Month: June 2025

A Dream Hodgepodge

This dream had quite a jumbled collection.

It starts with me returning. I was off to the military; now I was back. People had been staying in my place while I was away, but that was done with my permission. Things were a little out of hand because they’d treated it like a party crib. I had a stern conversation with them; yes, they were welcome to stay there. Sure, it was okay to have people over, but they’d start trashing things, and that wasn’t appreciated. They were very understanding in return.

Then I was tidying. I had shelves of old electronics, mostly stereos, cassette and 8-track tape players, CD players, and VHS players. The dust on some were thick. As I resettled back into life, I exclaimed to myself, “Man, I have a lot of gear here. How the hell did I get it all?”

A young boy came up. He didn’t pay any attention to me. He seemed to be looking for something so I asked, “What’s up?”

The boy answered, “I’m looking for a music player for my friend. He wants one for his bicycle.”

I said, “I think I can help him.” I pulled out a small black box and dusted it off. “This has a radio and tape player. It’s small and he can mount it on his handlebars.” I looked more closely at the black box. “It also has record player on it so I don’t know if he would want it.”

“That’s okay,” the boy said. Taking it, he went away.

In a weird dream shift, my place was both outside and inside. I worried about my cats. I had two, and they were a plush gray with golden eyes. Both were young. I looked around for them. They were busy investigating things just outside and playing. When I called their names, they hastened to me, which mitigated my worries.

Then, I worried about my schedule. I needed to call and find out where and when I needed to be for work. Going through my cluttered place, I picked up the phone and dialed 633 while going to my desk to find what the final four numbers were. A woman answered the phone, “Operator intersect.”

I laughed. “Sorry, I didn’t expect that,” I said. “What’s an operator intersect?”

The operator explained, “The call is diverted to the operator whenever the call is not completed but the line is open in case someone has an emergency but can’t finish dialing.”

I answered, “Sorry, I just don’t know where I’m calling. My bad.”

Next, I thought, oh, I should call Mom. So I did. Answering before a ring finished, she said, “About time.” No hello or anything else.

Irritation jumped through me. “Wait, are you pissed because I didn’t immediately call you when I got home? Is that what’s going on here?” She did not answer. I said, “You’re being childish. I’m going to count down from five. If you don’t start talking before I’m done with the countdown, I’m hanging up. Understand?”

No answer.

I began the countdown. When I said, “Three,” I went on, “Oh, forget this. This is stupid. You’re an adult, Mom, and you’re behaving like a child.”

Then I hung up on my mother.

Dream end.

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Sunda’s Theme Music

Well, it’s toasty out there. Step into the sunshine and toasty shifts to broil.

Yes, Sunda in Ashlandia is a hot space. 92 F now, a 98 F high will crisp us before the thermometer drops back to 65 tonight. Last night had us hanging at 80 F at 10:30 PM, which makes it a push to cool the house before the next heat cycle — I mean, day — begins. We will see some cooling on Wednesday, when the temperature sinks to 86 F.

The heat is expected. This is Jun 8, 2025. This is Ashlandia. Summer is coming.

Thinking about the heat pushed a faraway recollection of my father-in-law once saying to me, “It’s hettin’ up outside,” into my mind’s foreground. I laughed, and he responded, “What?” He passed away the year my wife and I returned from our tour of duty in 1991. And the memory of him saying “hettin’ up” was old by then.

Papi was a rambunctious floof this morning. He slept and chilled all day yesterday so his energy cup was brimming over. He was also apparently bored. Starting a little before 5 AM, he came in, jumped on the bed, and purred loudly at me, often tapping me awake or rubbing his little chin against my head or arm. I kept rising and feeding him. By by count, I fed him six times between 5:30 and 8 AM. And he chowed it all down.

