[img]2962|right|Ken Ruben||no_popup[/img]On the 42nd day after his major stroke, the eyes of Ken Ruben, one of Culver City’s most recognizable personalities, are clearing.
Communication remains a clouded, stumbling impediment, but his awareness has accelerated.
He fell ill just before New Year’s Eve, out of sight from all.
In the early days of recuperation, there seemed to be a steady parade of friends. Emails and calls flooded the lines.
The crowds now have gone away. His imprisoning health stares back at him.
The novelty of living day-to-day in a brightly illumined nursing home – Country Villa Mar Vista, 3966 Marcasel Ave., just north of Washington Place – has grown threadbare.
Paralyzed on one side, his instantly recognizable short, stocky profile has disappeared from the streets of Culver City.
Living (formerly) just off Downtown, Mr. Ruben traipsed the streets at likely and unlikely hours.
On election days, like clockwork, the first early call would be from Ken Ruben, reporting the size and mood of the turnout at his City Hall voting station.
He was a faithful regular, I believe at this time of year at the Pen Show in the South Bay. He would remark about seeing the nationally syndicated commentator and Jewish thinker Dennis Prager.
A trenchcoat, almost regardless of the season of year, was his signature.
He won’t be climbing aboard big, green CulverCity Buses. His adored train trips live in his rearview mirror.
At this un-magic moment, his rearview mirror is jammed to overflowing.
Encouraging signs have been widely spaced for the72-year-old bachelor.
Nearly impossible to understand for weeks, at the end of today’s daily visit, Mr. Ruben said, unmistakably, through sad eyes, “Tell people to come and see me.”
