Horst Cahn was upset. He handed me a slice of the U.T. for me to read. It appeared a Senator from Tennessee compared our health plan to the Holocaust. I told him the Senator probably meant 'catastrophe' instead of Holocaust but that did not calm Cahn down. Nothing could today. He wished to vex his anger using me as a sounding board. (Webster's dictionary defines Holocaust as the complete destruction of people.)
"Look here George. Look at what the kids from the Oceanside school sent me. Some have written letters to my home...Looks as if I will be going to many schools now."
He then retrieved a clipping from the United Tribune. "Look at my tattoos. All that senator needs to do is go to Auschwitz, then he will understand the true meaning of Holocaust. Auchwitz was the only camp that tattooed its prisoners."
"Roosevelt did not provide visas for my family to immigrate to the United States. They stopped all immigration...My sister moved to a Polish town and bore a baby...When the Germans invaded Poland, one soldier threw my sisters baby against the wall. When she tried to get it, he stuck her with a bayonet."
Again we sit at Table 5, the Miracle table in the Little Oak's Cafe in Encinitas. Horst Cahn, Thomas and Gregorio are there, besides good old me, or most of me-that is. I lost another tooth to time again, but at least there is no more pain.
Lady Barbara is home, nursing a chronic back problem. She had curvature of the spine when a child without any correction. Abe is still in the hospital. We are having Chicken Bearnasise with wild rice, Asparagus and a Spinach salad. I made a tuna sandwich instead.
"Your daughter did not call, George. I will be in the hospital next week for a heart exam. Like I told you, my heart was never the same after Auschwitz. I have already had two splints placed in my heart. My doctor wishes to put dye into me to find out the problem."
The strawberry short cake was served up. I cut the strawberries for Gregorio and began to eat my tuna sandwich. A helper asked Gregorio to have two more permits ready for his van to pick him up. Gregorio is our Mad Russian who conducted an orchestra while Joe Stalin listened. He could easily be mistaken for Santa Claus. (Stalin ruled Russia during and after the war.)
He smiles while I cut his food. His walker is to his side. He removes his dentures from a plastic container and begin to eat. He enjoys good food, but is excited by my conversation with Horst, the only living survivor of a Bunda camp in Auschwitz. I refill the coffees for Thomas and Gregorio and sit down to hear more Cahnisims. Horst today has my complete attention. I have clipped and pasted what he said today. I know you are bored with food but eat up every mouthful he has to say.
"Horst, how did you get to the United States after the Russians liberated you."
"My wife Elizabeth and I stayed in Bremenhafen, Germany. I worked as a Chef and we bore our two sons there. There names were Eric and Dan. The American Council gave us permits to enter the United States. The W. Haan, a military ship, took us to Ellis Island. Many carried papermache suit cases to carry their clothes. Their possessions fell to the floor."
What year did you sail for the United States?
"It was 1939 we came here with my parents. I decided on Rochester, New York to live. I worked in a Country Club there as a baker. I had worked back in Germany as a baker. After the sick baker returned to work, my boss hired me as the chef." (He meant 1948.)
"Both of my kids went to a Jewish school there. We stayed about five years in Rochester before I decided to fly to California. At first we took an apartment in La Jolla, and then decided on perhaps Oceanside. I wished to open my own Delicatessen."
"Do you know what Delicatessen means, George?" Hell if I know. "Well 'essen' means food and 'delic' means delicious."
Why didn't you begin the business in La Jolla? (Horst answers by using the hard 'J' sound rather than the Spanish one.)
"The people were too snobbish. And besides, one daughter began college in Northern California. I thought about Oceanside and decided on Cardiff. It was called Cahn's Delicatessen, and located on Buckingham Street."
His mind now wandered to Big John. He wished to begin another deli in Cardiff. His deli is called the Tip Top, and is well known in Carlsbad.
"I told big John to begin one in Carlsbad. Why should we compete with each other. I also warned him not to put so much salt in his food. He has huge hands and a hand-full meant to much. He took my advice." (I believe that Big John may also have come from Essen,Germany. I eat there all the time.)
"My restaurant sat only 60 people. It began to flourish when I added another ingredient for my cheese cake. Everyone from miles around telephoned their orders. I made enough to send all my kids to college on that cheese cake."
Horst finished his salad plate. He wore a white cap and a nice sports combination below it. ( call the Encinitas Senior Center for lunch or if you wish to speak with my buddy, Horst Cahn.
