Toy Story

Joe Jelikowsky

TOY STORY

I was eight years old, when we lived off Temple and
Edgeware Road. My father had just died from a heart
attack. He was 42 years of age. As my brother and sister
were both married, it was just my mother and myself at
home.

My mother was a very strong and demanding
woman. As a special treat, every Saturday afternoon,
my mother would take me to a movie at the R.K.O or
Warner Brothers. After the treat, we’d go to Newberry,
or Kreiss’ Five and Ten Cent Store, where I would get a
bacon and tomato sandwich. Then, my mother would give
me ten cents and I would go crazy looking at all the toys.

This particular afternoon, as my mother went to
pay the lunch bill, I saw a red fire engine on top of the
register, and my eyes opened up like grapefruits. I asked
her if I could have the fire engine.

She asked the clerk how much it was. The clerk said
it was six dollars. My mother said it was way too much.
She went on to ask if I wanted something else that was
much cheaper.

I said, “If I can’t have that, I want nothing.”

She said, in a very strong tonality, “Then you get
nothing.”

The moral to this story is, we should be more
concerned with what comes out of our mouths than what
goes in, or, “Think very carefully before you speak.”


Written by Joe Jelikowsky

Joe Jelikowsky is a poet and life story writer from Los Angeles, Ca. He is a valued member of “Tea and Tales” a life-story and personal recollections class through North Hollywood Community Adult School, LAUSD, Programs for Older Adults.

Francesca Riviere

"My Birth"

I was born on January 8, 1945, a few months before Harry S. Truman dropped the bombs on Japan. My father was a captain in the Army, stationed in China, at the time: Francis John Sims.
My mother, Virginia Marie Sims, had received a medical discharge from the WAVES, after she became pregnant with me, and was at the movies with my grandfather watching a Western, when she went into labor. (I have always disliked Westerns, guns, and shooting noises.)
I was born in Glendale, California, a third-generation California native.
My parents had met at Hollywood High School. When my father came home from the War, I was about one year old.
Although he had a degree in Geology, my father could not find a decent job at that time, and worked pumping gas for Standard Oil.
Things deteriorated quickly between my parents. They divorced. My mother signed up as a policewoman with the LAPD.
My own official greeting to the world occurred at church one Sunday, when I was one year old. As the priest bellowed his sermon, "And the Lord cried out..." I said, "Hi!" breaking up the congregation and the priest. From my lips to God's ears?
To this day, I still get myself into trouble, blurting things out.

-- Francesca Riviere, writer, is a proud member of "Tea and Tales," a Family Recollections and Personal History class, offered by the Programs for Older Adults, LAUSD, North Hollywood Community Adult School.

Sam is Concerned.

To Whom It May Concern:

I am an 88 year old, first generation, American-born senior adult, and an honorably discharged World War II veteran.
My reason for writing this letter is to protest against the reduction or elimination of these important and viable Old Adult education classes.
The classes I am currently experiencing have changed my life.
When my wife passed away a few years ago, I virtually became a hermit, and felt that life was no longer worth living. My ultimate contact and introduction to Older Adult Education, via an exceptionally talented and worthy teacher named Fiera Mooney, brought me out of, and ended my depression. It restored my mind. I became a living, productive person again for my family, friends and community.
I can relate many incidents and times that I have had contact with children: when I inform them that I attend older adult classes, they listen intently. I tell them how important good education really is to their futures.
I sincerely believe that any curtailing of Older Adult Education would only result in the dismal failure of public education, setting an example that could have a profound effect on our children as well as on senior adults. Do we. as a society, really value life-long learning?
Unfortunately, when we experience an economic crisis in our country, it seems that the cuts are always made, starting from the bottom. I think it's time we should make cuts from the top.
Maybe we should think about pay cuts for state and federal legislators and ask administrators, as well, to help out financially, in such times as these.
Respectfully yours,
Samuel Krause
Older Adult Student
North Hollywood
Community Adult School
at Valley Village Senior Apts

Our First ElderBlog! Read and Enjoy

Sam Krause is a proud member of the LAUSD Family History and Personal Recollections Class, we affectionately call, "Tea and Tales." Now 88 years old, Sam remembers what he has been told about his own birth! We welcome your comments! Cheers, Fiera

MY BIRTH
By Samuel Krause
I was born June 16, 1921, in Philadelphia, number four of a family of five, three daughters and two sons, the family of Ben and Ann Krause. I wasn’t very aware when it happened, because I was more concerned with getting out from the confinement at the time, more than anything else.
That being the case, I can’t tell you factually how and what actually happened. I can tell you what I have been told since then. Apparently, my mother had not made any transportation plan to get to the hospital for my arrival, so my birth did not happen as normally expected. When it suddenly happened, and transportation was finally secured to the hospital, lo and behold, my mom and I were taken from the taxi into the emergency room by the Methodist Hospital medical staff.
From that point, my life progressed somewhat normally, and I grew up to be the typical “I do it so” kid. I was kind of my mother’s favorite one of the bunch and somewhat spoiled a little. I didn’t mind that, because I got away with as much as I could, and that wasn’t easy to do in the group of five.
One of the most memorable things I was told and remember while growing up was that Warren Harding was President when I was born. I also vividly remember the Philadelphia 1926/1927 Sesquicentennial, with the huge Liberty Bell that was erected over Broad Street. Cars could drive under or around it, in going to and from the main exhibition grounds. One other major event I remember was the colossal and famous Dempsey/Tunney fight that is now inscribed in history.
Years beyond my birth, after serving in the Army during WWII,
I moved my family to California, where I’m now growing very old and useless to society and the ladies.

Monday, Monday Please Trust That Day

They will happen here Monday.
The words of others.
The ones to whom this blog truly belongs.
Yes, they were there.
If you are interested in any one thing, or have questions for them, let me know, here/
I comunicate with them.
I can ask them for you
And then they will write their stories
in answer to your questions
You might like that
I know they might find your interests fascinating
I am the lonely interloper
But I take my position seriously
And await your comments

I am thrilled to be almost back to school
What will the cool old people think about cyberspace?
Will you show up to read what they have written?
I have to tell you lots of my best friends
are almost 90!
What time travellers they are.
They will arrive soon.
Bookmark this page!
F

Today Is the First Day of the Rest of Fire Life

I am writing today as the ashes fall and the sun creates a butterscotch luminosity, a giant angel who fell too fast and burst into flames in the forest.
Welcome to our Firehouse.
I must tell you that I will not be the solitary writer here.
In fact, this blog will feature the work of many writers.
These cats get together every Monday at the Valley Village Senior Center in North Hollywood, CA, to tell stories, write tales and essays, share thoughts for the day. Now they are going to publish, right here, just for you!
Stories about the way it was, that might lend some insight into why it is what it is now.
We will tell you more about the Tea and Tales Writer's Group, as this blog moves on in time.
This early evening, I just wanted to say thanks for keeping me company.
There's an eeriness to this blaze, though the sunsets are glorious.
To be continued.
Fiera Mooney