LOVE ANGELES

You See What You Eat

My Gratitude for the nourishment before me this morning extends to all those who taught me, by example, how to awaken to the gift of Life. We are able to look into the hearts/soul of our brothers and sisters by keeping our hearts/soul clean and open. By truly seeing ourselves we are able to see others. This is why so many speak of various meditations, physical exercises, nature, Gratitude and eating healthy. They are the Ways to begin to See Ourselves and hence see the world.

Simple Gratitude

I Am Grateful to have hot running water, fresh food and a humble roof over my head, Blessed to be aware of my growing awareness and Willing to allow the Spirit of Love to breathe through me into the world. - Forrest Kolb

Papa's Perfect

Leon C. Kolb, 91, was peacefully born into eternity, December 1, 2009, from his home in North Hollywood, CA.

In celebration of his new life, a private service will be held at 10 a.m. Monday December 7th, at St. Charles Borromeo Catholic Church, followed by a burial service at Forest Lawn.

It is no coincidence that the celebration of the Pearl Harbor Survivor's new life will be taking place on the 68th anniversary of the date which will live in infamy. Leon Kolb (Papa) was aboard the Battleship USS Oklahoma that fateful Sunday morning when the Japanese torpedoed and eventually sunk his ship.

According to the Daily News, Papa, wearing white shorts and a regulation U.S. Navy T-shirt, was ordered out of the ship's magazine by men who wouldn't survive the day. Then he remembered his ring [Nana's engagement ring which was in his locker a few decks below] - followed by a biblical injunction never to look back - and scrambled to safety over the rising port gunwale.

"I saw a picture of Lot’s wife turning to go back, she turned into a pillar of salt. And I took that as God's message: Don't go back. If I had, I would have been buried in salt water with the rest who had gone down."

The attack lasted 12 minutes. Of the 1,300 sailors on the USS Oklahoma, a third were lost...

"I lost the ring, but got the girl," he said. Papa and Lucille Kolb (Nana, now 98) recently celebrated their 68th wedding anniversary together, Wow!

Exactly a year ago, I moved back to LA after hearing an inner voice tell me that I was to be near my grandparents in order to watch over them. The calling was so loud and clear, that I had absolutely no problem leaving behind a cozy setup and beautiful community just north of the Golden Gate bridge. I even recall telling a friend that I felt that I was supposed to move next door to my grandparents and become best friend's with my amazing grandfather, which is exactly what I did.

Most people who have been lucky enough to meet a grandparent or two, much less spend a significant amount of time with them, can tell you of the unique connection that exists between them. In a healthy situation, the love shared between a grandparent and grandchild is one of the purest, non-judgmental, unconditional forms of love one can experience. It's no wonder why in many cultures around the world, grandchildren are raised by their grandparents.

A few months ago, I asked Papa if he could tell me what his happiest moment was in life. He said, "I have never had more joy in all my life than cheering for you at all your baseball and basketball games as a kid and all through high school." I wanted to melt from feeling like the luckiest person in the world, and for being so grateful for having so much love in my life and for my desire to share that love with everyone around me. Papa should have won an award for longest streak without missing a grandson's sporting event, from t-ball to varsity volleyball, just amazing! 

A few weeks back, and after a six day sleepover at Kaiser hospital, we became well aware of Papa's weakening heart and overall condition. In fact, on the second day there, the doctor made it seem like he was going to go that day, so the rest of the family including Nana drove up from San Diego. But I knew Papa better than that. He wanted to launch from home, on his terms not Kaisers and he counted on the family to help him make that happen. Later that evening, sitting in the dark beside his bed, I scribbled the following in my notebook:   

When I heard Nana tell Papa that he was the best husband in the world, I couldn't believe my ears. Holding back her tears, she spoke with supernatural strength. There was so much love happening that I'm sure I will continue to process it into the future. Why do I feel sad? Because my loved one may be getting close to stepping into the unknown? This unknown has no pain, no suffering, no embarrassment, only joy. Papa has prepared for this journey for a long time. Man, he took up his cross with dignity, love, honor, respect and without complaining.

He has helped me become more of the man that I am to be. I am so grateful for his showing me the way, the truth and how to live a simple and noble life.  The doctors say his heart is weak but his Heart has never been stronger! He is the strongest man I have ever met, a true gentleman, so beautiful, elegant, proper, and caring for everyone else. The way he lit up when my sister Tala entered the hospital room yesterday was extraordinarily special. He was so excited to speak with her about all the current unfolding of her life. I think I remember him shouting my goodness in his burly Oklahoma accent, when I told him that she was driving up from San Diego to see him.

