A bit early, I made it to Dr. Painter's office three hours early. I needed good clean air to help with my bronchitis. The Garden Grove Kaiser satellite is where I go to my yearly dermatology check up, and besides, my face had grown a couple of weeds that needed to be exorcised out. It had been a three month wait and I had no idea that one of my best blogs would take place in the Garden Grove facility, across from a large Ralph's.
My last bus on Chapman dropped me off on Euclid. I needed to fortify my depleted energy with food. My body told my mind it needed potato salad and a combination shrimp and crab imitation salad. I entered the Kaiser facility at about twelve, three hours too early but what the hell. I had taken along my Thomas Becket book to read while feeding my face with my Ralph's deli.
I found a couch on the second floor and tried to ignore my labored breathing. Several pregnant teenagers waited to be called while I devoured some bread and my shrimp Oops the lid dropped,..and I don't know where..
"Sir, your lid is on the floor. Too bad I didn't bring something to eat. What are you eating?"
I looked up and on a couch across from me sat a beautiful smile Her gorgeous blond curls sat on to of a rotund face.
"Ah, shrimp and a crab salad...Is this your first?"
"Na, why doya think I am pregnant?"
"Look at the sign on the door... obstetrics!"
"But I am going to the other door!"
"Oh my I didn't see the geriatrics door, sorry."
I enjoyed our parlay and the way she laughed as if she had her whole life. Not bad looking also.
"What sir are you here for?"
'Pregnant, in fact I made the Guinness book of records as the first male to have a baby?"
"Ya kidding of course."
Just then I heard a door open. "Matilda, you are next." She gave me such a look and left. Now I could read my Becket book Since Becket was a deacon, he could not mingle with the ladies and have babies. About thirty minutes later, Matilda came out and ran up to me. I almost lost some of my shrimp salad. Excited, she screamed for the lobby ladies to hear.
"I am having twins." In a hurry she left while I held my breath. And what a pleasant sight I saw as standing up she looked like a Vogue cover girl.
Nuts and bolts for today: "Cover your face and body since God provides one paint job for customer" contributed my Doctor Painter ,
Monday, March 12, 2018
Wednesday, March 7, 2018
A Revisit to L.A.'s Pico Blvd
From the underground, I popped up at the Purple Line's last stop, on Western and Wilshire in downtown Los Angeles. A break from the House of Wax, or the Sea Cliff Health Center was needed. I had compromised my own sanity and health to care for Mel for almost two years at the health center in Huntington Beach.
With blue skies for my canopy, I left the underground escalator, turned left and a right on Wilshire to the C.V.S. and my hop on the Rapid Seven bus, that come every ten minutes. The Pico bus is the link between downtown and downtown Santa Monica via Pico Blvd. Also, I had survived the Blue Line train out of Long Beach. Most of the riders on the Blue Line don't pay and make a nuisance of themselves but I have learned to make the ride enjoyable in any case. .
To remove the cancer from Mel's ear and restore some vision into his leaky left eye had taken the life out of me. Hence I called the Huntington Beach Health Center the House of Wax. At least Los Angeles and Santa Monica would not have the extensive pollen and fields of molds as does Huntington Beach.
The Rapid Blue Seven weaves down Pico and pictures a different canvas than the one in the forties. The old Sears department store has been taken over with shops, but the Rampart line is still there. As the bus continues I remember the Five and Dime and Ralph's off of La Cienega that no longer are there and have been taken over by a post office, Sub stores and other stores. Our favorite eatery is gone but not the smell and memories of the best french fries and hamburger in West Los Angeles.
We lived on Holt Avenue, and three blocks from Kentucky Boys restaurant. The smell of the giant burgers and fries could be smelled a block from our favorite restaurant. We both grabbed the ketchup bottle and made our large order of fries duck for cover. While our taste buds enjoyed the lively taste of the burger and fries, a Nickelodeon played songs of the forties. Why we could have spent hours there pining away at the delicious menu as well as a chocolate malt, my Dad Harry told us to hurry up as he wished to drive to Hollywood Park for Thoroughbred racing.
Mom did not drive a car in the forties, but while Harry enjoyed the race track, Mel and I played in the backyard of this $10,000 house. On hot days Edith would hose us down while we ran to get away from the spray. We had a swing and slide set and enjoyed pushing one another
Our fig tree never quit in providing me with the tastiest fruit.I made a little tree house so as to keep the black birds away from my favorite fruit. A Mr. Berman drove an old truck with many types of fruit on each side of his truck.
But back on Pico Blvd. my Mom shopped most every other day since refrigerators had not been available then. Abe the butcher's store was next to the grocery and bread shop. During the war the choicest of meats were sent overseas for our enlisted men. That may have been the reason why I grew to hate liver night, at least then as a kid. But I didn't hate all liver. She fixed the best chopped liver tha she placed over her iceberg lettuce along with radishes, onions and cucumbers.
She frequented a grocery store for staples and what the milk and vegetable fruit couldn't provide. She was always breaking brooms while she chased me. I always made sure she bought chocolate chips and helped her mix them with the flower before placing them in our stove.
