Growing Trend In Cleveland, Ohio – the oxygen bomb

First there was one…then there were two…

Both sitting or standing out in front of Greek restaurants a walking distance apart from each other. Both establishments a walking distance from where I live – both are restaurants that Steve and I frequent.

One old woman, one old man. They’re the bombs. At two Greek restaurants.

Both establishments are on main roads with lots of foot traffic, car, bicycle and bus traffic and store fronts.

What are the odds?

Both the woman and the man probably live on the same blocks as the Greek restaurants they sit in front of or stand in front of to smoke their cigarettes while administering themselves oxygen via a large tank of oxygen and nose catheters. Day after day after day.

They go into their respective restaurants, sit, eat, drink a beverage, talk to the staff, then go outside with their tanks in tow to smoke, where everybody who passes by on foot, in a car, on a bicycle or on a bus sees them – like clockwork. Day after day after day.

Nobody says anything.

One day I went into Walgreens and saw a person who works at one of the restaurants and in front of a cashier spoke briefly about it. He didn’t much care for me to do that since he’s a friend of hers. I’ve seen him hug her, so they must at least know each other. He also was buying a pack of cigarettes and probably thought I was making a statement about her smoking.

Frankly, I don’t care who smokes. It’s legal and it’s not my business. I did bring it up in public though, hoping maybe he’d have a chat with her about her exposing herself as a potential target for a terrorist attack.

What? Jihadists don’t use public transportation? There are no Jihadists in Cleveland or Lakewood or anywhere along those two routes? Clifton Boulevard and Detroit Ave. They drive cars, take buses, ride bicycles and walk. Just like everybody else. In fact they’re just like everybody else, except they have an agenda to blow things and people up when they least expect it.

Often times when the opportunity expresses itself, so do they.

Is this my lucky day or what, says the wanna-be Jihadist? I don’t even have to build a bomb. That feeble woman and feeble man down the street, are my bombs. Imagine what I could do? And they go in and out of the same restaurants. In and out, in and out, all day.

You can’t miss them.

Bingo. Bomb. Bye Bye Birdie – and all the birdies around them.

See something? Say something and it gets ignored with rolling eye balls, making you look like a fool to care?

Then take a picture and publish it.

See something? Take a picture.




Human Trafficking? In A Senior Residence?


This is too much. A meeting with Joan who has no last name – in a senior residence building about human trafficking? The signs are everywhere. Even in the stairwells.

What’s happening? Are human traffickers trying to recruit and enslave old people? For what pray tell? Do I dare ask? Or maybe that question is best kept to myself.

Are the cops not telling us that certain individual residents are going to be kidnapped from our building and sold into Senior Slavery?

How will they get in? Oh right, by men with kids wearing white knit caps waiting for somebody to let them in.

As an aside: I rarely worry about some scummy looking, dirty, ungroomed person trying to get into the building. It’s the well-groomed, clean ones doing manipulative tricks that concern me.

The flyer|poster has National Church Residences letterhead. So this isn’t a resident working on a pet project or cause that they want to share with other residents for the purpose of their edification.

Joan doesn’t have a last name, so no I’m not going to this meeting. Maybe Joan is the recruiter. The whole arrangement sounds suspicious. Posters in all the stairwells? Who takes the stairs, except me – for exercise instead of using the stairmaster at the club?

Guess I should stay out of the stairwells. Shoot! Just when I was finding my mountain climbing groove, somebody wants to kidnap me?

How about a seminar on weight reduction, exercise and how the food we eat can heal us better than the medicines we take?

Eliza Jennings (Choices For Aging Well), who has a monopoly on the building as far as I can see, won’t like that. They even advertise this place as offering hospice services. When people come in they’re walking on two legs. After six months they get a walker with a seat, then in a year, they’re in a motorized wheelchair and they all get fat. Then they start losing their legs via amputation. It’s a pattern I’ve witnessed for eight years. Then they die. There are a lot of deaths and not many success stories in this building.

