It is a foggy day in Santa Monica Beach. The birds are rolling everywhere. The scooters have taken over the strand. I sit next to the famous Hot Dog on a Stick. In front of the bench are the volleyball courts, and to the south is the Fire Station. It is going on Ten o'clock. The saxophone player is setting up while I removed myself from reality. Karen has taken Li'l Nell for a stroll. At two years old, she needs a nap or else hell will break loose
I am one of the few left who had played volleyball into the eighties and nineties. can';t remember having such a time as my buddies, Bobby Barber, "Spider", "Bud' and others. A dollar and change was all I needed for a lemon drink then. Out of the corner of my eye I spot Karen and spot the eyes of my grand daughter Nell. Nell runs away from the Stroller and straws a sip out of my small cup. It is her first drinking lemonade but I can assure you it won't be her last.
The sax player has a good audience who show their pleasure by placing a bill into the box. He is professional. Nell begins to dance, with a wiggle there and a foot there. Music charms her the same way it does a cobra to the sound of a flute. She dances with her Micky doll and as always, many gaze at the rhythm of the twenty-month-year-old.
She spots the sand and as quick as one can blink an eye throws her body into it. She watches some volleyball with four on each team. She loves to play ball. She spots me I sit on the old wooden bleachers. She follows. A few harmless homeless share the wood with me but who cares I hear a loud voice that scares a few pigeons from the remains of a hot dog.
"Get her away from the trash...She'll bet germs."
I don't react but do grab Nell and retreat her to the sand. She is up again and this time to a large cement fish on a small incline park. It is dangerous as she might just fall. Her cries are muffled by the sight of the Merry-Go-Round. Nell is petrified of the real life looking wooden horses. I pay three dollars for tickets, two for adults and one for children
Karen decides to place Nell on a a horse that is glued to the ground. Nell sits on her lap as the horses go round and around, round and around to music. Nell, this time doesn't cry as a standing does not move. It is the movement that scares Nell.
Nell lives in her own world and tries to do everything an adult can do. No longer a baby, she fears the fire trucks, the backfires of cycles, but still takes chances. We stroll over to the Third Street Mall. Each entertainer has an hour to perform. The good entertainers can make out a daily living as the sax player.
Entranced by the sound of drums. She stops to play a few percussion instruments. A new store is opening and she sees some pails and stickers as a promotion. She plays there for a few minutes before both Karen and I decide to leave.
The number seven takes us home and as you can guess it. She falls fast asleep all the way home as the wheels on the bus go round and round as it puffs away from each station. She is still fast asleep as we stroll up Bagley to her Mom's home.
Nuts and Bolts for Today: Success comes before work only in the dictionary
Tuesday, October 30, 2018
Thursday, October 18, 2018
Seventh Street Starbucks
Starbucks off Seventh Street begins my day to downtown Los Angeles. From where route Sixty Six ends at the Santa Monica Pier I now arrived at the other end on Seventh Street.
After a trip from West Los Angeles to Western on the Rapid Blue bus, I paid for a ride on the underground Blue Line Train for Downtown Los Angeles, by loading the card for my seventy cent trip to Seventh Street.
As usual a heavy stench told me that a homeless one slept across two seats. Countless home in on the Long Beach Blue line without buying any ticket Never are there any police on board for a good reason...they might be killed dong their job.
"Next stop Vermont Station." My stop on Seventh was next.
"This stop is Seventh Street. You may transfer to the Exp line or Long Beach line at this station."
Now on Seventh, I walked west towards Figueroa towards the brand new skyscraper the Korea towers. The bikes in the racks slept as nobody in their right mind will ride a bike downtown. What a waste of money.I sat inside Starbucks savoring each sip of my green tea.
Just too bad I looked eighty today. Wish my body could be young again like my mind. Nobody paid attention to this old one. Why I had even cut my hair...Wonder how much these men pay for their leather shoes.
