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Monday, September 5, 2016

A Decent Labour Day Walk │ Green Tea Found to Be Able to Prevent Abdominal Aortic Aneurysms

Although I cannot quote a specific time, I am confident that I made it to bed somewhat before midnight last night.

My younger brother Mark had forsaken watching T.V. at 10:30 p.m. and gone up to his bedroom, and we were the only two people home.

I enjoy getting to bed ahead of the homecoming of either of my step-sons, thereby making it necessary for employment of a house-key by either of the lads to gain entry.

Mark had that evening drawn attention to the fact that my eldest step-son Tho has not been here since Saturday ─ yesterday I had incorrectly stated in that day's post that Tho had managed to rise and take off that morning without me being aware.

I did not realize that he had never been here at all yesterday.

I reckon that since today is the statutory holiday called Labour Day, Tho and his girlfriend must have gone somewhere with friends on Saturday, and he never bothered letting Mark or I know.

I think that I slept fairly well overnight.  Certainly there was the break in the initial block of sleep that led to me using the bathroom, but I got back to sleep.  Sleep was intermittent thereafter, but it kept resuming after reasonably short breaks.

I heard it raining ─ that often tends to be a comfort.

It was 7:29 a.m. when I checked the time and decided to rise.  I was somewhat anxious to get to work, complete, and publish the new post I have been working on for a few days at my website Latin Impressions.

And now that is done:  Mass Effect Romance Walkthrough.

I had never even heard of the video game Mass Effect before starting work on that post, so I think I did a decent job of putting together the material I managed to gather together for it.

Even though the day was overcast, I wanted to get out and do some sort of shopping while getting in a good, long walk.

However, working on the post had drained me somewhat ─ my eyes are so weak, staring for long periods at a computer screen has an overall physical toll that goes beyond the wear my eyes suffer.

In fact, I felt like I could nap if I returned to bed.

It was probably no later than 10:00 a.m., and I could hear Mark stirring in his bedroom.

I stripped down and got back under the bed's covers, and tried to relax and sink into unconsciousness.  But I failed ─ my mind became too uneasy.

I did not want to wait too long into the day and then find myself unwilling to venture off into the public, as so often does happen once the afternoon arrives.

My eyes had regained some comfort, so I decided to rise and ready for whatever I decided to do outdoors ─ I had no concrete plan.

By the time I was ready to head out, Mark was downstairs watching T.V.

I came downstairs and expressed that I was heading out for a good stroll, and out the front door I went ─ it was 10:29 a.m.

I travelled the 2¼ miles to the railway tracks at roughly 82nd Avenue & 128th Street here in Surrey, and then I took to them and worked towards Scott Road.

That stretch of tracks was the scene of untold hours spent with my late friend Larry Blue over the years from the late 1980s to maybe 2005  ─ we used to cycle there and drink together just to be outdoors.

I sometimes drank there on my own.

And I had walked that stretch of tracks as far back as 1967, if not even before.

Those railway tracks hold so much nostalgia for me.

As I ever so slowly walked them, savouring it all, I found the peace to pray that eludes me even here in the house; but I don't know if my entreaty for beneficial change to my life, finances, and marriage will have done any good.  All I can do is hope.

I had a cheque of $232.76 Mark had given me in a reconciliation of monthly expenses that we have in common, so I worked my way to the Coast Capital Savings branch at 8445 Scott Road (120th Street) and made a deposit to my chequing account.

A couple of different notions had circled about in my mind, including getting a half-dozen cans of beer to drink on the tracks.

However, better sense swayed me, and I started working my way for home.  I opted to leave the Kennedy Heights area by taking 90th Avenue and striking back towards the Cedar Hills Shopping Centre (also called the Cedar Hills Plaza, it would seem) at 96th Avenue & 128th Street. 

I wanted to shop at No Frills, and this I was to do.

From there, home was no more than about four blocks.  It was 1:25 p.m. when I arrived at my front door.

I had been gone almost three hours ─ I'm pleased about that.

I mentioned "the Kennedy Heights area."

The entire area all around Scott Road, Nordel Way, and 88th Avenue is called Kennedy Heights because in Surrey's earlier history, 88th Avenue was called Kennedy Road in this part of Surrey and Delta.

Somewhere much farther east along 88th Avenue, its name changed to Davis Road ─ I don't know exactly where that transition was, but it might have been as far east as 160th Street or even 168th Street.

Anyway, I got back home to find Mark still watching T.V.; and Pote and his girlfriend were awake ─ Pote was in the kitchen fixing a hot beverage for the two of them.

Mark seemed impressed by how long I was away on my "stroll." 

Around 2:15 p.m. he was to finally head out for the afternoon to join his girlfriend Bev and his drinking buddies.


My mother Irene Dorosh died of a burst brain aneurysm in mid-March 2006, but she apparently had one or two others in her torso that could have burst one day.

A Japanese study has found that "green tea" has the ability to prevent abdominal aortic aneurysms, but why wouldn't the tea also help to prevent any kind of other aneurysm?
"The type of polyphenol found in green tea has recently been shown to regenerate elastin, an essential protein that gives the artery its stretchy, yet study [sturdy?], texture," explains lead author Shuji Setozaki. "Considering that abdominal arterial aneurysms are caused by inflammation and the degradation of elastin components in the arterial wall, we thought drinking green tea may show promise for treatment."
That quote is from this report on that study:

I'm not a tea-drinker.

It would be wonderful if researchers could identify the specific polyphenol that is able to regenerate essential arterial elastin ─ maybe it could get extracted.

And perhaps it is abundant in other plants we consume?

But figuring out the optimal dose ─ "the focus of future studies" ─ will most definitely be of huge value.