Political heat is rising. Americans are reacting to Trump’s ICE raids. Resistance is rising. Americans don’t care for masked gunmen disappearing other Americans off the streets in snatch and grab ops. Getting particularly het up in Los Angeles. Resistant is rising and protests are planned. Numbers are stacking. So is irritation, as are TACO Regime counter measures. TACO has never been on for restraint and is always eager to rush to violence. It would’ve been more of a surprise if TACO called for restraint, but he rushed in 2,000 National Guard troops in a move that’s sure to escalate tensions and further divide the nation. That’s TACO, the Great Divider, bitchboi for billionaires everywhere.

Today’s song is a 2015 tune. Rachel Platten and David Bassett wrote the song and Rachel Platten performs it. “Fight Song” was written when Rachel Platten was at a low point, and sees the song as a vehicle for empowerment. Some sample lyrics for you:

This time this is my fight song
Take back my life song
Prove I’m alright song
My power’s turned on
Starting right now I’ll be strong
I’ll play my fight song
And I don’t really care
If nobody else believes
‘Cause I’ve still got
A lot of fight left in me

Losing friends and I’m chasing sleep
Everybody’s worried about me
In too deep they say I’m in too deep
And it’s been two years
I miss my home
But there’s a fire burning in my bones
I still believe, yeah I still believe

I wasn’t too surprised that The Neurons offered it to the morning mental music stream as I read news and analysis of the LA protests.

Feel free to raise a fist and sing along.

Coffee is at hand. It’s hot, cuz some, like me, like it hot. Coffee, I mean. Hope your day caps off a good weekend for you. Cheers

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Saturda’s Wandering Thoughts

An elderly woman asked for my help at the coffee shop yesterday. She’s another coffee shop regular. I’ve seen her here for several years. By observing and eavesdropping, I knew where she lived, what she drove, her previous occupation, her standard order, and her name.

She’s named Sandy. As I helped her, she said, “I was an elementary school teacher.”

I replied, “What a coincidence! I used to go to elementary school.”

She laughed.

I’m thinking of Sandy today because I’m reflecting on Mom. Mom is 89; Sandy is 82. I’ve witnessed Mom’s decline over the past decade. I’ve seen Sandy declining over the past two years. She used to have no problem walking. Always a diminutive person, she seems smaller, thinner, and weaker, and struggles to stand, sit, and walk. Terrible to see.

It affects me because I’m also seeing such a decline happening in my wife. It’s surreal because I’ve had many more medical emergencies and don’t attend to my health as my wife does. I generally bounce back from whatever I endured. Yes, my bounce is not as high these days, and it takes more bounces to get back to close to what I was. My wife, though, is slowing and weakening. She often loses her balance. Her diet and activities are becoming so limited.

All of this reminds me of how impermanent things are. This is true of products, societies, our bodies, our existence. Ground Penetrating Radar finds forgotten settlements. We come across photographs of relatives we never knew about. Genetics and genealogy can fill in blanks about who your ancestors were but it’s typically in broad terms. Names, places, occupations, mostly.

It all finally roosts in me as a reminder to not take things for granted, whether it’s success, health, family, or your government. Nothing really lasts forever. Worse, the ending can come without much warning. As in so many other matters, it’s something which I learned before, and then forgot.

5

More WTF, America

This Facebook post simply breaks my heart. More, reading this post reminds me that any team and nation is only as strong as its weakest link. Our nation, through the actions of Donald Trump and the right-wing machine, is systemically and deliberately weakening my nation. It’s an affront to me as a person who served this nation in the military for over twenty years.

I hope others will read this and stand against any more of our nation’s backward stance before it’s too late for us.

***************************************************************************************

I have been placed on administrative leave, effective tomorrow, pending separation.

In my last official act, I was able to pin medals on three of my folks. The last salute broke my heart in two and the tears flowed freely even as I have so much to be thankful for and so many amazing memories.

There are two moments that bookend my authentic service that will stay with me always.

