A bot tired, I exit the #29 and cross Garfield. I wonder if the corner eatery has put on a new urinal. We old timers never wish to be too far from a bathroom, particularly after drinking sodas. The car wash is busy. Each expensive model has one man smoothing out any water spots or anything else. A Lexus, Caddie, and brand new Chevy SUV is being given a once over.
The owners pay thirty dollars for these expert cleaners. No spot goes unnoticed The Huntington Car wash can't be missed. It is on the corner of Beach and Garfield. Like a barber shop, the customer may order a smooth, a decal, or just a rub. Every car smiles on the way out.
The owners sit quietly, dong nothing but waiting. Signifying they are made of money, they have been giving their cars a shower for up-teen years now. In fact, the only thing that have saved their long marriage has been to distant themselves from their overbearing wives.
I am glad not to be subservient to some brand new car. My time is valuable so I continue straight on Garfield until I get to Florida Street and turn right. My nap sack feels a bit heavier now. Finally I get to 18811 Florida Street and open the door. I am going on my third year now, and perhaps if Mel had been given better care at the Pacific Spartan Assistant living, he never would have had to be sent here. Among other ailments, Mel has had a inner ear cancer for more than two years. He is not only clean of cancer, but is content once again. I hand two beets and one corn to the kitchen and do my best this added food won't get lost.
"Oh hi Kelly, happy Thanksgiving to you You look great...lost of few pounds eh?...Did you remember to give Mel his spaghetti." Kelly is tall, trim, and a effervescent smile...so what if she is part cross-eyed. Nobody is perfect,yes?
"Made it myself...three times for your brother...Nice to see you...By...Got to run.."
Mel is inside a hospice area, room 135 B. He has just been given a bath by his warm caring assistant maintenance nurse Mel sits up and greets me. In bed one is Jeffery, a nice chap of eighty five who enjoys listening in. He is large and immobile. His smile is infectious .
"Did you see that game...Ram won 54-51." Mel looks trim and happy, and why not, after a long bath. Shit maybe I would love a long bath every other day. Never have I seen my brother Mel any happier in the last year or two.
"Are you using the walker Mel?"
"Yes, every day...And my sugar count is normal. 135... How is Linda?...You told me she has a car. Did she return to her job."
"Not yet...The baby is getting all the attention "
"What happened to all the furniture on our old house in Beverly Wood."
"Well, Mel, gave everything including cars to our sister Polly. But dig get all the photos. Anyhow, those are only things but I got the memories
"Do you wish any steaks Mel?"
"No, but would love one of Derik's Turkey and hope we get a car."
I left Mel exhausted but happy he now is content and walking. After a quick meal at Panda Express and a stop at the dollar, and goodwill store, I made it to the beach stop on Main and Beach. I felt exhausted, yet after I climbed aboard the next stop energized me...and how!
An Asian holding a seat walker climbed aboard with stuff in bags on the two seat walker. She looked trim and certainly Asian, but with higher cheek bones and large face. She did not look a day over thirty. She pulled the rip cord signalling her stop was next."
"No, no make mistake. Not this stop the one..."
"You mean the one on Edinger?"
"Tank you, wish to buy a pizza...am hungy..."
"Are you Vietnamese?"
"No Buddha."
"Bet you are no more than forty"
"Sisty five...We Asians luk younger than you. We don't age
The bus turned and I left the pretty one sorry i did not own a car or dentures yet...yet
A Car for Mel
Sea Cliff Health Center
188811 Florida Street
Huntington Beach, 92648 Cal (Bed 135 B)
Make checks out to me, George Garrett in care of Mel,
Happy Thanksgiving
"
Wednesday, November 21, 2018
Wednesday, November 14, 2018
Lindbergh Field , San Diego Part 2
I have always been fond of Urinals.
The story I enjoyed writing the most was about a urinal inside of inside Lindbergh Field, now called San Diego International Airport .
As an asthmatic all of my life, pure air and clean urinals have been a must for me. The 992 bus comes every fifteen minutes and stops on the corner of Kettner, next to Starbucks and across the street from Bank of Mex-America. Those who cross the border, illegally or not, have chosen this bank since it is slice of America and the tellers speak only Spanish.
I sit in my birds eye seat at Starbucks. Outside are shopping carts, bikes, and trash bags filled with cans and bottles. The Blue Line Trolley has just arrived and several passengers from Mexico enter. Many have permits to work as waiters, cooks, baggage handlers, and domestics.
