A Hole in Her Ear (2)

Two days later, Cassandra was still feeling uncomfortable. The whooshing sound was constant, and she still felt dizzy and nauseous occasionally. Travis had already made an appointment with Dr. Schwartz for Wednesday. On Wednesday, Dr. Schwartz walked into the examining room in his shorts and sneakers; he was semi-retired. Travis told Dr. Schwartz what had happened. Dr. Schwartz listened, and then looked in Cassandra’s ears.

Yep, he said, her left eardrum was punctured. Travis felt like killing himself. “How could this happen?” he asked. “I’ve had lots of girlfriends. They blew in my ears, and I blew in their ears. This never happened before.” Dr. Schwartz said that it was unusual, but that it did happen from time to time. What could be done, they both asked the doctor at almost the same time.

He told them that they had two choices: surgery, or waiting. The surgery would cost about $2,000. Waiting would cost nothing. He suggested that, if Cassandra could bear the discomfort—she must keep that ear dry at all times—for about two months, the eardrum should heal itself. Surgery, he said, might be advisable after two months, but he wouldn’t recommend it now. He could prescribe her some medication to ease her discomfort. They agreed to wait. They thanked Dr. Schwartz, and Travis drove Cassandra to Rite-Aid to pick up the medication. He apologized to her again. She said that they must pray every night for her eardrum to heal.

A Hole in Her Ear (1)

It was Sunday. “Don’t blow in my ear!” Cassandra yelled. “I have very fragile skin. If you blow in my ear, it might break my eardrum.” Travis laughed. He didn’t believe her. He had seen too many movies and read too many books where the guy blew in the girl's ear and the girl ended up marrying the guy.

So he blew in her ear. She cried out in pain. “You're kidding,” he said, startled. But the look on her face said that she wasn’t kidding. Something’s wrong, she told him. He apologized profusely. She put her little finger in her ear; when she pulled it out, there was moisture on her fingertip. She said she could hear a whooshing sound. He felt sick. He couldn’t believe that he had just injured her. This had never happened in any movie or any book. Yet it was happening to her.

She felt dizzy. She ran to the bathroom and threw up. “I’m so sorry, honey,” he told her. Very quietly, she said it was okay. She wanted to go home. He walked her out to his car. She said the whooshing sound was not going away. When they got to her place, she got into her bed and lay down. She asked him to please leave, as she wanted to try to sleep. He apologized again. He got back into his car and returned to his apartment. What a jerk I am, he said over and over. What a jerk.

A Haircut

It was time for a haircut. Lenny didn’t even have to look in the mirror. Even though he was going bald, he knew that he needed to cut his hair every two weeks.

He had a "tongue" of hair on the top of his head. His hair was thinning at the crown. He still had plenty of hair on the sides and back. It was what they call "salt and pepper," a mixture of gray hair and dark brown hair. It was only a few years, he figured, until the salt and pepper became just salt.

He never let his hair grow for more than two weeks. The longer it got, the worse it looked, he thought.

He spread a newspaper over the bathroom sink so that no hair went down the drain. He plugged in the clippers and started cutting his hair. He started at the back of his head, went to the sides, and finished on the top. Every minute or so, he had to clean the hair out of the blades with an old toothbrush.

Finished, he picked up a hand mirror to check out the back of his head. Everything looked okay. He carried the newspaper back out to the kitchen and shook the hair clippings into the trash can.

Then he took a shower.

A Good Sandwich

Gordon was hungry. He opened the refrigerator. There must be something in here to eat, he thought. There was—a single hot dog.

He took it out of its package and put a small frying pan onto the stove’s gas burner. He turned on the heat. Then he poured a little bit of vegetable oil into the pan. He sliced the hot dog in half lengthwise. When the oil got hot, he put the two halves in the pan. About a minute later, he flipped each half over. After another minute, he took the hot dog out of the pan.

Gordon put two slices of bread into the toaster. This was tasty and healthy bread. The first ingredient listed was organic sprouted wheat. The first ingredient in ordinary bread is usually unbleached flour.

When the toast popped up, he put mustard, mayonnaise, and ketchup on one slice. Then he added two slices of onion. On top of the onions, he placed the hot dog. On top of the hot dog, he put a couple of slices of apple. Then he added some bits of hot green chile, and then put the top piece of toast onto the chile bits.

Ahh, what a sandwich, he thought, as he sat down to eat.

A Festival of Books

People joke that no one in Los Angeles reads; everyone watches TV, rents videos, or goes to the movies. The most popular reading material is comic books, movie magazines, and TV guides. City libraries have only 10 percent of the traffic that car washes have. But how do you explain this? An annual book festival in west Los Angeles is “sold out” year after year. People wait half an hour for a parking space to become available.

This outdoor festival, sponsored by a newspaper, occurs every April for one weekend. This year’s attendance was estimated at 70,000 on Saturday and 75,000 on Sunday. The festival featured 280 exhibitors. There were about 90 talks given by authors, with an audience question-and-answer period following each talk. Autograph seekers sought out more than 150 authors. A food court sold all kinds of popular and ethnic foods, from American hamburgers to Hawaiian shave ice drinks. Except for a $7 parking fee, the festival was free. Even so, some people avoided the food court prices by sneaking in their own sandwiches and drinks.

People came from all over California. One couple drove down from San Francisco. “This is our sixth year here now. We love it,” said the husband. “It’s just fantastic to be in the great outdoors, to be among so many books and authors, and to get some very good deals, too.”

The idea for the festival occurred years ago, but nobody knew if it would succeed. Although book festivals were already popular in other US cities, would Los Angeles residents embrace one? “Angelenos are very unpredictable,” said one of the festival founders.

A Factory Worker

Many years ago, some women made a meager living by working in a cigarette factory. It was their job to put 20 cigarettes in each pack, by hand. Their manager was a mean old man. He carried a bamboo rod in his hand. His bodyguard, who accompanied him everywhere, was even meaner. Maura, only 19, was sick. But she knew that if she didn’t go to work, she would lose her job. At the factory that day, she stuffed pack after pack of cigarettes. Sweating and dizzy, she left a cigarette out of one pack. The manager noticed her error immediately. He yelled at her and then hit her sharply across her back with the rod. Then the bodyguard kicked her in the stomach. Maura got up and staggered out of the factory. She died at home the next day. The day after Maura died, her coworkers refused to enter the factory. They stood outside. The manager told them to get to work. He raised his arm as if to strike them, but they stood firm. He told them he was going to get the police. They still didn’t move. The bodyguard went inside and called the police. The police chief came. The women told the police chief what had happened to Maura. He arrested the manager and the bodyguard. He called the owner of the factory. A new manager arrived later that morning. He told the workers that they would all get the equivalent of a nickel per day raise. They went back to work. Before the chief handcuffed the manager and put him in the police car, the manager quietly offered the chief a great deal of money to let him "escape." He told the chief he would leave the country and never return.