Wednesday, May 7, 2014
Tuesday, May 6, 2014
Return Trip to San Juan Capistrano
Yesterday I was all set to take the Amtrak 567 to the Carlsbad's Sunday Beach Street Fair. It is the once-a-year's beach city's big event. Exhibitors would blanket the downtown area selling everything you could imagine. It closed in on eight o'clock and I had to get ready for Amtrak's 567 train to Carlsbad. No car for me, I love to read and view the sea. Besides, I love to listen to music and watch men trying to assault Mount Everest. (rock climbing)
I prepared to leave when my phone rang. It was my first daughter.
"Dad, I am taking the kids to the petting zoo. Do you wish to meet us there? I will be coming alone."
'"Of course, I can always attend the fair next year, but seeing my two grandkids is my World's Fair for a Day. Of course I think the world of them.
"Meet us at the petting zoo"
Like last time, I bought an Amtrak ticket for twelve and change. I exchanged my blog card for Gail's ticket and climbed aboard at eight ten. The 567 leaves at eight o'clock and makes all Coaster stops along the way. That perk is the trip cost me only from Oceanside to San Juan Capistrano.
White Death sat across from me two seats down. She had to be climbing one hundred. I have never seen such white hair in my life, except for Snow White. Her ever-worn face clutched a paper. Her eyes closed yet she still clutched her paper. Kiss marks covered her hands and boney long fingers. Miss Whiteman only needed to chew on See's candy to bring back the good old forties. I imagined her sewing on an original White sewing machine. Still as death she sat. .
Sorry for this spur-of-the-moment description, but my train treat on Amtrak is not just reading and looking at the always changing scenic view, but watching people older than time.
The 567 chugged into the old Capistrano station. I walked south and felt the cool air. "Why didn't I wear a jacket, you fool," I told myself. I turned right next to a museum and walked few feet and turned a corner to buy a ticket.
My first daughter saw me. She pointed to the cashier to let me in She had paid for me.
'Hurry Dad, I can't allow Spring to stay inside too long." She carried Spring, all head and eyes. Her blue eyes rivet on me every time the seven month year old sees me. Inside the petting ring sat Spring, my first born grand daughter. She was handling a guinea pig.
'Take it easy...not too hard. You are killing it...That's better...Give it more lettuce" Our attention was focused on the three year old. Summer Time just kept sucking her bottle and looking where her round hairless head too her. My daughter had her strapped to herself inside an apron. She could have been a kangaroo baby.
A few kids were petting rabbits and donating vegetables their Mom's had bought. There was horse back riding, and also a train ride. A large party was going on further down.
Now Spring wished to go on the train. "George, wave, wave...that's better."
Now it was time for lunch. We gathered everything up and strolled towards Rubies. My daughter told me it had a friendly bathroom for the kids.
Spring Time could or would not sit still. We ordered the usual, a turkey burger and the real one for me. I got a coloring paper with crayolas and began to shade in the characters. She also colored and preferred the fries to the hot-dog-on-a-stick. (I ate it later.)
We then went to the park, in back of the train station. There was a slide, swings and also a horse saddle. I became a kid again. My train back to San Diego would leave at 1:43 I kissed my daughter the two grand ones good-by.
I took a last look at the historical Victorian houses planted adjacent to the rail road tracks. It resembled a Garden of Eden with old but well kept up houses wishing me a good trip. The sun was hot, but it felt just right.
"Choo, choo,choo" Well that is my train, see you next time on the Blue Eyed Special
I prepared to leave when my phone rang. It was my first daughter.
"Dad, I am taking the kids to the petting zoo. Do you wish to meet us there? I will be coming alone."
'"Of course, I can always attend the fair next year, but seeing my two grandkids is my World's Fair for a Day. Of course I think the world of them.
"Meet us at the petting zoo"
Like last time, I bought an Amtrak ticket for twelve and change. I exchanged my blog card for Gail's ticket and climbed aboard at eight ten. The 567 leaves at eight o'clock and makes all Coaster stops along the way. That perk is the trip cost me only from Oceanside to San Juan Capistrano.
White Death sat across from me two seats down. She had to be climbing one hundred. I have never seen such white hair in my life, except for Snow White. Her ever-worn face clutched a paper. Her eyes closed yet she still clutched her paper. Kiss marks covered her hands and boney long fingers. Miss Whiteman only needed to chew on See's candy to bring back the good old forties. I imagined her sewing on an original White sewing machine. Still as death she sat. .
Sorry for this spur-of-the-moment description, but my train treat on Amtrak is not just reading and looking at the always changing scenic view, but watching people older than time.
The 567 chugged into the old Capistrano station. I walked south and felt the cool air. "Why didn't I wear a jacket, you fool," I told myself. I turned right next to a museum and walked few feet and turned a corner to buy a ticket.