At the bus stop everyone rises as the bus has just arrived. I my mocha, hitch on my knapsack and run to the stop. I tap my $42 compass card and find a seat. The bus continues on Broadway till Harbor and makes a right turn. To the South pier is moored the Midway Aircraft Carrier and the famous fish restaurant.
I just love buses The Harbor lights are the most beautiful at the crack of dawn. We pass a cruise ship dock, Anthony's Fish Grotto, and the steamship Berkeley and the old galleon, the Star of India, built in Bristol, England over one hundred years ago. After leaving the head quarters of the Coast Guard, the bus stops at Terminal One and then Two.
"Gracias, Buenos Dias. "
The bus driver nods as the Airport employees descend. After I get off at Terminal Two, I take the escalator to the second floor. The fresh pure air makes my legs sings with excitement. I order the usual breakfast at Le Salsa and buy a ninety cent senior coffee at Mac Donald's.
The story I enjoyed writing the most was about a urinal inside of inside Lindbergh Field, now called San Diego International Airport .
As an asthmatic all of my life, pure air and clean urinals have been a must for me. The 992 bus comes every fifteen minutes and stops on the corner of Kettner, next to Starbucks and across the street from Bank of Mex-America. Those who cross the border, illegally or not, have chosen this bank since it is slice of America and the tellers speak only Spanish.
I sit in my birds eye seat at Starbucks. Outside are shopping carts, bikes, and trash bags filled with cans and bottles. The Blue Line Trolley has just arrived and several passengers from Mexico enter. Many have permits to work as waiters, cooks, baggage handlers, and domestics.
At the bus stop everyone rises as the bus has just arrived. I my mocha, hitch on my knapsack and run to the stop. I tap my $42 compass card and find a seat. The bus continues on Broadway till Harbor and makes a right turn. To the South pier is moored the Midway Aircraft Carrier and the famous fish restaurant.
I just love buses The Harbor lights are the most beautiful at the crack of dawn. We pass a cruise ship dock, Anthony's Fish Grotto, and the steamship Berkeley and the old galleon, the Star of India, built in Bristol, England over one hundred years ago. After leaving the head quarters of the Coast Guard, the bus stops at Terminal One and then Two.
"Gracias, Buenos Dias. "
The bus driver nods as the Airport employees descend. After I get off at Terminal Two, I take the escalator to the second floor. The fresh pure air makes my legs sings with excitement. I order the usual breakfast at Le Salsa and buy a ninety cent senior coffee at Mac Donald's.
Tuesday, November 6, 2018
The Pittsburgh Eleven
"Who me?"
"Yes!" What is your Dad's Hebrew name?
"A...a...a...Hershel."
Unsteadily I approached the Torah. The Rabbi smiled and shook my hand. To my left stood the rabbi. He smiled and shook my hand. The little man with whiskers, wearing the colors of the orthodox black began with my help to open the holy book. I took a string from my prayer shawl and touched the silver pointer of the Rabbi Aron Berkowitz. Her reads several paragraphs as I try to follow. Then I read the morning prayer from a sheet in front of me.
It is Saturday the third of November. I feel chipper today since I dropped off a cashiers check to the office of my apartment. Chabad of Huntington Beach is off of Warner, a block east of Bolsa Chica. I had taken up my seat at about ten o'clock. There area about eleven worshipers in attendance.
Afterwards, a take a deep breath it is over, but not quite. The Gabbi looks my way.
"Who would you like to pray for, Ben Hershel?"
"You" I react without thinking.?
"No not you!" Something turns me to the congregation. The words fumble out of my mouth. A tear empties on my shirt.
I pray that the friends. sons, daughters of the Pittsburgh Eleven. I pray that soon the anger with its resentments will Make our nation stronger.
I thought about my own daughters and how I would feel. My oldest daughter never fails to tell me that she is always shocked as to whatever comes out of my mouth, and usually has to blush. But this time I must have hit a chord, the right one. This congregation understands a little English so the Gabbi needed to translate for me. Rabbi Aron was at his best today as he spoke about the burial of Sarah. It was one of his best talks.
"Sarah lived to be 127 years old and her husband traveled to Hebron to make a deal with the its king, Ephiron. Abraham wished to part with a money in exchange for land next to Hebron.
