I walked to Fifth Street and a two blocks from the Huntington Beach Pier. I needed a pair of tennis shoes so I walked towards Stretchers who I thought had my brand.
On Orange was an electrical bicycle shop and a one that restored old cars to my right. The few residences down Fifth Street led me to police station, a Mexican outside restaurant and the aroma of waffles. The tantalizing smell almost knocked me over. I needed to find out why so many ate there. Hunger snatched me off the street into the corner store, across from the street station A warm smile gave me a menu. I knew at once what to order. The eight dollar burger fit my budget.
"Like to try the Waffle Burger."
"You made a good choice...Wish fries or anything to drink?..Take this gadget and we'll know where to serve you."
"I placed the gadget on the table and waited."
So beautiful was the day, that many patrons ate outside. With a smile I received my first waffle burger. It had been cut into two parts. The lawn chairs faced the sun so I chose an outside table. A baby was coddled by a young couple. To my right, A homeless one was being treated to a meal by a stranger and took his time to make a choice.
The long hair red head studied for more than a minute. It had been such a long time that he entertained one that he wished to make a good decision. It would not be a Seven Eleven hot dog or a a bag of chips today. No today he would feel almost human. He took a seat in the back, far back, and waited while his escort departed for some business. The red headed eyes darted around, excited that he was a patron rather than a beggar today.
Unlike the homeless one, I dug in to my waffle burger and wondered if the waffle would crumble when i bit into it. I can't tell you my surprise when I partook in this exercise. So flavorful it was, I spent several seconds chewing my first bite. Well it was love at first bite. Yes love at first bite. Don't know if was the inside pickle, onions or pickles,
In no time I finished the sandwich but not quite. The last to enter my mouth was Mr. Pickle. And believe it or not, he began to speak to me...I took his cue and listened to him.
I came from a batch of cucumbers from the Farmer's Market on Gothard Street. A Mr. Tom bought many of us and pickled us inside a barrel. He does quite well and we were only 45 cents each, not bad for one a foot long.
Mr. Pickle told me how he his family climbed a fence until ripe to be picked. But I couldn't wait to taste him so he entered my mouth...
I needed to interrupt my lunch to call the health care center My brother Mel had not been well for a day or two. He wished to pick up a check from the finance office and was mad the Miss Quiggly did not bring a $1,800 check that she said she would.
I spoke to my brother in room 135 B for a few moments and left Bruxie's. Stretchers did not sell my Adidas shoe so I walked towards P.C.H. I ended up at the View Point Shopping Center and took up a seat at a table.
I could not make out Catalina but could the volleyball players and fisherman at the pier I love to sit and enjoy the view even though some idiot wished to call it Pacific City...The number 29 bus took me home.
Friday, April 28, 2017
Thursday, April 27, 2017
A La La--Land Sunday
After a visit to Dr. Fingers for a prostate exam at Kaiser's Anaheim, I took his advice and linked up Passover and removing bread and fats in my diet. I can still hear his words after I had taken the La Palma Disneyland bus to the Kaiser hospital. And ever since last Thursday, it has done wonders for my mind and body. But yesterday I had a diet of aggravation that I handled well.
In March, room 135B got a letter from Social Security. I read that they were sending him $2739 to the Sea Cliff for him. . A copy of that letter I gave to the receptionist to hand over to their finance department. I was never sure of how Medical works in conjunction with his SSA check, but forgot about it.
Inside another letter was a Trust Statement. Now I had no idea what a trust statement meant or if Melvyn consented to the trust. Also I had wished to know why Mel received $914 each month rather than the added SSI amount of over $1,100. The finance department added the two to get $3,653 but subtracted $1,758 what he owed. And what bugged me was that they still insist of spelling his name with an "i" rather than a "y'.
Mel, the other day, took action for the first time in his life. He went to their office and wished to know if he could withdraw the $1,758. Mel told me that a highly nervous lady told him to return and sign a paper and she could release the above amount.
Yesterday I called that office. Miss Quigley told me that "she was busy but could give me five minutes. Since I live a block down the street I removed my pocket watch. I wished some answers as to where the money went since I don't trust one who can't spell Melvyn. (Named after Melvyn Douglas an actor.)
Miss Quigley in a hurry at her desks while Mud Cakes looked on. The office is the last one on the third floor. I removed my pocket watch and set it on her busy desk
"Quick Mr. Garrett. Mel wished you to have the money so have him sign this paper. I will make check out to you."
"Well Miss, my brother wishes to buy a car with money. He is here because he never learned to walk. Also, I wish to know more about how Medical and his SSA works?
"Have Mel come here and sign paper. He wishes you to have the money."
"But Miss Quigley, I still don't know how much goes to "his needs"."
"He gets thirty dollars a month."
"You can keep it if you learn to spell his name."
This scene repeated itself for one more minute when my five minute elapsed. I got what I expected from the Wax Museums office: Nothing.
It was only nine forty and the rest of my day was ahead of me. I needed a break and disdain the use of cars, made easier by the lack of funds inside my wallet. The 29 bus took me to Bella Center's Whole Foods where I placed three dollars of warm curried vegies on my paper plate.
I placed my wall board poster of Schindler next to me and read a history book about Greek history. I felt exuberant that I said "No" to the $1,800 check I sorely need. A good book and great food made me merry again.
I had my picture taken in the sport's department of Barns and Noble with my poster beside me. Another hour at Starbucks, adjacent to the book store gave me more punch for the day. I sat on a couch next to the Century Theaters and watched life ebb and flow. The 29 returned me back to my apartment and solitude -- but not quite since He walks with me.
Oh yes, I hope to go to the Hermosa Pier since the city will celebrate La La-Land this Sunday with dance, music and lights. I can take the Long Beach bus that will drop me off on Pier Avenue. It is an event not to miss.
I saw the movie five times at the above cinema and it kept me alive during the toughest time in my life. The music, singing and dance has provided a jump in my step and I play many of these sounds and Mr. Horowitz, the composer ranks up there with the best. I sing these songs every day.
