The Flying Philosopher: Swing it Duarte, 8 to thebar

Swing it Duarte, 8 to thebar…the beat reverberating in a stride, Swing low sweet chariot,

November11, 2010. a brain tumor gives the patient two months......

Over looking the skyline of the City of Angels…the Los Angeles Times, City Hall, the San Gabriel mountains in the background, the snail like bumper to bumper traffic flowing on the Santa Ana Hollywood freeways below, the resplendent plush offices of the Duarte- City of Hope executive suite hailing the arrival of the Russian born Dr George, the director of the tuberculosis hospital’s pathology lab……..

III

Ben H a transplanted Brooklynite, the likes of the old Boys High School, Marcy avenue, the Pitkin Sutter Avenue reality scene of East New York, Brownsville…Meyer Lansky, Bugsy Siegal, Al “Bummy Davis, Izzy, he had come West….

The desert ambience (before the smog like air) lending itself to convalescence and rehab for patients coping with lung and pulmonary disease.. (cancer tumors in the futuro)…..Duarte attaining a growing reputation in the Los Angeles basin, the pathologist Dr.George, one of Ben H’s rising stars, never feeling comfortable with the brass and PR honchos…. A Humanity overwhelming with Hollywood born crocodiles, lurking in the environs of the Strip and Sunset Boulevard IV

The Kiev born, Michael Reese trained Chicago renaissance man, tried to be cool, cooling his heels in Ben H’s monster outer office, his wave length into the Spurs- Pistons first game, a metaphor for his own benign Duarte bliss, three minutes from his Arcadia homestead. A hearty heart heart into his second wind, back to his lab.A Jonas Salk stalker of diseased tissue, precursor CSI escapist fare. V

Cell phone beaper wired, Dr.George earphones on: a cosmic spaced out Buck Rogers, Dr. George tuned into the SBC arena in San Antonio, the Spurs versus the defending champs the Detroit Pistons, in their home….Dr. George was into his survival threads, knowing as we all know, a Holy Grail scenario was playing out.

What could he do but maintain in the presence of a brain tumor on the make……those Kiev like eyes into a furtive glance of the Southern California landscape, from those picture windows of Murray H’s suite

VII

Humming his Michael Reese blues, Dr. George’s Gomel born ears…..into Doctor Jack Ramsey’s own song and dance(his son in law, having been axed from the Wilt Chamberlain Alan Iverson led 76’ers franchise.. the City of brotherly love?)

“We got a humdinger here, Doctor .”

“A slam dammer! Dr George “

November 12, 2010...... Duarte Caliornia.

“Manu Ginoboli, the slasher from Argentina, vis a vi the San Antonio Spurs, was manna from Heaven, for Hubie Brown and his down to earth Soul. Like doctor Jack, his life was umbilical corded with “swish” “from down town” and Brooklyn born M.J. Sir Michael himself, the royalty of the NBA…..

Unlike Wilt Chamerlain and Bill Russell, the two Redheads from Brooklyn, Holtzman and Auerbach( eleven rings)Hall of Famer Hubie Brown had paid his dues from the very tip of his Memphis rhythms(Manu himself from the age 3 knew his Destiny)…..

Manu took over the game in the fourth quarter, scoring 15 big points, twenty two the second half….Fired up, rethinking his role, the locker room spritz between halves…..

“In our house, we can do no wrong, ”he said, sweating bullets, the stream of switzing , his swarthy Latino brow cheeks chin, total bull of the Pampas Primo Carnero? Rudy Valentino’s 21st century “Not to be frustrated, checked, Manu’s broken English complimented the Piston defenses. “Their big men..the two Wallaces are giants. But if we don’t penetrate the paint, going aggressively to the rim, they take the game from us…and 20,289 Fans…our sixth player….in our house..San Antonio, mine outside Buenos Aires….No way.!”

“They are not the defending champs for nunca: how you say in top spin English.For nothing……come at you one two defenders, doubling up…Switch on the matchup.You must play smart…..muy intelligente.”……”

”Spins in the lane, off the dribble…..”

Electrifying to say the least…..in the mode of Michael, and his colleagues…Steve Nash of Phoenix, Iverson…and Wade…”the crowd is on its feet,…the bugle blowing, “Gladys Gooding”on the organ…..”MANU MANU MANU MANU MANU……”

********

Dr. George took his head set off, awaiting Murray H’s growl grunt, eight to the bar. While he was consumed eaten up by his pathology lab, its constant never ending tissue ramifications, The life and death constancy hanging over the Duarte landscape, he found his nirvana in the creativity, the imaginative, the chemistry with the hoped for cures, battle with tuberculosis and soon to be cancerous tumors.

The struggle between life and death in the former orange tree orchids, not that far from the Santa Anita race track, and the likes of George and Dolly plying their Post and Paddock touting, Al Sliver, Whitey, Gene F. Bob Benoit in the circle, passing out the flyers….(sometimes throwing them to the skies, the players, betters coming to the tote board, challenging the odds at the pari mutual windows) full of great expectations, hope eternal, knowing the odds were stacked against them, but overcoming their weariness, ennui…. the constancy of a boring rut into an escape from the trivia and mundane

To Murray H. it’s all in how you look at it….Hadn’t he gotten the call from the insurance tycoon opposite the Alexandria Hotel and cottages on Wilshire.

“No more changing labels, Murray. Arrow shirts are behind us…a tubercular free rehabilitation center….like FDR’s Warm springs,” remembering the telephone service leaving a message that President Harry Truman called…..would we call him back?