The first was in 2016, the day the Secretary of Defense announced that transgender individuals could serve openly. That very day, I came out to my teammates. After sending the email, I left for the gym to burn off the nervous energy, uncertain of how life might change. When I returned, one by one, my teammates came to my desk, shook my hand, and said versions of, “It’s an honor to serve with you.”

The second came just last week at my final 1-star level sync with the Joint Staff. I provided one brief update and then shared that it was my final meeting and because it was an unplanned departure we’d have to figure out my replacement soon. The colonel next to me asked where I was going. I let him know that I didn’t meet the current standard for “Military Excellence and Readiness” and would be departing on administrative leave.

There was a moment of silence before reality settled in. Then, one-by-one, a room full of senior leaders, admirals and generals, walked over to me and the scene from 2016 repeated. They offered those same words, now tinged with the sadness of past tense: “It’s been an honor to serve with you.”

Both times, I walked away with tears in my eyes. It wasn’t from sadness, but because everyone had it backwards: it has been my honor to serve with all of them.

While my time in uniform is ending far earlier than I had hoped, rather than grieving what has been lost I am choosing to focus on all I have gained.

What I gained, most unexpectedly, was a family. A team that stood by me through life’s most difficult trials. From the loss of a child and another who fought for life after being born 12 weeks early, to a cancer diagnosis and life-threatening surgery, to the circumstances leading to my separation today, they were there. They offered encouragement, extended their hands, shared their love, and showed the kind of care that can only be forged through shared service. I will never forget the countless times they lifted me up. My hope is that I was able to offer that same support in return.

This chapter may be ending, but I leave far richer for having gone on this grand adventure.

I will miss the mission deeply, but I will miss those I have served with even more than I can put into words.

It has been the honor of a lifetime to serve this nation and defend the freedoms and opportunities we have as Americans. My wildest dreams came true wearing this uniform.

Bree Fram 

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Saturda’s Theme Music

Saturda, June 7, 2025, has fallen upon us splay-legged with sunshine and muggy with clouds. 84 is Ashlandia’s rough temperature, depending on where you stand. It’s cooler by the creek in the park in the old trees’ shade. Today’s high will be in the low 90s, beginning a string of days with highs in the 90s. Looks like summer is doing a temperature check preparatory to taking the stage.

My wife remarked today, “How long will it be until some U.S. citizen will challenge a masked ICE gunman and get shot?” She thinks we’re due for another Kent State moment, when Ohio National Guard killed four demonstrators in the early 1970s. I agree with her point. Any time we have armed people being pressured by resistance, the chance for violence goes up. Wonder what oddsmakers are saying about it? I hope my wife’s fortune telling is wrong.

Today’s song come about from broodling — that is, brooding and noodling — about another novel underway. Sipping the first dark brown hot fluid this morning, I thought, “You gotta find a way for what you want to say.” I answered myself, “Yes, but do you know what you want to say?”

Bored with the exchange, The Neurons unleashed Oasis and their 1994 song, “Supersonic”, into the morning mental music stream. I recognized that they did it because there is a line which goes something like my thoughts. I didn’t do much more thinking about it at that point because Papi was urgently wrapping himself around my legs while purring like an old VW Beetle. I fed him and then he and I hit the backyard sunshine to take the day’s measure for a few minutes.

Stay safe and have the most solid day you can develop. Me, I’m in for more writing, more yardwork, more reading. It’s a rough life but it’s where I landed. Cheers

5

Stub of A Strange Dream

I approached a tall and ancient tree wrapped in silvery fog. I had an impression that I’d been climbing for some time as I felt bone weary with effort. The foggy air had me shivering in the dream, but I think it was also nervousness. Stopping in front of the tree, I stared at the rough blackened gray bark. Slowly a face rose into the gnarly surface. Eyes opening, they moved around several moments before finding me. With unrelenting attention given to me, the face separated from the tree and slowly floated up into the sky. As it did, I found that the fog was gone. I watched the face floating away until it could no longer be seen, and I was alone with the tree, surrounded by a clear blue sky.