Since I lived in Hermosa Beach with my two daughters for a few years, it is a more special occasion. Beside the Strand at Hermosa Beach, Played the piano at Scotty's for tips and food. It is where I interviewed the Golden Boy from San Diego, Ambrose Parks Schindler.
Also at the top of the closed street, I had my date with my first love, Gloria. I will never forget my first date with this Montreal lass. Yes, oh yes, it was a La La--Land day for me. She was small as I was tall. From the iconic clock I stood up and with trepidation, went towards this little dame dressed in white with white shoes
It took some convincing for her to remove her shoes as we sanded our way to the rocks that separate Redondo Beach and Hermosa. But I did not fall in love with her until we ate at Hennessey's restaurant on the corner. She made me laugh! It was her first date in 42 years and when I mentioned an encore at the Alpine Village she stood up and said "Yes!"
Even though she screamed at me at times she was, and will always be the love of my La La--Land life.
I
In March, room 135B got a letter from Social Security. I read that they were sending him $2739 to the Sea Cliff for him. . A copy of that letter I gave to the receptionist to hand over to their finance department. I was never sure of how Medical works in conjunction with his SSA check, but forgot about it.
Inside another letter was a Trust Statement. Now I had no idea what a trust statement meant or if Melvyn consented to the trust. Also I had wished to know why Mel received $914 each month rather than the added SSI amount of over $1,100. The finance department added the two to get $3,653 but subtracted $1,758 what he owed. And what bugged me was that they still insist of spelling his name with an "i" rather than a "y'.
Mel, the other day, took action for the first time in his life. He went to their office and wished to know if he could withdraw the $1,758. Mel told me that a highly nervous lady told him to return and sign a paper and she could release the above amount.
Yesterday I called that office. Miss Quigley told me that "she was busy but could give me five minutes. Since I live a block down the street I removed my pocket watch. I wished some answers as to where the money went since I don't trust one who can't spell Melvyn. (Named after Melvyn Douglas an actor.)
Miss Quigley in a hurry at her desks while Mud Cakes looked on. The office is the last one on the third floor. I removed my pocket watch and set it on her busy desk
"Quick Mr. Garrett. Mel wished you to have the money so have him sign this paper. I will make check out to you."
"Well Miss, my brother wishes to buy a car with money. He is here because he never learned to walk. Also, I wish to know more about how Medical and his SSA works?
"Have Mel come here and sign paper. He wishes you to have the money."
"But Miss Quigley, I still don't know how much goes to "his needs"."
"He gets thirty dollars a month."
"You can keep it if you learn to spell his name."
This scene repeated itself for one more minute when my five minute elapsed. I got what I expected from the Wax Museums office: Nothing.
It was only nine forty and the rest of my day was ahead of me. I needed a break and disdain the use of cars, made easier by the lack of funds inside my wallet. The 29 bus took me to Bella Center's Whole Foods where I placed three dollars of warm curried vegies on my paper plate.
I placed my wall board poster of Schindler next to me and read a history book about Greek history. I felt exuberant that I said "No" to the $1,800 check I sorely need. A good book and great food made me merry again.
I had my picture taken in the sport's department of Barns and Noble with my poster beside me. Another hour at Starbucks, adjacent to the book store gave me more punch for the day. I sat on a couch next to the Century Theaters and watched life ebb and flow. The 29 returned me back to my apartment and solitude -- but not quite since He walks with me.
Oh yes, I hope to go to the Hermosa Pier since the city will celebrate La La-Land this Sunday with dance, music and lights. I can take the Long Beach bus that will drop me off on Pier Avenue. It is an event not to miss.
I saw the movie five times at the above cinema and it kept me alive during the toughest time in my life. The music, singing and dance has provided a jump in my step and I play many of these sounds and Mr. Horowitz, the composer ranks up there with the best. I sing these songs every day.
Since I lived in Hermosa Beach with my two daughters for a few years, it is a more special occasion. Beside the Strand at Hermosa Beach, Played the piano at Scotty's for tips and food. It is where I interviewed the Golden Boy from San Diego, Ambrose Parks Schindler.
Also at the top of the closed street, I had my date with my first love, Gloria. I will never forget my first date with this Montreal lass. Yes, oh yes, it was a La La--Land day for me. She was small as I was tall. From the iconic clock I stood up and with trepidation, went towards this little dame dressed in white with white shoes
It took some convincing for her to remove her shoes as we sanded our way to the rocks that separate Redondo Beach and Hermosa. But I did not fall in love with her until we ate at Hennessey's restaurant on the corner. She made me laugh! It was her first date in 42 years and when I mentioned an encore at the Alpine Village she stood up and said "Yes!"
Even though she screamed at me at times she was, and will always be the love of my La La--Land life.
I
Friday, April 21, 2017
Surf City's Sugar Shack
"Why they have more texture, fluffier, and have more bounce. Yes the Sugar Shack pan-caked the IHOP...Can you take my picture...thanks?
I almost went to the IHOP but it was a beautiful Santa Ana wind day. Not a cloud in the sky so I shielded my eyes with my large hat. I wished to test a different flat cake today so I sat at a table and studied the menu. Of course I am on Main Street's Surf City
"No but thanks. I brought my own coffee. Think I'll have the large stack. Thanks"
Smile took my order and left me to my book, Johnson's England. Yet the sun would not allow me to read. Was I inside View City ? Across the street the Coffee Bean had nary a customer. It was going on seven and the library would open at nine. Love was in the air.
The tables began to fill up, but not me, I sat on Main with flowers in front of me and the pier to my right. I thought about the Vietnamese fisherman I met on the bus and what he told me in his broken English.
"Go Pier today. Bonito are biting, about this big." The thin man's hands separated by two feet. "Use a lure for these fish and my wife grills what I take home. Live a simple life. Always fish. Ya know that the apartments over their, a single goes for $4,000."
