank."
Now going on Seven, I left my lift and said good-by. I still hope that the Nursing home can provide a list of his medicines and what they are for. So far, I have never seen a computer that listed his doctors or the medicine he was prescribed.
Back home now at the Five Points Senior Center, I desired to take a shower but found out here was no hot water I wondered if somebody had monkeyed with the roof's boiler as I found the lift for the roof open. I lay down on my couch and just when I fell asleep, my cell rang. I removed the cell from its sock and took the message. It was my daughter.
"Dad, make sure you are at the house at nine o'clock with the piano lifters come with the new piano"
For those new to my blog, Mel is two years younger and has lived at the Sea Cliff Heath Center on Florida Street nearing one year. After an episode of brain cancer, and other ailments, he is still depressed and relies on me to supplement his diet. Patients in the second, third or fourth areas seldom see the sun or stars anymore. and eating any fruit is rare.
Many, like an Indian who is 105, have outlives their next of kin. It is six thirty when I enter room 125 B. In bed one is a Korean Veteran. Mel has just finished his two hot doggies and is sipping his Milk. He is overjoyed today, for some reason on this Labor Day.
"What ya bring taday?"
"Got ya corn, bananas and tangerines...Let me peel the tangerines for you."
"Some game yesaday! You told me the Bruins would come back."
"Why you look so feisty today?
"Only took about six pills today."
I yanked a folding chair out of the closet and put on the T.V. The screamer down the hall was at it again. All she does is scream and this evening, she can be heard all over Surf City. I then tell Mel the news.
"Daughter bought a piano and looks like I will have a chance to make two little Mozart's out of Olivia and Allison...Dodgers lost again...and I told you that Bruins would come back." Stella entered to remove the dinner tray. She adds some flavor for this evening. A special on the comedian Jerry Lewis is on the Movie Channel. I listen in to the interview on channel 25.
"The biggest lift I received from the audience was when something unrehearsed came out of my mouth. When they laughed and even stood up, I felt as if I had a free ticket to remove money from a bank."
Now going on Seven, I left my lift and said good-by. I still hope that the Nursing home can provide a list of his medicines and what they are for. So far, I have never seen a computer that listed his doctors or the medicine he was prescribed.
Back home now at the Five Points Senior Center, I desired to take a shower but found out here was no hot water I wondered if somebody had monkeyed with the roof's boiler as I found the lift for the roof open. I lay down on my couch and just when I fell asleep, my cell rang. I removed the cell from its sock and took the message. It was my daughter.
"Dad, make sure you are at the house at nine o'clock with the piano lifters come with the new piano"
Thursday, August 31, 2017
Surf Cities Sea Cliff Health Center
The Waterfront Hilton is where my story begins. I place my knap sack down and enter Starbuck's, not to kill a whale as in Moby Dick, but to energize my body. By the fountain, two Mexicans rub the grind and mold from its bottom. . The manager and several other workers enter for their pick up. It is a daily routine of coffee to remove the cobwebs of sleep.
Outside the waves are up, way up, as surfers slide up and down to enjoy the waves today. I stir the coffee to allow the honey a chance to permeate it. It is delightful to peer outside and see the large Palms swaying back and forth. I continue to enjoy my coffee laden with honey, milk and sugar. The surf is up today and many waves crest to eight or higher.
The best place to keep cool is where the sea meets the sand. I take my back pack and Starbucks drink to the edge of the water and watch two surfers look for the best waves. It is too bad I never learned to surf, but that doesn't stop me from placing my toes in the water.
Now I am thoroughly relaxed. I can breath. It is too bad that my brother can't be with me, but so far the Sea Cliff Health Center in Huntington Beach have done nothing about his left eye. His eye lid covers the eye and with corrective glass lenses, he can have 20/20 vision out of that eye.
Also, Mel was not taken to the eye doctor for his shot and forgotten when they were supposed to have a party last week on Friday. I call this place the House of Wax. Nobody seems to know what the others are doing. Most of the staff behave like manikins.
What is needed is a computerized system to better make decisions. We don't know what all of these thirteen pills are for and who and for what they are for. When Mel was ambulance d here last October, nobody knew what his real problem. A Dr.Craig called me after he had been discharged to let me know he had a grave eat infection and that he was blind. At least one of the four doctors should have seen that all he needed was an eye lift. And later a Nurse told me he had brain cancer.
Mel is not blind and did have brain cancer, but it may take an Act of God to give him this. In the meantime, he is depressed and sorely wishes to watch the Dodgers in the World Series. I have been feeding him for ten months but now getting pooped
Huntington Beach is socked in today, to I will amble under its pier and stay by the waters edge It is great to be alive at 78 years of age.
Outside the waves are up, way up, as surfers slide up and down to enjoy the waves today. I stir the coffee to allow the honey a chance to permeate it. It is delightful to peer outside and see the large Palms swaying back and forth. I continue to enjoy my coffee laden with honey, milk and sugar. The surf is up today and many waves crest to eight or higher.