During the war years of the early forties, my Mom mowed the lawn and one day her two year old went under her dress and accidently hit the blade of the cutter. She wheeled my down to doctor who stitched my left thumb back again. Mel and I were always getting dirty so her wash day was every day. But oh did Mel and I love, just love chocolate chip cookies.
You could see an occasional jack rabbit while you walked across Olympic towards the Beverly theater. When school was out, we could bike towards the Farmer's market and just maybe see a baseball game, My team the Stars played there.
Mom always gave me money to buy stamps or a tasty dish before returning back to Pico Blvd but not before buying some tropical fish for my aquarium. Fish tanks were everywhere. (More to come.)
With blue skies for my canopy, I left the underground escalator, turned left and a right on Wilshire to the C.V.S. and my hop on the Rapid Seven bus, that come every ten minutes. The Pico bus is the link between downtown and downtown Santa Monica via Pico Blvd. Also, I had survived the Blue Line train out of Long Beach. Most of the riders on the Blue Line don't pay and make a nuisance of themselves but I have learned to make the ride enjoyable in any case. .
To remove the cancer from Mel's ear and restore some vision into his leaky left eye had taken the life out of me. Hence I called the Huntington Beach Health Center the House of Wax. At least Los Angeles and Santa Monica would not have the extensive pollen and fields of molds as does Huntington Beach.
The Rapid Blue Seven weaves down Pico and pictures a different canvas than the one in the forties. The old Sears department store has been taken over with shops, but the Rampart line is still there. As the bus continues I remember the Five and Dime and Ralph's off of La Cienega that no longer are there and have been taken over by a post office, Sub stores and other stores. Our favorite eatery is gone but not the smell and memories of the best french fries and hamburger in West Los Angeles.
We lived on Holt Avenue, and three blocks from Kentucky Boys restaurant. The smell of the giant burgers and fries could be smelled a block from our favorite restaurant. We both grabbed the ketchup bottle and made our large order of fries duck for cover. While our taste buds enjoyed the lively taste of the burger and fries, a Nickelodeon played songs of the forties. Why we could have spent hours there pining away at the delicious menu as well as a chocolate malt, my Dad Harry told us to hurry up as he wished to drive to Hollywood Park for Thoroughbred racing.
Mom did not drive a car in the forties, but while Harry enjoyed the race track, Mel and I played in the backyard of this $10,000 house. On hot days Edith would hose us down while we ran to get away from the spray. We had a swing and slide set and enjoyed pushing one another
Our fig tree never quit in providing me with the tastiest fruit.I made a little tree house so as to keep the black birds away from my favorite fruit. A Mr. Berman drove an old truck with many types of fruit on each side of his truck.
But back on Pico Blvd. my Mom shopped most every other day since refrigerators had not been available then. Abe the butcher's store was next to the grocery and bread shop. During the war the choicest of meats were sent overseas for our enlisted men. That may have been the reason why I grew to hate liver night, at least then as a kid. But I didn't hate all liver. She fixed the best chopped liver tha she placed over her iceberg lettuce along with radishes, onions and cucumbers.
 |
| Edith is hosing me and Mel. Mel to my right. |
During the war years of the early forties, my Mom mowed the lawn and one day her two year old went under her dress and accidently hit the blade of the cutter. She wheeled my down to doctor who stitched my left thumb back again. Mel and I were always getting dirty so her wash day was every day. But oh did Mel and I love, just love chocolate chip cookies.
You could see an occasional jack rabbit while you walked across Olympic towards the Beverly theater. When school was out, we could bike towards the Farmer's market and just maybe see a baseball game, My team the Stars played there.
Mom always gave me money to buy stamps or a tasty dish before returning back to Pico Blvd but not before buying some tropical fish for my aquarium. Fish tanks were everywhere. (More to come.)
Friday, March 2, 2018
A Shot in the Dark
There is a craze now to reveal the deepest of secrets, of abuses, done in the past. The Me Too movement has spread to other areas besides sexual abuse. I am sure a Mel Too movement just might focus on the ills of nursing and assistant living homes.
Mel has not had his shots in about two years now. His right eye is dead due to Glaucoma and the left his leaky. Two years ago he could see no more than the third line of the eye chart. Today he can't see a shadow only if he lifts up his eye lid.
The last thing I wished to do this Thursday was to take him to the VMR Institute on Center Avenue in Huntington Beach. But is was my brother Mel and as the son of my Dad Harry, I had to make a last try to regain sight in his only living eye, his left one. Also, I wondered if the eye's focus had not been compromised since the ear cancer had probably moved to his brain. He has had headaches now for over two years.
The Bella Terra shopping Center is to the west of Beach Street and just off the 405 freeway. Costco, the Century Theater, Whole Foods and a host of other stores live inside this lovely area. I covet the breakfasts at Whole Foods and try to take in a movie once a month on a $5 Tuesday.
His appointment was for eleven and the shuttle picked us up at the Sea Cliff Health Center at about ten thirty. Lifted to the back on his wheel chair, the shuttle drove us for his appointment. The shuttle made a right on Center and then a left across from Costco to 7677 Center Avenue and the four story medical building.