"Tell me about it," I retorted to the little smile across from me. They are yanking up the derricks to be replaced by apartments. Land is gold today."
A plate covered with three large pancakes greeted me. I knew that by their fluffiness and texture they would taste great. And they sure did! There was a bounce to them as I sipped more of my Seattle coffee to digest these adorable cakes. I could only finish half of them. The waitress placed the bill of fare on the table.
"Could you take my picture?"
"My pleasure...close your mouth please a little...thanks." (Too many missing teeth.)
The cakes cost a bit over four dollars and with a three dollar tip. I sauntered across the street to read my book and sip the scene in front of me.
I almost went to the IHOP but it was a beautiful Santa Ana wind day. Not a cloud in the sky so I shielded my eyes with my large hat. I wished to test a different flat cake today so I sat at a table and studied the menu. Of course I am on Main Street's Surf City
"No but thanks. I brought my own coffee. Think I'll have the large stack. Thanks"
Smile took my order and left me to my book, Johnson's England. Yet the sun would not allow me to read. Was I inside View City ? Across the street the Coffee Bean had nary a customer. It was going on seven and the library would open at nine. Love was in the air.
The tables began to fill up, but not me, I sat on Main with flowers in front of me and the pier to my right. I thought about the Vietnamese fisherman I met on the bus and what he told me in his broken English.
"Go Pier today. Bonito are biting, about this big." The thin man's hands separated by two feet. "Use a lure for these fish and my wife grills what I take home. Live a simple life. Always fish. Ya know that the apartments over their, a single goes for $4,000."
"Tell me about it," I retorted to the little smile across from me. They are yanking up the derricks to be replaced by apartments. Land is gold today."
A plate covered with three large pancakes greeted me. I knew that by their fluffiness and texture they would taste great. And they sure did! There was a bounce to them as I sipped more of my Seattle coffee to digest these adorable cakes. I could only finish half of them. The waitress placed the bill of fare on the table.
"Could you take my picture?"
"My pleasure...close your mouth please a little...thanks." (Too many missing teeth.)
The cakes cost a bit over four dollars and with a three dollar tip. I sauntered across the street to read my book and sip the scene in front of me.
Schindler is One Hundred Today
Who says that a football player can't make one hundred these days? Why yes, you are correct. It must be Golden Boy out of San Diego, born at the Mercy Hospital in 1917. Yet members of his team did make it into their nineties like Joe Shell, Sal Mena, Carl Benson, Harry Smith and others.
On the hills of Torrance this morning, Mr. Schindler is probably eating his oat meal cereal, with toast, and decaf coffee with a lump of sugar and teaspoon of honey. A caretaker is helping him to the den where he can watch his cats chase birds in the back yard.
He told me that he was the greatest Trojan football player. I doubted him until endless hours of microfilms proved him correct. A writer wrote that Schindler was the total offense in a game against the Oregon Ducks while he scored four touchdowns.
Yet an archives director of El Camino Jr. College confided to me seven years ago, "Amby would rather catch a good wave to shore than score a touchdown." Schindler lived more on water than land, and if he could not catch a good wave, he brought up a lobster, or clam for his dinner at night. He loved the water and surfed the waves of the San Onofre and other beaches. His long board could be found on a plane going to Hawaii.
He played jokes on me and had a joke for everyone as laughter was our third party to our meals We were the first to be served and the last to leave. Once I choked on my food when listening to his stories about the his time as a San Diego Highlander or a member of the Trojan family.
Not quite as good as him on the gridiron or water, I doubt that he could play the piano or entertain like me. I have films of Schindler on the football field and also a slide show presentation, and of course the manuscript of the Schindler story.
You can reach me at (714) 818 9965 if you wish a presentation.
On the hills of Torrance this morning, Mr. Schindler is probably eating his oat meal cereal, with toast, and decaf coffee with a lump of sugar and teaspoon of honey. A caretaker is helping him to the den where he can watch his cats chase birds in the back yard.
He told me that he was the greatest Trojan football player. I doubted him until endless hours of microfilms proved him correct. A writer wrote that Schindler was the total offense in a game against the Oregon Ducks while he scored four touchdowns.
Yet an archives director of El Camino Jr. College confided to me seven years ago, "Amby would rather catch a good wave to shore than score a touchdown." Schindler lived more on water than land, and if he could not catch a good wave, he brought up a lobster, or clam for his dinner at night. He loved the water and surfed the waves of the San Onofre and other beaches. His long board could be found on a plane going to Hawaii.
He played jokes on me and had a joke for everyone as laughter was our third party to our meals We were the first to be served and the last to leave. Once I choked on my food when listening to his stories about the his time as a San Diego Highlander or a member of the Trojan family.
Not quite as good as him on the gridiron or water, I doubt that he could play the piano or entertain like me. I have films of Schindler on the football field and also a slide show presentation, and of course the manuscript of the Schindler story.
You can reach me at (714) 818 9965 if you wish a presentation.
Thursday, April 20, 2017
An I HOP Easter Parade
I sat on a brick flower display beside the I HOP. Irving Berlin's melody danced in my head while I sat on inside my head. across Main Street were Starbucks, Legends and on the same side sat the U.S. Post Office. Downtown Huntington Beach never looked so colorful on this Sunday's Easter Parade.
A slight westerly wind made the air fresh and clean. On Main, everyone shuffled towards the strand and the pier. But not I. No, the greatest show on earth smiled in front of me and showed off their skimpy and colorful bathing suits on a beautiful Easter Sunday. .
I yearned to be young again to hold the hands of a loved one, who wore not a bonnet, but a two piece bathing suit, rather skimpy but why not. These pairs could not be lovelier than on this Sunday Easter Parade. The men wore tattoos, mainly on their arms and shaved legs. The couples looked just lovely. Sunday was the most colorful day of the year.