"No, you and your family are one of us. Just take it. I don't wish your money."
Abraham was a man of few words. He paused and then demanded that he should make some payment. Abe was no stupid. He knew it would not be a contract without a sum of money. The King thought for a few moments and then asked for 400 pieces of gold. Abraham without so much as a pause gave him the 400 pieces.
"You see that Abe had an eye for the truth whereas the King dwelt with things and property. Abe, several years later joined his wife."
Several people spoke to me during the kiddish. Of course what comes from the heart is more real that a contrived speech.
Nuts and Bots for Today: Stand tall and never give up any ground.
"Yes!" What is your Dad's Hebrew name?
"A...a...a...Hershel."
Unsteadily I approached the Torah. The Rabbi smiled and shook my hand. To my left stood the rabbi. He smiled and shook my hand. The little man with whiskers, wearing the colors of the orthodox black began with my help to open the holy book. I took a string from my prayer shawl and touched the silver pointer of the Rabbi Aron Berkowitz. Her reads several paragraphs as I try to follow. Then I read the morning prayer from a sheet in front of me.
It is Saturday the third of November. I feel chipper today since I dropped off a cashiers check to the office of my apartment. Chabad of Huntington Beach is off of Warner, a block east of Bolsa Chica. I had taken up my seat at about ten o'clock. There area about eleven worshipers in attendance.
Afterwards, a take a deep breath it is over, but not quite. The Gabbi looks my way.
"Who would you like to pray for, Ben Hershel?"
"You" I react without thinking.?
"No not you!" Something turns me to the congregation. The words fumble out of my mouth. A tear empties on my shirt.
I pray that the friends. sons, daughters of the Pittsburgh Eleven. I pray that soon the anger with its resentments will Make our nation stronger.
I thought about my own daughters and how I would feel. My oldest daughter never fails to tell me that she is always shocked as to whatever comes out of my mouth, and usually has to blush. But this time I must have hit a chord, the right one. This congregation understands a little English so the Gabbi needed to translate for me. Rabbi Aron was at his best today as he spoke about the burial of Sarah. It was one of his best talks.
"Sarah lived to be 127 years old and her husband traveled to Hebron to make a deal with the its king, Ephiron. Abraham wished to part with a money in exchange for land next to Hebron.
"No, you and your family are one of us. Just take it. I don't wish your money."
Abraham was a man of few words. He paused and then demanded that he should make some payment. Abe was no stupid. He knew it would not be a contract without a sum of money. The King thought for a few moments and then asked for 400 pieces of gold. Abraham without so much as a pause gave him the 400 pieces.
"You see that Abe had an eye for the truth whereas the King dwelt with things and property. Abe, several years later joined his wife."
Several people spoke to me during the kiddish. Of course what comes from the heart is more real that a contrived speech.
Nuts and Bots for Today: Stand tall and never give up any ground.
Thursday, November 1, 2018
San Diego Diary Part 2
I somehow survived my first night at the "Y" in downtown San Diego. It felt great to have a roof over my head and lucky that General Cartwright thought that I was another Section Eight. I needed to come up with $1,200 including the four hundred dollar security deposit. It was August of 1911.
Since our small cells did not include a toilet, I used a Minute Maid orange juice container at night for my bladder. Of course at times I had accidents that made the industrial carpet damp in the morning. I did have a small fridge in the corner next to a desk with a telephone. I felt lucky.
Some of my retirement check went to a family member so that the $200 owed to the Encinitas Quality Inn needed to be paid, which I did. Again it felt great to have a roof over my head and a manager who greeted me with a smile and fresh cologne each morning. I just loved General Cartwright.
"Mr. Garrett, you can get fresh towels each day and help yourself to the fresh coffee we prepare each morning. And we clean your room each week. Let me know if you need anything."
His real smile and his smell gave a luster to my day. To this day, i wonder what type of cologne he wore. He waltzed into the lobby wearing a well pressed suit. Why I might have thought that he shopped at Macy's. His shoes sparkled as if they were polished by some master shoeshine maker
Still with cobwebs in my head ever since I lived inside my little Chevy, It took a while to give up the stars for a real, yes a real roof, and no more sleeping in my car. I had just over one hundred dollars left that first month in August, but it would have to do. I remembered Anthony's Fish on the Harbor. My ex-girl friend introduced me to the famous fish house when she still enjoyed my company.