The best place to keep cool is where the sea meets the sand. I take my back pack and Starbucks drink to the edge of the water and watch two surfers look for the best waves. It is too bad I never learned to surf, but that doesn't stop me from placing my toes in the water.
Now I am thoroughly relaxed. I can breath. It is too bad that my brother can't be with me, but so far the Sea Cliff Health Center in Huntington Beach have done nothing about his left eye. His eye lid covers the eye and with corrective glass lenses, he can have 20/20 vision out of that eye.
Also, Mel was not taken to the eye doctor for his shot and forgotten when they were supposed to have a party last week on Friday. I call this place the House of Wax. Nobody seems to know what the others are doing. Most of the staff behave like manikins.
What is needed is a computerized system to better make decisions. We don't know what all of these thirteen pills are for and who and for what they are for. When Mel was ambulance d here last October, nobody knew what his real problem. A Dr.Craig called me after he had been discharged to let me know he had a grave eat infection and that he was blind. At least one of the four doctors should have seen that all he needed was an eye lift. And later a Nurse told me he had brain cancer.
Mel is not blind and did have brain cancer, but it may take an Act of God to give him this. In the meantime, he is depressed and sorely wishes to watch the Dodgers in the World Series. I have been feeding him for ten months but now getting pooped
Huntington Beach is socked in today, to I will amble under its pier and stay by the waters edge It is great to be alive at 78 years of age.
Friday, August 25, 2017
A Ubiquitous Day in Surf City
My plugs need oiling. The number one bus stops in front of the Hilton at exactly eight fifteen. On board, it begin to relax and breathe with the knowledge that hot dry air will clean my spark plugs. The bus ambles on to Sunset, Seal and then Long Beach. It is great to remove myself from the beach and the Sea Cliff Health Center. I have been bogged down with Mel for almost a year, and I know that I need change or I will be a patient in bed one. At least I have time to dream and relax on the bus.
Writers from the New York Times have begun to use terms such as "ubiquitous" and "nascent" far too much. You can feel it on the Streets of Surf City. The younger generation have given up learning for skate boards, tattoos, bikes and drifting further from the main stream. Skin heads appear everywhere as do the homeless.
The bus turns a corner across from the V. A. building and just south of Long Beach State College. Nature calls so I run into the V.A. to take care the overflow and return to the bus stop, just in time for the #901 bus to downtown. The further I stray from Surf City the more relaxed I am. At least there are no panhandlers on this bus to shake me down. I still feel pissed that nobody seems to care about the man on the street.
The New York Times now uses the term "ubiquitous" when referring to events happening today. ICE has flooded our cities rounding up those with the wrong skin color. Nobody wishes to build the wall and our new head has fired just about everybody he has hired. Two of our ships have collided in the seas off of Japan. Yes we have a new ubiquitous beginning.
I tap my blue card on a machine and wait for the Blue Line Metro. Most of Long Beach is asleep at nine o'clock, so it is safe to ride the rails. My asthmatic lungs begin to sing as we pass Pacific, Willow, Wardlow, then Compton, Vernon ans so forth. The train lumbers on to the Washington Street tracks before handing off to the Flower ones on the way to Seventh Avenue.
The last stop is Seventh Street. I am still miffed why the panhandler attacked me. Guess he thought I was stealing his car. I had called the police and a couple hours later a policeman came to my apartment.
"You did the right thing by not fighting back. Sorry we came late. Some lady threw her baby out of a three story window."
" Who is delegated to watch our streets. It is sometimes a free-for-all on these streets. And who watches over the benches. I never see any police cars" I answer.
"No, the Orange County Sheriff is supposed to taker care of these benches. Have a good day Mr. Garrett."
"Thank you officer Tojo."
Two escalators take me to street level. My lungs are doing adagios now. I feels great to drink softer dry air..I can't get over how many tall buildings live in Angle Town. I make it to the downtown Library and notice two policeman on the fourth floor. I order the microfilms I need and go downstairs for a bit to eat. At least Panda Express or the Microfilms machines are not ubiquitous. (Not edited)
Wednesday, August 16, 2017
Surf Cities, Waterfront Hilton Hotel
"No dark coffee today...It is my birthday and I wish to celebrate..Think I will have a Mocha today?
"What kind would you like? We have strawberry, banana, mango ...so you wish the strawberry.? Should I mix in other fruits?"
"Any extra charge?"
"No..That will be four thirty five."
My pocket watch said eight o'clock. My #25 would be here at exactly eight twenty five. The Waterfront Hilton Hotel is my first stop for today. Off the ocean, I enjoy the view of the crashing waves, the beach and pier.
From my corner table, I have a first hand view of the Surf City Beach. off of P.C.H. Outside by the pool is a large breakfast buffet but I must remind my stomach "not today". With a straw I sip my mocha drink and hear the news from the T.V. inside the Coffee Clutch.
I delete from my mind anything said about Trump but zero in on the anniversary of the death of Elvis Presley. Today was also my 78th birthday, and no Trump or the panhandler who pushed me will spoil it.