In back of me I heard a distinguished grey hair belt out his I HOP order. The heavy set man had ear plugs as he conducted business while eating. Next to him was a wheel chair bound lady and a friend. They sat in the patio area along with six other round tables, A waitress asked them for their order.
"I'll have the ham, eggs with pancakes. But do my a favor. My last time here, the plate for the pancakes was too small and some spilled onto the table. Also, I don't need the ham to be cut in two. I could not finish the ham last time."
Of course I I thought of Amby Schindler whose 100th is on this Friday. He, too, requested a larger plate for the salad. at Scottys in Hermosa Beach. Every plate and utensil needed to be spot clean-or else! His friend began to point out car show in front of us.
"There is 55 Chevrolet...a 53 light blue Cadillac, a Corvette..." The Corvette let off steam that made everyone turn as some low riders made a duet with the car's noise. Skate boards, and bikes helped to make this a memorable scene.
My legs told me it was time to move on. The table nodded and said "good by" as I sallied towards the bleachers and sand. The concrete bleachers had filled up as a few acrobatic kids were doing somersaults or spins on he ground.
I headed for Dwight's, down the stand. and dodged a few skater blades and bikes. Bike-it your-selves carriages cranked up and down the strand. Dwight's was just south of the life guard headquarters. The burgers cafe had several bike carriages in front of their dwelling. I took the load off of my feet and found one of the patio tables to view the colors of the day.
A man and his little child surveyed the carriages. The kid jumped on. He looked at the prices and after a few moments of study purchased a $25 an hour one. On the Strand, dogs, wheel chairs, yes even wheel chairs smiled today. Grandma's tagged along happy to still be alive. Soon all of the carriages had been rented, as well as the bikes.
Time stood still. It was prime time today. At three, I decided to put my shoes on and wade towards the 29 P.C.H. bus to take me back to Main's beginning on Beach. at Beach and Main, I tired wheels took me to Jack-N-Box.
"Can I have the two tacos for a dollar and change please?"
"Would you like sauce?"
These dollar tacos tasted like a steak on a prime rib Easter Day.
A slight westerly wind made the air fresh and clean. On Main, everyone shuffled towards the strand and the pier. But not I. No, the greatest show on earth smiled in front of me and showed off their skimpy and colorful bathing suits on a beautiful Easter Sunday. .
I yearned to be young again to hold the hands of a loved one, who wore not a bonnet, but a two piece bathing suit, rather skimpy but why not. These pairs could not be lovelier than on this Sunday Easter Parade. The men wore tattoos, mainly on their arms and shaved legs. The couples looked just lovely. Sunday was the most colorful day of the year.
In back of me I heard a distinguished grey hair belt out his I HOP order. The heavy set man had ear plugs as he conducted business while eating. Next to him was a wheel chair bound lady and a friend. They sat in the patio area along with six other round tables, A waitress asked them for their order.
"I'll have the ham, eggs with pancakes. But do my a favor. My last time here, the plate for the pancakes was too small and some spilled onto the table. Also, I don't need the ham to be cut in two. I could not finish the ham last time."
Of course I I thought of Amby Schindler whose 100th is on this Friday. He, too, requested a larger plate for the salad. at Scottys in Hermosa Beach. Every plate and utensil needed to be spot clean-or else! His friend began to point out car show in front of us.
"There is 55 Chevrolet...a 53 light blue Cadillac, a Corvette..." The Corvette let off steam that made everyone turn as some low riders made a duet with the car's noise. Skate boards, and bikes helped to make this a memorable scene.
My legs told me it was time to move on. The table nodded and said "good by" as I sallied towards the bleachers and sand. The concrete bleachers had filled up as a few acrobatic kids were doing somersaults or spins on he ground.
I headed for Dwight's, down the stand. and dodged a few skater blades and bikes. Bike-it your-selves carriages cranked up and down the strand. Dwight's was just south of the life guard headquarters. The burgers cafe had several bike carriages in front of their dwelling. I took the load off of my feet and found one of the patio tables to view the colors of the day.
A man and his little child surveyed the carriages. The kid jumped on. He looked at the prices and after a few moments of study purchased a $25 an hour one. On the Strand, dogs, wheel chairs, yes even wheel chairs smiled today. Grandma's tagged along happy to still be alive. Soon all of the carriages had been rented, as well as the bikes.
Time stood still. It was prime time today. At three, I decided to put my shoes on and wade towards the 29 P.C.H. bus to take me back to Main's beginning on Beach. at Beach and Main, I tired wheels took me to Jack-N-Box.
"Can I have the two tacos for a dollar and change please?"
"Would you like sauce?"
These dollar tacos tasted like a steak on a prime rib Easter Day.
Tuesday, April 18, 2017
Li'l Amby Schindler turns 100 this Friday
Schindler, a Trojan Living Legend turns 100 this Friday, the 21st of April. Unless he is packed in a freezer, he is the last one still alive from the Howard Jones' led Trojans teams of the 30's. He had kept in touch with his family after football, whether on the phone or in person. He has called the Trojan Athletic Office when a mate had departed.
The Golden Boy from San Diego can now rest since his mates have now gone to another gridiron, this one in heaven. The San Diego Caveman quarterbacked the teams of 1936, 37, and 39. The 38 and 39 teams beat Duke and Tennessee in the Rose Bowl games, and no small achievement. Both southern teams had not given up any points during their respective seasons
But the credits to the development of the greatest athlete to come out of San Diego must go to his Mom Nellie, who cooked her only son into a piece of dynamite. And it just could have been her roast beef sandwiches that helped "Li'l Amby" capture the hearts of Lucy. He had met her in study hall and luckily for him, he became a good hoofer on the dance floor thanks to years of dancing lessons. Besides these lessons, he received piano ones also and also a permit to attend San Diego High School under the great Hobbs Adams. .
At San Diego, he lettered in three sports, basketball, track and of course football. So good in track, he won every event at a track meet. Another kid marveled and wished to become a football player. During practices at Balboa Field, another kid could not get over the athleticism of Schindler. The tall thin kids name was Gregory Peck who went out for J.V. football one year. Since Peck could not become another Schindler he opted to join the glee Club and participate in a school play.