We did not need to wait long in the lobby and were escorted coached first room. A Swedish and Vietnamese couple sat and gazed at Mel. My circuits were a bit short but felt that now we could get a line on his left eye.
Mel wheel-chaired to three rooms in a space of two hours. In the first he revealed that he could only see the first letter on the chart. Inside the next room, machine took a picture of his eye while a technician held up his eye led and told him to "Open both eyes and look down." It took some doing but Mel finally obliged.
The third room was for a dye to detail where the clots were located. It took the artistic hands of the doctor to find the vein while he returned to another room The doctor handles up to five patients at the same time. We than went to the final room.
"George, I am hungry. Go down and buy a club sandwich."
"Is that all you can think about is food?"
Downstairs I went and bought two sandwiches for six and change each. Stressed out now, I ate mine on the first floor to cool off my wiring. It worked to some degree and then I took the elevator back. Brother Mel sat on his wheel chair and seemed upset.
"What took you so long?"
"Here is your sandwich."
"I can see now George. Call for a shuttle"
I left a bit early and felt proud to have taken brother Mel. But I needed something to relax with so I bought a nine dollar ticket for a Clint Eastwood movie.
Mel has not had his shots in about two years now. His right eye is dead due to Glaucoma and the left his leaky. Two years ago he could see no more than the third line of the eye chart. Today he can't see a shadow only if he lifts up his eye lid.
The last thing I wished to do this Thursday was to take him to the VMR Institute on Center Avenue in Huntington Beach. But is was my brother Mel and as the son of my Dad Harry, I had to make a last try to regain sight in his only living eye, his left one. Also, I wondered if the eye's focus had not been compromised since the ear cancer had probably moved to his brain. He has had headaches now for over two years.
The Bella Terra shopping Center is to the west of Beach Street and just off the 405 freeway. Costco, the Century Theater, Whole Foods and a host of other stores live inside this lovely area. I covet the breakfasts at Whole Foods and try to take in a movie once a month on a $5 Tuesday.
His appointment was for eleven and the shuttle picked us up at the Sea Cliff Health Center at about ten thirty. Lifted to the back on his wheel chair, the shuttle drove us for his appointment. The shuttle made a right on Center and then a left across from Costco to 7677 Center Avenue and the four story medical building.
We did not need to wait long in the lobby and were escorted coached first room. A Swedish and Vietnamese couple sat and gazed at Mel. My circuits were a bit short but felt that now we could get a line on his left eye.
Mel wheel-chaired to three rooms in a space of two hours. In the first he revealed that he could only see the first letter on the chart. Inside the next room, machine took a picture of his eye while a technician held up his eye led and told him to "Open both eyes and look down." It took some doing but Mel finally obliged.
The third room was for a dye to detail where the clots were located. It took the artistic hands of the doctor to find the vein while he returned to another room The doctor handles up to five patients at the same time. We than went to the final room.
"George, I am hungry. Go down and buy a club sandwich."
"Is that all you can think about is food?"
Downstairs I went and bought two sandwiches for six and change each. Stressed out now, I ate mine on the first floor to cool off my wiring. It worked to some degree and then I took the elevator back. Brother Mel sat on his wheel chair and seemed upset.
"What took you so long?"
"Here is your sandwich."
"I can see now George. Call for a shuttle"
I left a bit early and felt proud to have taken brother Mel. But I needed something to relax with so I bought a nine dollar ticket for a Clint Eastwood movie.
Wednesday, February 28, 2018
Ear Surgery, Maybe Too Late
The Sea Cliff Health Center is located off of Florida Street between Main and Delaware inside Huntington Breach It resembles a Motel Six, and is divided into two sections. Rooms in the rear are for those who need assistance and in the front is the nursing home, where the patrons are at the mercy of the hospital staff. A large parking lot separates it from a fifteen foot looking apartment building that houses low income retirees.
The Five Points Senior Apartments, where I had lived for two years, is south on the corner of Main Street with Java and Trader Joes sitting in a street mall. A lady that I will name Jenny calls the nursing home, the House of Narcotics while I call it the Wax Museum.
On Monday morning I took Access to the nursing home. I wished to drop off two turkey legs at the kitchen for Mel's dinner. It cost me three and change for an Access Taxi to drive me there from my Magnolia apartment.
I felt quite chipper today and looked forward seeing my brother after a vacation in Los Angles. Mel's room 135 B is located in the back or station four. He is lucky to share the hospice room with one only. Outside hallway three sat a couple of wheel chairs, smart enough not to remain in the room. of people, smart not to remain inside their room. Almost everyone will remain inside station three until the end comes. Today two sit in wheel chairs and gaze at an empty Station Four.
Medical supplies sit outside room 135 B. His talkative roommate is fast asleep this Monday. Mel's roommate in bed one is fast, and I do mean fast asleep. He entered the room about three months ago and has created hell for my brother Mel. In his bed all day, his only exercise is interrupting others with his nonsensical speech.
