Li'll Nell at Roxbury Park

Li'll Nell grabbed my little finger as we walked to Roxbury Park. . It was a clear cold sunny day in Beverly Hills. This time, I did not need to bend down for her to grab my little finger. She had just turned two and was at the eight percentile of her age group. As always she disdains the stroller and demands to walk.
   Karen, her mother, would pick her up later from the park. For the first time in a week. the rain took a day off. A bit cold, it felt good to have my God Daughter holding on...in fact it seemed to provide me with new found energy. Li'll Nell was born a few miles from here, at Kaiser Permanente on La Cienega on the last day of January. She has a radiant smile and long dark brown hair. Everybody raves at the deep brown long eye brows. We crossed a street and entered the Roxbury Senior Center. I needed to return a book called the  The Crazy Two's.
    She dislodged my hand an ran after a squirrel that scampered up a fir tree and then set her eyes on the sand box area close to the metered parking lot. Bit first L'll Nell pointed to her shoe. I removed her gold colored shoes and she eagerly began to play in the sand with the toys she received for her second birthday. 
     Yes it was cold but the hot sun made me remove my sweat shirt. Nell began to talk to her toys as she built them shelter with the sand. The full hot sun must have done wonders for her and my mood. She ignored me for several minutes while she engaged a young kid who shared his water bucket with her. 
     Many years ago, my two daughters played at Roxbury Park. In fact, my Dad watched with glee as his grandson took soccer lessons and played in a junior league. It seemed like yesterday that I was pushing them on the swings. It was then I heard a familiar noise. It was the sound of an ice cream truck. 
    Pictures of various ice cream bars were painted on the side of the truck. I picked her up and she pointed to the yellow Popsicle. The kind driver threw in a bottled water with the yellow Popsicle and fudge bar that I ordered  
    She grabbed the treat with two hands after I had pinched out an opening. We returned to the sand box bench. A vision of me waiting for the Good Humor truck came into view. I was only about five years old when Mom had given me a dime for an ice cream. We were living on Holt and Airdrome in West L.A. 
     At exactly four o'clock I heard the welcome song to the tune of Mary Had a Little Lamb.  I walked across the empty street and the white truck stopped for me. 
     "Hi George...Let me get what you want. Here is your chocolate chip ice cream cup." I took the cup and sat down on our front porch  I opened the lip of the cup and sampled the treat using a small flat wooden spoon....and then..."
     "Papa, want to go back to the sand." She handed me the wrapping and stick and stuck her feet back into the cold sand box Just then I felt a knock on my back. It was Karen, who came just in time as Nell began to get fussy, and of course needed a nap and nourishment. 

Nuts and Bolts for Today:  Life is all bout holding hands, or if a bit little, fingers. You need to rry it sometimes 

My Trip to U.S.C.

