As always: many of us get too many emails already, even before this pandemic. So, if you would like to be removed from this email list, please feel free to say so. (No reason needed; and you won’t be the first to do so.)
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I planned to send this email out three days ago, but "life" intervened, in the form of (1)a computer issue the took days to resolve, and (2)a crown on one of my ancient molars that reached the end of its useful life.
Monday, December 7:
Pearl Harbor Day. Our usual late afternoon walk around the neighborhood. It definitely feels like there are fewer people out now that the new lockdown rules have been issued. Many of those who are out are dog walkers. We stop to chat briefly with one, who has a very cute 3-month old King Charles spaniel; she (the woman) tells us that the wait lists for rescue dogs have gotten very long; now that people are home more, more of them want a dog for company.
Wednesday, December 9:
Grocery day: Whole Foods, then Trader Joes. Inane Christmas music at Whole Foods: "Oh, by gosh, by golly, it's time for mistletoe and holly...." Give me instead the old standbys, please: Silent Night, Hark the Herald Angels Sing, Drummer Boy, etc.
Then there's always that old holiday favorite: The Adam Sandler Chanukah Song (have not yet heard this in Trader Joe's, but you never know)
Thursday, December 10:
Tonight is the first night of Chanukah. Here is a "first encounters with Judaism" story: In the summer of 1967, my first wife Leslie and I moved to Eastbluff, a new housing development in Newport Beach, with our boys Phil and Elliott. It was a great place for kids, with wide but quiet streets, and a lot of young families like ours. Across the street lived the Lippmans, John and Joan, with their children Barbara and Scotty. All was well until Chanukah came, and Phil and Elliott found out that Barbara and Scotty would be receiving a gift a night for each of the eight nights of Chanukah. The boys complained about this injustice for some time.
Friday, December 11:
We are hardly going anywhere these days, so not driving our cars much. I had not driven my trusty 2004 Honda Civic for several weeks and there are cobwebs on the driver's side rearview mirror. The Civic has just 700 miles this year, and our CRV has 1,900. We are taking the cars to the car wash more than to the gas station.
When I tried to start the Civic, the battery had enough juice to respond to the remote command to unlock the doors, but not enough to turn over the engine. On that occasion, I took our other car, the Honda CRV. Days later, I called the AutoClub, and the tech arrived in 25 minutes, and we got the engine started. Then, Nadine and I drove around the city for about 30 minutes to charge up the battery. That was about 10 days ago.
A lot of other folks are not using their cars much either. Since then I have seen the same AutoClub guy back around our building twice, getting other cars started.
That's it for now. Stay well and wear your masks. Vaccinations have begun, so help is starting to come. But we are still faced with a long haul.
Happy Chanukah. Light some candles against the dark. Still no rain in sight here is Los Angeles.
Coleman
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In my last email, I mentioned my mother's mother, Alice Coleman Lewis, who lived to 95, and my mother Dele who lived to 88. Here they are, summer at the Jersey shore, circa 1915: my mother, her mother, and her older sister Norma.
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