In bed two, Mel sat on his bed and tried to locate his oat meal. Besides the oat meal was one toasted piece of bread. He asked his nurses aid to bring him a bagel, and she left. I fed him and then showed his fingers where the cup of oats was located. I told him the beet and two turkey legs would be served for his dinner. Before I was evicted from the Five Points, perhaps because I was Jewish, I supplemented his diet each evening for his late 7 o'clock dinner. Those in Station Four are the last to eat.
"Thanks George. That guy is making me go crazy. Somebody will just have to make him shut up."
I handed the bagel to him and he began to eat it while I began to leave. seemed in a bad mood and wished to sleep some more. He tales. on average, about eight drugs twice a day. I met GG who gave him his pills as I helped my blind brother with his meal. He had lost lots of fat and began to resemble a scarecrow.
I left and walked down Florida before hitching a left on Delaware. I would take the bus to the Waterfront Hilton and then the #25 for my trip to the Huntington Beach Senior Center. I looked forward to my friends at the Surf City Senior Center. After I arrived at the bus stop on Beach and Garfield, my cell phone spoke. On the other line was GG, Mel's new nurse.
"Got to return quick. A shuttle is here to take him to an appointment."
"Be there in five minutes." Pissed that my day had been jarred loose from me, I backtracked and entered the Wax Museum. Mel sat in a wheel chair, dressed and ready to go. Gill, the shuttle driver, took us to his van and a lift escorted Mel to the rear of the van.
The medical building off of Beach sits in front corner of the notorious Huntington Beach Hospital. Wheeled into the waiting room on the first floor, Gil signed us in, to make sure we had an appointment. Over a year earlier, a Dr. Rosenberg told us we did not have an appointment and I had to push his wheel chair back to the Nursing home. Another time he would not see us.
Dr. Sharp was late but it was nice to speak to two others who waited for their appointment. Mel was antsy and speaking in a loud voice. I took his cold, refrigerator cold and clammy hands, and led him to a chair. Somehow I knew it was too late for Mel and his primary doctor Nassir did not act to heal but to allow death to pay him a visit.
Mel's wheel chair did not fit so I had to haul him inside the examining room and remove the wheel chair back to the lobby. The doctor entered and after he acknowledged me as Mel's brother, examined his left ear.
"Don't think it has spread. Come here and have a look."
Inside the outer ear looked like the inside of an oyster, with a ball of guck. Mel's ear was closed tightly with this guck. I felt madder than hell that Mel has had to suffer when a little incision two years ago could have removed this ball of guck. Then it was Dr. Jennings who gave him ear drops for his itchy ear
"Mel, it is cancer but don't believe it had spread. We can use radiation, a cutting, or a pill."
"Just cut it out."
"Probably need a further surgery since it had probably gone even deeper inside the ear."
Mel's energy had been depleted and I he barely had enough energy to sit in his wheel chair. What alarmed me was that Mel did not wish to live anymore, and I hoped he would make it to the next visit.
I also could not believe that a Dr. Joseph Nassir had been sending bills to Medicare and prescribing medication even though Mel had never seen this primary doctor.
Mel, is what I wrote accurate. __________ Date ______
The Five Points Senior Apartments, where I had lived for two years, is south on the corner of Main Street with Java and Trader Joes sitting in a street mall. A lady that I will name Jenny calls the nursing home, the House of Narcotics while I call it the Wax Museum.
On Monday morning I took Access to the nursing home. I wished to drop off two turkey legs at the kitchen for Mel's dinner. It cost me three and change for an Access Taxi to drive me there from my Magnolia apartment.
I felt quite chipper today and looked forward seeing my brother after a vacation in Los Angles. Mel's room 135 B is located in the back or station four. He is lucky to share the hospice room with one only. Outside hallway three sat a couple of wheel chairs, smart enough not to remain in the room. of people, smart not to remain inside their room. Almost everyone will remain inside station three until the end comes. Today two sit in wheel chairs and gaze at an empty Station Four.
Medical supplies sit outside room 135 B. His talkative roommate is fast asleep this Monday. Mel's roommate in bed one is fast, and I do mean fast asleep. He entered the room about three months ago and has created hell for my brother Mel. In his bed all day, his only exercise is interrupting others with his nonsensical speech.
In bed two, Mel sat on his bed and tried to locate his oat meal. Besides the oat meal was one toasted piece of bread. He asked his nurses aid to bring him a bagel, and she left. I fed him and then showed his fingers where the cup of oats was located. I told him the beet and two turkey legs would be served for his dinner. Before I was evicted from the Five Points, perhaps because I was Jewish, I supplemented his diet each evening for his late 7 o'clock dinner. Those in Station Four are the last to eat.
"Thanks George. That guy is making me go crazy. Somebody will just have to make him shut up."
I handed the bagel to him and he began to eat it while I began to leave. seemed in a bad mood and wished to sleep some more. He tales. on average, about eight drugs twice a day. I met GG who gave him his pills as I helped my blind brother with his meal. He had lost lots of fat and began to resemble a scarecrow.
I left and walked down Florida before hitching a left on Delaware. I would take the bus to the Waterfront Hilton and then the #25 for my trip to the Huntington Beach Senior Center. I looked forward to my friends at the Surf City Senior Center. After I arrived at the bus stop on Beach and Garfield, my cell phone spoke. On the other line was GG, Mel's new nurse.