Exhausted but happy to have made it to downtown without taking the  . te No longer this year cam I take the Long Beach Blue Line to Los Angeles, since it is being scuttled for a better one.  Yet those who chose to fix the train might have done better to fix the behavior of many of its riders who who jump on and off the tram to Los Angeles without paying. 
   On Wednesday, I took a different line. The #460 Metro took me downtown with only one glitz. I picked it up on La Palms after connecting from the #33. It took one hour and everything went perfect as the longer bus circled Alondra, Artesia, Norwalk and made touched on Firestone now and then.
    A tall black middle aged drunk came on board at the Norwalk Transit Center. He cussed and hollered for the next twenty minutes. The smell of alcoholic fumes made me want to change my seat but there was none available. Instead I looked at our white washed mountains. Every time the train headed in an easterly direction, I could almost touch the white snow cones.
     The 460 marched on through the commercial zone. Tracks and trucks competed for space as the 460 jumped on the Five and ran along its own Harbor Freeway lane until it got to San Pedro Street. We passed Staples and its host of stores and made a right on Figueroa on to Sixth Street where I got off.
    So bitterly cold, my head felt separated from its body. Icicles hit my head as I made my way down Hope to the Central Library. The elevator took me down to floor four. Several homeless were exiting the bathroom. I ordered a microfilm and returned to the elevator. It is regrettable that many black have no home and that the cops react to fast - but any fool can see why.
    After a Panda lunch this bear made it out of hibernation to look at microfilms of 1937. Yes this is what I just love to do - research the Trojans in the thirties. I had enough energy left to to take the Expo Blue Line to U.S.C. Unlike the Long Beach line I felt safe.
     My sponsor at the U.S.C. library pulled two year books out of their safe and I looked over the pictures before I walked across the campus to the Wilson Building. On the fourth floor I walked to the Daily Trojan that opened at four o'clock.
     I met Jonathon who gave me the papers E mail He seemed a bit reluctant but I was adamant this U.S.C. Paper wrote about my Schindler Story and the great teams of the thirties. Amby Schindler will turn 102 on April 21st and it is necessary to promote the book. He gave me the paper's e mail at multimedia.daily trojan@gmail.com.
  U.S.C is a city within a city. Everyone is smiling, studying and in their own time zone. I returned to the Expo blue that made its way to La Cienega where I departed to take the 705 Vernon Bus to the Pico seven.
   
   
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A Bull Shit Super Bowl

I didn't know the shape my brothers Mel would be since his Super Bowl Team, the Rams, never showed up.
   The 29 A bus took  me to the Main Street Exit.  From there, I walked to the street mall and the dollar store. I sorely needed paper towels and a white collar cleanser. But first I would buy my Brother Mel's favorite dinner, a Panda Express Orange Chicken with Chow Men and rice. It felt good to chat with my now happy Brother, who has been given a new chapter in his life.
    For those new to my Blog, the Florida Sea Cliff Health Center is located two miles from downtown between Main and Garfield. Florida Street is known for senior living refuge as several apartments house old people like me.
    After I signed in at the Crow's Next, I waked up the corridor to the third hallway and made a left at Nurses Station Number Four. Outside Mel's Suite 135 I saw a body. On Closer inspection, it was Mel's roommate. He lay on a hospital tram bed and didn't recognize me. It was Bed one's occupant less one hundred pounds.
     Mel was lying in bed two. With nothing to do, he just lays there during the day. I set down my nap sack and umbrella and pulled out a poker chair.
      "Hey Mel, brought you a Panda Express..."
      "That you George,..just what  I wanted...Needed it after that Bull Shit Super Bowl...Give me a minute, just had a hot chocolate and stomach is a bit unsettled."
       Without a struggle, Mel sat up. His hair was unkempt but he smiled
       "That game hat game really depressed me. That Gurney must have been injured And those commercials. Every time out there were many bull shit commercials."
        Mel grabbed a fork and began to shovel the Chinese food into his palate  He smiled.
       "Just what I need...Did the Dodgers make any trades?'
        "Not yet  What have..." 
       Two nurses came into the room and attached bed one to a lift. They settled him in and he asked one to feed him His breathing was heavy and too fast. I knew that he would  be going to the Super Bowl in Heaven with God as his catcher.
        "Aren't these nurses cute?"
         "We look like you one exclaimed."
        "George my teeth are still giving me trouble, they hurt all the time and a dentist told me that they would be pulled soon."
         I went to the Desk Jockey in station four.
         "Can you tell me if Mel is scheduled for a tooth extraction. and does he no longer have a case worker?
         'His insurance does not provide for a case worker...Need to talk to social worker....Been here three years so know what I am doing.
          "Can I see his charts to see what he is being treated for?
     I returned to Mel's room. He needed me to move the last tidbits to the center He had good coordination and his vision was good.
           "Thanks a lot. Still walking and will get a shower on Tuesday. (More to Come.)
           "We are not ready to be transparent, so says the Wax Museum on Florida Street which is located in the Twilight Zone 