Three events steered him into becoming a football player. The great Red Grange or Galloping Ghost barnstormed into San Diego as a Chicago Bear to play a team of U.S. C graduates along with the great George Wilson. And who could forget the times he stole his way into Balboa Stadium to watch "Cotton" Warburton run like a rabbit. The third one was a tall rangy kid who built a plane where the San Diego airport his today. His name was Charles Lindbergh.
He was awarded the player of the game in the 1940 Rose Bowl, and the Collegiate Player of the game after the Chicago All Star game in 1940, besting Nile Kinneck, the Heisman winner for 1939.
We study a kid who never knew what idle time was. . The only time he cried was when his Dad's Garage folded during the depression and the family had to work and pitch in to stay alive. He and his Dad sold manure they picked up to sell to the nurseries, and fresh water to the trainers at the race track across the border. Like many kids, he helped out by giving his earnings from a paper route.
A special thanks goes to Claude Zachary who allowed me to do research in the document room. In a letter he wrote to me it partly read, "Mr. Garrett has produced a very interesting work, which documents an important period of U.S. C history, and would like to see the book published."
I can be reached at (714) 818-9965 for those who need an after dinner speaker who also plays one hell of a piano. He will show a clip of Schindler running, provide a slide show presentation and also read from two chapters of the Schindler Story, that took nine years to write.
The Golden Boy from San Diego can now rest since his mates have now gone to another gridiron, this one in heaven. The San Diego Caveman quarterbacked the teams of 1936, 37, and 39. The 38 and 39 teams beat Duke and Tennessee in the Rose Bowl games, and no small achievement. Both southern teams had not given up any points during their respective seasons
But the credits to the development of the greatest athlete to come out of San Diego must go to his Mom Nellie, who cooked her only son into a piece of dynamite. And it just could have been her roast beef sandwiches that helped "Li'l Amby" capture the hearts of Lucy. He had met her in study hall and luckily for him, he became a good hoofer on the dance floor thanks to years of dancing lessons. Besides these lessons, he received piano ones also and also a permit to attend San Diego High School under the great Hobbs Adams. .
At San Diego, he lettered in three sports, basketball, track and of course football. So good in track, he won every event at a track meet. Another kid marveled and wished to become a football player. During practices at Balboa Field, another kid could not get over the athleticism of Schindler. The tall thin kids name was Gregory Peck who went out for J.V. football one year. Since Peck could not become another Schindler he opted to join the glee Club and participate in a school play.
Three events steered him into becoming a football player. The great Red Grange or Galloping Ghost barnstormed into San Diego as a Chicago Bear to play a team of U.S. C graduates along with the great George Wilson. And who could forget the times he stole his way into Balboa Stadium to watch "Cotton" Warburton run like a rabbit. The third one was a tall rangy kid who built a plane where the San Diego airport his today. His name was Charles Lindbergh.
He was awarded the player of the game in the 1940 Rose Bowl, and the Collegiate Player of the game after the Chicago All Star game in 1940, besting Nile Kinneck, the Heisman winner for 1939.
We study a kid who never knew what idle time was. . The only time he cried was when his Dad's Garage folded during the depression and the family had to work and pitch in to stay alive. He and his Dad sold manure they picked up to sell to the nurseries, and fresh water to the trainers at the race track across the border. Like many kids, he helped out by giving his earnings from a paper route.
A special thanks goes to Claude Zachary who allowed me to do research in the document room. In a letter he wrote to me it partly read, "Mr. Garrett has produced a very interesting work, which documents an important period of U.S. C history, and would like to see the book published."
I can be reached at (714) 818-9965 for those who need an after dinner speaker who also plays one hell of a piano. He will show a clip of Schindler running, provide a slide show presentation and also read from two chapters of the Schindler Story, that took nine years to write.
Wednesday, April 12, 2017
Olvera Street, Los Angeles
Ever since George's car had been stolen, buses, trains and his legs have been his mode of transportation. Yesterday was no exception. Yes Old Man George began to feel alive when his car vanished from the Five Points Senior Center over one year ago.
Yesterday, as soon as he arrived at the bus stop on Main and Beach, he smile grew wider. The bus picked him up at about seven and he ran to the rear to rest, enjoy the view, and read. Never could he have done these activities inside a car.
He had a date with an old Garfield chum whose name today will be Blake. He arrived at the Metro-Link Buena Park station a minute before the L.A. train would arrive. Quickly he bought a $3.75 senior ticket from the only working machine. The train was about to shut his doors so he scrambled to enter.
"Wow, I just made it! Good morning everyone!" He held the doors so that his back pack wouldn't get shut out. He forgot that he was on a commuter train and the patrons might not like his rude entrance, but they did. The commuters needed somebody to awaken them and Old Man George was just the ticket.
A little Asian gal wearing a cute skirt sat beside him. He imagined that she was his date. Most of the riders were of Asian heritage. They too know that driving a car into Los Angeles is expensive an dumb. The conductor came down the aisle to check the tickets. Most had a monthly pass but not me. I proudly showed the man my badge of honor.
As he had arrived at the Union Station early for his ten o'clock date with Blake, he left the station and moseyed around old Los Angeles. A few homeless slept inside a brick crevice as he walked towards the old La Reina church, originally at the mission in 1814 and remolded in 1867. Almost run over by hundreds of Chinese tourists, he made it to the old open church.
The front façade was plastered a bright white, and on top were bricks. Inside, he sprinkled some holy water on him and took a pew. Serenity overtook him and he melted into the sanctuary. Oil paintings of Jesus and Mary hung on the wall. He walked around the patio area and soon nature called. He found an old brick bathroom and said his hell-Mary's.
