I rolled into one blog some of the best events to fall in my lap the last few days. After all, don't we all need to rid ourselves of the 95 percent of the bull-crap that life has to offer and stick to the five percent.
Every time I enter the Grand Central Station, I play a few tunes on the piano, in front of the lobby of the station. It gives me a thrill to play some of my favorite tunes and hear the wild appliance when my fingers get too tired to continue. Then...
"Those headed for Chicago begin to line up now. This is the last call for Amtrak 346."
Of course that is not I. I am going towards Beverly Wood or West L.A. to meet my 96 year old friend Connie Glickman. I enter the underground and tap the turnstile of my Metro link card It opens and I rush down the stairs to the waiting Purple Line train. The card cost me $3.75 in Buena Park and is accepted when at your first bus or train. The last stop is the Wiltern Theater just off of Western. Across the street is Dennis but I will save the money and instead head straight to my bus.
. My rapid Blue is waiting for me on Wilshire. I relax and pay the senior price of 50 cents- no pennies please. The bus lumbers down Wilshire to Crenshaw and makes a right turn on its way to Pico Blvd. The driving range on Crenshaw reminds me on why the Koreans are so adept at gold. Why they eat, and sleep the sport. Why in Korea Town there is a driving range on every other street. One Korean told me that when he dies and is buried, he wants a two iron to accompany him.
As usual I am the only white man aboard as many are cleaners, laborers or those going to the beach. It is a hot day. I know that in May the Expo Blue Line will continue from Culver City and spill the riders off on Fourth and Colorado in Santa Monica -- and just in time for the summer. The homes in Santa Monica will continue to climb with more and more immigrants saving to afford one.
I marvel at all of the Jewish stores on Pico. I am to meet Connie Glickman at Nick's still owned and run I believe by Spielberg's Mom on La Cienega. Pico is now a sea of cars on the road and on the sidewalks mainly rabbi's or Jewish men walk and stop at the favorite restaurant.
Connie's daughter and Mom are already seated at Nick's. Connie distains any medication, even aspirin. She thrives on life and mainly laughter. Again she speaks about the time she met her Husband Murray at the Palomar Ballroom and heard Frank Sinatra sing to the accompanied by the Tommy Dorsey band.
"Everyone looked forward to hearing Frankie sing, but my eyes were on the guy working behind the bar. I ordered a Vodka Tonic."
"How old are you?"
"Guess I will have a Shirley Temple."
"I walked right up to the smallish man with the cutest dam eyes I have ever seen."
"My name if Connie, what is yours?"
"Mine is Jerry. How about a dance when I get off."
"Well in my life I have never felt such a strong and firm body. His eyes dazzled me. 'Are you Jewish?'"
I did not own a phone and he needed his friend to drive us around. When I confessed to my Mom that I had a date with a Jewish boy, she almost pissed in her pants. We married a year later and honeymooned at the St. Catherine Hotel in Catalina.
"He made it big in plastics and bought and sold machinery in the City of Commerce...."
We spent two hours at Nick's but I needed time to visit my daughter and of course her dog. The same Rapid Blue returned me to Western where I purchased a one dollar an seventy five one way ticket. This time I took a chance and got off on Seventh to switch to the Blue or Long Beach Line.
Most of the passengers are black headed for stops before Long Beach. Sellers get off and on selling candy, water or you name it. One man feigned blindness and poked around with his angular cane for "some spare change." Many board with bikes as there main means of transportation. I rather enjoy the color but not the dirty rap music piped in throughout the train.
Now after taking three more buses after the train landed me on Fifth Street I eventually landed on Elis and Beach inside Huntington Beach. Tired, but not too tired to have a blast, I decided to go to the new restaurant on the street mall, Blast Pizza. Windows circle the large eatery and I ordered after waiting a bit in a long line.
My excitement was to build my own pizza including cheese. I asked for a sprinkle of each item until the pizza looked like the tower in Rome. My mouth watered when the placed the palate inside brick oven. I must have refilled my cup with Dr. Pepper five times. Each pre-slice gave me the blast I needed to return home. So big it was, I needed a carton to remove the remains for another day.
The next morning I was jolted by another blast. On the line Irene told me that Mel would be returning home to the Pacific Spartan that day. Now I never thought he ever could return, not in that state but happy he made it alive from the French Park Care Center inside of Santa Ana
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