       
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Power Outage in Surf City

It felt good to have cashed my retirement check at Wall Mart. Equity management requires my rent to be paid within three days, and that with a money order or cashier check. Our New Governor was correct, Surf City needs more housing, and much more. Restrains must be placed on the apartment owners or managers who  have the option not providing you with a new lease.
   I live at the Beach Wood Apartments on Magnolia and Garfield. at least my $1,700 apartment provides a roof over my head. As evidenced by the lease, Equity Management is aware of the mildew and has made sure that the resident is responsible for any or all of the smell.  I am also aware that with Global Warming, it is a matter of time when the poison will exacerbate my already tinged lungs, so soon I will depart.
   Surf City suffered through a perfect storm the past Saturday. At least the Lift took me to the Warner Avenue Synagogue. It felt great to pray and sing the hymns sung by my forefathers a long time ago. The threat of rain made many hesitant to take the long walk to the Synagogue, as a heavy downpour in the afternoon would make them wet on the return trip home. Jews are forbidden to walk on the Sabbath.  I arrived at the Synagogue at nine o'clock, after drinking a coffee at Starbucks
   The Kiddish was ample, what with herring, salmon, olives, salad, beans and cake to relax my stomach. With extra wine, I forgot about  the windy cold windy rain.  I didn't need to squeeze through to place food on my plate.
    My Access lift was to come at 1:30. I put my beanie over my head and a cap over it. I picked up my golf  umbrella and hear the voice of Joshua.
     "You are the only smart one. We need to wait for the heavy downpour to end. Have a good day George."

Outside the Warner River had overflowed its banks. Too bad I had not worn galoshes. . I broad Jumped across the river and soaked my left tennis shoe, but made it to CVS.  My lift driver was supposed to pick me up between one thirty and two. I stood by the overhang of the drug store and prayed that the lift would come, or plan two would be put in place.
   It came and it felt good that I had survived the Perfect Storm .The Turkish driver spoke about the problems that Turkey has today and the Ottoman Empire many years ago. He spoke perfect English as well as three other languages. He parked beside the curb and I lifted myself outside.
   "Careful George, a live wire is over there!"
   I paid no attention to him. I felt tired and needed to nap. I turned the electric wall heater on did not hear any hissing sound. Ha, the radio lights are off. The lights did not answer when I flipped the switch. The manager was not inside her office as she is supposed to. Instead a note said, Lines down and Power if off everywhere - have a good day.
   Now that was Bull Shit.Somebody in this establishment should have remained there. After all we needed to pay our rent. With puddles everywhere, I jumped and crisscrossed the courtyards and made it back to my apartment. I new that my Bronchial Asthma would be exacerbated since my Heppa filter would not work
   It was too early to go to bed so I took a walk outside and saw three trucks working on the lines It downed on me. Jerk, across the street lies Home Depot. Get a flashlight. I did. Edison tied the shoelaces by nine thirty but by that time, i had forgotten as I was deep into reading a book with my new friend, a hand held flashlight.