"Got to return quick. A shuttle is here to take him to an appointment."
"Be there in five minutes." Pissed that my day had been jarred loose from me, I backtracked and entered the Wax Museum. Mel sat in a wheel chair, dressed and ready to go. Gill, the shuttle driver, took us to his van and a lift escorted Mel to the rear of the van.
The medical building off of Beach sits in front corner of the notorious Huntington Beach Hospital. Wheeled into the waiting room on the first floor, Gil signed us in, to make sure we had an appointment. Over a year earlier, a Dr. Rosenberg told us we did not have an appointment and I had to push his wheel chair back to the Nursing home. Another time he would not see us.
Dr. Sharp was late but it was nice to speak to two others who waited for their appointment. Mel was antsy and speaking in a loud voice. I took his cold, refrigerator cold and clammy hands, and led him to a chair. Somehow I knew it was too late for Mel and his primary doctor Nassir did not act to heal but to allow death to pay him a visit.
Mel's wheel chair did not fit so I had to haul him inside the examining room and remove the wheel chair back to the lobby. The doctor entered and after he acknowledged me as Mel's brother, examined his left ear.
"Don't think it has spread. Come here and have a look."
Inside the outer ear looked like the inside of an oyster, with a ball of guck. Mel's ear was closed tightly with this guck. I felt madder than hell that Mel has had to suffer when a little incision two years ago could have removed this ball of guck. Then it was Dr. Jennings who gave him ear drops for his itchy ear
"Mel, it is cancer but don't believe it had spread. We can use radiation, a cutting, or a pill."
"Just cut it out."
"Probably need a further surgery since it had probably gone even deeper inside the ear."
Mel's energy had been depleted and I he barely had enough energy to sit in his wheel chair. What alarmed me was that Mel did not wish to live anymore, and I hoped he would make it to the next visit.
I also could not believe that a Dr. Joseph Nassir had been sending bills to Medicare and prescribing medication even though Mel had never seen this primary doctor.
Mel, is what I wrote accurate. __________ Date ______
Friday, February 23, 2018
The Keys to the Surf City Piano.
This story is about a Grand :Piano that sleeps all day. It stays in a room with that it shares with a T.V. Yesterday after a glorious day in Los Angeles, I was in the frame of mind to hit its keys, before the senior myopic lunch had been served. Lunch is served in the main dining area with a view of the park and its many mallards. geese, grills and a lovely pond. But in most stories there is a antagonist who tries to spoil the Centers serenity. And so it was, yesterday the twelfth of February
"Well George, I left Boing after 35 years. My check is a bit over four thousand a month. I left my wife at home asleep, she sleeps in these days."
"Well Dave, y0u look good for your age. Probably enjoyed job for Douglas Aircraft, eh?"
"So much so that I remained with them even though name had changed to McDonald and Boeing later on...Worked on the electrical wiring for all the ships. From El Segundo they transferred to a larger field in Lakewood later on."
It is now eleven fifteen and our meat loaf lunch is late again. Thank God I am speaking to one who also schooled in Los Angeles and even attended Pasteur Junior High before enrolling at Venice High School.
"Did you know George that the DC Twelve interchanged parts with the DC Thirteen In fact it is still in the sky today."
"Took it on a channel flight to France from Dover England. A bit rocky, but what a sight that English channel. Wife and I stayed for most part on the coast and enjoyed the plentiful seafood and ambiance of the French. My wife and I enjoyed he crabs and lobsters as well as the escargot. "
Needed a bathroom break so went to the restroom. The Vietnamese man, as usual, was stealing all of the paper towels. On the way back, the piano smiled and asked me to play a tune. Now who could resist a Grand Piano.
I began playing the Vietnamese Waltz and a Mozart tune, while I saw a round traffic cop go buy. I call this roving jelly Magpie as she is always smiling and giving sweets to everyone but me.
It is evident that Magpie gave up music long ago for gum drops and gum balls She is in charge of the dining room bingo games, along with all festivities here. Magpie ran to the piano which made it cry. Now I never in my 78 years have ever heard a piano swear but it certainly did.
Magpie showed me a sign that read, no playing except when Pope Francis is in town. My last piece was the Jelly Bean Roll and scurried before she could get Alexander's Band after me.
"So Bruce, you went to Venice High School and then U.C.L.A?"
"Yes George, Venice had a great player named Leon Clark but a sign from a post office hit him in the head and he gave up football...Ever here of the Black Dalia Case. I was there on Grand Views and they never caught the murderer...
The myopic food was served The meat loaf was good, what there was of it. It took three bites to finish it. We both got up to leave. As I left the main hall, the piano gave me a sigh and to my delight played by herself.
"Well George, I left Boing after 35 years. My check is a bit over four thousand a month. I left my wife at home asleep, she sleeps in these days."
"Well Dave, y0u look good for your age. Probably enjoyed job for Douglas Aircraft, eh?"
"So much so that I remained with them even though name had changed to McDonald and Boeing later on...Worked on the electrical wiring for all the ships. From El Segundo they transferred to a larger field in Lakewood later on."
