Ashland, Oregon — Wednesday, March 25, 2026.
It’s a quietly rainy day out there. Clouds are cemented together against encroachments of sunshine and blue sky. Temperature isn’t bad, 51 F. 54 F is the prospective high.
Made an appointment with a urologist for a cystoscopy in May to figure out what caused the blood in my urine. It’s abated, far as I can tell but other tests show something growing in my bladder. They’re going to go in and see what that is.
I haven’t read much news this morning. A ‘something is about to happen’ vibe seems to be humming. Trump had threatened bombings which were against modern rules of war and gave a Monday PM deadline. Then, Monday morning, he reversed himself. That news changed financial markets. Traders made money by making moves just fifteen minutes before Trump made his announcement that he was holding off on further bombing.
What a coincidence.
I did read another comprehensive story about Epstein’s death.
I’m indulging in another day of reflections about Mom. We, her family, can’t just converse with her without it spiraling into deeply disturbing, frustrating patterns. She’s now saying the same thing about her primary assisted living contact that she said about my sister and about Frank. “She’s mean to me. She screams at me. I’m so unhappy here.”
It tears my sisters and I apart to see Mom be in this situation. We feel helpless and resigned.
I ended up with The Neurons playing “So Far Away” by Carole King in the morning mental music stream. Her songs with her singing them came out while I was in high school. Her album, Tapestry, resonated with so many young women in my life then. The songs were being heard everywhere.
I’m a rocker and leaned toward The Who and Pink Floyd as examples of my preferences back then. Yet her songs’ sensibilities and melodies worked.
The song arrived today because sis, who took Mom in, is really feeling it and reacting now. Venting a great deal. I can do very little except lend a shoulder because I’m so far away. And as I thought about it, Mom is far away in space and memory, far away from who she was. Going ‘home’ next time will be a very different place and experience.
Let me get off my pity pot. I hope your day and relationships surpass wonderful, it’s an excellent day of peace and grace for you.
Cheers
Michael Seidel, writer 
I still know every lyric to every song on that album. And considering my memory has always been horrid, that’s saying something.
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I think music has a different vibe, it hits us differently. When I was a kid the teacher was having difficulty getting us to learn the times tables, so she put the ‘hard ones’ to music. We learned them all the way to the 12s in a week. But as to songs, Im the same way, Music helps.
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