MIUTIM'S SALOON: 2011

Friday, September 23, 2011

AMTRAK TO CHICAGO 2011

PART I - Amtrak's Southwest Chief (Los Angeles to Chicago)

The coach seat reclined about 135 degrees, had a calf extender and a foot rest. I rolled up something to stuff the gap for support of my back, and it was like stretching out full length. That was good for about the first half of the 43 hours. For the second half, I resolved to use a roll of toilet paper as a pillow to cushion my head against the window and tried other ingenuities to maximize tolerability of the limitations. Restrooms and my luggage were at the lower deck, so I went up and down several times day and night, mostly at odd hours to beat the crowd. Fellow riders and myself, none, except the children and a young Amish family, were pretty. I slept well and ate good, because I was thrilled anyhow.

Alburquerque Station - good tortilla soup and tamale

PART II A - Chicago

INT. RED LINE AT JACKSON

A BLIND MAN strums guitar and sings a Jim Croce tune. An increasing overpowering noise of an approaching train makes him stop. A lady drops some coins in the can before boarding the train. He scours the can round and round feeling just the few coins. He pockets them leaving the can empty.

The subway is quiet again. He plays a Christian song. Another lady drops a $5 bill, and then more people give dollar bills. A MUSICIAN arrives to unpack and set up across from him. Another train comes and goes taking and dropping off people. Blind Man fingers the dollar bills in the can and pockets them leaving the can empty.

BLIND MAN

Have you seen Joe lately? Where's he working?

MUSICIAN

Don't know, man. Not here, that I know. I'm

taking his spot.

BLIND MAN

Why don't he come here no more?

MUSICIAN

'Cause you're here.

Blind Man picks up the guitar and sings "Imagine."

INT. HOSTEL DORM ROOM

I am laying in the lower bunk. In comes a BIG LADY hauling a medium size luggage and looking worned out. She settles down on the opposite lower bunk.

BIG LADY

What are you doing for dinner?

I just ate too much. I even brought back a

doggy bag.

BIG LADY

What are you going to do with that?

I'll eat it later, maybe for breakfast

tomorrow.

BIG LADY

I don't have any money. That's why I'm

eating these cookies.

INT. HOSTEL DINING HALL

An Australian YOUNG MAN, a few days short of 21.

How's your day?

YOUNG MAN

Okay. What else is there to do?

Enjoy while you're here.

YOUNG MAN

Guess so. I think too much. Whenever

my mother sees me quiet, she'd ask

"Are you thinking again?"

PART II B - Chicago

Sunday, July 31, 2011

AFTERNOON JOURNEY

Again I drove out from the new LAPD building's flourescent lit garage after a night's work onto fresh daylight. That morning the sun was shining down the road with a fan of sun rays, rays like those in children drawings, too perfect and glorious to believe. I was instantly exalted by the Lord's presence!! Hallelujah, my heart sang. A few days later I would forget this wonderful feeling as I wallowed in new thorns in my otherwise blessed life. I had lost sleep worrying and dreading rough days ahead, so I set out this bright summer afternoon with half a mind toward no particular destination.

My friend Ann, who chose career when the mode was to marry, retired from the City at age 80+, had finally given up her Echo Park apartment eight years ago to move into an assisted living home in Alhambra, CA. I drove passed Edward Cineplex, Starbucks, and Tony Romas on Main Street and pulled into Etherton. The block-size compound had houses, apartment units, a sales hut, a chapel, and a resident restaurant accessible outside and inside of the main building. Paths were lined with street lamps, benches, and landscaping; all aptly maintained. This idyllic mini-suburbia caters to old people, who were fortunate enough to finally slow down in the last phase of their marathon lives.

The entrance auto-opened as I stepped inside the main building. The reception area resembled a hotel registration desk for a few seconds, and then I would always be lost in a labrynth of hospital-like rooms and nurse stations. This afternoon almost every room had the tv on; a number of them were black and white movies, a couple were sports in color. Through the sedated hallways, a non-conformist was heard groaning quite continuously and disruptively to no apparent effect. Some rooms looked cozily furnished and decorated; one had cool license plates on the wall. There were also darken rooms with drawn drapery. I followed piano music and singing to find a room full of wheelchaired residents. All were singing a church song in female pitch; the three males were outnumbered. I spotted Ann; I could even screen out her voice among all others.

Ann had not left the confines of the main building since she moved in, but on one visit I wheeled her outside for real air. Ann had stopped remembering my name three visits ago, although she had been couth or slick enough to play along. On this visit I waited for her recognition before greeting her. She didn't, but there she was participating in the group and looking more content than when she could remember. God is merciful. She may even have forgotten that she was a proud loner. I approached and called her name. She was pleasantly gracious as usual, smart enough to guess that I must had known her well. In parting I told her that I missed her. We paused and looked at each other, and then she said, "Tell the gang I said hello." I saw a tear glistening in her one good eye; she probably saw me welled up too. I knew this would be the last time I visit.

EPILOGUE:

Ann passed away on April 24, 2016.

Wednesday, April 27, 2011

MOROCCO 2011

SAHARA CAMPING. At night the moon was full, and, alas, bright. I gazed eight stars having come this far away from city lime/neon lights. God did not serve my order on the menu. A better dish was prepared.

It lightning'd and rained that night. Trying to sleep in my tent, I thought, "flash flood?!" Next morning, the sun rose gloriously.

Sixteen tour mates walked individually or in two's and three's miles across the desert to a nomad camp along nothing but sky and desert 360º; it felt like walking the treadmill, because reference points hardly changed.

And then SANDSTORM!! After voting among us, we evacuated while the tents were coming alive in the wind. I scrambled inside, with the tent flapping and hitting me, jammed everything in the bag half filled with sand, and jumped into a 4x4.

There were no roads, there was no visibility, the Berber driver took off his baseball cap and instead in seconds wrapped his bare head a turban covering except the eyes. I knew it was time to rock and roll, literally!! The four 4x4's took off, each in God's fate. Ensha Allah!! I peeked at our gallant driver, Yusseff, just a walk in the park for him. I turned to the window and enjoyed seeing sand rippling and flowing like a beige ocean. Hours were but a momentus bleep at times like this. I breathed, my cup runneth over, again. And then more. At a distant, like an apparition, a lone camel was seen slowly braving across. It was naked with no saddle and bondage; a Zen master of absolute grace. Where, why? “The answer my friend is blowing in the wind.”

TRIBUTE TO A NOBLE ANIMAL. The cow is revered in Buddhist culture. It was said that Goddess Kwan Yin offered herself as a cow to mankind. The cow toils the land, eats only grass, and then every part of its body becomes food and usable materials. Brother Camel is of the same martyr fate, with no glorification. God's gift to the desert, no less.