I remember the words of my oldest daughter Olivia as we walked to the Century Theater at the Bella Terra shopping center. My youngest daughter held the hand of my three year old Allison. I extend my left hand to Olivia, my six year old grandchild
"Grandpa, I do not need your hand!"
"Why not?"
"Cause I am independent!"
"Two busy to beat the heat, I didn't know how funny yet sophisticated it was for a six year old. I repeated what she had told me to everyone that included the Senior Center.
I remembered a radio show broadcast on top of the Pickwick Hotel in San Diego in the 30's. I had lived there at the Y.M.C.A. before moving to Huntington Beach. Its two towers were finished in 1938 and broadcast a radio show from there.
An Alumnus from San Diego High School , Art Linkletter began his career on top of that building with a program called Man on the Street Pickwick. Since the stage line stopped there as well as the Greyhound bus, many people came to watch his show. But later he began a show, Kids Say the Darndest Things. and .
Oh yes, another alumnus by the name of Gregory Peck matriculated to the school and was a member of a drama club, and the J.V. football team. He admired the play of one Ambrose Schindler but never had his body or athleticism. So the chagrined Peck had to eek out a living by becoming movie actor.
Nuts and bolts for today: The cell phone does not have the personality of our kids today. Listen to them, they are full of gems.
"What kind would you like? We have strawberry, banana, mango ...so you wish the strawberry.? Should I mix in other fruits?"
"Any extra charge?"
"No..That will be four thirty five."
My pocket watch said eight o'clock. My #25 would be here at exactly eight twenty five. The Waterfront Hilton Hotel is my first stop for today. Off the ocean, I enjoy the view of the crashing waves, the beach and pier.
From my corner table, I have a first hand view of the Surf City Beach. off of P.C.H. Outside by the pool is a large breakfast buffet but I must remind my stomach "not today". With a straw I sip my mocha drink and hear the news from the T.V. inside the Coffee Clutch.
I delete from my mind anything said about Trump but zero in on the anniversary of the death of Elvis Presley. Today was also my 78th birthday, and no Trump or the panhandler who pushed me will spoil it.
I remember the words of my oldest daughter Olivia as we walked to the Century Theater at the Bella Terra shopping center. My youngest daughter held the hand of my three year old Allison. I extend my left hand to Olivia, my six year old grandchild
"Grandpa, I do not need your hand!"
"Why not?"
"Cause I am independent!"
"Two busy to beat the heat, I didn't know how funny yet sophisticated it was for a six year old. I repeated what she had told me to everyone that included the Senior Center.
I remembered a radio show broadcast on top of the Pickwick Hotel in San Diego in the 30's. I had lived there at the Y.M.C.A. before moving to Huntington Beach. Its two towers were finished in 1938 and broadcast a radio show from there.
An Alumnus from San Diego High School , Art Linkletter began his career on top of that building with a program called Man on the Street Pickwick. Since the stage line stopped there as well as the Greyhound bus, many people came to watch his show. But later he began a show, Kids Say the Darndest Things. and .
Oh yes, another alumnus by the name of Gregory Peck matriculated to the school and was a member of a drama club, and the J.V. football team. He admired the play of one Ambrose Schindler but never had his body or athleticism. So the chagrined Peck had to eek out a living by becoming movie actor.
Nuts and bolts for today: The cell phone does not have the personality of our kids today. Listen to them, they are full of gems.
Friday, August 11, 2017
A Surf City Birthday
As always, I showered, put some under arm on, and sprayed a little cologne on my neck. Yes, I felt great when...Excuse me, that was my phone.
"Shabbat Shalom Lauren, nothing is needed for my birthday. You and your sister did it for me and now I can look over and enjoy my grand children."
My daughter called to wish me a happy 78th birthday...and it made my day. I ate my hard boiled eggs with Rice Crispy Cereal, cleaned the kitchen and out the door I flew. I caught the #29 bus to the beach and descended at the Waterfront Hilton Hotel. After I climbed the curved steps to the fountain and entered.
"Take the roasted coffee, the tall." I dripped some honey from two small glass containers and poured milk and a little sugar into my paper cup. I peered out the window and marveled at the ocean view with Jack's and the parking lot in front of it. Two surfers glued onto a wave and were milking the ride.
I took up a seat at the corner table and looked over my Schindler notes from October of 1936 from the Union Tribune, When a thought entered my excited mind. In San Diego a few years ago, my Rabbi Carlback told a story about a father soon to die.
"Caleb had born two beautiful daughters and bore grandchildren. His older daughter cried and mentioned that it was 'too bad he would not live to see them marry and bare more children. He responded.
"My dear, Only God can tell us when our number is up. I produced two seeds that bore two beautiful women and now grand daughters...I will live to see them marry and produce more seeds."
"He did live another twenty years and even witness the marriage of all his granddaughters."
"So one sees that from a few seeds, some mighty Oak trees grew and grew and produced more seed.s.
