Sunday

A typical Sunday morning. Dreadful pain from intestinal issues. For most of my life, I could address this nightmare with stomach meds, especially paregoric. Today, thanks to the draconian “War on Drugs,” which is really a “War on the Elderly,” I am immobilized for hours at a time and made to drink gallons of herbal tea. That last part was a tip from my super smart sister. 

Then off across to the east side to see a movie at the American Cinematheque in what was once a chic corner of LA. Now, not so much. Block after block is filled with empty storefronts. And why not? Why drive across town past this depressing landscape when I could go online to Amazon and buy whatever I want? Yes, it makes for a lonely life. But it also makes for saving time and money.

When my pal and nurse and I got to the theater, we met up with my real estate agent, Anya, and settled in to watch a classic I first saw about forty-five years ago — Kanał — the Polish word for sewer. It is a black and white drama about Polish Resistance fighters who, on August 1, 1944, rose against their Nazi captors. At first, they drove out most of their German tormentors. Stalin’s Red Army was encamped just across the Vistula River from Warsaw, where most of the fighting took place. The insurgents and the Brits thought that Stalin would help the Polish Liberation Army to finish off the Nazis. They at least thought he would help the Poles by allowing them to receive large amounts of British and American arms and men. 

That did not happen.

Instead, Stalin allowed the Nazis to be reinforced and supported by the Luftwaffe, with Stukas used to divebomb Warsaw and the Poles.

In about six weeks, it was all over. The remaining Poles, numbering fewer than one hundred men, hid out in sewers. Despite the stunning courage of the Poles, it was a slaughter.

Depressing as hell. It tells us all too much about Stalin and Russia and communism. How is it that I knew this sad story when I was about 8? Today’s young Americans don’t know anything about it.

They think there is such a thing as a “new communism” that is humane and kind. 

Terrifying.

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After the movie, we went to lunch at my usual lunch spot, the Beverly Hills Hotel Cabana Cafe. I only got a chocolate milkshake — my Pop’s favorite food. I was approached by dozens of men and women who wanted to thank me for my “work” and for wearing my antique “I Like Ike” campaign button from 1952. Americans still love Ike. Why not?

I speak at length to anyone, male or female, old or young, who speaks to me. I ask about their lives. I’m a journalist at heart, and I am an empath. So I learn about my fellow Angelinos. I learn about my fellow humans. Sometimes they yell at me for being a Republican. It’s all right. I like learning.

Then, off to Pavilions supermarket to buy salmon for my wife’s nurse, a super woman named Carol. Again, my fellow shoppers smiled and told me how much they love Ike. He had an infectious smile, and everyone loved him. 

Now, it’s about seventy years later, and it’s a different America. Now, we take our lives in our hands by smiling.

What an amazing world. In the sewers of Warsaw, freedom fighters lost their lives for each other. Now, my smile will probably get me hated. What the hell happened?

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