There’s a podiatrist across the street that’s gifted in my opinion. Nobody will go to him. They feel like they have to go to Eliza Jennings’ people. Eliza comes to them. The gifted podiatrist is practically next door plus he’s great with all people, not just old. Frankly I met one of Eliza’s people a couple of years ago. He was a podiatrist. Not good. At all. He wouldn’t come out unless I could get three or four other residents to join me so he could sell orthopedic shoes to all of us. He basically wanted me to recruit customers for him – for free.

If they get too many more wheelchairs there are going to be traffic jams that will need to be managed by someone. Oh. Eliza already thought of that. Wheelchair Etiquette is what it will be called. People will be assigned by floors the times they can go down to get their mail.

It’s already clogged with wheelchairs and walkers when the mail person comes. Of course these rules will apply to people not in wheelchairs, just so it doesn’t look like the ones walking without assistance are getting preferential treatment. Then it becomes collective punishment, that they will vehemently deny as they question your compassion for the others who can’t walk. You’ll be shunned by everyone and forced to move to another location where you will learn your lesson to obey and not question the rules.

But Eliza brings pizza. Anybody who wants in, uses cheap unhealthy food to lure residents into attending their seminars. What an insult. Maybe Eliza is behind the human trafficking.

“Lure treats” are always greasy, salty and/or sweet. Beverages are sweet too. With all the diabetics in the building, the soda machine has one sleeve of diet coke. Everything else is laden with sugar. Maybe there’s one diet ginger ale. But no juice, no healthy selection. Who wants apple juice? No one. I’ve talked to the soda machine guy three times already and it went nowhere.

That’s when I take it to the world – when people patronize me because I’m old.

New, exciting, that’s what we want. Taste good too, that’s what we want. Stop with the old stuff, offering me my grandmother’s recipes in your newsletter – loaded with fat, salt and sugar.

Yeah, Eliza Jennings is into human trafficking –  senior residents kidnapped and sold into Senior Slavery. That’s what it feels like.

Independent Living?  If you want to live like your grandmother lived – or your great grandfather. Who really wants that??

Wednesday @ 2:00 in the Large Community Room. I’m assuming that means 07-19-2017.



Face Not Familiar Let Him In


Face not familiar? Don’t let them in. That’s what posted signs say at the entrance ways around the building.

That’s easy for the management to say. Ralph used to say something, but doesn’t get involved any more. He doesn’t fear for himself, but for somebody else he declined to mention, which can only mean the safety of his wife.

By lease law we’re not allowed to confront any tenant. It’s grounds for eviction. So, why would old people confront someone whom they don’t really know if they live here or not?

I know the look they give, because people trying to get into the building have given it to me. They get aggressive. Sometimes they come right up on your back like a hustle to intimidate you.

This day while I was taking a photo of something else across the street, I noticed Steve not proceeding to the building. He said that guy is going to go in right after me. He’s just waiting.

Ralph was coming along and Steve said what I knew. Ralph is going to let him in. Sure enough that’s what happened. I took a picture of the guy, then Steve and I went in the building after him.

The guy he was visiting came out and the three of them including the kid left the building. They walked around a column and came out the other side of an alcove so we wouldn’t see them.

I’m trying to figure out why he would even have to go into the building if the guy – around his age (not elderly) – was coming out any way. Why not wait in the car? Why even approach the building?

Every time a person has hustled me to get in they were wearing a knit cap, meaning they want people to know something about them. Whatever the cap means it’s an identifying feature. See me. This is who I am? And they often bring a kid with them to make them look harmless, or to keep others from confronting them. If he has a kid with him, he must be okay.

I don’t know what’s going on in this building, but there are a lot of people who want to get in. Very seldom is it someone who forgot their keys or swipe pass.

See something. Say something? Well, I saw something and I took a picture. Now this guy knows me and knows I have his face on my phone.

The USA government of course wasn’t talking about the safety of seniors when they said ‘see something say something’. They meant say something if you think there is going to be an attack against America.

In my life, in my neighborhood, in my building I take care of my safety and the safety of my family first, because nobody cares about a bunch of seniors who have already lived their lives.

I heard a cop say to one of the managers years ago while walking down the hallway after they were called out because of a disturbance, “Oh, we know what’s going on here, we just don’t want to get involved.”

Seniors built America. We owe them.