It was eight fifteen now and my #25 would be picking me up, and take me to the library where I would write this and edited my Schindler story. And oh yes, Sam, the Indian from India has promised to bring a chicken laden with Curry for me for my birthday, so I better hurry up to enjoy the Hawaii them at the Surf City Senior Center
Nuts and Bolts for Today: live today as if it is the second to the last day of your life.
"Shabbat Shalom Lauren, nothing is needed for my birthday. You and your sister did it for me and now I can look over and enjoy my grand children."
My daughter called to wish me a happy 78th birthday...and it made my day. I ate my hard boiled eggs with Rice Crispy Cereal, cleaned the kitchen and out the door I flew. I caught the #29 bus to the beach and descended at the Waterfront Hilton Hotel. After I climbed the curved steps to the fountain and entered.
"Take the roasted coffee, the tall." I dripped some honey from two small glass containers and poured milk and a little sugar into my paper cup. I peered out the window and marveled at the ocean view with Jack's and the parking lot in front of it. Two surfers glued onto a wave and were milking the ride.
I took up a seat at the corner table and looked over my Schindler notes from October of 1936 from the Union Tribune, When a thought entered my excited mind. In San Diego a few years ago, my Rabbi Carlback told a story about a father soon to die.
"Caleb had born two beautiful daughters and bore grandchildren. His older daughter cried and mentioned that it was 'too bad he would not live to see them marry and bare more children. He responded.
"My dear, Only God can tell us when our number is up. I produced two seeds that bore two beautiful women and now grand daughters...I will live to see them marry and produce more seeds."
"He did live another twenty years and even witness the marriage of all his granddaughters."
"So one sees that from a few seeds, some mighty Oak trees grew and grew and produced more seed.s.
It was eight fifteen now and my #25 would be picking me up, and take me to the library where I would write this and edited my Schindler story. And oh yes, Sam, the Indian from India has promised to bring a chicken laden with Curry for me for my birthday, so I better hurry up to enjoy the Hawaii them at the Surf City Senior Center
Nuts and Bolts for Today: live today as if it is the second to the last day of your life.
Tuesday, July 25, 2017
Dead meat in Los Angeles
The Slam Bang Dennis breakfast included pancakes, scrambled eggs, beacon and sausages. Included for nine ninety nine were coffee and fresh orange juice. Dennis is located a block east of Western and Wilshire close to the Wiltern Theater area. Coffee with refills and fresh orange juice is included in the bill of fare.
The remodeled eatery now had a great AC with great food at a reasonable price. Outsiders came inside to use their one urinal toilet -- and they were gracious about it.
L.A had another heat wave and I didn't sleep a wink at my daughters apartment Friday evening. But it was worth the visit as we saw Mac Beth at the Landmark Theater in Westwood and enjoyed our reunion.
It was going on eleven o'clock on Saturday and I wished to return to Huntington Beach and get myself out of the sun. I waved to the waiter for my bill, nine ninety nine. He came to my table.
"Do you wish me to give you some coffee to go?"
"Yes, and thanks."
Sleepy but re-energized, I walked across the street where there was a CVS store. An old man lay over a walker dead asleep or simply dead. A pool of urine and soiled pants told me if alive, it would not be long for the other world. A few feet from him asleep over his bike was another man fast asleep. I wondered if he had overdosed on Heroin or a derivative.
On the corner was a Mexican selling oranges and across Western a Lady sold fresh tamales. I took the elevator to the ground floor to buy a ticket on my way to Union Station.. I removed my TAP card and paid 35 cents to activate it for my trip. After I tapped my card on a turnstile. I took the stairs to the ground floor to await my purple line train..
It is always great to forget about driving and allow buses and trains to get me to my destination. I don't have to worry about cars, other persons or things. I entered the Purple Line train and relaxed. In front of me sat, or shall I say, slept with his legs over the seats. His sidekick, his bike sat beside him. An what a bike.
His bike had two wheels, one a midget and the other a giant. He slumped down holding a drink. He wore multicolored socks and wore tattoos everywhere. A wry smile told me he needed an audience as they all do.
The Huntington Beach strand was where I first witnessed these bikers doing all types of tricks. They followed another floor show on the concrete bleachers. There, several gymnasts did all kinds of routines taking turns. After each somersault or swivel, they asked for asked for money.
But back to the bikers. They came with all types of bikes. Several could swivel on their bike seats and control the bike, have the bike stand on one wheel, or turn the front wheels over and over again, always keeping good control over their four wheel animal.
But back to the train. The biker wheeled out doing a few floor exercises. I got off at the Seventh Street exit and tapped my ticket to get on the Blue Line Long Beach train. My journey was half over now. The Long Beach train left the station and soon was on Flower Street. And what a view. Los Angeles had more high rises going up to the sky.
The patrons were diversified. I told a father that he missed his stop and needed to get off at the Pico Station and take the Expo to get to U.S.C. He thanked me. After a stop at Trade Tech on Washington Street, we continued on and stopped at Vernon, Compton, Firestone and so forth. It felt good to have seen my number two daughter. My own mind did cartwheels on the train.