My first daughter saw me. She pointed to the cashier to let me in She had paid for me.
'Hurry Dad, I can't allow Spring to stay inside too long." She carried Spring, all head and eyes. Her blue eyes rivet on me every time the seven month year old sees me. Inside the petting ring sat Spring, my first born grand daughter. She was handling a guinea pig.
'Take it easy...not too hard. You are killing it...That's better...Give it more lettuce" Our attention was focused on the three year old. Summer Time just kept sucking her bottle and looking where her round hairless head too her. My daughter had her strapped to herself inside an apron. She could have been a kangaroo baby.
A few kids were petting rabbits and donating vegetables their Mom's had bought. There was horse back riding, and also a train ride. A large party was going on further down.
Now Spring wished to go on the train. "George, wave, wave...that's better."
Now it was time for lunch. We gathered everything up and strolled towards Rubies. My daughter told me it had a friendly bathroom for the kids.
Spring Time could or would not sit still. We ordered the usual, a turkey burger and the real one for me. I got a coloring paper with crayolas and began to shade in the characters. She also colored and preferred the fries to the hot-dog-on-a-stick. (I ate it later.)
We then went to the park, in back of the train station. There was a slide, swings and also a horse saddle. I became a kid again. My train back to San Diego would leave at 1:43 I kissed my daughter the two grand ones good-by.
I took a last look at the historical Victorian houses planted adjacent to the rail road tracks. It resembled a Garden of Eden with old but well kept up houses wishing me a good trip. The sun was hot, but it felt just right.
"Choo, choo,choo" Well that is my train, see you next time on the Blue Eyed Special
Last Days of the Y.M.C.A
It is May Eleventh. I just knew it would be a hot blazer this week. My steering-wheel would not allow me to touch it. Back safely at the 'Y', a courtyard party was going on. Several kids were playing inside the offices of Sir Tomas Cartwright, our esteemed manager.
I found out that he had been fired by the new owners, Egyptians. I could only surmise that they had come here in fear of their safety back in Cairo. I also wondered if they would treat Christians or Jews the same way they did in Egypt.
But I also wondered why the toilets now longer were kept up, and no longer was there a vacuum. My did they wish us out? Too bad the letter of eviction did not have a date. Of course it was all about greed and money.(Actually it was a termination notice.)
I woke up at at about five o'clock. No longer did hear my next door neighbor scream. The cell to my right no longer played rap music. A few good men left for the few bucks these middle easterners threw at them. .
The downtown 'Y' had given our walking papers on May Day or the First. The eviction noticed went something like this. "To our valued guests, you are hereby given a 60 day notice to leave. We will provide the equivalent to two months rent three days before you vacate your room. Good Luck and Good By. At the top were the words, Relcoation Assistance Notice. (Guess the manager needed to relocate the 'o' and 'a'.
The notice was signed by Alvin Mansour, President of Oram Properties. He assured us of safe and affordable housing. Few of these tenants could understand the legalese. Yet they treated the passengers like those in steerage class.
Of course my mind wandered to Horst Cahn, and my Polish Ancestry. Adolf Hitler and his Nazi party gave the Jews a similar sendoff, only they were sent to gas chambers instead of learning a new trade.
Yet I had two months to leave. I took a long hot shower, shaved with my Bic and organized my room. The last days of the 'Y' would be my celebration with the past. I wondered what room did Charles Lindbergh had stayed in for one dollar. Just maybe I slept in his bed.
Lindbergh had flown the 'Spirit' to France for the first Trans Atlantic trip across the ocean. 1927 to receive a big prize and a large parade on his return. He was the first to fly non-stop over the Atlantic. He had trained his plane off of Dutch Island in San Diego.
I made my hot boiled eggs in the kitchen. For the first time, there were towels by the sink and no cock roaches to join me for breakfast. The second floor T.V. no longer screamed religious programs or rap music. It was silent.
I paid my $800 rent, vacuumed, wrapped my back pack over me and out the front door I skipped. A homeless kid walked along with me screaming a lot-of-non-sense into my right ear. He walked to my inside. I came to India Avenue and saw the same gal, much older than her years. She wore wrinkles and a effervescent smile. Her hand reached out.
"Sir, could you spare some change", she begged. ""Not today" I replied. The one who had walked to me had stopped to pick up a cigarette butt. A few drops of rain hit me in the face. On my head I wore the same Chicago White Socks hat. I had found it at the Town and Country during the November Jazz Feast. I bumped my Compass Pass and entered the Coaster. The commuter train slept on track number three. My car was waiting at the Encinitas Train Station.