Outside the church hung a bronze inscription in memory of the marriage of Isadore Dockweiler and Gertrude Reeves. As a kid, born in 1864, he held the train of Bishop Francisco Mora, the Prelate of the church. Isadore matriculated to Vicente College, later called Loyola Marymount. He produced 13 kids and became a great lawyer. A beach is named after him.
After viewing this wall memory, he proceeded across the street to the Sepulveda building that once housed his family and now was used for shops and a museum of the past He found a hotel and asked their prices before returning to the Union Station to wait to be picked up. While George sipped a $4.00 cup of coffee, Blake phoned to let him know he would pick him outside the station on Alameda.
Blake drove him to Philippe's restaurant, a favorite historic one for Trojans and Bruins. Inside were benches and tables. Since it was only 10:30, there was not a long line of people. They spoke about the fun times at Garfield High. Afterwards they went to Santa Monica for Blake to buy a one dollar Santa Monica parking ticket. Of course they had sold the last one.
George said good-by and took the number 7 down Pico to see his daughter...who was not in. From there a bus, two Metro's bus, and another bus got him back to Huntington beach. It cost George two dollars to return to Surf City.
Yesterday, as soon as he arrived at the bus stop on Main and Beach, he smile grew wider. The bus picked him up at about seven and he ran to the rear to rest, enjoy the view, and read. Never could he have done these activities inside a car.
He had a date with an old Garfield chum whose name today will be Blake. He arrived at the Metro-Link Buena Park station a minute before the L.A. train would arrive. Quickly he bought a $3.75 senior ticket from the only working machine. The train was about to shut his doors so he scrambled to enter.
"Wow, I just made it! Good morning everyone!" He held the doors so that his back pack wouldn't get shut out. He forgot that he was on a commuter train and the patrons might not like his rude entrance, but they did. The commuters needed somebody to awaken them and Old Man George was just the ticket.
A little Asian gal wearing a cute skirt sat beside him. He imagined that she was his date. Most of the riders were of Asian heritage. They too know that driving a car into Los Angeles is expensive an dumb. The conductor came down the aisle to check the tickets. Most had a monthly pass but not me. I proudly showed the man my badge of honor.
As he had arrived at the Union Station early for his ten o'clock date with Blake, he left the station and moseyed around old Los Angeles. A few homeless slept inside a brick crevice as he walked towards the old La Reina church, originally at the mission in 1814 and remolded in 1867. Almost run over by hundreds of Chinese tourists, he made it to the old open church.
The front façade was plastered a bright white, and on top were bricks. Inside, he sprinkled some holy water on him and took a pew. Serenity overtook him and he melted into the sanctuary. Oil paintings of Jesus and Mary hung on the wall. He walked around the patio area and soon nature called. He found an old brick bathroom and said his hell-Mary's.
Outside the church hung a bronze inscription in memory of the marriage of Isadore Dockweiler and Gertrude Reeves. As a kid, born in 1864, he held the train of Bishop Francisco Mora, the Prelate of the church. Isadore matriculated to Vicente College, later called Loyola Marymount. He produced 13 kids and became a great lawyer. A beach is named after him.
After viewing this wall memory, he proceeded across the street to the Sepulveda building that once housed his family and now was used for shops and a museum of the past He found a hotel and asked their prices before returning to the Union Station to wait to be picked up. While George sipped a $4.00 cup of coffee, Blake phoned to let him know he would pick him outside the station on Alameda.
Blake drove him to Philippe's restaurant, a favorite historic one for Trojans and Bruins. Inside were benches and tables. Since it was only 10:30, there was not a long line of people. They spoke about the fun times at Garfield High. Afterwards they went to Santa Monica for Blake to buy a one dollar Santa Monica parking ticket. Of course they had sold the last one.
George said good-by and took the number 7 down Pico to see his daughter...who was not in. From there a bus, two Metro's bus, and another bus got him back to Huntington beach. It cost George two dollars to return to Surf City.
Thursday, April 6, 2017
Another Day in La La Land Surf City
"George, what time is it...I am hungry!"
"You know they serve at seven...she'll be here with your spaghetti soon. Billie told me they would heat some up for you." (Billie is the dietician at the Sea Cliff Health Center.)
At exactly seven his food arrives. Like he wanted, there is spaghetti and meatballs, a small carton of milk, iced tea, a carton of ice cream and a small green salad. Mel drips the dressing over it and dives in while I unfasten the milk carton without any liquid spilling.
"You know when I'll be leave the room?"
"No! Apparently Shingles is very contagious...Any doctors see you today?"
"Yes a blond lady entered and told me my glasses would be ready within a month."
George has helped with him at dinner time...now going on six months. The love for each other has made others dumbfounded. His two daughters no longer call since now he is the appendix of their lives. And that is the way it is today. The family no longer exists.
An outgrowth of a learning disability, Mel has lived for food and sports only. If only the L.A. Unified School System had taught him to read, he would have led a normal life. but back in the day, students were shuttled from grade to grade with diffidence to their successes.
"The spaghetti is cold...and I want more!"
"The Kitchen is closed, but don't forget you ice cream. Let me open it for you."
"What did you do today?"
"Had a great day. Went to library to write and read the Times. This time poison gas killed many infants inside of Syria. Dodgers lost to San Diego and Governor Brown wishes to put a heavier tax on gas to feed the streets and overpasses."
"The highlight of my day was again sitting at the City Patio Shopping Center. What a beautiful day. Afterwards, I had a scrumptious In-N-Out double-double and heavy on the pickles and onions. I relish watching the flats and flip flops devour their hamburgers and fries. Like Mel, they live for food.
After I left Mel, I wished to end the day on a high note I ducked a few wheel chairs and dogs on Florida and indulged in a croissant at the Java restaurant at the Five Points Shopping Center. The Vietnamese owners work around the clock to make money and I will plug their store when possible
It felt great to have money to buy pastries and other things I have omitted from my meager retirement check. Yet Schindler book cover will sell thousands of copies and then I will afford to move to San Clemente. There is something about Nixon Ville that makes me think I am on vacation. I always go to the Nixon's favorite hamburger stand when I am there.