We left the Watts station, and continued south to the Anaheim, Pacific Coast and finally my stop at the Fifth Street station. I waited a few minutes and climbed aboard the 91 Long Beach bus, distination the VA building...where luck was on my side. The number one bus waited for me...Not edited yet.
The remodeled eatery now had a great AC with great food at a reasonable price. Outsiders came inside to use their one urinal toilet -- and they were gracious about it.
L.A had another heat wave and I didn't sleep a wink at my daughters apartment Friday evening. But it was worth the visit as we saw Mac Beth at the Landmark Theater in Westwood and enjoyed our reunion.
It was going on eleven o'clock on Saturday and I wished to return to Huntington Beach and get myself out of the sun. I waved to the waiter for my bill, nine ninety nine. He came to my table.
"Do you wish me to give you some coffee to go?"
"Yes, and thanks."
Sleepy but re-energized, I walked across the street where there was a CVS store. An old man lay over a walker dead asleep or simply dead. A pool of urine and soiled pants told me if alive, it would not be long for the other world. A few feet from him asleep over his bike was another man fast asleep. I wondered if he had overdosed on Heroin or a derivative.
On the corner was a Mexican selling oranges and across Western a Lady sold fresh tamales. I took the elevator to the ground floor to buy a ticket on my way to Union Station.. I removed my TAP card and paid 35 cents to activate it for my trip. After I tapped my card on a turnstile. I took the stairs to the ground floor to await my purple line train..
It is always great to forget about driving and allow buses and trains to get me to my destination. I don't have to worry about cars, other persons or things. I entered the Purple Line train and relaxed. In front of me sat, or shall I say, slept with his legs over the seats. His sidekick, his bike sat beside him. An what a bike.
His bike had two wheels, one a midget and the other a giant. He slumped down holding a drink. He wore multicolored socks and wore tattoos everywhere. A wry smile told me he needed an audience as they all do.
The Huntington Beach strand was where I first witnessed these bikers doing all types of tricks. They followed another floor show on the concrete bleachers. There, several gymnasts did all kinds of routines taking turns. After each somersault or swivel, they asked for asked for money.
But back to the bikers. They came with all types of bikes. Several could swivel on their bike seats and control the bike, have the bike stand on one wheel, or turn the front wheels over and over again, always keeping good control over their four wheel animal.
But back to the train. The biker wheeled out doing a few floor exercises. I got off at the Seventh Street exit and tapped my ticket to get on the Blue Line Long Beach train. My journey was half over now. The Long Beach train left the station and soon was on Flower Street. And what a view. Los Angeles had more high rises going up to the sky.
The patrons were diversified. I told a father that he missed his stop and needed to get off at the Pico Station and take the Expo to get to U.S.C. He thanked me. After a stop at Trade Tech on Washington Street, we continued on and stopped at Vernon, Compton, Firestone and so forth. It felt good to have seen my number two daughter. My own mind did cartwheels on the train.
We left the Watts station, and continued south to the Anaheim, Pacific Coast and finally my stop at the Fifth Street station. I waited a few minutes and climbed aboard the 91 Long Beach bus, distination the VA building...where luck was on my side. The number one bus waited for me...Not edited yet.
Wednesday, July 19, 2017
Surf City Bus Stop
My goal yesterday was to crop my hair, that is after my four dollar big McDonald's breakfast Another hot and muggy day greeted me at the Main Street Bus Stop. The 29 bus had the usual on board: the homeless, walkers and wheelchairs , domestics, and the tattooed skateboarders.
I could not remove the stumps from my memory. Yesterday at the Adams stop, a blanket that covered two stumps looked wither asleep or dead. The legless man had homesteaded the bus stop for days and one day would leave on the meat truck to Potters Field.
Potters Field is the final destination of unclaimed morgue bodies. It is a several acres of land between La Habra and Whittier. Over time, The decayed bodies turn the dirt into clay. Kitchenware items are made out of these acres of dirt.
On Warner, the bus dropped me off next to a Big Mac remodeled restaurant. Its AC had been upgraded and my blood cells craved fore more H2O. I ordered the big four dollar breakfast and coffee. I asked that my sugar and cream be added.
In the center of the restaurant were the same group of old Vietnamese reminiscing, or so it seemed. The group resembled an old match box with each match a copy of the other All seemed over eighty but age was a number for them. The group bantered back and forth and only took a break to sip their coffee. Their clothes matched and all were well-groomed.
I had been told they were the original boat people who fled their county after the war and were given citizenship in our county with a way of having HUD provide them with discounted senior apartments. When they finished their coffees, one remained behind to clean and polish the tables.
My destination now was the Bella Terra, where I would take in a movie and allow my blood cells a chance to regain their senses with clean air. I kept looking for the 29 A bus when across the street I saw an angular man walking aimlessly. He must have seen a well dressed man across Beach and came towards me.
"Good morning. Got spare change for a coffee."
"No not today, Have a great day."
