A Revisit to L.A.'s Pico Blvd

From the underground, I popped up at the Purple Line's last stop, on Western and Wilshire in downtown Los Angeles.  A break from the House of Wax, or the Sea Cliff Health Center was needed. I had compromised my own sanity and health to care for Mel for almost two years at the health center in Huntington Beach. 
   With blue skies for my canopy, I left the underground escalator,  turned left and a right on Wilshire to the C.V.S. and my hop on the Rapid Seven bus, that come every ten minutes. The Pico bus is the link between downtown and downtown Santa Monica via Pico Blvd. Also, I had survived the Blue Line train out of Long Beach.  Most of the riders on the Blue Line don't pay and make a nuisance of themselves but I have learned to make the ride enjoyable in any case. .
    To remove the cancer from Mel's ear and restore some vision into his leaky left eye had taken the life out of me. Hence I called the Huntington Beach Health Center the House of Wax.  At least Los Angeles and Santa Monica would not have the extensive pollen and fields of molds as does Huntington Beach.
 
The Rapid Blue Seven weaves down Pico and pictures a different canvas than the one in the forties. The old Sears department store has been taken over with shops, but the Rampart line is still there. As the bus continues I remember the Five and Dime and Ralph's off of La Cienega that no longer are there and have been taken over by a post office, Sub stores and other stores. Our favorite eatery is gone but not the smell and memories of the best french fries and hamburger in West Los Angeles.
    We lived on Holt Avenue, and three blocks from Kentucky Boys restaurant. The smell of the giant burgers and fries could be smelled a block from our favorite restaurant. We both grabbed the ketchup bottle and made our large order of fries duck for cover. While our taste buds enjoyed the lively taste of the burger and fries, a Nickelodeon played songs of the forties. Why we could have spent hours there pining away at the delicious menu as well as a chocolate malt, my Dad Harry told us to hurry up as he wished to drive to Hollywood Park for Thoroughbred racing.
    Mom did not drive a car in the forties, but while Harry enjoyed the race track, Mel and I played in the backyard of this $10,000 house. On hot days Edith would hose us down while we ran to get away from the spray. We had a swing and slide set and enjoyed pushing one another
    Our fig tree never quit in providing me with the tastiest fruit.I made a little tree house so as to keep the black birds away from my favorite fruit. A Mr. Berman drove an old truck with many types of fruit on each side of his truck.
    But back on Pico Blvd. my Mom shopped most every other day since refrigerators had not been available then. Abe the butcher's store was next to the grocery and bread shop. During the war the choicest of meats were sent overseas for our enlisted men. That may have been the reason why I grew to hate liver night, at least then as a kid. But I didn't hate all liver. She fixed the best chopped liver tha she placed over her iceberg lettuce along with radishes, onions and cucumbers.

Edith is hosing me and Mel. Mel to my right. 

    She frequented a grocery store for staples and what the milk and vegetable fruit couldn't provide. She was always breaking brooms while she chased me. I always made sure she bought chocolate chips and helped her mix them with the flower before placing them in our stove.
    During the war years of the early forties, my Mom mowed the lawn and one day her two year old went under her dress and accidently hit the blade of the cutter. She wheeled my down to doctor who stitched my left thumb back again. Mel and I were always getting dirty so her wash day was every day. But oh did Mel and I love, just love chocolate chip cookies.
   You could see an occasional jack rabbit while you walked across Olympic towards the Beverly theater. When school was out, we could bike towards the Farmer's market and just maybe see a baseball game, My team the Stars played there.
   Mom always gave me money to buy stamps or a tasty dish before returning back to Pico Blvd but not before buying some tropical fish for my aquarium. Fish tanks were everywhere. (More to come.)