And I see that my afternoon is running away on me ─ I must wrap up this post with an entry from my journal of 41 years ago when I was 25 years old, and living in a basement housekeeping unit in New Westminster.

I was renting the room in a house located on Ninth Street at Third Avenue.

I was only employed one day a week ─ usually a Friday ─ at S.A.N.E. (Self Aid Never Ends), a New Westminster charitable organization that today is known as Fraserside Community Services Society

Back then, it was based in a building that used to be situated where the New Westminster SkyTrain Station now opens up onto Carnarvon Street. 

My role was that of truck swamper on S.A.N.E.'s blue pick-up truck.

Anyway, the evening previous to the date of this journal entry, I had gone to bed at 8:00 p.m.
FRIDAY, September 5, 1975

I got up at 3:45 a.m., but was awake much before, having slept badly toward the end.

About 4:30 a.m. again I performed 11 laps; I am really forcing myself now, running slowly, due to the cumulative effect of the past several mornings.

At 7:35 a.m. (what a start!) I had an intense experience with Lynn Schiller of Playboy July.  I regret this.

Around 9:30 a.m. I had some knocking; expecting David, I opened up, finding Art; he wanted me to aid him move a fridge (I believe in Haney), forgetting this was my S.A.N.E. day; he is going to check them later and see if they can spare me, but did ask me to visit tonight.

On my way to the store this sunny day, I was obliged to converse some with Howie & wife, learning Shirley was moving. 

When I arrived, Art was present for a very short bit.  

Then off Bill & I went with Esther, but to move a woman from the Sasha Club called Sally.  

This required 3 loads, and running around from 8th St., an area just beyond the Royal Columbian, and the Club itself (2 trips; on the first I spoke with Mike Schutz after saying "Hi" to Allan Olsen; on the second, we had a small dish of noodle soup in the kitchen with Sally, Harold, and Tom), with 8th Ave around 14th St our goal at all times.

Then we went to Shirley's.

Ingrid was there a short spell.  

I munched on some poor pears and 2 apples, and drank 2½ bottles of beer.

Bill & I handled a load, and then another, all by ourselves.  After loading our third, we had a bit of assist from Aaru.  And while travelling with it, stopping at the Club to see if Gordie was there, we picked up Gilles and 2 youngsters.

They all came with us to unload, and returned to Shirley's to load and unload a fourth load.

Then we broke off.

I was driven home; still, it was after 9:15 p.m.!   

I immediately left for Art's, where I had 1 drink of vodka, and some soup and such.

I got to bed about 2:10 a.m.

I promised to let him have the boots I had intended for Mark, tomorrow.

Note:  a drunk woman called Donna at Shirley's was mauling me, with lewd insinuations, during a beer break, but fortunately the wretch later passed out.

I had no night shower.
What a day of activity!

I started off the early day with 11 laps at the New Westminster Secondary School track. 

And then back at my room, I became wayward with a Playboy magazine, suffering the guilt that generally attended such activity.

A short while later, I thought that my old friend Philip David Prince was trying to pay a visit ─ he didn't live too very far away there in New Westminster; but it was Art Smith, an older chap in his early 40s whom I had previously worked with at S.A.N.E., and had developed a friendship with.

If I had not been bound to work at S.A.N.E. that day, Art would have used the fridge that he claimed he wanted help with, as an excuse to have me to drink with all the day long.

I have mentioned "Howie" quite often in recent journal entries, but I cannot remember the guy.  I think it was Shirley Johnston that he told me was moving away, but I will say nothing more of her until I know for certain that it was indeed she.

I believe that my co-swamper was Bill Sevenko, but I can no longer remember him, either.  I suspect that he was likely an older fellow.

Esther St. Jean was our driver ─ she was a dear woman in her early 40s.

The Sasha Club was sort of a hangout for New Westminster's troubled youth.  I cannot remember its precise location, but I believe that it was along Clarkson Street in New Westminster ─ possibly between Alexander and McKenzie Streets.

I have no idea now if I knew who "Sally" was that we were to move.  

I well remember Mike Schutz ─ I am sorry that I ever lost contact with him, for I quite liked him.  He was about my age, possibly more than six inches taller than me, yet probably 30 or more pounds lighter than I was.

I mention "Allan Olsen" in recent journal entries sometimes, but he is lost to memory.    

In moving this "Sally," I wrote that "we had a small dish of noodle soup in the kitchen with Sally, Harold, and Tom" ─ but I have no idea now what kitchen it was that I meant, nor do I know who "Harold" or "Tom" were.

Again, I think that it may have been Shirley Johnston we next went to see and move some items for, but I am not certain ─ there may have been a couple of different Shirleys.  "Ingrid" is lost to memory, as well.

You might think that I surely would recall someone named "Aaru," but I do not.  To be honest, I was puzzled by the name because it was so strange to read.

"Gilles" was a talkative young French Canadian lad ─ a very likable guy.  I rather wonder whatever became of him? 

Please know that some of these names are likely misspelled ─ it wasn't as if I had seen everyone's identification and thus knew precisely how to spell their names.   

That's interesting about the drunk "Donna."  I'm unsure if I vaguely recall that incident or not.  I suspect that she was likely a little older than I was, and certainly not attractive ─ I would have loved to have been mauled by a drunk 'hot' gal!

So I had my long day, and managed to put time in at Art Smith's home without succumbing to his overtures to get plastered with him.

But that was a late bedtime ─ I was doing my best to establish early bedtimes so that I could rise extremely early.

And it seems that I was obligated to see Art the next day, too ─ he wanted a pair of boots that I had intended for my younger brother Mark.
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