He ambled toward Big Mack. Somehow I knew he would return. And he did with the same conversation. Man did I wish for the bus to turn up. To show his disdain for me, he turned his cap around and muttered "Fuck you."
After a long wait, the 29 A bus arrived and non too soon. I felt like a pouched egg ready to be eaten. At Whole Foods, I bought five dollars of cherries and removed part of my Schindler manuscript from my Costco back pack. My body began to feel energized. I ate those cherries with relish before I walked over to Starbucks for a drink of pure air.
At about eleven o'clock, I walked towards the Century Theaters for their five dollar and change senior day. Inside I looked over the preview of each movie and decided on House. I finished off the sack of cherries and entered theater two for the one o'clock movie.
The movie about a couple who turned to starting a gamgling casino on their block so as to afford sending their daughter to Bucknell University. At three forty, I took another bus to Gothard Street. The Pickle Barrel Barber Shop was across the way from the Farmer's Market.
Inside, I removed a large pickle from the barrel. Cucumbers from the Farmers market were bought and fomented into pickles. After my haircut I meandered to the market and bought me a bag of dates at a fair price, two large tomatoes, onions, three oranges and two corns -- all for seven and change.
It felt good to make a date with the barber. My Ex girl friend Gloria told me that the mark of a man was his head and shoes Ever since, I have made sure to cut my hair every month ot so.
I could not remove the stumps from my memory. Yesterday at the Adams stop, a blanket that covered two stumps looked wither asleep or dead. The legless man had homesteaded the bus stop for days and one day would leave on the meat truck to Potters Field.
Potters Field is the final destination of unclaimed morgue bodies. It is a several acres of land between La Habra and Whittier. Over time, The decayed bodies turn the dirt into clay. Kitchenware items are made out of these acres of dirt.
On Warner, the bus dropped me off next to a Big Mac remodeled restaurant. Its AC had been upgraded and my blood cells craved fore more H2O. I ordered the big four dollar breakfast and coffee. I asked that my sugar and cream be added.
In the center of the restaurant were the same group of old Vietnamese reminiscing, or so it seemed. The group resembled an old match box with each match a copy of the other All seemed over eighty but age was a number for them. The group bantered back and forth and only took a break to sip their coffee. Their clothes matched and all were well-groomed.
I had been told they were the original boat people who fled their county after the war and were given citizenship in our county with a way of having HUD provide them with discounted senior apartments. When they finished their coffees, one remained behind to clean and polish the tables.
My destination now was the Bella Terra, where I would take in a movie and allow my blood cells a chance to regain their senses with clean air. I kept looking for the 29 A bus when across the street I saw an angular man walking aimlessly. He must have seen a well dressed man across Beach and came towards me.
"Good morning. Got spare change for a coffee."
"No not today, Have a great day."
He ambled toward Big Mack. Somehow I knew he would return. And he did with the same conversation. Man did I wish for the bus to turn up. To show his disdain for me, he turned his cap around and muttered "Fuck you."
After a long wait, the 29 A bus arrived and non too soon. I felt like a pouched egg ready to be eaten. At Whole Foods, I bought five dollars of cherries and removed part of my Schindler manuscript from my Costco back pack. My body began to feel energized. I ate those cherries with relish before I walked over to Starbucks for a drink of pure air.
At about eleven o'clock, I walked towards the Century Theaters for their five dollar and change senior day. Inside I looked over the preview of each movie and decided on House. I finished off the sack of cherries and entered theater two for the one o'clock movie.
The movie about a couple who turned to starting a gamgling casino on their block so as to afford sending their daughter to Bucknell University. At three forty, I took another bus to Gothard Street. The Pickle Barrel Barber Shop was across the way from the Farmer's Market.
Inside, I removed a large pickle from the barrel. Cucumbers from the Farmers market were bought and fomented into pickles. After my haircut I meandered to the market and bought me a bag of dates at a fair price, two large tomatoes, onions, three oranges and two corns -- all for seven and change.
It felt good to make a date with the barber. My Ex girl friend Gloria told me that the mark of a man was his head and shoes Ever since, I have made sure to cut my hair every month ot so.
Saturday, July 15, 2017
Another Red Flag Day in Surf City
"It is a red flag day today in Los Angeles. The city will make it to 89 today, valley 104, and beeches only eight. But there will be high humidity so make sure you look in on the old and new to make sure they are OK."
Well since I had nobody to look in on me, I looked in on myself and took a bullet from the medicine chest. Almost immediately, my lungs coughed up some slime, the residue when my lungs breathing have been compromised with a harness called Ozone. I knew that Pacific City on the coast would be my salvation today, mainly the Waterfront Hilton.
"I'll take a medium dark coffee today?"
"Is that New York Times yours?...That will be five fifty five."
Outside the coffee shop, skimpy bathing suits with bearded men splashed in the pool. For me, i wished to wade into a pool of words, sung by the best writers in America. This guy Trump must be good for the papers circulation. Something new was added to the dirty tricks investigation. Trump Junior's nose kept growing longer and longer, just like Pinocchio's.