The one rest room was out of order Of course unlike Santa Monica, Los Angeles can't afford any public restrooms. I took my tea outside and sat by the table. The Santa Ana winds had subsided and it was clear with a just a little chill in the air. I felt invigorated
It is great to watch the hustle and bustle of these workers Across from me and the Bank of America it read nine o'clock. My stomach spoke. "George, time to get to the 85 store bakery for some delicious treats." I took care of my bladder problem in a inconspicuous way and walked up Seventh two blocks to Hope Street. Another two blocks and not far from where Hope stops at the Central Library I smelled my quarry.
Inside the glass menagerie was large assortment of muffins, cakes and rolls. Each baked goods was enclosed inside a clean bright glass unit. I took my tongs and selected two chocolate croissants. I had no idea how much the Asians love these treats. I paid a few dollars for my treats and took up a seat in that fronted on Hope Street. Outside a truck pulled up hooked to a wagon that pulled an aluminum stoves. I took my time with these cakes. I did not need to bite into them...And anyway, I don't have teeth. Each sweet morsel evaporated inside my mouth. I have never tasted anything so tasty.
I am lucky to be alive to appreciate life like no other.What a shame my eighty year old mind can't share it with a thirty year old body.
Nuts a bolts for today. Your bank account may be empty, but your mind might be richer than anything held in any bank.
After a trip from West Los Angeles to Western on the Rapid Blue bus, I paid for a ride on the underground Blue Line Train for Downtown Los Angeles, by loading the card for my seventy cent trip to Seventh Street.
As usual a heavy stench told me that a homeless one slept across two seats. Countless home in on the Long Beach Blue line without buying any ticket Never are there any police on board for a good reason...they might be killed dong their job.
"Next stop Vermont Station." My stop on Seventh was next.
"This stop is Seventh Street. You may transfer to the Exp line or Long Beach line at this station."
Now on Seventh, I walked west towards Figueroa towards the brand new skyscraper the Korea towers. The bikes in the racks slept as nobody in their right mind will ride a bike downtown. What a waste of money.I sat inside Starbucks savoring each sip of my green tea.
Just too bad I looked eighty today. Wish my body could be young again like my mind. Nobody paid attention to this old one. Why I had even cut my hair...Wonder how much these men pay for their leather shoes.
The one rest room was out of order Of course unlike Santa Monica, Los Angeles can't afford any public restrooms. I took my tea outside and sat by the table. The Santa Ana winds had subsided and it was clear with a just a little chill in the air. I felt invigorated
It is great to watch the hustle and bustle of these workers Across from me and the Bank of America it read nine o'clock. My stomach spoke. "George, time to get to the 85 store bakery for some delicious treats." I took care of my bladder problem in a inconspicuous way and walked up Seventh two blocks to Hope Street. Another two blocks and not far from where Hope stops at the Central Library I smelled my quarry.
Inside the glass menagerie was large assortment of muffins, cakes and rolls. Each baked goods was enclosed inside a clean bright glass unit. I took my tongs and selected two chocolate croissants. I had no idea how much the Asians love these treats. I paid a few dollars for my treats and took up a seat in that fronted on Hope Street. Outside a truck pulled up hooked to a wagon that pulled an aluminum stoves. I took my time with these cakes. I did not need to bite into them...And anyway, I don't have teeth. Each sweet morsel evaporated inside my mouth. I have never tasted anything so tasty.
I am lucky to be alive to appreciate life like no other.What a shame my eighty year old mind can't share it with a thirty year old body.
Nuts a bolts for today. Your bank account may be empty, but your mind might be richer than anything held in any bank.
Wednesday, October 17, 2018
Teh Santa Monica Stand
The bench sits between the Hot Dog and a Stick and Deans Bar and Grill In front of me to the south of the pier are the volleyball courts that gave me a new life over twenty years ago. From the northwest the Malibu winds kick in to remove the dirt and grime from the exhausts of automobiles while the last of the fog pushes west.
It is ten o'clock and quiet at the old Muscle Beach. A guitar player assembles speakers and removes his guitar. He has played jazz there for many years. A few scooters skate buy. Slowly these birdies are removing bikes and skateboards from the strand. In the forties, trams ran back and forth from Venice to Santa Monica Beach.