It is now eleven fifteen and our meat loaf lunch is late again. Thank God I am speaking to one who also schooled in Los Angeles and even attended Pasteur Junior High before enrolling at Venice High School.
"Did you know George that the DC Twelve interchanged parts with the DC Thirteen In fact it is still in the sky today."
"Took it on a channel flight to France from Dover England. A bit rocky, but what a sight that English channel. Wife and I stayed for most part on the coast and enjoyed the plentiful seafood and ambiance of the French. My wife and I enjoyed he crabs and lobsters as well as the escargot. "
Needed a bathroom break so went to the restroom. The Vietnamese man, as usual, was stealing all of the paper towels. On the way back, the piano smiled and asked me to play a tune. Now who could resist a Grand Piano.
I began playing the Vietnamese Waltz and a Mozart tune, while I saw a round traffic cop go buy. I call this roving jelly Magpie as she is always smiling and giving sweets to everyone but me.
It is evident that Magpie gave up music long ago for gum drops and gum balls She is in charge of the dining room bingo games, along with all festivities here. Magpie ran to the piano which made it cry. Now I never in my 78 years have ever heard a piano swear but it certainly did.
Magpie showed me a sign that read, no playing except when Pope Francis is in town. My last piece was the Jelly Bean Roll and scurried before she could get Alexander's Band after me.
"So Bruce, you went to Venice High School and then U.C.L.A?"
"Yes George, Venice had a great player named Leon Clark but a sign from a post office hit him in the head and he gave up football...Ever here of the Black Dalia Case. I was there on Grand Views and they never caught the murderer...
The myopic food was served The meat loaf was good, what there was of it. It took three bites to finish it. We both got up to leave. As I left the main hall, the piano gave me a sigh and to my delight played by herself.
Wednesday, February 21, 2018
What a story on the Blue Line Train!
The Alaskan Express rushed in to Orange County, without a drop of rain. No longer could I remain in my mold infested apartment. My head had filled up with mucus but still I could not remove the anguish felt for the Son of my Dad Harry.
Mad as Hell, sleep no longer beckoned. I felt startled that Mel too had not been seen by his primary physician at the Sea Cliff Health Care Center from the very time he entered the House of Drugs, by the name of Joseph Nassir. His eye lid still covered his eye and the shuttle for his ear appointment had not shown up. He has suffered with a cancerous ear for over two years.
I trip to Los Angles would be just the ticket while I waited for the #33 to arrive outside my apartment on Monday early morning. The bus arrived late but it felt good that I would leave Surf City and transfer to the City of Angles by taking four buses and two trains.
I caught the #560 bus in the nick of time and sat back to relax. A lady across from me took up more than her share of seats and looked my way. What sounded like a Baptist preacher came on board.The black lady recited words from the bible and must have known the lady across from me as they dueled using profanity. The black bus driver did nothing except to laugh and scream, "Keep ii Down".
"Uz noting but a fat ass an don't even have a place to stay...I stay with my Mom and Pop and God loves me every day." The heavy set white lady rebounded and ran the distance of the floor.
""You have been kicked out of three shelters fighting everybody."
After five minutes of volleying fowl language back and forth, I waved my hands to the white lady and told her to not react. She listened to my directions. I didn't know we would be seat mates on the ensuing downtown Long Beach 91 and again on the Blue Line train headed for Los Angeles Stacy sat on the two seats on front of me.while the opened doors allowed the heavy cold winds to make it a threesome
"No to worry...A yardman will be here soon to solve the problem."
"How long have you known the preacher lady?"
"Been to three shelters with her and each one kicked her. Was living in a Santa Ana shelter till recently."
"Where is your stop?"
"Compton. My daughter rents a room in her boyfriend's mother's house. He has a problem and I am going to persuade them to move in with me...I moved into a six bedroom Santa Ana house three months ago."
"How much is the rent?"
"Bought it for $987,000 at a probate sell. A friend of mine knew that the owner and his wife tangled in a mess divorce. My bid was the lowest and since I put down over $200,000 the court awarded it to me. I have rented out two of the bedrooms and have my own bath. My payments are a bit over $900 a month."
My head hurt but not from the head cold. How in the hell did Stacy save up to put the heavy down?
"Awarded $1,800 several years ago as a government worker. Have had three seizures. Saved a lot in T.J living in a two bedroom $150 apartment. Kicked out since I didn't legal papers so living in shelters ever since."
Stacy showed me a tattoo on her upper arm. See that? Says Vato loca. No gang messes with me now. But Stacy, how did you get the $200,00 down payment."
"Had a great Dad, and he warned me to always save for a rainy day or when I retired. Idon't spend the government check and my stay in the shelters includes free food All of my medical bills are paid.
The train's breaks are fixed and the Blue Line Train lurches forward. The three asleep riders remain in bliss as I am happy to be on my way to Los Angeles. The tracks to down Pacific to Eight and then Long Beach Blvd.
