Walk at Willow Grove mall, former home of our Daytime Meetings

In recent years, the mall built a parking garage, which is where I parked. My blood sugar was inordinately high this a.m. - nearly 200 - so I injected 14 units - and lowered it further by walking and talking and photographing at the mall.

When I got home it was 99. Normal is 80-120.

Seems like the Willow Grove mall is past its prime. Very few people there. 


As I strode from my car, which I parked on the top floor in the sunshine, I wondered "Who will be there at this particular time."

You shall see.

Hint: it was not the Marlboro man:

Good article about him in the Times. He's 89 yrs old and never smoked or drank.

 Taken in the enclosed glass tunnel that takes you into the Food Court.

In the early days of my career as a manic-depressive I had agoraphobia and would've found it difficult to walk thru this tunnel.

No escape!

My dad also had agoraphobia.

Our group, led by Helen Kirschner, used to meet at the tables toward the end. Noise factor: excruciatingly high.

So we moved to the Willow Grove Giant Supermarket, I told Fred. He and his friends still meet here.

Fred (L) and his friend George were just about to leave when I found them. They both remembered me. "Yes, we still meet," said Fred, "tho some of us have moved and some of us have passed."

I remember an old gent whose wife had just passed. He was very handsome but his buddies were a good support.

The mall is a paragon of earthly delights, beautifully decorated. I love the tile work.

A view of the mobile of prancing horses, a tribute to the days when this space was Willow Grove Park, a great amusement park.

Mosaic of the Park done by students at Abington Art Center. I applaud their use of local talent - and students!

This one vaguely resembles a van Gogh. Look at the background. If you're on a dessert island you can get lost looking at this artwork and imagine all sorts of things.

A pensive Damien.

Manny, 76, from the Philippines waits outside for his wife. Like me, he has diabetes but no longer checks his glucose. He just eats right. This morning he had cereal and milk, fruit, and a cuppa coffee.

We wished each other a good day and then he called my name when I was completing my walk on the first level.

I looked up and waved. "Hi Manny!" it's pronounced mahnny.

 Girl shopping.

My most odious task? shopping.

Least odious? Eating at Ooka's Japanese restaurant in Willow Grove. This is my delicious
Nabe Yaki Udon, foto from the web. That's shrimp tempura getting dunked against its will in the soup. Say hello to the delicious radishes, clams in shell, salmon, chicken, green onions, carrots, and thick nodules which I slurped up.

While seated, I injected 8 units into my right thigh. If we eat chicken thighs, who eats human thighs? The worms.

Scott had his favorite food in the world: salmon.

This was a date for our sixth anniversary.

Afterward, we went for a 55-minute walk in the shady Pennypack

Thanks, Scott, I said, for the great dinner.

See ya later, kid, he said.