The cold fog has lifted and so too my spirits. Just like in 1989, the sun, volleyball and laughter ushered in a new life. I walk towards the pier and sit on the old wooden bleachers. I remove my jacket and shirt and allow the rays to massage my body. Courting six on each side, two games are going on. After several minutes I descend and return to the bench.
"Is that you George?" from the bench I hear a familiar friendly noise. I barely make out the image as my left eye is overdo for cataract surgery.Slowly and image appears.
"Arnold, so nice to see you."
"Missed you George. Not too many of us still around.
"Visiting a friend in West Los Angles. I am the Godfather of Connie's grandchild Nell. How has your health bin "
"Just got over a sever ear problem Now taking medication for it. Makes me dried but no longer suffer. Wife has her ailments too. Lost my oldest brother a few months ago. Died at ninety seven taking care of his wife...You know George, as we live longer, we now take pills to do what our body sued to do."
At 83, Arnold looks younger than ever. Its great to reflect on the good times I had at the pier for many years before I moved to San Diego. His brother was a regular here and died of a brain tumor about sixteen years ago. The electrical genius is a transplant from New Jersey who fell in love with Santa Monica as far back to the fifties. Since I have albums of Santa Monica that go back to the forties, I ask him about these beaches.
"Well George, when I was here in the fifties, they dredged the area in front of you and built break water to keep the sand in place...Over there was the old Chase Hotel. It stood in front of the platform where muscle beach got its name...Jack La Lane, Marilyn Monroe, Jane Russel, and Mansfield used gravitate here to the beach."
"How well did you know Bobby Barber?...Didn't he begin volleyball here in the forties."
"Hell no. I spoke to people from another generation and volleyball had been going on for a long time..We had no problems here as promiscuity and muscle building went hand in hand...We had a shack and for a few cents, one could have a ball. No such thing as the Me Too here. The wrestlers has a great time here."
"Got to go now, and see you again real soon. Lookin to moving here."
I began to walk north, and go to the bridge that connects the Palisades with the strand when...
"Is...that...really you George..."
Bill was covered from head to toe with fabric. Wearing a wide brim hat, he stops his bike and homes in on me. He worked as a life guard here after semi pro football. He was tall, lean, and muscular.
"You look just great Bill. How the wife?...have a picture of her?"
"No, George...crime is rampant in Santa Monica. Don't carry a wallet or keys anymore...Just had a knee replacement and do for shoulder surgery."
"Will never forget your serves. The sky balls were impossible to judge when the ball came down." Instead of a booming serve just over the net, he overhanded it up into the sky where the wind took over and made it hard to corral."
"Some of the players play in front of Ocean Beach or Mother's."
By now I felt a little dizzy as i needed a shade. I said my good-by and gave him my card.
"Tell my buddies to call me at this number?"
At eleven the day had just begun I walked my way over the bridge and found my way to the third street mall. Many thought it might rain again so not too many people on the Third Street Promenade.
Next to the theater was an Italian eatery. I ordered spaghetti and meatballs. She gave me a number and a cup.
I drank three cups of water and took up my seat. My food came and I can't think when I enjoyed a meat ball so much. A singer sang some Jewish songs and I felt in bliss. (More to come..)
Nuts and bolts today: The Surf City Air Show begins Friday. It is worth showing up. Parking is limited. Can take the number one or 29 bus to get close and walk the rest of the way.
It is ten o'clock and quiet at the old Muscle Beach. A guitar player assembles speakers and removes his guitar. He has played jazz there for many years. A few scooters skate buy. Slowly these birdies are removing bikes and skateboards from the strand. In the forties, trams ran back and forth from Venice to Santa Monica Beach.
The cold fog has lifted and so too my spirits. Just like in 1989, the sun, volleyball and laughter ushered in a new life. I walk towards the pier and sit on the old wooden bleachers. I remove my jacket and shirt and allow the rays to massage my body. Courting six on each side, two games are going on. After several minutes I descend and return to the bench.
