Bill's Headache
©2001 Dorothy Golubin

I was waiting for my brother Bill, a tall, husky, six-foot four-inch, sandy-haired man (who was always late).

We were meeting at a casket store in San Francisco. We were going to pick out a coffin for my nephew Norman, an ex-Air Force pilot. Norm had contracted a rare disease when he was flying over Vietnam. The Americans had prayed the foliage with Agent Orange and many servicemen had gotten very sick as a result.

Bill had a splitting headache and nothing seemed to relieve it. "My nephew having been so ill for so long and then dying last night."

The pressure from the salesman, a tall, skinny tow-headed (who talked too fast and too much) didn't do any good for Bill's headache. All this, and actually picking out the coffin. There were all kinds lined up in the big bare room-wooden ones, mahogany ones, copper ones. different colors and different prices. Bill said, "We have to find one we can afford, if the salesman would just shut up! I can't imagine in my wildest dreams how anyone can be so mercenary when people are grieving."

Portrait: To Be Continued
©2001 Dorothy Golubin

It was about 12:30 in the morning. It had been raining heavily. This took more time for Mary to drive her three friends home from work.
She lived in a large pink apartment house on the second floor. The street lights were the only ones on except for a house or two. It was very quiet and still at that time of morning. An occasional bark of a dog could be heard.
Mary started to get nervous. Her stomach started to hurt. She saw that the lights were on in the apartment. That meant that John was up and would probably want to argue. Mary was a little person, only five feet tall. She hated arguments.
John was in their small kitchen when she walked in, standing at the sink eating a piece of pizza, red faced and bleary eyed. His dark hair was all messy. John was a tall man and stockily built. He must have been sleeping; his clothes were all wrinkled. He was drunk as usual. He walked toward Mary, looking threatening.
"What are you doing coming in so late, Mary? he said angrily, his eyes blazing, his brows touching over his big nose, his face all twisted.
"I'm only five minutes later than usual, John," she said in a low voice, cowering. It does take me longer when it's raining, I can't see as well."
Mary removed her jacket and put it on a chair, then removed her shoes and rubbed her feet.
John walked toward her menacingly, his heels pounding on the floor (he's a bully at heart).
"You never get here this late, you bitch! Damn it!" He reached over and slapped her face. Mary rubbed her cheek and felt the hot blood rush to her head. She stood on her toes to reach the top of the refrigerator near her, and grabbed a wooden salt shaker and slammed it on his head. It broke the skin and John started to bleed. He grabbed his head with his hands and saw the blood.
"You bitch, you had the nerve to hit me and draw blood." He really looked like a mad bull, sweating, bleeding, panting, as he charged Mary.
Mary moved quickly and ran down the hall to the bathroom ad locked the door. She heard John, standing outside the door, cursing and banging on it.
"You made me bleed, you bitch. I'll kill you, Mary! I'll kill you!"
"I had to drop off the girls, John," Mary said from behind the bathroom door. "You wouldn't be saying anything, John if you hadn't stopped at the bar for drinks."
"There you go, nagging again, Mary. I only stopped for a couple of drinks," said John.
"That's what you say all the time, John, just a couple."
"You probably didn't go to work today, either, John. You had to stay at the bar buying everyone drinks and entertaining everyone."
"That's not the reason I'm angry, Mary. This pizza is getting cold. You know I hate cold pizza."
"You hate everyone when you're drunk, John."
"That's right, Mary, I hate you too," he growled, his face all contorted. He really looked mean and nasty.
"Well, John, you should have waited until I got home to order the pizza. You just feel like arguing, John. It's your conscience bothering you for not going to work today. I'm not hungry anyway, John. You made me lose my appetite, always arguing." Mary walked out of the bathroom, toward the bedroom.
"Nag! Nag! Nag! That's all you ever do, Mary."

Downtown Oakland
©2001 Dorothy Golubin

I was once a hustling, bustling city, from the foot of Broadway to Jack London Square where you could eat and drink and dance on the Showboat until the wee hours of the morning, or go to my other restaurants on the square, like the Sea Wolf or the Chandelier. Or if you felt like singing, you could go to the Overland House.

If you're going up Broadway, you would pass Chinatown, with all its different smells, restaurants and several theaters.

You could always check the time on the Tribune Tower, jetting above all the other buildings.

Then there was Kresses, the dime store on the corner of 14th and Broadway, where everybody congregated. You could hear people greeting each other who hadn't seen one another in years. Maybe someone they had gone to school with.

Down one block was Washington Street, with all of its places to go shopping, from Swans on Tenth Street, where you could buy anything you wanted, from groceries to clothing, etc., to the big department stores like Hale Brothers, and all kinds of other shops on this street. Shoes stores, clothing stores, jewelry stores.

If you continue up Broadway, there are more department stores, Kahn's, Goldman, all the way to 22nd and Broadway, to Breuner's Furniture Store, where you could browse and shop for hours.

You pass the majestic Paramount Theater and the Orpheum Theater, and also Sweet's and Sands Ballrooms, where you could dance your feet off.

Around Lake Merritt there is the Auditorium where the big bands and famous entertainers came. It was always packed. But not anymore.

On Lake Merritt you could rent electric small boats and go out on the lake.

I was a bustling city, with lots of people, noises, smells, cars, trains and street cars. Until they started to build the Rapid Transit System (it took too long).

I started to die. Stores closed. Restaurants closed,. Theaters closed. They moved to the suburbs.

I had a few thrift stores, small restaurants, and only Capwell's Department Sore on the corner of 20th and Broadway, and the exclusive I. Magnin's across the street. That's all that's left.

SO SAD. MAYBE I'LL COME ALIVE AGAIN ONE DAY.

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