While on the train, my mind wondered back to the old historic hotel. Now it would be torn apart and remade into a W, Weston, or Winsome Hotel. The new hotel would feature air conditioners and also update their rates to two or perhaps three hundred a night.
The thousands who befriend San Diego will no longer afford the exorbitant fees to stay by the Harbor. For me, I was going to move anyway. The summer room temperature in my room hovers around ninety during the day.
It is time for me to just move along. Someday when I am rich I will return to my favorite hotel, the YMCA. I think I will now sing the song with the above title.
I found out that he had been fired by the new owners, Egyptians. I could only surmise that they had come here in fear of their safety back in Cairo. I also wondered if they would treat Christians or Jews the same way they did in Egypt.
But I also wondered why the toilets now longer were kept up, and no longer was there a vacuum. My did they wish us out? Too bad the letter of eviction did not have a date. Of course it was all about greed and money.(Actually it was a termination notice.)
I woke up at at about five o'clock. No longer did hear my next door neighbor scream. The cell to my right no longer played rap music. A few good men left for the few bucks these middle easterners threw at them. .
The downtown 'Y' had given our walking papers on May Day or the First. The eviction noticed went something like this. "To our valued guests, you are hereby given a 60 day notice to leave. We will provide the equivalent to two months rent three days before you vacate your room. Good Luck and Good By. At the top were the words, Relcoation Assistance Notice. (Guess the manager needed to relocate the 'o' and 'a'.
The notice was signed by Alvin Mansour, President of Oram Properties. He assured us of safe and affordable housing. Few of these tenants could understand the legalese. Yet they treated the passengers like those in steerage class.
Of course my mind wandered to Horst Cahn, and my Polish Ancestry. Adolf Hitler and his Nazi party gave the Jews a similar sendoff, only they were sent to gas chambers instead of learning a new trade.
Yet I had two months to leave. I took a long hot shower, shaved with my Bic and organized my room. The last days of the 'Y' would be my celebration with the past. I wondered what room did Charles Lindbergh had stayed in for one dollar. Just maybe I slept in his bed.
Lindbergh had flown the 'Spirit' to France for the first Trans Atlantic trip across the ocean. 1927 to receive a big prize and a large parade on his return. He was the first to fly non-stop over the Atlantic. He had trained his plane off of Dutch Island in San Diego.
I made my hot boiled eggs in the kitchen. For the first time, there were towels by the sink and no cock roaches to join me for breakfast. The second floor T.V. no longer screamed religious programs or rap music. It was silent.
I paid my $800 rent, vacuumed, wrapped my back pack over me and out the front door I skipped. A homeless kid walked along with me screaming a lot-of-non-sense into my right ear. He walked to my inside. I came to India Avenue and saw the same gal, much older than her years. She wore wrinkles and a effervescent smile. Her hand reached out.
"Sir, could you spare some change", she begged. ""Not today" I replied. The one who had walked to me had stopped to pick up a cigarette butt. A few drops of rain hit me in the face. On my head I wore the same Chicago White Socks hat. I had found it at the Town and Country during the November Jazz Feast. I bumped my Compass Pass and entered the Coaster. The commuter train slept on track number three. My car was waiting at the Encinitas Train Station.
While on the train, my mind wondered back to the old historic hotel. Now it would be torn apart and remade into a W, Weston, or Winsome Hotel. The new hotel would feature air conditioners and also update their rates to two or perhaps three hundred a night.
The thousands who befriend San Diego will no longer afford the exorbitant fees to stay by the Harbor. For me, I was going to move anyway. The summer room temperature in my room hovers around ninety during the day.
It is time for me to just move along. Someday when I am rich I will return to my favorite hotel, the YMCA. I think I will now sing the song with the above title.
Saturday, May 3, 2014
The Y.M.C.A. is Closing Its Doors
I have heard from a Y.M.C.A. staff member here that it will close in two months. "Miss Gloria gave the new owners the stamp of approval to buy it, and rehab it." Gloria replaced Mayor Feltmore until a new mayor could be elected. He sits in the City Counsel meetings held on Monday's and Tuesday's.
I have lived in this historical monument on Broadway for three years. Before it became a Army and Navy building in 1924, it was owned by International Harvester. The 500 West Building probably will be gutted with central air, at long last, but don't hold your breath. Others have promised to enhance the edifice, but didn't.
I have survived a number of spider bites, Cock Roaches eating my left overs, and me when there was none. Bed Bugs shared my bed causing me to scratch and finally wear pajamas. The Cock Roaches live inside the walls have lookouts and sentries ready to lead the charge to a anything that smells of food.
