It’s Saturday again in Ashlandia, where time just goes round and round, it seems, November 4, 2023, by date. 60 F outside after a rainy night, a hefty wind moves colorful leaves as clouds regroup on the horizons, leaving sunny blue sky overhead. Our high today will be 69 F.
Reading the news, reflecting upon how often history does repeat itself, pondering what is and what will never be, The Neurons permit Willie Nelson into the morning mental music stream (Trademark fading). In 1961, Willie wrote a song called “Funny How Time Slips Away”. I became familiar with it sometime during my childhood. Many performers and groups have sung this song since Willie first put the words down. This version by him singing on a stage, surrounded by others, broadcast in 1997, is one of my favorite renditions. Willie always sings from the heart with a thoughtful air.
Stay positive, be strong, and lean forward, no matter how that wind blows. Coffee is being served up, per standard household practice. I hope you enjoy the video and song as much as I do. Cheers
Sunny blue skies greeted me in my home in Ashlandia, where orange barrels block streets as paving, repairs, and improvements continue and the roads are above average.
Already November 3, 2023, some folks are marking their calendars for next year’s elections. It’s also Friday, end of the work week for some and beginning of the weekend fun for others. Those of us in a quasi-, semi-, or permanent retirement state mostly look at the door with an eye toward social engagements. ‘Work’ except as volunteers, has mostly been dismissed.
As I prepared the floof royalty’s meals this morning, a glance out the window found gray smudges defacing the blue-sky fall scene. At least, I hope it’s fog, I thought with a chortle, and then imagined other possibilities, entertaining myself as I went about my business. Another glance out, and I perceived a wall of fall stealing in from the northwest quadrant. Six minutes later, the fog presented a solid front and the sky was gray. An hour after that, the fog is gone.
While it’s 48 now, we’re expecting our high to be in the upper sixties, ingredients for a enjoyable autumn day.
Moving on toward the theme song, a friend queried a group of us by email, do you remember this song? Who sang it? He was just playing around, of course:
He wears tan shoes with pink shoelaces A polka dot vest and man, oh, man He wears tan shoes with pink shoelaces And a big Panama with a purple hat band
It’s Dodie Stevens with “Pink Shoe Laces” from 1961, of course. That started a firestorm of memories for the group and their wives. One spouse was really excited because it was her and her sister’s favorite song. They played it all the time while dancing around the house. Remember this, she began singing it and dancing around the house, and then called her sister, and they had Siri playing the song on the phone while they danced and laughed.
That opened the door on a vault in my head, where certain songs I know but am not crazy about resides. Reaching in, The Neurons pulled out a 1958 novelty song, “Beep Beep” by the Playmates and have it on loop in my morning mental music stream (Trademark dashing).
Behind the song is a car, a Rambler, product in my lifetime of a now defunct US car company, the American Motors Corporation. I had a friend with a Rambler. Although old, we used it to sneak people into the drive-in theater in the little car’s spacious trunk in the early 1970s. It was just like the one in the photo.
Also featured in the song was a Cadillac, a car much more expensive than the Rambler. More expensive, the Cadillac had a larger engine and was more powerful, capable of greater acceleration and top speed than the Rambler. That forms the song’s gist as the Rambler tails the Cadillac and the Cadillac keeps speeding up to get away, but can’t, astonishing and amazing to the Caddy driver. As this unfolds during the song, the song’s tempo keeps increasing until the punchline when the Rambler driver pulls alongside and asks, “Hey buddy, how do I get this car out of second gear?”
While riding in my Cadillac, what, to my surprise, A little Nash Rambler was following me, about one-third my size. The guy must have wanted it to pass me up As he kept on tooting his horn. Beep! Beep! I’ll show him that a Cadillac is not a car to scorn.
I pushed my foot down to the floor to give the guy the shake, But the little Nash Rambler stayed right behind; he still had on his brake. He must have thought his car had more guts As he kept on tooting his horn. Beep! Beep! I’ll show him that a Cadillac is not a car to scorn.
My car went into passing gear and we took off with dust. And soon we were doin’ ninety, must have left him in the dust. When I peeked in the mirror of my car, I couldn’t believe my eyes. The little Nash Rambler was right behind, you’d think that guy could fly.
Now we’re doing a hundred and ten, it certainly was a race. For a Rambler to pass a Caddy would be a big disgrace. For the guy who wanted to pass me, He kept on tooting his horn. Beep! Beep! I’ll show him that a Cadillac is not a car to scorn.
Now we’re doing a hundred and twenty, as fast as I could go. The Rambler pulled alongside of me as if I were going slow. The fellow rolled down his window and yelled for me to hear, Hey, buddy, how can I get this car out of second gear?
Another Monday is about us in Ashlandia, where the rain falls mainly in the valley, and the streams and rivers swell with the results.
The weather is 52 F, cloudy and rainy. Forecasters warn that today’s high will be 65 F, with intermittent clouds, but it won’t rain. It’s a good coffee and reading day.
As for the world outside of Ashlandia, there were no overnight miracles. The news reports that the ongoing wars are still ongoing, one in Europe, and one in the middle-east. Besides those two, the GOP still wars with the GOP in the US. I don’t look for a quick or happy resolution to the war in the middle-east, but expect it to trudge on as has happened with Russia and Ukraine in Europe.
