Wednesday, May 04, 2005
I Go to Breakfast
After an absence of a year or so, I went this morning to the monthly breakfast in Torrance for us old geezers who have retired from the AiResearch Company. More specifically, we all used to work in the Laboratory Department. That's the department that tested prototypes of equipment under development. Testing of manufactured products was done in a different department with different personnel with different budgets.
This morning I set out from my home in Woodland Hills, California at 6:25. It was a cloudy morning and I didn't need to put on the clip-on sunglasses I carry in the car. I arrived at Billy's Cafe in Torrance at 7:20. It's a distance of about 33 or 34 miles, so you can calculate my average speed if you wish. The side room in the restaurant was set up for our group. We meet there on the first Wednesday of each month. Several tables were set up in the form of a tall "T". I was the first one and I took a seat next to the base of the "T" and waited. About 7:45, other retirees began to come in. Jim Matthews was first. He sat opposite me and we talked about his prowess at lifting weights and about a problem he'd had that left him temporarily senseless and paralyzed in his arms. He's back to lifting weights and has lifted 300 pounds, from a sitting position with the weight behind him. He must have strong legs and a strong spine.
Pretty soon the others showed up: Carlos Rivas, Ed Lee, Tom Chester, Art Kusuhara, Dick Burge, Ray Picarillo, Bob McCommon, Al Pearson, and Ed Blacksmith. Dick brought a slide and a viewer so that we could all look at the slide: a picture of a very fancy fish. I think it's called a lion fish. By that time there were two or three separate conversations going on. I couldn't keep track of all of them. There was mention of retirees we all knew who had died during the past year. Someone was talking about military strategy in the present Iraq war and about the strategy in the Viet Nam war. Perhaps strategy is the wrong word. The talk was about how the politicians mismanaged the war (both of them) and that if we get into a war we should do whatever it takes to win. As far as I could hear, no one raised the question as to whether we ought to have been involved in war to begin with, either in Iraq or Viet Nam.
Someone suggested that I should try to pick up Leo Procenko next time I come to the breakfast. He lives not far from the San Diego Freeway. I promised to get in touch with Leo and invite him.
I asked, but no one had any news about Lou Kelemen. Someone said that Buster Nissen lives close by to the restaurant. That triggered a pair of memories that I shared. Once when I was in Copenhagen on a tour, I met a Dane who looked exactly like Uffe Moller. Once when I was in Moscow on another tour, our group attended an evening performance. There was a tour group from Hungary also attending the performance. One of the Hungarians looked exactly like Lou Kelemen. Someone remarked that everyone in the world has a double somewhere. I commented that I felt sorry for my double, being such a homely fellow.
I recall that many years ago my wife and I attended a meeting of some sort in Van Nuys. My seat was on the end of a row. Across the aisle from me was a man who looked exactly like Don Nickolls. He didn't recognize me, so I knew it wasn't Don. Another recollection I have is that once, when my wife and I visited a historical area near Santa Cruz, I saw a disabled man, partly paralyzed, who looked exactly like John Ballenger. Again, he didn't recognize me. He must have been John's double. It's rather eerie. John had once moved from Florida to Santa Cruz for reasons having to do with his health. However, John has since moved back to Florida and for several years afterward was a tour guide, an impossible profession for the man I saw near Santa Cruz.
This morning I set out from my home in Woodland Hills, California at 6:25. It was a cloudy morning and I didn't need to put on the clip-on sunglasses I carry in the car. I arrived at Billy's Cafe in Torrance at 7:20. It's a distance of about 33 or 34 miles, so you can calculate my average speed if you wish. The side room in the restaurant was set up for our group. We meet there on the first Wednesday of each month. Several tables were set up in the form of a tall "T". I was the first one and I took a seat next to the base of the "T" and waited. About 7:45, other retirees began to come in. Jim Matthews was first. He sat opposite me and we talked about his prowess at lifting weights and about a problem he'd had that left him temporarily senseless and paralyzed in his arms. He's back to lifting weights and has lifted 300 pounds, from a sitting position with the weight behind him. He must have strong legs and a strong spine.
Pretty soon the others showed up: Carlos Rivas, Ed Lee, Tom Chester, Art Kusuhara, Dick Burge, Ray Picarillo, Bob McCommon, Al Pearson, and Ed Blacksmith. Dick brought a slide and a viewer so that we could all look at the slide: a picture of a very fancy fish. I think it's called a lion fish. By that time there were two or three separate conversations going on. I couldn't keep track of all of them. There was mention of retirees we all knew who had died during the past year. Someone was talking about military strategy in the present Iraq war and about the strategy in the Viet Nam war. Perhaps strategy is the wrong word. The talk was about how the politicians mismanaged the war (both of them) and that if we get into a war we should do whatever it takes to win. As far as I could hear, no one raised the question as to whether we ought to have been involved in war to begin with, either in Iraq or Viet Nam.
Someone suggested that I should try to pick up Leo Procenko next time I come to the breakfast. He lives not far from the San Diego Freeway. I promised to get in touch with Leo and invite him.
I asked, but no one had any news about Lou Kelemen. Someone said that Buster Nissen lives close by to the restaurant. That triggered a pair of memories that I shared. Once when I was in Copenhagen on a tour, I met a Dane who looked exactly like Uffe Moller. Once when I was in Moscow on another tour, our group attended an evening performance. There was a tour group from Hungary also attending the performance. One of the Hungarians looked exactly like Lou Kelemen. Someone remarked that everyone in the world has a double somewhere. I commented that I felt sorry for my double, being such a homely fellow.
I recall that many years ago my wife and I attended a meeting of some sort in Van Nuys. My seat was on the end of a row. Across the aisle from me was a man who looked exactly like Don Nickolls. He didn't recognize me, so I knew it wasn't Don. Another recollection I have is that once, when my wife and I visited a historical area near Santa Cruz, I saw a disabled man, partly paralyzed, who looked exactly like John Ballenger. Again, he didn't recognize me. He must have been John's double. It's rather eerie. John had once moved from Florida to Santa Cruz for reasons having to do with his health. However, John has since moved back to Florida and for several years afterward was a tour guide, an impossible profession for the man I saw near Santa Cruz.