I listen to 1070 A.M. before I fall asleep on my broken down couch. My does it feel great to have a roof over my head.
"You know they serve at seven...she'll be here with your spaghetti soon. Billie told me they would heat some up for you." (Billie is the dietician at the Sea Cliff Health Center.)
At exactly seven his food arrives. Like he wanted, there is spaghetti and meatballs, a small carton of milk, iced tea, a carton of ice cream and a small green salad. Mel drips the dressing over it and dives in while I unfasten the milk carton without any liquid spilling.
"You know when I'll be leave the room?"
"No! Apparently Shingles is very contagious...Any doctors see you today?"
"Yes a blond lady entered and told me my glasses would be ready within a month."
George has helped with him at dinner time...now going on six months. The love for each other has made others dumbfounded. His two daughters no longer call since now he is the appendix of their lives. And that is the way it is today. The family no longer exists.
An outgrowth of a learning disability, Mel has lived for food and sports only. If only the L.A. Unified School System had taught him to read, he would have led a normal life. but back in the day, students were shuttled from grade to grade with diffidence to their successes.
"The spaghetti is cold...and I want more!"
"The Kitchen is closed, but don't forget you ice cream. Let me open it for you."
"What did you do today?"
"Had a great day. Went to library to write and read the Times. This time poison gas killed many infants inside of Syria. Dodgers lost to San Diego and Governor Brown wishes to put a heavier tax on gas to feed the streets and overpasses."
"The highlight of my day was again sitting at the City Patio Shopping Center. What a beautiful day. Afterwards, I had a scrumptious In-N-Out double-double and heavy on the pickles and onions. I relish watching the flats and flip flops devour their hamburgers and fries. Like Mel, they live for food.
After I left Mel, I wished to end the day on a high note I ducked a few wheel chairs and dogs on Florida and indulged in a croissant at the Java restaurant at the Five Points Shopping Center. The Vietnamese owners work around the clock to make money and I will plug their store when possible
It felt great to have money to buy pastries and other things I have omitted from my meager retirement check. Yet Schindler book cover will sell thousands of copies and then I will afford to move to San Clemente. There is something about Nixon Ville that makes me think I am on vacation. I always go to the Nixon's favorite hamburger stand when I am there.
I listen to 1070 A.M. before I fall asleep on my broken down couch. My does it feel great to have a roof over my head.
Tuesday, April 4, 2017
A Surf City Bag Man
George just left Walmart on Beach. It is nine o'clock and he has cashed his State Retirement check. No longer does he trust banks or ladies with too much makeup. With a new address and new life, he feels ready to publish his Schindler story at long last. His upper respiratory infection is no longer impeding his breathing. He retraces his steps on Talbert Blvd and surveys the yellow flowers that have not shown their faces in ages-- yes even weeds do become flower.s Across Beach he sees the Bag Man.
The bag man dressed in a hooded black sweats waits for the light to turn green where there is a small street mall headed by Seven Eleven. He holds an occupied black trash bag filled to capacity. He is stoic in his appearance.
He has walked Main street to Beach and back for the last two months. The thin heavily sunburned man is a regular sight on Beach. Many live at bus stops, sleep on benches when their is wood, or exchange smokes or drugs. They biggest buys are negotiated at bus stops. Nary any police come by now. Why there is no place to place them and even if there were, they would somehow migrate back to their spot. The bus stops inside Huntington Beach have never heard of skin cancer, as the never conceal the sun.
George is rich today. His life has been redeemed with the cashing of his little retirement check. He crosses the street and removes two dollars from his wallet. He feels generous today and
extracts two dollars from his usually threadbare wallet. The light is about to change and he bellows to the Black Bag Man
"Sir, I beg of you. Wait for me. God has rejoiced today!"
The bag man pays no heed, and I puncture the silence with more headless words.
"Wait up for me, I have a gift from God!"
The retired teacher shoves the two bills to his face. No reaction. Oh well, George meant well. The bag man, like all homeless have their own agenda, and any attempt to change their bill of fair is usually useless. Unlike Los Angeles where most homeless are black, Huntington's are mainly white or were once, until dirt and whiskers hid their appearance.
George is in a great move. Like many Americans, he lives one month at a time and rarely has enough money for family, food or medicine. Later in the day he decided to visit the recently built Pacific City Center on P.C.H. There is a delightful westerly sea breeze today and he is well aware of how the salty air is good for his lungs.
He again uses his bus pass to get to First and walk the half block to outdoor shopping center with a beach view. He walks up a stair case and spots a vacant lawn chair. He removes his shoes and is glad that his socks match. Yes George has come a long way...A few minute later, he decides to move to a more sociable area and a better view. Sofa chairs adorn the patio area
He sits on a large couch across from three others. There is a table that separates them. Their is a girl on side apparently waiting for someone...when a smiling bald man sits next to me of course with my permission
"Where you from?" George happily waves for him share his space.
"Scot..land. Been here vistin my daughta."
"There in Edinburgh. 1970. Stayed by the sea shore in Dunbar then. End of July and sun stayed out till eleven. What kind of work to you fancy and where do you live?"
"Twenty meels outside of Scotland. In the whisky business..."
They spoke for a few minutes before they spotted a few empty lawn chairs and left. The bald Scot removed his socks that revealed a brighter white then his oval shaped head. I dare say that these Scots have never seen the sun, that is all except Bloody Mary, who made the error of visiting London Town to be beheaded by Elizabeth but whose head was saved and set up in the Wax Museum.
A little hungry, George jabbed into my nap sack for some Farmer Market grapes. While divesting in his last two grapes two precious legs flopped down on an adjacent couch. After he detached from these juicy ripe legs I looked further. And what a face, dark eyes, hair and a great voluminous smile.
She ejaculated, "Mind if I share with you."
"Ah..Ah no. My pleasure dear. Wish a grape?"