"Is that you George?" from the bench I hear a familiar friendly noise. I barely make out the image as my left eye is overdo for cataract surgery.Slowly and image appears.
"Arnold, so nice to see you."
"Missed you George. Not too many of us still around.
"Visiting a friend in West Los Angles. I am the Godfather of Connie's grandchild Nell. How has your health bin "
"Just got over a sever ear problem Now taking medication for it. Makes me dried but no longer suffer. Wife has her ailments too. Lost my oldest brother a few months ago. Died at ninety seven taking care of his wife...You know George, as we live longer, we now take pills to do what our body sued to do."
At 83, Arnold looks younger than ever. Its great to reflect on the good times I had at the pier for many years before I moved to San Diego. His brother was a regular here and died of a brain tumor about sixteen years ago. The electrical genius is a transplant from New Jersey who fell in love with Santa Monica as far back to the fifties. Since I have albums of Santa Monica that go back to the forties, I ask him about these beaches.
"Well George, when I was here in the fifties, they dredged the area in front of you and built break water to keep the sand in place...Over there was the old Chase Hotel. It stood in front of the platform where muscle beach got its name...Jack La Lane, Marilyn Monroe, Jane Russel, and Mansfield used gravitate here to the beach."
"How well did you know Bobby Barber?...Didn't he begin volleyball here in the forties."
"Hell no. I spoke to people from another generation and volleyball had been going on for a long time..We had no problems here as promiscuity and muscle building went hand in hand...We had a shack and for a few cents, one could have a ball. No such thing as the Me Too here. The wrestlers has a great time here."
"Got to go now, and see you again real soon. Lookin to moving here."
I began to walk north, and go to the bridge that connects the Palisades with the strand when...
"Is...that...really you George..."
Bill was covered from head to toe with fabric. Wearing a wide brim hat, he stops his bike and homes in on me. He worked as a life guard here after semi pro football. He was tall, lean, and muscular.
"You look just great Bill. How the wife?...have a picture of her?"
"No, George...crime is rampant in Santa Monica. Don't carry a wallet or keys anymore...Just had a knee replacement and do for shoulder surgery."
"Will never forget your serves. The sky balls were impossible to judge when the ball came down." Instead of a booming serve just over the net, he overhanded it up into the sky where the wind took over and made it hard to corral."
"Some of the players play in front of Ocean Beach or Mother's."
By now I felt a little dizzy as i needed a shade. I said my good-by and gave him my card.
"Tell my buddies to call me at this number?"
At eleven the day had just begun I walked my way over the bridge and found my way to the third street mall. Many thought it might rain again so not too many people on the Third Street Promenade.
Next to the theater was an Italian eatery. I ordered spaghetti and meatballs. She gave me a number and a cup.
I drank three cups of water and took up my seat. My food came and I can't think when I enjoyed a meat ball so much. A singer sang some Jewish songs and I felt in bliss. (More to come..)
Nuts and bolts today: The Surf City Air Show begins Friday. It is worth showing up. Parking is limited. Can take the number one or 29 bus to get close and walk the rest of the way.
Thursday, October 11, 2018
Surf City's Number One Barber Shop
Today I needed a lift. As always it is hard to sleep as the invisible poisonous gas pour into my room via the AC. I took a sleeping pill to quell evil thoughts and put myself into a deep slumber In the morning, I thought about getting a filter for the matchbox mildew Beach Nut Apartments. Surrounded by fir trees. it is dangerous to walk outside during a hefty wind - as the pollen can be seen everywhere. It is terrifying when death is one breath-away.
Lander's Barber shop, to the northwest corner of the Bella Terra Shopping Center would be my first stop today. The number 70 dropped me off a block from the railroad tracks and I crossed Gothard and made my way to the Barber shop. It felt good to move my legs and when I entered Jack was waiting for me. I took a quick toilet break and sat down.