The breathe of life is so powerful. Even with a weak heart and drowning lungs, this man loves to breathe! I love him. He is my hero, my teacher, my legend, my DNA, my role model, my Papa. Papa has taught me how to respect people, make them laugh, lift them up, and treat them fairly. Yes, he was fair to everyone. He was tolerant of different faiths and appreciative of different cultures. Papa was organized, meticulous, patient, supportive and he had no problem asking for help when he needed it, which was rare. His hands are so rugged and strong maybe from 11 years in the navy, 26 as an LA City firefighter and many more pulling electrical wire and cutting down trees, just for kicks. Yea, he's my papa...

Earlier that same night, the nurse wheeled in his special low-sodium dinner with a very special pack of salt free seasoning, Papa's Perfect. I couldn't believe my eyes! It was a divine message confirming that Papa was going to recover well enough to be discharged and sent home, where he wanted to be all along. And he did. And two weeks later, he agreed to let me drive him down to San Diego to spend Thanksgiving with the entire family. As he always did, he said the blessing over the dinner table and was able to spend intimate time with his beloved Lucille, which would be their last.

After having breakfast with Papa yesterday morning, I came home and set some time aside to pray especially for him, a few others and for peace on earth. Shortly after, I gathered my things and headed out the door for a lunch meeting in Silver Lake. As soon as I walked out the front door, my phone rang. Papa's caregiver, Karl, called me to mention that Papa just walked from the kitchen to the living room, sat down in his chair and since seems a little drowsy, which was nothing new. I told him that I would stop by for a second to check things out before heading out to my meeting. We looked at each other in the eyes and I asked him if everything was all right. I could here something different in Papa's breathing, it was soft and extraordinarily peaceful. I knew that it was time. I looked up at Karl and said these are final breathes aren't they. He nodded. We held hands and prayed in gratitude and love for the accomplished man before us. Still sitting perfectly upright, his breathe quieted until it stopped. Papa was finally called home. 

Every Day Is Thanksgiving

Jamie Lee Curtis - "When I was on a double family RV trip to Big Sur this last Spring Break, when we arrived at our campground a young man who was helping us set up the two large rigs, dropped his campground manifesto on me, "There are two kinds of people. One who wakes up and says 'Good Morning, God' and the other who says 'Good God, Morning?'"

I wake up every day with the belief in the power of a new day and beginning, the belief that good can come from the efforts I put into the day.

For me, everyday is Thanksgiving, for as soon as I get my ego out of the way and honestly look at the gratitude I have in my heart for those who have made my life so full and meaningful...then my day is off to a great start ... I know ... sounds a bit "corny" after all I am now 51 but the trivial things do seem to pass me by now as I get older. Today, as I was driving my thirteen year old son home we passed Wendell Brown, a homeless Veteran who sells poems on the street corner in Brentwood. I have read so many over the years and have always appreciated them and him, for telling his truth in a poem for making me think about who I am.

There was an Arrested Development song, Mr. Wendell, that I always thought was about him, his dispensing wisdom on the street, while those around him searched for theirs in their cars, homes, clothes, choices. I hope that song was about him. I wish I could write a song for Mr. Wendell Brown this Thanksgiving day. On our way home, my son, Tom, read me the poem we had been handed, that we bought with our donation. I enclose it below. It is my Thanksgiving blog. It is written by Wendell Brown, a Vietnam Veteran whose story I've linked to. Happy Thanksgiving. Make Change. Wake Up!

A Day To Be Thankful

I'm thankful for Thanksgiving Day
Because it brings to mind
The gifts I've had along the way
And blessings, every kind.

I'm thankful that I live my life
In this great land of ours.
That I've not had to give my life,
And sleep beneath the flowers

Much thanks must go to all who fought
To keep us safe and free.
Their sacrifice has dearly bought
Our peace and liberty.

We should remember all who came
Before us through the years
They kept our country much the same
By action, sweat and tears.

Not ever does a day go by
That I forget my folks.
My mother baking apple pie,
My sister with her jokes.

My dad was like a magistrate,
Who ruled on each dispute.
The claims must all be free from hate.
He's grant or he'd refute.

I owe a debt of gratitude
To teachers that I've had.
They helped to shape my attitude
And spanked when I was bad.

The Bible says Our Father, God
Will give us daily bread,
But I would not believe it odd
If two days passed instead.

There are so very many things
We should be thankful for.
It's good we have a day which brings
God's harvest to our door.

. . . . . Turkey and Pumpkin Pie . . . . .
. . . . . . . . And Friendship . . . . . . . . .