Santa Monica Third Street Mall

Last week, I needed a boost. My body contained too many red cells and they needed more blue ones. So on Friday, I took the Metro-Link to downtown, the purple line to Western, and the Super Seven to West Los Angeles. Li'l Nell would be two years old in a couple of days and Connie Glickman always has one of her five bedrooms reserved for me.
     To refresh your memory, Connie had been the surrogate Mother for my brother Mel. She lived a few blocks from my Dad in the South Central part of Los Angles. She met the love of her life at a dance at the  Palomar Club on Third and Vermont. When she told her Mom she met a Jewish boy, she celebrated. Her Dad died as he could not make a go of selling furs.  Max made it big in the plastic business and they bought a home in Beverly Wood 
     The Seven bus took us to Santa Monica and the Third Street. No longer does Li'l Nell sit on Connie's lap. She is a kid now and wishes her own space. It is exciting to be the God Father of Li'l Nell. She now refuses to sit in the stroller unless, ah, she gets a treat like chips or candy. In fact, now she walks so fast I can't keep up with her.
     After a week of cold weather, the sun came out and welcomed a  high seventy degree day. Nell began to run when she saw the bean bag game. The purpose of the game is to throw the bean bag into a hole. Well, Nell took no chances. She camped by the hold and kept throwing the bean bags into the hole.
     Of course I become a kid again when I am with Nellie. But since Connie is always looking inside stores for good buys, I have become the baby sitter and need to keep my eyes on her all the time, or quick as a wink, she is off and tries to get lost. There she goes now leading a long rope. She is almost to Santa Monica Blvd now but I have collared her. I carry her back and then a baby German Shepard has gotten her attention. She begins to feed the dog with dog bites she finds in a glass bottle. She loves, and I do mean loves all dogs.
     All awhile entertainers are singing, doing a version of break dancing or strumming a guitar. I give Nell a dollar to put inside a money pot. But this time, she did something out of the ordinary.
     "Nell, don't take out the money. It isn't yours...I'll get you an ice cream."
     We now sat outside on the patio of a convenient store. Connie paid six dollars for some Jerky and to for a canned coke. I asked Nell for a lick of the chocolate but she would have non of it. We now proceeded to the shopping center and upstairs to Mattel's kids play house. She is now at home climbing and having fun. She finds a balloon and is ecstatic when an older kid snatches it away from her. She throws herself on the floor and looks up. People stare  at me but I don't move. She arises in her time and continues to play.
     Well it is now getting dark and we return to the Fourth Street bus stop. Karen picks us up at the Robertson stop and places her in a car seat, fast asleep. Nell slept that night and most of the next morning. But for me, I was in Seventh Heaven and with a recharged battery, ready to return to Surf City again and the worst mass transit system in California.

Starbucks, the Gateway to San Diego, Chapter four.

Starbucks is the gateway to San Diego. Tourists, workers and the homeless make up most of the population as the city outgrows its shoes and it is impossible to find parking, with new parking meters funding many programs. It sits on the corner of Kettner and Broadway, a baseball toss to the Santa Fe Station and a few steps to the buses and the trains.
    Today, as usual, I am in the mood for a chocolate drink. It is only five thirty but I am an early bird. .I need to see the morning sun and begin to sing,  Baby It is Cold Outside.  I skip down the steps of  the  YMCA, turn right and walk across India Street. I trip over a few bikes and shopping carts as one is folding her sleeping bag.
    I order a small hot chocolate and take up my roost beside the windows  with a view of the  Bank of America and the many briefcases and yellow helmets that have come from the Coaster trains. A few briefcases enter and get in line. The yellow helmets are beginning to build a new Superior Court building, and almost all are tall and rugged Latinos. A bit of irony, but a block from this new edifice sits a  federal prison made up mostly young Latinos. Heroin and other drugs were there source of income. (We will speak about this building later.) 
    Those who live in Tents on Harbor or Pacific are the first to toilet and buy a drink.  One drink entitles them to all the amenities of this famous coffee shop. Across from me sits General Taylor, or ah he looks like one out of the Civil War.
     General Taylor is tall, bald and has grown well manicured whiskers. The sun's rays reflect off his head   His feet are at least a size fifteen and he dresses immaculately. He wears stylish white sports socks sneak out of his fashionable sandals.  He has three satchels and a lab top. He scrutinizes the many messages on his computer. He looks like he could have been a sailor on the good ship Moby Dick sailing out of Nantucket.

I pamper my hot chocolate and watch the workers, many from across the border, pile on the 992. Thousands enter San Diego each day to work at domestics, cashiers, restaurant helpers, or inside hotels. They are the girders that hold up the stockings of  San Diego. Buses take them to their place of work.
    "Hey, can I bum a cigarette off of you."
     "Not today...try me tomorrow after i get paid....Top of the morning to you."
  Now a multicolored beanie, with flaps comes my way, just after the Escondido bus takes its passengers thirty miles to one of San Diego's first gambling clubs, Harrahs.
     "Hey can I bum a cigarette off of you?"
     "Here is a quarter...Gave up smoking long ago." (Not finished or edited yet. sketch written in 2011.)
   