"Jake, your my man. Do what you please. I don't need mirrors as never received a bad cut here. your pickle barrel is one cut above the rest."
"Well sir, I will do my best."
"A girl friend of mine used to call me Robert Redford. but I thought Cathy was wrong. In 1971, I was a lot better looking...Of course he knew how to handle a lady then, I I didn't. While he went to work, I sat back, and like on a bus, let surgeon do his job. A grey-hair unruly hair sat next to me. he told the head man to "Give me the works."
Where you from Jake?
Yucaipa, about a one hour and twenty minute drive from here Next to Bernadino.
Kiddin me. Why would anyone live so far.
Love to ride my cycle and listen to favorite POD. Besides we have a baby that make it hard to relax. Wife works as a manager of Trader Joes in Belmont.
I turned and saw a distinguished grey hair next to me Why he got a million dollar haircut.
"Sir, you look so good that you could run for the White House in Two Years."
"Hell no. The elephant in office has soiled the office of the presidency." The head barber laughed.
"The jerk does not know when to keep his trap shut. Just put him in this chair and I will cut his tongue out.
"Do you wish your eye brows cut?" I nodded yes
"That will be thirteen dollars."
"Have change for hundred"
Top of the word now, I walked across the court yard to Huntington Beach's Farmers market. I picked out a few grapes and they tasted juicy, more juicy tan the $2.40 variety at Whole Foods and a lot better than the sour ones at Ralph's. A Haas avocado for ninety and four juicy plumbs for ninety cents, corn and several dates topped my basket. All for Five Dollars and sixty six cents .
The day had just begun. The number 70 bused me to the Transit Station and across the street was Costco. One hour later I was dipping my one dollar hot dog in relish, mustard and gobs of butter It felt great to die eating my favorite after a stop at America's Favorite Barber Shop.
Lander's Barber shop, to the northwest corner of the Bella Terra Shopping Center would be my first stop today. The number 70 dropped me off a block from the railroad tracks and I crossed Gothard and made my way to the Barber shop. It felt good to move my legs and when I entered Jack was waiting for me. I took a quick toilet break and sat down.
"Jake, your my man. Do what you please. I don't need mirrors as never received a bad cut here. your pickle barrel is one cut above the rest."
"Well sir, I will do my best."
"A girl friend of mine used to call me Robert Redford. but I thought Cathy was wrong. In 1971, I was a lot better looking...Of course he knew how to handle a lady then, I I didn't. While he went to work, I sat back, and like on a bus, let surgeon do his job. A grey-hair unruly hair sat next to me. he told the head man to "Give me the works."
Where you from Jake?
Yucaipa, about a one hour and twenty minute drive from here Next to Bernadino.
Kiddin me. Why would anyone live so far.
Love to ride my cycle and listen to favorite POD. Besides we have a baby that make it hard to relax. Wife works as a manager of Trader Joes in Belmont.
I turned and saw a distinguished grey hair next to me Why he got a million dollar haircut.
"Sir, you look so good that you could run for the White House in Two Years."
"Hell no. The elephant in office has soiled the office of the presidency." The head barber laughed.
"The jerk does not know when to keep his trap shut. Just put him in this chair and I will cut his tongue out.
"Do you wish your eye brows cut?" I nodded yes
"That will be thirteen dollars."
"Have change for hundred"
Top of the word now, I walked across the court yard to Huntington Beach's Farmers market. I picked out a few grapes and they tasted juicy, more juicy tan the $2.40 variety at Whole Foods and a lot better than the sour ones at Ralph's. A Haas avocado for ninety and four juicy plumbs for ninety cents, corn and several dates topped my basket. All for Five Dollars and sixty six cents .
The day had just begun. The number 70 bused me to the Transit Station and across the street was Costco. One hour later I was dipping my one dollar hot dog in relish, mustard and gobs of butter It felt great to die eating my favorite after a stop at America's Favorite Barber Shop.