Three years ago in May, I moved in to the Hotel Loco. My next door neighbor, a writer. coined the term. Sir Thomas Cartwright ruled with a sensitive thumb. I remember the day, three years ago, when I moved into my little cell on the second floor. There was a small refrigerator, eleven inch T.V. and a small bed in front of a window that looked outside into the courtyard.
"We can't find your application. HUD needs proof of your monthly income." Exhausted, I ran back to my car parked on G Street and India Avenue. I found my last check's stub and gave it to him. He made a phone call and I saw my room."
"Mr. Garrett, You can have as many towels as you wish. Also, we offer coffee and apples in the morning. Your room will be cleaned every week." So much for promises.
My first day there I went to the 'Y's kitchen to make scrambled eggs. A heavy set black man with a Caribbean was cutting up a large garlic roll. I sat down and said the food looked good. From then on it was war with 'Jelly Belly'. "Go f...k yourself! He wore a towel draped over his engine after showering. We always bumped into one another until last year when he threatened my life.
HUD sent us patrons from across the border. They were rehabs and in remission from T.B. Whopping Cough or from Drugs. Many inmates slept during the day and walked the halls at night. Few could sleep during the hot days.
Why two years ago, San Diego registered 102 degrees. I slept at Lindbergh Field that week. Sir Thomas refused to ask the owners to place a air conditioner above my head. Since five, I has suffered with asthma and bronchitis, but he did not care. Even a letter from my doctor did little good. I new when my rooms temperature hit over 85 at night, to go to a hotel or the airport.
You see, concrete holds heat, unlike adobe. With hot weather, its takes the building a few days to release the heat. Also, San Diego is make up of many skyscrapers. Yes, the are beautiful like the Wesson or the Hyatt, but these big blocks block the Harbor breezes, quite unlike Oceanside or Carlsbad. These monsters not only hold the heat in, but also the ozone, pollen and particles.
Two days ago, we got our walking papers. For the three with wheel chairs, I hope they can find anther hotel with an air conditioner. For me I will survive on my retirement. My next headquarters will have an air conditioner or at least, be by the sea with an unencumbered breeze.
Before I forget it, Charles Lindbergh, remember the Spirit of St. Louis, for a few months. It cost him a dollar a night then until he moved to the Grant for two Washington's.
I have lived in this historical monument on Broadway for three years. Before it became a Army and Navy building in 1924, it was owned by International Harvester. The 500 West Building probably will be gutted with central air, at long last, but don't hold your breath. Others have promised to enhance the edifice, but didn't.
I have survived a number of spider bites, Cock Roaches eating my left overs, and me when there was none. Bed Bugs shared my bed causing me to scratch and finally wear pajamas. The Cock Roaches live inside the walls have lookouts and sentries ready to lead the charge to a anything that smells of food.
Three years ago in May, I moved in to the Hotel Loco. My next door neighbor, a writer. coined the term. Sir Thomas Cartwright ruled with a sensitive thumb. I remember the day, three years ago, when I moved into my little cell on the second floor. There was a small refrigerator, eleven inch T.V. and a small bed in front of a window that looked outside into the courtyard.
"We can't find your application. HUD needs proof of your monthly income." Exhausted, I ran back to my car parked on G Street and India Avenue. I found my last check's stub and gave it to him. He made a phone call and I saw my room."
"Mr. Garrett, You can have as many towels as you wish. Also, we offer coffee and apples in the morning. Your room will be cleaned every week." So much for promises.
My first day there I went to the 'Y's kitchen to make scrambled eggs. A heavy set black man with a Caribbean was cutting up a large garlic roll. I sat down and said the food looked good. From then on it was war with 'Jelly Belly'. "Go f...k yourself! He wore a towel draped over his engine after showering. We always bumped into one another until last year when he threatened my life.
HUD sent us patrons from across the border. They were rehabs and in remission from T.B. Whopping Cough or from Drugs. Many inmates slept during the day and walked the halls at night. Few could sleep during the hot days.
Why two years ago, San Diego registered 102 degrees. I slept at Lindbergh Field that week. Sir Thomas refused to ask the owners to place a air conditioner above my head. Since five, I has suffered with asthma and bronchitis, but he did not care. Even a letter from my doctor did little good. I new when my rooms temperature hit over 85 at night, to go to a hotel or the airport.
