75. Cry Baby, Cry!

1963 – it was in the beginning of October when we discovered Diana was once again with child.  Thankfully I was still working at the Hotel Miramar and this, so close to home.

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One day our landlord informed us of our (one and only) neighbor making complaints to him, about us.  To be exact the man next door said there was too much noise coming out of our apartment. Really?

He said our neighbor stated, “The children are always screaming, the baby’s crying and I can’t get any sleep, they keep me up all night!”  What?  

I looked at Diana, she at me, we then looked at him and both said in surprise, “The baby’s not even here yet!”  The owner assured us he knew what the man complained wasn’t entirely true.

“I can see that your baby is still baking,” gesturing with his hand towards Diana’s belly, he spoke with a smile of confirmation.  He also told us he knew the man enjoyed the drink rather a bit much.

Diana spoke up as any defending mother would, “I promise you our kids are very well-mannered.  They play quietly for the most part, more so than most anyway.”

Once more in agreement the landlord said, “We have not heard your kids screaming at any time.  Of course children will make noises and occasional squeaks. We all know this.  My wife and I have the impression this man isn’t completely stable.  It’s rather sad.  We were hoping he’d always just live quietly in his own space and mind his own business.”

And that’s probably exactly what this man was trying to do but the little squeaks and occasional louder squawks were possibly not doing him any favors.  We’ll never know.

More curious than ever and fueled by the knowledge that our neighbor was not pleased with us, we’d look out in his direction more often.

I’m sure you can understand why.  After what my family and I recently experienced at the Pico apartment, there was a slight hovering factor of uncertainty.

This man lived alone and never really seemed to come out of his apartment.  He was an older German man, tall and of medium build.  Diana being home more than I told me that whenever she saw him which was rarely, he always wore his large military coat, even in the heat of summer.  

Diana said she wondered how he ever got food into his apartment as she never saw him bringing up any groceries, nor was it noticed that anyone visited.

Well, now that you know what I know of the back story we’ll get to the interesting part.

It wasn’t long after the landlord spoke to us when one day this man came to my front door and started pounding severely on it.  It didn’t even start off as a friendly little knock.

You know the kind, pounding which suggests, “Hey it’s getting a bit loud over here.  Would you mind keeping the little brats quiet?” or something to that effect.

No gradual escalation, just straight up violent.  Of course Diana didn’t open the door … he’d go away.  Then about 2 weeks later, wherein he had done this same thing a couple more times, we’d had enough and placed our own complaint with our landlord; this was becoming a very uncomfortable situation.

It was the wee early hours of the morning when I was startled awake by what sounded very much like a gunshot.  No one came busting in through our door or windows so I wasn’t too concerned and fell back asleep.

It was about 9:30 in the morning, we were up of course, when we heard a serious pounding on the neighbor’s front door and apparently after no answer, the sound of something being busted.  

I’m saying it was the front door being kicked in.  Shortly after that there was a serious knock on our door.  It was the Santa Monica police asking us if we heard or saw anything during the night.  I told them I thought I heard something like a gunshot.

Not much later, two detectives came to us and asked a few questions.  It turns out this neighbor of ours wrote a final note, took his Luger pistol and ended his own life.   What?

A terribly sad thing about all of this -aside from the tragedy itself-  is that his note stated he couldn’t take the noise of the crying baby any longer.  Our son and daughter were 3 and 2 years of age at this time.

Diana and I both witnessed the sheeted body being brought out of the apartment, not giving us a good feeling at all.  And then it happened.

The man’s body must’ve not been securely strapped on to the gurney because as the coroner’s staff started down the steps, to our and everyone else’s horror, the body slipped right out of their control and completely off the gurney.  

It was surreal almost, seeing the corpse in a bit of a rigid state, as it tumbled down the stairs.  Just try to picture the scramble which took place right afterwards and so I’ll leave it to your imagination.

Suddenly Diana burst out into a hysterical and seemingly uncontrollable laughter.  It must’ve been a whammy, what else?

While there weren’t any immediate neighbors, the ones in close proximity were chatting away after the fact.  Diana spoke for a few moments with them.

Naturally the police had asked them too if there was anything noticeable about the man, providing any clues to his state of mind.  One person said they were aware that he seemed to always be upset.  

He briefly spoke to that person at some point saying, he was upset by his neighbor’s crying baby.  He said he couldn’t sleep at night.  This person said they told the man to look at Diana’s belly and he’d see for himself that the baby hasn’t been born yet.

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43. We Can’t Have That! … a tear stained stalemate.

1958 December.  One summer day Noori came down to the house as usual but this time the intention was to have a private conversation with my mother.  “Umi, I really need to tell you something and it’s very important. 

“Of course beta (my dear child).  Come over here and sit with me, relax and tell me all about it.”  My mother saw the need for comfort on Noori’s sweet face; I know my mother.  Noori began to cry.  “I’m pregnant umi.”  

Apart from my mother’s 1st reaction of surprise, she was quite calm and was all about making this conversation easier.  She asked her what makes her think it is so.  “My sisters at home noticed that I threw up a few times and they cornered me.  I have not taken steps to confirm it but I’m pretty sure it is so,”  Noori replied in between sobs.