"Nah, ate good lunch while back...Came here today for sun since Anaheim full of fog. Live close by on Orange." Without directing the conversation she told Good Old Harmless George the her life's history. .
"Recently divorced. Two happy kids. One works half a year and then travels and the other soaks up life. It is my time now, and now it is all about me. I have trouble concentrating and am going to a therapist. She wants me to get rid of my boyfriend as I meet men that are also co-dependent. I gave him one month to get off of Meth."
"Well Tina, it is not about him. You should go to a 12 step Al Anon. The more meetings your attend, the better you will be equipped not to respond to the Alcoholic Remember, once an alcoholic always. My ex came from an Alcoholic family and my family has suffered.'
Tina changed seats and propped her legs up. She was gorgeous but perhaps to young and crazy today to be with another Our conversation was watched by another who seemed to be taking notes.
"Tina, how do you spend your evenings?"
"I am scared to be alone. That is why I am here. I am reading a book about meditation and listen to tapes. I listen to talk radio since I have trouble reading. I can read a page and tell you nothing about it." At that point, the couple from Scotland began to walk out. Have a safe flight to Heathrow. Enjoyed speaking to you."
Well George Could have listened for more but the sun was going down. He decided to make it a day and what a day! Below the 29 was awaiting on PCH. But his day was not over. At five o'clock he felt a twinge of hunger set in. Before heading for home he bought two tacos for a buck and change at Jack in the Box...
That night he slept so well, he got up only once for nature.
The bag man dressed in a hooded black sweats waits for the light to turn green where there is a small street mall headed by Seven Eleven. He holds an occupied black trash bag filled to capacity. He is stoic in his appearance.
He has walked Main street to Beach and back for the last two months. The thin heavily sunburned man is a regular sight on Beach. Many live at bus stops, sleep on benches when their is wood, or exchange smokes or drugs. They biggest buys are negotiated at bus stops. Nary any police come by now. Why there is no place to place them and even if there were, they would somehow migrate back to their spot. The bus stops inside Huntington Beach have never heard of skin cancer, as the never conceal the sun.
George is rich today. His life has been redeemed with the cashing of his little retirement check. He crosses the street and removes two dollars from his wallet. He feels generous today and
extracts two dollars from his usually threadbare wallet. The light is about to change and he bellows to the Black Bag Man
"Sir, I beg of you. Wait for me. God has rejoiced today!"
The bag man pays no heed, and I puncture the silence with more headless words.
"Wait up for me, I have a gift from God!"
The retired teacher shoves the two bills to his face. No reaction. Oh well, George meant well. The bag man, like all homeless have their own agenda, and any attempt to change their bill of fair is usually useless. Unlike Los Angeles where most homeless are black, Huntington's are mainly white or were once, until dirt and whiskers hid their appearance.
George is in a great move. Like many Americans, he lives one month at a time and rarely has enough money for family, food or medicine. Later in the day he decided to visit the recently built Pacific City Center on P.C.H. There is a delightful westerly sea breeze today and he is well aware of how the salty air is good for his lungs.
He again uses his bus pass to get to First and walk the half block to outdoor shopping center with a beach view. He walks up a stair case and spots a vacant lawn chair. He removes his shoes and is glad that his socks match. Yes George has come a long way...A few minute later, he decides to move to a more sociable area and a better view. Sofa chairs adorn the patio area
He sits on a large couch across from three others. There is a table that separates them. Their is a girl on side apparently waiting for someone...when a smiling bald man sits next to me of course with my permission
"Where you from?" George happily waves for him share his space.
"Scot..land. Been here vistin my daughta."
"There in Edinburgh. 1970. Stayed by the sea shore in Dunbar then. End of July and sun stayed out till eleven. What kind of work to you fancy and where do you live?"
"Twenty meels outside of Scotland. In the whisky business..."
They spoke for a few minutes before they spotted a few empty lawn chairs and left. The bald Scot removed his socks that revealed a brighter white then his oval shaped head. I dare say that these Scots have never seen the sun, that is all except Bloody Mary, who made the error of visiting London Town to be beheaded by Elizabeth but whose head was saved and set up in the Wax Museum.
A little hungry, George jabbed into my nap sack for some Farmer Market grapes. While divesting in his last two grapes two precious legs flopped down on an adjacent couch. After he detached from these juicy ripe legs I looked further. And what a face, dark eyes, hair and a great voluminous smile.
She ejaculated, "Mind if I share with you."
"Ah..Ah no. My pleasure dear. Wish a grape?"
"Nah, ate good lunch while back...Came here today for sun since Anaheim full of fog. Live close by on Orange." Without directing the conversation she told Good Old Harmless George the her life's history. .
"Recently divorced. Two happy kids. One works half a year and then travels and the other soaks up life. It is my time now, and now it is all about me. I have trouble concentrating and am going to a therapist. She wants me to get rid of my boyfriend as I meet men that are also co-dependent. I gave him one month to get off of Meth."
"Well Tina, it is not about him. You should go to a 12 step Al Anon. The more meetings your attend, the better you will be equipped not to respond to the Alcoholic Remember, once an alcoholic always. My ex came from an Alcoholic family and my family has suffered.'
Tina changed seats and propped her legs up. She was gorgeous but perhaps to young and crazy today to be with another Our conversation was watched by another who seemed to be taking notes.
"Tina, how do you spend your evenings?"
"I am scared to be alone. That is why I am here. I am reading a book about meditation and listen to tapes. I listen to talk radio since I have trouble reading. I can read a page and tell you nothing about it." At that point, the couple from Scotland began to walk out. Have a safe flight to Heathrow. Enjoyed speaking to you."
Well George Could have listened for more but the sun was going down. He decided to make it a day and what a day! Below the 29 was awaiting on PCH. But his day was not over. At five o'clock he felt a twinge of hunger set in. Before heading for home he bought two tacos for a buck and change at Jack in the Box...
That night he slept so well, he got up only once for nature.
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