Monday, March 9, 2020

Ice cream at China Bowl - The Chinese Man walks his German Shepherd in the Philadelphia Suburbs

Wish I had someone to talk to. Walked into the Upper Moreland Library and there was Dorothy, a lovely older woman. Returned all my books and DVDs, including the Ulrike Ottinger film. She will be at BAMPH later this year. Perhaps Sarah will beam me up there via Uber.

Young Mailman Sean delivered the mail wearing shorts. I had gone outside in my furry CVS hat, which, as usual, I slept in.

Quite a draft at the top of my bed.

Per Rem Murphy, I watched the film Ragamuffin on YouTube, rudely interrupted by commercials. It was great. It’s the story of the late Christian singer Rich Mullins. Very talented but angry as a stinging wasp. Richard Koch played Mullins.

Can’t quite remember what ‘ragamuffin’ means. A preacher told him that the two of them were both ragamuffins. Possibly that they don’t believe that God loves them.

Well, I love ice cream.

But where might I go for some.

I knew I couldn’t remember where DQ is. Every year I have trouble finding it.

So off I go to China Garden, a huge well-appointed restaurant.

I was seated by a gentleman.

“I just want ice cream,” I said.

“We no have ice cream,” he said.

I pointed to ice cream and sherbet on the menu.

“What kind you want?”

“Vanilla with chocolate sauce,” I said.

They had no sauce, so I ordered both chocolate and vanilla ice cream which arrived in a small bowl.

Delicious.

Walter Straus and I used to dine here.

I still have Walt’s photo on the side of my fridge tho I dunno if he’s dead or alive. He was born in 1918.

WALT? Can you hear me? Send me a card if you’re still around.
For my Warminster Writing Group I hastily wrote a short story IVAN and then fixed it up when I got home.

Submitted it to a new site Potato Soup Journal.
New sites almost never accept my work.
Hurray, they did.
March 31 they will publish it. 
Was at Mom’s yesterday, Sunday, while Ellen went to the Flower Show.
I’ve been to many in the past but have no interest in going again.
In fact I think I have photos in my Ikea desk, which I found down the street, and Don drove it home for me in the back of his truck. The photos may be in the huge drawer on the right where I keep my socks.

I climbed into bed with Mom and we both napped.
We looked through her Cleveland Heights, Ohio, yearbook called THE CALDRON.
I always ask her questions and she did know what it meant, a large container.

There she was, Bernice Begis. She added “Lois” as she wanted a middle name.
She remembered a great many people in the book, men and women both.
We remarked when we thought a guy was handsome or a woman attractive.
Lenore Oscar, her dear friend was in there, still alive. Oscar is her married name.
Mom told me that two students called her a “dirty Jew” and understood that it came from their home.
There were, in fact, loads of Jews at Heights, as they called it.

“I think I hear the garage door opening,” I told Mom.
She heard nothing.
In five minutes Ellen came up. She was eating some lentils as she hadn’t eaten all day and bought nuffin at the show.
She told us all the clever ways flowers were highlighted at the show. A b’ful glowing blue light – from underneath – was gorgeous.
I thought a moment. Maybe we can spray paint your chipped side walk, I said.
She said The Burke Brothers – is that their name – were responsible for much of the show.

Told Mom that when I drove up I saw a Chinese man walking an enormous German Shepherd.
She said it’s a new dog. He always has shepherds.
I told Ellen I was gonna write a poem about it.

THE CHINESE MAN WALKS HIS GERMAN SHEPHERD IN THE PHILADELPHIA SUBURBS

Thousands of miles from his country,
the Chinaman proudly walks his dog who
looks like a Siberian wolf who hunts
in packs on the cold white ground
tearing gazelles and elks to pieces,
blood soaking the ground.

In San Francisco, they called us coolies
as we set railroad ties for the bosses
but were not allowed to eat in their restaurants
or sleep in our hotels.

This is America, we cried?
Decades passed. The Chinese man
has the lovely house on the corner.
In his dark-stained book shelves
he has Pearl S Buck's The Good Earth.

His daffodils are showing their pretty
heads in the garden and the purple crocus
shine in the sun.


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