“If I could just get the two of you married right now, we wouldn’t have to worry about this as a problem, it would be a celebration.  You know this family thinks the world of you Noori, you are one of us.”  Still holding her my mother continued, “I’m sorry this cannot be that way beta.  I am not sure what we can do.”  

After a lot more crying and in all her comforting, my mother advised her to return home.  Noori was clearly frightened.  My sensible mother told her to be strong, brave and quiet as long as she could and that she’d talk to Gary right away.  

Noori returned home after a little while and my mother most definitely had a very serious talk with me.  We knew we were jammed tight in between a pivotal rock and the sheer unscalable mountain.

Unfortunately her mother found out before long and I hate to remember this; that precious girl, she took a physical beating.  There was no lenience or grace.  After her mother got that part out of her system, she told Noori she’d call the doctor immediately to have the pregnancy eliminated.  

Obviously Noori didn’t return to our house and I knew nothing of these developments.  My little sister found out and relayed the information to my mother.  Back then with great modesty and all, at least on my sister’s part, she would never say these things to her brother and so it had to go through our mother.  

My loving and supportive mother then told me everything she knew including the scheduled doctor’s visit at the clinic.  I intended to be present, even if it was in secret.  If I could’ve stopped this from taking place, God knows I certainly would have.


My young adult nephew accompanied me to that clinic the morning of.  Noori’s mother didn’t know me, let alone that I was Gary so I didn’t have to hide.  Still I know I was taking a chance going there but I had to let Noori know that in some sort of way, I was there for her.

She saw me, acknowledged me secretly but sadly we couldn’t share a touch or any words.  I felt her heart breaking directly inside of mine.  

She was called back and my heart skipped a beat or eight; she gave me one more quick glance as she went inside.

Well over an hour had passed when Noori finally emerged from back there.  My angel looked terrible, she was clearly weakened both in body and spirit.  God how I wished I would’ve been able to just hold her so tight.  ‘I’m so sorry my love.’  Only my eyes could speak.

Somehow Noori’s female family members managed to keep all this from the father and brothers.  At an extremely critical and delicate place in her world, she could’ve used some tenderness.

During the next couple of weeks which followed, I don’t know if she was the recipient of any compassion, especially from her mother from whom she really could’ve used it.

passing throughI felt a sense of urgency and my heart told me that love was key in the healing process.  I wished I could see my girl – I needed to see her, to reassure her, to hold her.

One day Noori’s sister-in-law was feeling uneasy about something she just couldn’t put her finger on.  She went to check on Noori.  She was in the bathroom … for a very long time.  

She knocked, nothing.  She banged harder … nothing.  The younger sister came out to the door hearing the commotion and instantly felt the urgency as well.

The two of them forced their way in just as Noori was about to take her last step.   They got in there just in time.  Noori all but succeeded in hanging herself.  

Nearly a week had passed from that desperate day before the breeze blew the news down to me.  I cannot even begin to tell you how I felt when I heard.  And I could never tell you how broken she thought herself to be.

It would be nearly a month before I laid eyes on my angel again.  Noori finally found the inner strength to pay us a visit.  She told me everything that happened and how.  

She showed me the remaining bruising she sustained from the beating her mother gave her weeks ago.  Noori explained her thought process during this time; she didn’t need to say more.  I felt I could understand the emotions she experienced.

Where do we go from here?

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pregnancy eliminated       My heart cried out at the thought of another child of mine I’m apparently not supposed to experience.

Happy Independence Day!

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Summer reminds me of freedom.  Here we are once again, starting summer off with many colors and few great big bangs to go with, and why not?  The warm summer nights usher us to do so many fun things and my personal favorite was always night swims off the Santa Monica shores… and just hanging out with friends and/or family without any sort of real curfew.

My elder brother and I never gave much thought to sharks although he’d chase me down the beach with a giant wad of seaweed!  That was terrifying enough for me, ha ha.

Then there are the endless barbecues, ‘seems like I could ride forever’ bike rides, wave-catching, horse back rides and sleeping under the starry skies.  I can still hear the Beach Boys ‘Good Vibrations’ and Starbuck’s ‘Moonlight Feels Right’ … ah yes, the young teenager of 1976.

Oh and let’s not forget the childhood joy of fireflies and how they never ceased to enchant us, all the while luring one another in hopes of a summer romance.

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I can hear the laughter and various types of music melding into one radio sound (flashback to the transistor radios) on any given boardwalk and surf-side hangout across the county.  By far my favorite is the cool sand on my tired, hot feet in the evening as we all settle in on our blankets to watch outdoor movies by the sea, eating too many toasted marshmallows .

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Here’s to a joyful, safe and BRING ON A NEW ADVENTURE kind of summer to all!

Santorini - Silence of the Breeze 2010

 

p.s.   I didn’t get a post in this past Sunday, sorry.  I had a tough round with a summer cold, of all things summer, sheesh!

 

 

 

LBM and I will meet this weekend and get everyone up back on track.  Thanks ever so much for visiting regularly and remember to leave us a comment; let LBM know what you think of his memoirs up till now.  We both really enjoy hearing from you!