‘What are we about, Dr. George” said Murray H. to himself. Knowing Dr. George

had built constructed his Arrowsmith lab with out the Sinclair Lewis smaltz. I’m playing the big shot among the movie industry, Charlie Chaplin, Buster Keaton, Chaneys, Mayers, Goldwyn Harry Cohn Jack L.tycoons…but Dr. George has his own support system of purity, ideals and a terrific work ethic…..a mishagoss before he got here, an embryo of a Medical School since his arrival… is there no end to his

drive…..four sons and a daughter, a beautiful frau of a Sabbath, chasing down the disease with a few ticks of the clock from his Arcadia retreat. A repose and he’s back in the lab…like the polio maven Jonas Salk…

His frau, Picasso’s mistress….No delusions of grandeur, these geniuses wile away their moments, thinking big thoughts, peering thru the microscope at Paul DeKruif’s microbes while the rest of us are condemned to hawing and hemming, corralling them into a reality of….budgets, punching the clock, spreadsheets, retirement overtime, nepotism contacts, free lunches, grandeur events at the Beverly Hills Hotel, Beverly Hilton…you name it…No one wants to cut the grass, mow the lawn.The sweats?…..upkeep,overhead who’s gonna pay the gardener 60 big ones every 724,Diaz.…?

“Swing it Duarte, eight to the bar”

********

The X factor of a 5.6 earthquake rattled thru the Southern California landscape like a freight train. Was it a force of nature “Manu Ginoboli” his game face on “A major West Coast motion offense. A half a dozen pictures fell off the wall” said a Palm Springs habitee of Rancho de Mirage.

His coach, Popovich, once of the Colorado Springs Air Force Academy, saying “Manu like Tony Parker Timmy (Duncan) was able to take the game over. But any seismic repercussions….”It’s all anal”,the details beyond details.”He’s on a roll, sprinting out on the fast break. Slashing his way to the glass, his body into the two Wallaces.. A body fake, they switch, Manu goes to his left hand, they double back , he goes to his right hand. They hack him, the ball spins off the glass. A swish. He goes to the free throw line for a three pointer….his confidence off the charts,”said Pops.

*********

Dr.George’s sensibility and big mucho empathy picked up the 6.2 seismic vibrations, the City of Hope hi rise not immune to any forces of Nature in the City of Angels..his rocket head gear rocking like he was into game 2 at the SBC center…..

Hubie Brown, Dr.Jack, the former Portland Trailblazer coach, his redhead of a center, Big Bill Walton, waiting for the tip off, the motion offense…..

Dr. George listened to these erudite coaches turned analysts….The Pistons like Dr. George were on their heels. The Spurs came storming out from get go like Afleet Alex at the Belmont Stakes…He could see in their energy, they were young unspoiled by the Motown experiences..Parker dating, Ginobili recently married, Bruce Bowen also married Horry (five rings) had been San Antonio Spurs from their NBA day one…..they could do no wrong ,chasing their dream.

The Champs were defensive giants but they had been around, talented castoffs, playing for several franchises before landing with Larry Brown. Not they were corrupt.. Nobody would say that Dr. George, but they had been around the block as had Larry Brown Therefore the two Wallaces, Rick Hamilton, Prince with his 7 foot 2 inch wing span, their clutch point guard Chauncy Phillips were reaching the rim of their learning curve….. ********

Between Michael Jackson having a proclivity for sleeping with youngsters, OJ renting Hertz cars, Martha Stewart making a phone call to her broker, and Billy Graham making the scene in Flushing, spelling out the case for a Higher Power in the big Apple’s cosmos, notwithstanding Allah being evident at 9/11, it causes one to be spellbound and speechless at the same time.

A Robert Horry record breaking Jordan “swish” from downtown.

June 16,2005…(to be continued)

Part 2

Continuing a brain tumor....the patient diagnosed with two months to go...November12,2010 II

Dr.George took his head set off, awaiting Murray H’s growl grunt, eight to the bar. While he was consumed eaten up by his pathology lab, its constant never ending tissue ramifications, The life and death constancy hanging over the Duarte landscape, he found his nirvana in the creativity, the imaginative, the chemistry with the hoped for cures, battle with tuberculosis and soon to be cancerous tumors.

III

The struggle between life and death in the former orange tree orchids, not that far from the Santa Anita race track, and the likes of George and Dolly plying their Post and Paddock touting, Al Sliver, Whitey, Gene F. Bob Benoit in the circle, passing out the flyers….(sometimes throwing them to the skies)..... the players, betters coming to the tote board, challenging the odds at the pari mutual windows) full of great expectations, hope eternal, knowing the odds were stacked against them, but overcoming their weariness, ennui…. the constancy of a boring rut into an escape from the trivia and mundane

To Murray H. it’s all in how you look at it….Hadn’t he gotten the call from the insurance tycoon opposite the Alexandria Hotel and cottages on Wilshire.

‘What are we about, Dr. George” said Murray H. to himself. Knowing Dr. George

“Swing it Duarte, eight to the bar”

VII

VIII

Hubie Brown, Dr.Jack, the former Portland Trailblazer coach, his redhead of a center, Big Bill Walton, waiting for the tip off, the motion offense…..

Between Michael Jackson having a proclivity for being and becoming a rock star, OJ renting Hertz cars, Martha Stewart making a phone call to her broker, and Billy Graham making the scene in Flushing, spelling out the case for a Higher Power in the big Apple’s cosmos, notwithstanding Allah being evident at 9/11, it causes one to be spellbound and speechless at the same time.

A Robert Horry record breaking Jordan “swish” from downtown.

June 16,2005…to be ...November 12,2010 Duarte, California