Outside the pure clean air has turned what began in a draconian beginning into a quite lovely day with Stacy awarding me with lots of tidbits. At Willow a family climbs aboard and I overheard the grandmother announce they are headed for Santa Monica Beach. They are well dressed and the two kids are well behaved
Stacy gets off at Compton Station while I enjoy the circus on the Blue Line train At Seventh, I get off and slide down a peg to the Purple Line Train. My stop is Western and a Slam Bang All American breakfast at Dennis. Outside now, the clean blue sky tells me another day of bliss is in store for me. Today, even with a heavy head, I feel as good as any of our dear presidents with a piece of L.A. as my own home.
But on this cool and windy day, first things first. I am famished and allow the crossing guard to tell me to cross Wilshire. I make it to the other side and fast walk towards Dennis. I forget it is President's Day but what the hell, a few minutes of wait never hurt George Washington when he crossed the Delaware.
Everyone speaks Spanish, but what the hell, I mine-as-well learn it just the same. The waitress comes to my table and I give her my order. She returns with my coffee and orange drink. I empty two sugar packets into my coffee cup and stir. My body jumps at the first sip, and with an orange juice chaser, I regain my sanity.
Across from me a large muscular traffic cop sits navigating a hamburger sandwich He studies his smart phone with his free hand. All Awhile I feel great to witness the changing of the guard. The Mexicans have arrived and will not give up California again. Of course they will not give up their native tongue.
The food was a little late, but who cares since I am learning more Spanish. The pancakes along with its usual of beacon, ham, hash browns and scrambled eggs. I hold the syrup bottle upside down and play target practice on the pancakes.
I chew on the cakes and his relatives at the same time. In no time I finish, pay the tip and then run out the door. My Super Seven is turning the corner so I wait for the next. No hurry since they come every few minutes
Fifty Cents I place into the coin machine and take a seat. The Purple Line train will be completed up until La Cienega Blvd in a few days, and then all the way to Rodeo Drive. I think that it ease the stress of the three sisters, Olympic, Wilshire and Pico.
Mad as Hell, sleep no longer beckoned. I felt startled that Mel too had not been seen by his primary physician at the Sea Cliff Health Care Center from the very time he entered the House of Drugs, by the name of Joseph Nassir. His eye lid still covered his eye and the shuttle for his ear appointment had not shown up. He has suffered with a cancerous ear for over two years.
I trip to Los Angles would be just the ticket while I waited for the #33 to arrive outside my apartment on Monday early morning. The bus arrived late but it felt good that I would leave Surf City and transfer to the City of Angles by taking four buses and two trains.
I caught the #560 bus in the nick of time and sat back to relax. A lady across from me took up more than her share of seats and looked my way. What sounded like a Baptist preacher came on board.The black lady recited words from the bible and must have known the lady across from me as they dueled using profanity. The black bus driver did nothing except to laugh and scream, "Keep ii Down".
"Uz noting but a fat ass an don't even have a place to stay...I stay with my Mom and Pop and God loves me every day." The heavy set white lady rebounded and ran the distance of the floor.
""You have been kicked out of three shelters fighting everybody."
After five minutes of volleying fowl language back and forth, I waved my hands to the white lady and told her to not react. She listened to my directions. I didn't know we would be seat mates on the ensuing downtown Long Beach 91 and again on the Blue Line train headed for Los Angeles Stacy sat on the two seats on front of me.while the opened doors allowed the heavy cold winds to make it a threesome
"No to worry...A yardman will be here soon to solve the problem."
"How long have you known the preacher lady?"
"Been to three shelters with her and each one kicked her. Was living in a Santa Ana shelter till recently."
"Where is your stop?"
"Compton. My daughter rents a room in her boyfriend's mother's house. He has a problem and I am going to persuade them to move in with me...I moved into a six bedroom Santa Ana house three months ago."
"How much is the rent?"
"Bought it for $987,000 at a probate sell. A friend of mine knew that the owner and his wife tangled in a mess divorce. My bid was the lowest and since I put down over $200,000 the court awarded it to me. I have rented out two of the bedrooms and have my own bath. My payments are a bit over $900 a month."
My head hurt but not from the head cold. How in the hell did Stacy save up to put the heavy down?
"Awarded $1,800 several years ago as a government worker. Have had three seizures. Saved a lot in T.J living in a two bedroom $150 apartment. Kicked out since I didn't legal papers so living in shelters ever since."
Stacy showed me a tattoo on her upper arm. See that? Says Vato loca. No gang messes with me now. But Stacy, how did you get the $200,00 down payment."
"Had a great Dad, and he warned me to always save for a rainy day or when I retired. Idon't spend the government check and my stay in the shelters includes free food All of my medical bills are paid.
The train's breaks are fixed and the Blue Line Train lurches forward. The three asleep riders remain in bliss as I am happy to be on my way to Los Angeles. The tracks to down Pacific to Eight and then Long Beach Blvd.
Outside the pure clean air has turned what began in a draconian beginning into a quite lovely day with Stacy awarding me with lots of tidbits. At Willow a family climbs aboard and I overheard the grandmother announce they are headed for Santa Monica Beach. They are well dressed and the two kids are well behaved
Stacy gets off at Compton Station while I enjoy the circus on the Blue Line train At Seventh, I get off and slide down a peg to the Purple Line Train. My stop is Western and a Slam Bang All American breakfast at Dennis. Outside now, the clean blue sky tells me another day of bliss is in store for me. Today, even with a heavy head, I feel as good as any of our dear presidents with a piece of L.A. as my own home.