You see, concrete holds heat, unlike adobe. With hot weather, its takes the building a few days to release the heat. Also, San Diego is make up of many skyscrapers. Yes, the are beautiful like the Wesson or the Hyatt, but these big blocks block the Harbor breezes, quite unlike Oceanside or Carlsbad. These monsters not only hold the heat in, but also the ozone, pollen and particles.
Two days ago, we got our walking papers. For the three with wheel chairs, I hope they can find anther hotel with an air conditioner. For me I will survive on my retirement. My next headquarters will have an air conditioner or at least, be by the sea with an unencumbered breeze.
Before I forget it, Charles Lindbergh, remember the Spirit of St. Louis, for a few months. It cost him a dollar a night then until he moved to the Grant for two Washington's.
Thursday, May 1, 2014
A Perfect Storm
The story about the Perfect Storm has been updated. Firestorms hit San Diego this week. Thousands have bee sent home packing their bags. To my south is the Big Bernardo fire, and to my north is the fire storm in Carlsbad. (Today is the 14th of May.)
I fell asleep in the 'Y' for one hour. At about six, the phone rang. It took me a minute to regain my senses. It was my daughter. "Dad, how are you coping with your asthma. I am worried. The newscast said it hit a record in San Diego. Does the hotel have my number? And do you still wish to have an ash funeral?
I fell asleep in the 'Y' for one hour. At about six, the phone rang. It took me a minute to regain my senses. It was my daughter. "Dad, how are you coping with your asthma. I am worried. The newscast said it hit a record in San Diego. Does the hotel have my number? And do you still wish to have an ash funeral?
Listen. I am still alive. What is that noise in the background. Put Allison on. "She is trying to stand. Here Allison speak to Grand Pa. 'Grapa'. So how is school? "Everything is great and I adore my two babies. When is the fifth. I get paid and then we can drive down there and see you." Now don't forget to bring my volleyball. Love George
After the call, I gave what she said a long thought. In no way could I die now. I needed to see my two blue eyed babies. But I can't stay here in this hot tomb...At least not for now. I decided to take the nine o'lock Amtrak out of the Santa Fe Station. I would cleanse my lungs and provide a break in the day. I did it. My Compass card was good for that train. In fact, many use voided Compass cards since Amtrak does not have a gadget to check their validity. They get a free ride.
It did the trick. I felt like a new man when I returned with Dolly, my trusted car. I parked in the Commuter Station and took the Green Line Trolley back to Santa Fe. I think my mind needed an aversion to the Black Death that hovered over San Diego.
This morning, I felt fine. The weather man spoke of records and breezy conditions again. To celebrate another day in the life of Cruisin' George, I drove to the Harbor Sheraton Hotel and took in its free air. I read their complimentary paper, the U.T. and thought about eating breakfast there.
It is unforgivable that our City Council did not decree that seniors should have the right to air conditioning-after all-we deserve it. I have survived three years in a filthy place in order to cut corners for my family.
The scoffed and made fun of me when I gave my speech about the dank air at the Y.M.C.A. (Now it will be updated, and luckily for me, I survived. None of city council men will get my vote-on the contrary-I will support anybody on the clean air ticket
It is unforgivable that our City Council did not decree that seniors should have the right to air conditioning-after all-we deserve it. I have survived three years in a filthy place in order to cut corners for my family.
The scoffed and made fun of me when I gave my speech about the dank air at the Y.M.C.A. (Now it will be updated, and luckily for me, I survived. None of city council men will get my vote-on the contrary-I will support anybody on the clean air ticket
Don Sterling School Days.
I had no idea that Donald Sterling came from Boyle Heights and attended Roosevelt High School. Abe told me that while eating at Table 5 yesterday in Encinitas. Boyle Heights sat below City Terrace and to the east of downtown Los Angeles.
I had taught math, and then English at Hollenbeck Jr. High School from 1963-1985. It was across the street from the campus of Roosevelt High School. I had no idea that the owner of my apartment on Rexford in Beverly Hills had gone to Roosevelt, and in fact, was president of his class in 1952. His wife, Rochelle, also graduated to the same school. (From USA 5-1-2014)
I crossed his path only once. I rented his apartment in Beverly Hills for one year. One week after we rented it, he had the swimming pool's heat turned off. My two daughters and I were the only Americans living in the apartment along with recent immigrated Persians. The apartment smelled of goat's milk and lots of garlic. I even drove to his palace on Beverly Drive and Wilshire. His building had silver moon shape object on the top.
Don Tokwitz, Sterling. was brought up in the Boyle Heights area of Los Angeles. Like my Dad and other Jews, we were no strangers to prejudice and discrimination. My Dad forced another name on me when in junior high school.