By far the joint I learned to love most of all was Starbucks, about a block west down Broadway. After a shower and shave, I left room 204 on the second floor and began to descend the..
."Hi Mr. Cartwright, nice to see you." He was scrubbing the rails of the staircase. . In fact much later on, I learned that he had a need for cleanliness. Everything needed to be polished. I walked across the Southern Pacific rails and continued on Broadway till I got to Harbor where I turned right. After a cruise line pier Anthony's loomed up.
"Can I have some English chowder."
""Do you want anything else?...Your number is 21, thank you."
Sea Gulls ;pulled up a chair next to me. The smell of the clams and little breads must have signaled it was dinner time for them. I noticed a drink machine across the way so to save money, i asked a server for an empty cup.
With the sun from eleven o'clock hitting me in the head, I felt juiced up. Yes, alive for the first time in months, I thanked God for this little fling with the cup of chowder It was great to have been joined by these gorgeous birds of God. I threw little pieces of fries there way. A few were so adept to catching them on the fly they could have played center field for the Dodgers.
I must have stayed there for hours, in fact I lost track of time. A little later, a few homeless ones entered the bathroom. As San Diego had no public restrooms, I felt gratified that they had a place to wash and clean their clothes. Inside the Harbor were a few fishing boats and a coast guard cutter. Later I found out that the Coast Guard Headquarters was about a half down.
At about noon, I walked across Harbor and made my way to the then Holiday Inn. I grabbed a mint and a free U.S. Today paper from the lobby and lounged on a sofa. Yes, I certainly felt alive myf first day in San Diego.
Since our small cells did not include a toilet, I used a Minute Maid orange juice container at night for my bladder. Of course at times I had accidents that made the industrial carpet damp in the morning. I did have a small fridge in the corner next to a desk with a telephone. I felt lucky.
Some of my retirement check went to a family member so that the $200 owed to the Encinitas Quality Inn needed to be paid, which I did. Again it felt great to have a roof over my head and a manager who greeted me with a smile and fresh cologne each morning. I just loved General Cartwright.
"Mr. Garrett, you can get fresh towels each day and help yourself to the fresh coffee we prepare each morning. And we clean your room each week. Let me know if you need anything."
His real smile and his smell gave a luster to my day. To this day, i wonder what type of cologne he wore. He waltzed into the lobby wearing a well pressed suit. Why I might have thought that he shopped at Macy's. His shoes sparkled as if they were polished by some master shoeshine maker
Still with cobwebs in my head ever since I lived inside my little Chevy, It took a while to give up the stars for a real, yes a real roof, and no more sleeping in my car. I had just over one hundred dollars left that first month in August, but it would have to do. I remembered Anthony's Fish on the Harbor. My ex-girl friend introduced me to the famous fish house when she still enjoyed my company.
By far the joint I learned to love most of all was Starbucks, about a block west down Broadway. After a shower and shave, I left room 204 on the second floor and began to descend the..
."Hi Mr. Cartwright, nice to see you." He was scrubbing the rails of the staircase. . In fact much later on, I learned that he had a need for cleanliness. Everything needed to be polished. I walked across the Southern Pacific rails and continued on Broadway till I got to Harbor where I turned right. After a cruise line pier Anthony's loomed up.
"Can I have some English chowder."
""Do you want anything else?...Your number is 21, thank you."
Sea Gulls ;pulled up a chair next to me. The smell of the clams and little breads must have signaled it was dinner time for them. I noticed a drink machine across the way so to save money, i asked a server for an empty cup.
With the sun from eleven o'clock hitting me in the head, I felt juiced up. Yes, alive for the first time in months, I thanked God for this little fling with the cup of chowder It was great to have been joined by these gorgeous birds of God. I threw little pieces of fries there way. A few were so adept to catching them on the fly they could have played center field for the Dodgers.
I must have stayed there for hours, in fact I lost track of time. A little later, a few homeless ones entered the bathroom. As San Diego had no public restrooms, I felt gratified that they had a place to wash and clean their clothes. Inside the Harbor were a few fishing boats and a coast guard cutter. Later I found out that the Coast Guard Headquarters was about a half down.
At about noon, I walked across Harbor and made my way to the then Holiday Inn. I grabbed a mint and a free U.S. Today paper from the lobby and lounged on a sofa. Yes, I certainly felt alive myf first day in San Diego.
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