But on this cool and windy day, first things first. I am famished and allow the crossing guard to tell me to cross Wilshire. I make it to the other side and fast walk towards Dennis. I forget it is President's Day but what the hell, a few minutes of wait never hurt George Washington when he crossed the Delaware.
Everyone speaks Spanish, but what the hell, I mine-as-well learn it just the same. The waitress comes to my table and I give her my order. She returns with my coffee and orange drink. I empty two sugar packets into my coffee cup and stir. My body jumps at the first sip, and with an orange juice chaser, I regain my sanity.
Across from me a large muscular traffic cop sits navigating a hamburger sandwich He studies his smart phone with his free hand. All Awhile I feel great to witness the changing of the guard. The Mexicans have arrived and will not give up California again. Of course they will not give up their native tongue.
The food was a little late, but who cares since I am learning more Spanish. The pancakes along with its usual of beacon, ham, hash browns and scrambled eggs. I hold the syrup bottle upside down and play target practice on the pancakes.
I chew on the cakes and his relatives at the same time. In no time I finish, pay the tip and then run out the door. My Super Seven is turning the corner so I wait for the next. No hurry since they come every few minutes
Fifty Cents I place into the coin machine and take a seat. The Purple Line train will be completed up until La Cienega Blvd in a few days, and then all the way to Rodeo Drive. I think that it ease the stress of the three sisters, Olympic, Wilshire and Pico.
Wednesday, February 14, 2018
The heavy knock on the door may be for you.
My allergy cold had ebbed, bit mot the anger felt for the Sea Cliff Health Center. But at least I know how to handle my brother's eye and ear problems. Yes, fraud has roomed with my brother and I will get after the perpetrators.
What got me out of bed was what I heard over 1070 A.M. on my dial. ICE agents began to knock on the door of Mexican alleged criminals and these agents arrested those ancillary to their objectives. Yes, the same hysteria that gripped the Jews in the thirties and early forties caused a panic inside downtown Los Angeles
In the days of Horst Cahn the agents were named the gestapo. Horst told me his story s few years earlier before his death last year as he turned 89. And his story can be read in many of my earlier blogs. I can still hear his voice.
"They removed my parents and I from our Essen home and herded us on a crowded train. We could barely move and had a bucket for our waist. When the train stopped and opened its doors for my Jews in Transit, I picked up the bucket and spilled the excrement on the Nazis...When the train arrived at the concentration camp, my parents went one way. I was happy that they did not have to suffer too long."
On the #33 Magnolia bus now headed for PCH, I noticed some kids on their way to Edison High School off of Hamilton. I wondered what would happen to them when the returned home to find their parents missing, perhaps taken to a holding tank on their way back to Mexico.
Who would feed them, pay the rent, and most of all, how in God's name could they study the American Way of Life. I am not sure the makeup of these agents, but know they make on an average of $75,000 a year in salary.
I arrived on PCH at about nine o'clock and waited for my number one bus. I felt happy to be a citizen and could state so on my new driver's license application. I felt appalled that Trump was hiring more agents and probably would soon do the high stepping tricks of Hitler. I also know that to stand back and wait we all could be next.
I climbed back on my bus and descended in front of the Paseo Hotel. I caught the #25 bus which took me to the Valentine lunch at the Senior Center. I crossed Golden West and wrote my blog which you see here.
What got me out of bed was what I heard over 1070 A.M. on my dial. ICE agents began to knock on the door of Mexican alleged criminals and these agents arrested those ancillary to their objectives. Yes, the same hysteria that gripped the Jews in the thirties and early forties caused a panic inside downtown Los Angeles
In the days of Horst Cahn the agents were named the gestapo. Horst told me his story s few years earlier before his death last year as he turned 89. And his story can be read in many of my earlier blogs. I can still hear his voice.
"They removed my parents and I from our Essen home and herded us on a crowded train. We could barely move and had a bucket for our waist. When the train stopped and opened its doors for my Jews in Transit, I picked up the bucket and spilled the excrement on the Nazis...When the train arrived at the concentration camp, my parents went one way. I was happy that they did not have to suffer too long."
On the #33 Magnolia bus now headed for PCH, I noticed some kids on their way to Edison High School off of Hamilton. I wondered what would happen to them when the returned home to find their parents missing, perhaps taken to a holding tank on their way back to Mexico.
Who would feed them, pay the rent, and most of all, how in God's name could they study the American Way of Life. I am not sure the makeup of these agents, but know they make on an average of $75,000 a year in salary.
I arrived on PCH at about nine o'clock and waited for my number one bus. I felt happy to be a citizen and could state so on my new driver's license application. I felt appalled that Trump was hiring more agents and probably would soon do the high stepping tricks of Hitler. I also know that to stand back and wait we all could be next.
I climbed back on my bus and descended in front of the Paseo Hotel. I caught the #25 bus which took me to the Valentine lunch at the Senior Center. I crossed Golden West and wrote my blog which you see here.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)