It was just east of the Los Angeles River. It was a melting pot of many different nationalities, but mainly displaced Europeans, Jews and Mexicans. There were several synagogues in Boyle Heights in the thirties and forties.
Lunch time at Hollenbeck meant one of us with a free fourth period had to take orders and buy from Cantor's Deli on Brooklyn and Soto Streets. n the sixties, I often took orders from my fellow teachers for lunch. Corn Beef or Pastrami on Rye were their favorites, of course with lots of fries, ketchup and cokes. (I believe one of the Cantor sons played football for U.C.L.A. in the 30's. He played alongside Jackie Robinson and Kenny Washington.) The slaughter houses were south of the school and when the winds came from the South, one could smell a ham sandwich on rye without paying for it. The school was heavily black topped without air conditioners.
For the last week, I have refused to watch T.V. Why so much anger for this slum lord. Just look at yourself in the mirror and count the times you made a racial slur against a group of people. At least Don Sterling gave back lots to charity.
Anybody who wishes to see the real problems of our society come to San Diego and ride the Blue Line Trolley at night. Those without identity strike out on life itself.
I had taught math, and then English at Hollenbeck Jr. High School from 1963-1985. It was across the street from the campus of Roosevelt High School. I had no idea that the owner of my apartment on Rexford in Beverly Hills had gone to Roosevelt, and in fact, was president of his class in 1952. His wife, Rochelle, also graduated to the same school. (From USA 5-1-2014)
I crossed his path only once. I rented his apartment in Beverly Hills for one year. One week after we rented it, he had the swimming pool's heat turned off. My two daughters and I were the only Americans living in the apartment along with recent immigrated Persians. The apartment smelled of goat's milk and lots of garlic. I even drove to his palace on Beverly Drive and Wilshire. His building had silver moon shape object on the top.
Don Tokwitz, Sterling. was brought up in the Boyle Heights area of Los Angeles. Like my Dad and other Jews, we were no strangers to prejudice and discrimination. My Dad forced another name on me when in junior high school.
It was just east of the Los Angeles River. It was a melting pot of many different nationalities, but mainly displaced Europeans, Jews and Mexicans. There were several synagogues in Boyle Heights in the thirties and forties.
Lunch time at Hollenbeck meant one of us with a free fourth period had to take orders and buy from Cantor's Deli on Brooklyn and Soto Streets. n the sixties, I often took orders from my fellow teachers for lunch. Corn Beef or Pastrami on Rye were their favorites, of course with lots of fries, ketchup and cokes. (I believe one of the Cantor sons played football for U.C.L.A. in the 30's. He played alongside Jackie Robinson and Kenny Washington.) The slaughter houses were south of the school and when the winds came from the South, one could smell a ham sandwich on rye without paying for it. The school was heavily black topped without air conditioners.
For the last week, I have refused to watch T.V. Why so much anger for this slum lord. Just look at yourself in the mirror and count the times you made a racial slur against a group of people. At least Don Sterling gave back lots to charity.
Anybody who wishes to see the real problems of our society come to San Diego and ride the Blue Line Trolley at night. Those without identity strike out on life itself.
Cinco De Mayo
Old Town will celebrate Mexican Independence Day in San Diego's Old Town this weekend. It celebrates their independence from France on the Fifth of May. Yesterday, truck loads of pinatas were unloaded in Old Town. Last year, over one hundred thousand attended this Super Bowl for Mexicans in Old Town. Mariachi music, Margaritas, and children hitting a paper animal filled with candy.
Last year, my biggest moment was to watch kids try to break a pinata attached by a rope tied to a tree's branch. It had the shape of a lion. Each time little five year old Jose batted it, a man that held a rope pulled the pinata higher. Finally, one good blow tore a hole in it and lots of treats fell to the ground.
On a bench I watched the event with Tonto, the wooden cigar store Indian. The parents looked more excited than their kids who picked up the candy like their life depended on it. I took a picture of two newly weds next to Tonto, and guessed the weight of a tourist from Ohio on an old scale. But back to this post on Old Town.
But before you pack up to leave for Old Town, let me provide a few tips to save money, time and stress. Never drive into San Diego unless you have reserved a hotel and its parking lot. Most hotels charge extra to park in their lot-like the old Horton Hotel in the Gas Lamp area.
You can reserve a hotel at any one of the thirty H and M's on Hotel Circle. These are located in the Mission Valley area off the 8 Freeway. The 5 Freeway will take you to the 8 and go east. Get off at the Hotel Circle off ramp on Taylor. A large number of Hotels and Motels will come up. The cheaper ones cost about $50 off season-but May is the beginning of San Diego's Tourists season. It means higher costs, mainly on the weekends. (To get to the 8, keep to the far right lanes or you will be on the 805.)