What I really get inside the hotel is pure crisp air, since inside the city it feels like breathing Cyanide. My air waves transmit the words into exciting events. And speaking of air waves, Trump seldom at white house and not without reason. He disdains reporters and the only one he listens to is himself. Why he is God, isn't he?" Adoph Hitler nationalized the radios and even newspapers back in the 30's. And no doubt Trump would do the same if he could and you no what, He just might.
Outside my white house is a marble fountain, and further away are the multicolored umbrellas homesteading their rights to a slice of sand close to the water. It is too hot to stand on the sand, and my feet have burns to prove it. While I cradle my coffee cup, I go outside on the patio and engulf the view the same way the seagulls do without a care in the world.
Seldom do I see any father holding the hand of his wife. It is all about their children. "Dad, can you buy this buggy board for me." The Dad's look totally unfit. There pockets might be stuffed with cash but for me, just give me the view the seagull and that is all that i will need.
Upstairs on the second floor, a lawyer spoke to me about his mother who passed on a few weeks ago. "My life is over. I did it all by the time I made 55 and with the death of my mother, there is nobody to love me." My lawyer friend cried. I felt sorry for him since we the secret of a good life is to live it each day, and for me tonight it means reading the book Mary Queen of Scots by Fraser.
Well since I had nobody to look in on me, I looked in on myself and took a bullet from the medicine chest. Almost immediately, my lungs coughed up some slime, the residue when my lungs breathing have been compromised with a harness called Ozone. I knew that Pacific City on the coast would be my salvation today, mainly the Waterfront Hilton.
"I'll take a medium dark coffee today?"
"Is that New York Times yours?...That will be five fifty five."
Outside the coffee shop, skimpy bathing suits with bearded men splashed in the pool. For me, i wished to wade into a pool of words, sung by the best writers in America. This guy Trump must be good for the papers circulation. Something new was added to the dirty tricks investigation. Trump Junior's nose kept growing longer and longer, just like Pinocchio's.
What I really get inside the hotel is pure crisp air, since inside the city it feels like breathing Cyanide. My air waves transmit the words into exciting events. And speaking of air waves, Trump seldom at white house and not without reason. He disdains reporters and the only one he listens to is himself. Why he is God, isn't he?" Adoph Hitler nationalized the radios and even newspapers back in the 30's. And no doubt Trump would do the same if he could and you no what, He just might.
Outside my white house is a marble fountain, and further away are the multicolored umbrellas homesteading their rights to a slice of sand close to the water. It is too hot to stand on the sand, and my feet have burns to prove it. While I cradle my coffee cup, I go outside on the patio and engulf the view the same way the seagulls do without a care in the world.
Seldom do I see any father holding the hand of his wife. It is all about their children. "Dad, can you buy this buggy board for me." The Dad's look totally unfit. There pockets might be stuffed with cash but for me, just give me the view the seagull and that is all that i will need.
Upstairs on the second floor, a lawyer spoke to me about his mother who passed on a few weeks ago. "My life is over. I did it all by the time I made 55 and with the death of my mother, there is nobody to love me." My lawyer friend cried. I felt sorry for him since we the secret of a good life is to live it each day, and for me tonight it means reading the book Mary Queen of Scots by Fraser.
Wednesday, July 12, 2017
A Picture Postcard...Surf City
Whenever I am low on hope, I end up on the Coast and the Pacific View Center. There is a great view no matter where you eat or simply eat. Sometimes I walk up the steps and take a seat in front of Philz, the best coffee shop in the land.
I usually have a book in hand and sit in a corridor that provides shade and a blissful view of the ocean. This last week, the lines have been out the door...and then some. Time flies as I enjoy the various colors and hue of the main attraction, the tourists. They come from around the world and I can understand a little French or Spanish.
This morning a tropical storm came in with fifteen foot waves. On the coast, nobody swam or sat. All looked at the pounding waves. But I bought the best view. With a bad case of bronchitis due to humid and hot weather, I left the bus at the Waterfront Hilton Hotel, the buses second stop.
I walked up some steps towards a fountain and the main door of the hotel. On the left was a little coffee shop. Is it becoming my favorite since inside, the AC is free. I put down my new back pack and grab a New York Times -- the best paper in the land. I also bought a two dollar and change drink.
The Norm's meal hit the spot earlier and why not? A steak, eggs, hash browns and pancakes for eight and change. The AC at Norms of course helped as I connected with a bus to take me to the Hilton Hotel.
Beside the coffee clutch I sat enjoying the view. A lot of white water splashed and danced over the sand as nary anybody took the change to ride these large bunking broncos. And my the coffee tasted real good. Yet the water did not thrill me as much as the Watergate on the front page. A text between a Russian business man and Donald Jr. made it appear that they had tried to place dirty tricks into the up and coming election.
I devoured the newspaper and almost cried when I read about one of the finest from the Bronx go down with a bullet in the head. The funeral brought four thousand to New York's finest. And why was one hospitalized with mental illness allowed on the street, and with a gun?