3

Frida’s Wandering Political Thoughts

Did you see Trump’s fantasy spin involving himself, Lincoln, and Reagan?

It’s been out for a while so you probably have. I saw it again today and couldn’t stop thinking about it.

See, he has a painting of himself with Ronald Reagan and Abraham Lincoln. Titled ‘Great American Patriots,’ illustrator and painter Dick Bobnick created this. Mr Bobnick describes his painting, “Three American presidents who changed American History for the better in the areas of race, taxation, religious liberty, military strength, international relations, the economy and morality.”

I’m going out on a limb and suggest that historians are going to disagree with Bobnick on his assessment of Trump. Many people already disagree with his conclusion that Trump changed history for the better in the areas of morality. Trump is an actual felon, convicted in a court. Been married several times and cheated on every wife. Trump lies and lies and lies and lies and lies, and is in the business of weaponizing the legal system to go after his enemies. This is not the epitome of ‘morality’.

Trump has no idea who Lincoln and Reagan are. He has no idea who he is. He has a warped and twisted vision that the three of them are cut from the same American fabric. He, an unchecked and unrepentant serial liar whose every action and word is tearing our nation apart, dares to compare himself with Abraham Lincoln, who worked so hard to re-unite the nation, a man with the nickname of honest Abe, renown for his honesty and integrity. Con Don Trump thinks he’s on par with Abraham Lincoln. My body splits with laughter just considering the insanity.

That’s just half of the comparison going on. The third person depicted is Ronald Reagan. Ronald Reagan, the Great Communicator. And rambling, word salad Donald Trump. Trump who said, “You look at the nuclear deal, the thing that really bothers me, it would have been so easy, and it’s not – as important as their lives are, nuclear is so powerful. My uncle explained that to me many, many years ago, the power, and that was 35 years ago. He would explain the power of what’s going to happen and he was right – who would of thought – but when you look at what’s going on with the four prisoners, now it used to be three – now it’s four- but when it was was three and even now I would have said, it’s all in the messenger fellas and it is fellas because you know they don’t, they haven’t figured that the women are smarter right now than the men, so you know it’s going to take them about another 150 years but the Persians are great negotiators, the Iranians are great negotiators so and they, they just killed, they just killed us.” That’s from an August of 2016 speech. He’s gotten much worse in the years since.

And he compares himself to Lincoln and Reagan. It’s so surreally, magnificently — and Trumply — unreal.

10

He Who’s Like God

My name is Michael. It’s supposed to mean ‘he who’s like God’ in Hebrew. I don’t know how I got the name. Mom blamed Dad; Dad blamed Mom.

I’m mixed about it as a name. Overall, it’s a good name but there’s just so many of us out there.

I’ve used different names at different times for different reasons. Just the other day, I used a different name when I was talking to my wife. I was on a DIY project to fix the oven. As a dedicated Budgeteer, I’m not a noted handyman. But man, I sure do try. So, as my wife was going out the door, I told her, “I vow that this oven will be fixed upon your return, or my name’s not Patrick J. Carpenter.” My name is not Patrick J. Carpenter, of course. That’s the humor of it. I hope.

As a stumbling novelist, I often consider adopting a different name. There are many writers out there known as Michael Seidel. Many are successful and popular. Some are German. There’s also a weather man named Mike Seidel. I think he might be retired. Either way, all those other Michael Seidels cast a shadow over this Michael Seidel. I since speculated, maybe I’ll seek publication as Taylor Sands. Except I looked up Taylor Sands, and that’s a porn star.

Back in the think tank, I changed Sands to Rush. Taylor Rush is a successful doctor. Other options were chased, like Taylor Chase, and rejected after research. For instance, there are 90+ profiles for Taylor Chase in LinkedIn. I finally came up with Taylor Booking.

Taylor Booking, novelist. That might work.

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