Wednesday, October 10, 2018
A Sunday in Santa Monica
I needed to cradle the day. It took six buses and two trains to get to my friend, Connie Glickman. The Blue Seven off at fourth and Broadway. This would be my day to enjoy the sun in Santa Monica Beach.
As I was looking for a room in Santa Monica or Malibu. A crowd of seniors crowded the stop. A lady smiled as I asked why the occasion.
"Going to the Kellogg House in Pomona. Waiting for a bus."
"Thanks. Here to look for an apartment in Santa Monica...There is so much mildew in my apartment that breathing is difficult."
"Perhaps the Salvation can lead you in the right direction...It is next to the Edwards building and down this alley."I thanked her and continued south towards Colorado Street, across from the Expo Line crossed the street and walked west towards the ocean.
The northwesterly winds gave the air a pure and vibrant quality. But first, I needed to go for breakfast at Mac Donald's on Colorado a block from P.C.H. I ordered the Deluxe that included hash brown, pancakes and English muffins. It cost five and change.
The restrooms were clean and when my number was called I picked up my tray and took a clean yellow plastic seat. From my back pack I pulled out Mr. Trotsky and began to read his biography. My empty stomach growled with excitement as each bite slid effortlessly to my stomach. The feast was over in a flash. (Trotsky wrote War and Peace.)
A burnt faces to go with their mangled hair walked in and out, filling their cups with soda. A few burnt toasted slid into the rest rooms. It felt good to know that Santa Monica took care of its homeless, and the only city that has two or three free public restrooms. But my Beach, Old Muscle Beach was calling me.
I waked past the Lobster to the pier. The Merry-Go-Round to my left was asleep. Since they are made of wood, they don't eat hay. I crossed over to the board walk, now made of cement and sat on a bench. In front of me was the amphitheater of volleyball, where two man volleyball had its beginning. The sun kissed me and I allowed it. A well-dressed old timer walked in my direction.
"May I ask you if you are a regular here?'
"Yes...name Bob...been here since 1976...from New Jersey.I own the bike shop."
Nice to meet you. Played some volleyball with the best in the nineties...Did you know Bobby Barber?
Sure did...his bathing suit store was on the corner...Also knew the Hot Dog and a Stick man.
I met him too in at the Date Harvest one summer in the Palm Springs area..Did you know Sheriff Paul?
My best friends. Me and Sheriff rode biked down the strand together...Looks like we are the last of these to be alive.
Bob left to help out at the bike store as a bevy of Birds, skated by.
I took off my shoes and walked to the wooden bleachers, that faced south into the teeth of the sun. bleachers. An event was being set up on the pier. I removed my shirt and felt sad that the days on the original Muscle Beach were over...but not quite.
As I was looking for a room in Santa Monica or Malibu. A crowd of seniors crowded the stop. A lady smiled as I asked why the occasion.
"Going to the Kellogg House in Pomona. Waiting for a bus."
"Thanks. Here to look for an apartment in Santa Monica...There is so much mildew in my apartment that breathing is difficult."
"Perhaps the Salvation can lead you in the right direction...It is next to the Edwards building and down this alley."I thanked her and continued south towards Colorado Street, across from the Expo Line crossed the street and walked west towards the ocean.
The northwesterly winds gave the air a pure and vibrant quality. But first, I needed to go for breakfast at Mac Donald's on Colorado a block from P.C.H. I ordered the Deluxe that included hash brown, pancakes and English muffins. It cost five and change.
The restrooms were clean and when my number was called I picked up my tray and took a clean yellow plastic seat. From my back pack I pulled out Mr. Trotsky and began to read his biography. My empty stomach growled with excitement as each bite slid effortlessly to my stomach. The feast was over in a flash. (Trotsky wrote War and Peace.)
A burnt faces to go with their mangled hair walked in and out, filling their cups with soda. A few burnt toasted slid into the rest rooms. It felt good to know that Santa Monica took care of its homeless, and the only city that has two or three free public restrooms. But my Beach, Old Muscle Beach was calling me.