The next day finds me at the Waterfront Hilton Coffee Hole Again. The AC and great view are free...well almost. Again I buy a Starbucks regular coffee and a New York Times. Yes, one might say the hotel and I are a match made in heaven.
Outside, the palms sway in the light wind while the remnants of crashing waves hit the beach. It is a bit humid, but inside the hotel who cares. I can't afford the room rates and I know I must be discreet and blend in.
Today I wear a white, thin blue lined shirt my daughter bought for me on my last birthday. With my gray hair combed and new tennis shoes, the ladies all give me the eye. I make sure not to open my mouth until I get my top dentures.
In my crows nest inside the hotel, I view the crashing waves and a girls volleyball team doing a warm up routine. Like yesterday, I work on a short word puzzle on the third page and inside notice a good article about a new cancer drug called Novartis. Those with incurable blood cancer have had their blood sent to a research lab and somehow reprogrammed to fight the cancer. Their T-Cells are then returned into their body and the results have been promising for the new drug.
Buggy boards, pails, and beach attire come and go. The beach below beckons them and why not, Huntington Beach is a picture postcard today.
My years of teaching speed reading put me at a big advantage. Outside, the waves crash white wash while bikers, and skateboarders make up the boardwalk. I notice that a Kaiser convention is having a luncheon today. My #25 bus is due to come at exactly 11:07, and pick me up where the #29 had dropped me off. I am getting good at using the bus schedules.
The bus drops me off on Orange and Main, two blocks from the library. I still don't know why there is no AC at the old library. It is not sizzling inside today so my mind is as quick as a wink.
I think of my Mom Edith who got me glasses, piano lessons and s "shrink" when younger. She gave me just what I needed to stay alive today and milk the rest of it so cream will pervade the top.
I usually have a book in hand and sit in a corridor that provides shade and a blissful view of the ocean. This last week, the lines have been out the door...and then some. Time flies as I enjoy the various colors and hue of the main attraction, the tourists. They come from around the world and I can understand a little French or Spanish.
This morning a tropical storm came in with fifteen foot waves. On the coast, nobody swam or sat. All looked at the pounding waves. But I bought the best view. With a bad case of bronchitis due to humid and hot weather, I left the bus at the Waterfront Hilton Hotel, the buses second stop.
I walked up some steps towards a fountain and the main door of the hotel. On the left was a little coffee shop. Is it becoming my favorite since inside, the AC is free. I put down my new back pack and grab a New York Times -- the best paper in the land. I also bought a two dollar and change drink.
The Norm's meal hit the spot earlier and why not? A steak, eggs, hash browns and pancakes for eight and change. The AC at Norms of course helped as I connected with a bus to take me to the Hilton Hotel.
Beside the coffee clutch I sat enjoying the view. A lot of white water splashed and danced over the sand as nary anybody took the change to ride these large bunking broncos. And my the coffee tasted real good. Yet the water did not thrill me as much as the Watergate on the front page. A text between a Russian business man and Donald Jr. made it appear that they had tried to place dirty tricks into the up and coming election.
I devoured the newspaper and almost cried when I read about one of the finest from the Bronx go down with a bullet in the head. The funeral brought four thousand to New York's finest. And why was one hospitalized with mental illness allowed on the street, and with a gun?
The next day finds me at the Waterfront Hilton Coffee Hole Again. The AC and great view are free...well almost. Again I buy a Starbucks regular coffee and a New York Times. Yes, one might say the hotel and I are a match made in heaven.
Outside, the palms sway in the light wind while the remnants of crashing waves hit the beach. It is a bit humid, but inside the hotel who cares. I can't afford the room rates and I know I must be discreet and blend in.
Today I wear a white, thin blue lined shirt my daughter bought for me on my last birthday. With my gray hair combed and new tennis shoes, the ladies all give me the eye. I make sure not to open my mouth until I get my top dentures.
In my crows nest inside the hotel, I view the crashing waves and a girls volleyball team doing a warm up routine. Like yesterday, I work on a short word puzzle on the third page and inside notice a good article about a new cancer drug called Novartis. Those with incurable blood cancer have had their blood sent to a research lab and somehow reprogrammed to fight the cancer. Their T-Cells are then returned into their body and the results have been promising for the new drug.
Buggy boards, pails, and beach attire come and go. The beach below beckons them and why not, Huntington Beach is a picture postcard today.
My years of teaching speed reading put me at a big advantage. Outside, the waves crash white wash while bikers, and skateboarders make up the boardwalk. I notice that a Kaiser convention is having a luncheon today. My #25 bus is due to come at exactly 11:07, and pick me up where the #29 had dropped me off. I am getting good at using the bus schedules.
The bus drops me off on Orange and Main, two blocks from the library. I still don't know why there is no AC at the old library. It is not sizzling inside today so my mind is as quick as a wink.
I think of my Mom Edith who got me glasses, piano lessons and s "shrink" when younger. She gave me just what I needed to stay alive today and milk the rest of it so cream will pervade the top.
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