   
   

A Little Saigon Barber shop

I cashed my state check at Walmart and of course have them print two lump money orders for my rent. I must pay by the third or get an eviction notice plastered on my door. But today I would celebrate life with some good food.
   Atlantic Square is off of Beach and Atlantic, about a half mile from the beach. With a full pocket of  bills, I noticed a bagel shop across the way. Too tired to celebrate, I walked inside and placed my order. It was nine thirty, and I had just left my Sandbox or AA meeting on the beach. I felt upset that the barber shop was closed since it was Monday.
    "Ah...let me see. Have two onion bagels with butter please, and a cup of green tea please."
    "Thank you sir...we will bring the food to you."
   I took up a seat across from a mounted T.V. Air Force One had just landed at the Andrews Air Force base. A large contingent of soldiers waited for Bush's remains to exit the plane....
     "Well thanks a lot."
     I folded one bagel and crunch it in my toothless mouth until the food became soft and ready to swallow. Back at the T.V., his sons left the plane and several canons went off. I thought how well he had served his county and the stature and humility of the man. An ugly thought crossed my mine. Would are so-called leader show up and give one of his speeches today or simply see how he has put the world at attention waiting for his next move. The two bagels did what they were supposed to do, quiet my stomach. The 29 A bus now took me to the Bella Terra shopping center.
      I bought a bag of local farmers market tangerines...one ninety nine a pound and worth every penny. I sat by the corner window and knew the juice from these little ovals would calm my nerves- and they did. At about eleven, slim, attractive body pants entered, one even winked at me but without teeth, i only nodded a thank you.

But let me cut to the chase. I still needed a hair cut besides some teeth. Vaguely, I remembered a strip  mall off of Garfield and Magnolia. I got off the #33 and walked across Garfield  There was a hair and nail salon, a tailor's store, a catering business and finally a barber shop. I entered and saw one solitary Asian lady.
    "Ah...Do you cut hair?"
     "Yes I do." Not only did she understand English but possessed a warm friendly smile.
     "How much do you charge for an old man?"
     "Ten dollars."
      "Do you wish regular cut."
      "What about a trim...or just do it your way."
       Below the wall mirror swam two cramped Gold Fish Ornamental flowers too perched under the window  The lady wore a perpetual smile and engaged me in conversation. I must admit the way she used her hands woke up something i had missed for a long time.
       " I only cut men's hair...Women talk too much.."
        "Charlotte, were you one of the boat people from Vietnam?
        "Yes..went to Malaysia first, then to Philippines for two month, long enough to learn English and then Texas. I did not wish to be a barber because women talk to much. My girl friend told me to cut men's hair so I did...
        The mirror told me that she possessed a cute face. Her hands worked as if on auto pilot. My head began to be shaped the way i wanted. In fact, I began to look handsome. I felt totally relaxed inside of Charlotte's Web-got it?
         "I took fifty hours of training at a Barber's College in Texas, and I almost quit when my friend told me to cut men's hair. I pride myself in being the best barber in Surf City."  She told me little things about Little Saigon as she magically stroked my neck and put coconut bream on top of my dry head.
         'Never buy can products or meat at a Vietnamese market. And if you wish fresh and cheap chicken go to the market on Bolsa and Beach early in the morning. You pick the chicken and they wrap it up.. Charlotte began to massage my scalp as she told me that she can make the best chicken broth in the land.
          'Hey Charlotte, I am interested in marrying a Vietnamese girl. Let me know if any are interested?" ...
          It must have been the longest haircut I ever got. Why even my second daughter didn't recognize her handsome dad a week later.