I waked past the Lobster to the pier. The Merry-Go-Round to my left was asleep. Since they are made of wood, they don't eat hay. I crossed over to the board walk, now made of cement and sat on a bench. In front of me was the amphitheater of volleyball, where two man volleyball had its beginning. The sun kissed me and I allowed it. A well-dressed old timer walked in my direction.
"May I ask you if you are a regular here?'
"Yes...name Bob...been here since 1976...from New Jersey.I own the bike shop."
Nice to meet you. Played some volleyball with the best in the nineties...Did you know Bobby Barber?
Sure did...his bathing suit store was on the corner...Also knew the Hot Dog and a Stick man.
I met him too in at the Date Harvest one summer in the Palm Springs area..Did you know Sheriff Paul?
My best friends. Me and Sheriff rode biked down the strand together...Looks like we are the last of these to be alive.
Bob left to help out at the bike store as a bevy of Birds, skated by.
I took off my shoes and walked to the wooden bleachers, that faced south into the teeth of the sun. bleachers. An event was being set up on the pier. I removed my shirt and felt sad that the days on the original Muscle Beach were over...but not quite.
Thursday, October 4, 2018
Surf City Food Bank
"Numbers 19 and 23...Come on up!"
Yes this is a lotto, but not one that you might expect. Mainly Vietnamese, this is how they save each month to live free of charge with the blessings of the Refuge in Huntington Beach.
There is about fifty five that showed up today at the tabernacle across from Bella Terra and next to Chase Bank, it is where the boat people of Vietnam hawk as much grub as they can muster inside their shopping bags.
At the advise of a bus sitter who like me, can only make ends meet advised me to go to the Food Bank when my Frig is empty. Monday and Tuesday's at the Refuge, markets like Whole Foods and Ralph's dole out food that has expired...i got lucky a week ago and grabbed a fifteen dollar fruit salad of some choice strawberries, raspberries, that lasted me one week.
The food is laid out on several long tables. The lotto begins at two o'lock and each is provided with a number. Each is provided with a number when reaching the church. Today my number is 37 and I just can't wait too long since I have an appointment to see my brother at the Sea Cliff Health Center.
"Numbers 10 and 47...step right up!"
Two more boat people smile as they carry their empty bags that will be laden with all types of food. I no longer can wait. Besides, I have a few more green backs back at my ranch.
I am thinking about looking for a Vietnamese to become my wife. I just love rice and noodles and anything extra, well I won't write home about it.
I must see my brother Mel and know I will see my little buddies tomorrow on the number 33 bus. I hand my number to a talkative one and leave for the bus.
Oh yes. My favorite market is the Farmers's or green Vietnamese Market.
Yes this is a lotto, but not one that you might expect. Mainly Vietnamese, this is how they save each month to live free of charge with the blessings of the Refuge in Huntington Beach.
There is about fifty five that showed up today at the tabernacle across from Bella Terra and next to Chase Bank, it is where the boat people of Vietnam hawk as much grub as they can muster inside their shopping bags.
At the advise of a bus sitter who like me, can only make ends meet advised me to go to the Food Bank when my Frig is empty. Monday and Tuesday's at the Refuge, markets like Whole Foods and Ralph's dole out food that has expired...i got lucky a week ago and grabbed a fifteen dollar fruit salad of some choice strawberries, raspberries, that lasted me one week.
The food is laid out on several long tables. The lotto begins at two o'lock and each is provided with a number. Each is provided with a number when reaching the church. Today my number is 37 and I just can't wait too long since I have an appointment to see my brother at the Sea Cliff Health Center.
"Numbers 10 and 47...step right up!"
Two more boat people smile as they carry their empty bags that will be laden with all types of food. I no longer can wait. Besides, I have a few more green backs back at my ranch.
I am thinking about looking for a Vietnamese to become my wife. I just love rice and noodles and anything extra, well I won't write home about it.
I must see my brother Mel and know I will see my little buddies tomorrow on the number 33 bus. I hand my number to a talkative one and leave for the bus.
Oh yes. My favorite market is the Farmers's or green Vietnamese Market.
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