Hotels like the Town and Country are only a block away from the Green Line Trolley. They are on the north side of the circle. The Green Line Trolley goes both ways. From downtown San Diego, the Trolley also goes in the other direction, but still spills you out at the foot of Old Town.
The expensive hotels, like the Embassy charge a lot. but allow you to sleep up to six per room. The rates, change day to day so check Hotel's.com for the best deal.
Besides the Green Line Trolley, the number 88 bus services all the circle hotels. That bus is on the east side of the Old Town Transit Station. The beach buses can drop you off at Old Town. So if you come from OB, or Ocean Beach, PB, or MB. there are the 35, 30, and 28 buses that can bring and return you to La Jolla, Mission, or my favorite, Ocean Beach.
Take lots of water. Again, take lots of water and bag your lunches to save money. Before walking across with the light on San Diego Street, you might wish to take a bathroom break at the Old Town Deli on the north side of the station.
Also, there is a bathroom at the entrance of the park. there are bathrooms at the Old Town Deli on the North Side. It is a quarter, but if you wait, somebody will vacate it and you can enter free of charge. Try to go in the late afternoon to beat the heat and after the flowers bed down for the night. The Red Flag warnings should be over, but bring your puffers just in case.
Those who leave early can park at the Old Town Commuter Parking lot. It is free and safe for 24 hours. Perry's Cafe, across Taylor Street offers a fine breakfast and lunch at affordable prices.
My favorite place is ahead of you. It is the Wrightingham House. You'll see a grape arbor, fig, loquat, pepper, olive, and a bed of Roses in the inner back patio area. It is where
Last year, my biggest moment was to watch kids try to break a pinata attached by a rope tied to a tree's branch. It had the shape of a lion. Each time little five year old Jose batted it, a man that held a rope pulled the pinata higher. Finally, one good blow tore a hole in it and lots of treats fell to the ground.
On a bench I watched the event with Tonto, the wooden cigar store Indian. The parents looked more excited than their kids who picked up the candy like their life depended on it. I took a picture of two newly weds next to Tonto, and guessed the weight of a tourist from Ohio on an old scale. But back to this post on Old Town.
But before you pack up to leave for Old Town, let me provide a few tips to save money, time and stress. Never drive into San Diego unless you have reserved a hotel and its parking lot. Most hotels charge extra to park in their lot-like the old Horton Hotel in the Gas Lamp area.
You can reserve a hotel at any one of the thirty H and M's on Hotel Circle. These are located in the Mission Valley area off the 8 Freeway. The 5 Freeway will take you to the 8 and go east. Get off at the Hotel Circle off ramp on Taylor. A large number of Hotels and Motels will come up. The cheaper ones cost about $50 off season-but May is the beginning of San Diego's Tourists season. It means higher costs, mainly on the weekends. (To get to the 8, keep to the far right lanes or you will be on the 805.)
Hotels like the Town and Country are only a block away from the Green Line Trolley. They are on the north side of the circle. The Green Line Trolley goes both ways. From downtown San Diego, the Trolley also goes in the other direction, but still spills you out at the foot of Old Town.
The expensive hotels, like the Embassy charge a lot. but allow you to sleep up to six per room. The rates, change day to day so check Hotel's.com for the best deal.
Besides the Green Line Trolley, the number 88 bus services all the circle hotels. That bus is on the east side of the Old Town Transit Station. The beach buses can drop you off at Old Town. So if you come from OB, or Ocean Beach, PB, or MB. there are the 35, 30, and 28 buses that can bring and return you to La Jolla, Mission, or my favorite, Ocean Beach.
Take lots of water. Again, take lots of water and bag your lunches to save money. Before walking across with the light on San Diego Street, you might wish to take a bathroom break at the Old Town Deli on the north side of the station.
Also, there is a bathroom at the entrance of the park. there are bathrooms at the Old Town Deli on the North Side. It is a quarter, but if you wait, somebody will vacate it and you can enter free of charge. Try to go in the late afternoon to beat the heat and after the flowers bed down for the night. The Red Flag warnings should be over, but bring your puffers just in case.
Those who leave early can park at the Old Town Commuter Parking lot. It is free and safe for 24 hours. Perry's Cafe, across Taylor Street offers a fine breakfast and lunch at affordable prices.
My favorite place is ahead of you. It is the Wrightingham House. You'll see a grape arbor, fig, loquat, pepper, olive, and a bed of Roses in the inner back patio area. It is where
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