To summarize, led by the hardline Gang of Eight, the Republicans outsted their own guy as Speaker, Kevin McCarthy, even though they’re all part of the majority party nominally known as the GOP. Since booting McCarthy, the House has not been functioning much.
Note: the House wasn’t doing much before losing its Speaker, mostly because the GOP was determined to be the Grand OBSTRUCTIONIST Party. This is largely because a Democrat is POTUS, and most of the GOP’s ideas involve stripping rights from others, banning books, and keeping fossil fuels as the nation’s primary energy source.
Steve Scalise, House Majority Leader, R-La, tried and failed to become the new House Speaker, and withdrew after that one attempt.
Jim Jordan, a hardliner from Ohio, tried and failed after three rounds of voting to become Speaker. Just couldn’t find the votes. He’s considered too hard right and has never been known to compromise. Besides that, he has a poor legislative record.
“Critics of Rep. Jim Jordan (R-Ohio) have increasingly pointed to this – most notably the fact that he has yet to get a bill signed into law since being elected in 2006.” h/t to UnionLeader.com.
A line during Saturday Night Live’s cold open captured the essence of Jim Jordan’s attempt to be Speaker: “I want to be Speaker so that government starts functioning again so I can shut it down.” That’s the gist of Jordan’s politics. He doesn’t like ‘big’ government.
These wars complicate the world’s already precarious situation. The biggest crises we face in 2023 is growing food shortages and rising food costs, per ReliefWeb. Food shortages are worsening because war is tearing up farms and arable land, and growing extreme weather is damaging crops and disrupting growing seasons.
What a mess we’re in, and so much of it is brought on by our own actions. But just as so many addicts of drugs and addictives are helpless to save themselves, so it seems, are we.
Let’s go on to more pleasant matters, like music.
My wife was telling me a story about a conversation between her and some friends. I thought, “Oh, shit, sparks are going to fly now,” as I laughed, because I knew the husband and wife involved and how they were going to react.
Boom, The Neurons pounced, delivering “Master of Sparks” by ZZ Top into my head, where it remains in the morning mental music stream (Trademark sagging). This feels like a case of needing to play it for others to unloop it from my mental music stream, so here we are, me presenting it to you as Monday’s theme music.
The song is part of the first ZZ Top album I ever listened to, Tres Hombres, from 1973. I was seventeen. My buddy, Scott, brought it into high school art class as part of the established routine of listening to music while drawing and painting. One take of that album and I was smitten.
“Master of Sparks” turned out to be one of those songs that caught my attention as I was drawing because I was struggling to figure out what it was about. “What are they singing, Scott?” I asked. He brought it in, so I thought he’d know.
Sweeping his long bangs off his face, he grinned at me with big eyes. “I don’t know. Sounds cool, though doesn’t it?”
Scott introduced me to many new rock bands during that time, and shaped my musical preferences. Highly intelligent, athletic, and creative, Scott started at our school in my junior year after being tossed out from a well-regarded prep school. We shared multiple classes and were on several sports teams together. We also were both very rebellious.
Taking the question seriously, Scott returned two days later and told me that “Master of Sparks” is telling a story about a ball-shaped steel cage that the narrator was in. My reaction was basically, “Whaaa?”
Scott explained that he and Rick listened to it again and again at Scott’s house, and decided that’s what the song was about. Thanks to the net, I know they were right.
High class Slim came floating in Down from the county line Just getting right on Saturday night Riding with some friends of mine They invited me to come and see Just what was on their minds And then I took my first long look At the Master of Sparks on high
In the back of Jimmy’s Mack Stood a round steel cage Welded into shape by Slim Made out of sucker gauge How fine, they cried now with you inside Strapped in there safe and sound I thought, my-o-my, how the sparks will fly If that thing ever hit the ground
Slim was so pleased when I had eased Into his trap of death He had slammed the door but I said no more And I thought I’d breathed my last breath We was out in the sticks down Highway Six And the crowd was just about right The speed was too, so out I flew Like a stick of rolling dynamite
When I hit the ground You could hear the sound And see the sparks a country mile End over end I began to spin But the ball started running wild But it was too late as I met my fate And the ball started getting hot But through the sparks and the flame I knew that the claim Of the Master of Sparks was gone
The net can be a dizzying roller coaster. Bad news headlines, followed by humor on a friend’s blog, then disastrous breaking news, chased by sweet floof photos, which give way to dire predictions, trailed by fascinating new scientific or historic findings, war and political updates, and book reviews.
I ride throughout the day, breaking off to soothe myself with my personal writing, and then releasing all the pent tension with a relaxing game or two (or four). You know, Wordle. Spelling Bee. Sudoku.
How different from my youth. We watched television together in the family room — ‘in color’ — so it was a consensus choice. Five channels were available: PBS, the big three, and one UHF channel that washed in and out on a sea of static. Sitcoms (“Green Acres”), dramas (“Gunsmoke) and thrillers (“The Man From U.N.C.L.E.”) entertained us, or the Movie of the Week, delivering Psycho, Seven Days in May, and The Sound of Music, among a plethora of others.
Then I consider how different my mother’s childhood was. She was a little girl in Turin, Iowa, during the Depression and World War II, eating popcorn and listening to a radio with her family, or going to the hardware store to watch “I Love Lucy” on the only television in their small town.
Reaching further back, I struggle with visualizing how it was in my grandfather’s youth. He helped establish Turin a few decades before Mom was born. Guess I’ll surf the net about it and see what I find.
Once on the roller coaster, getting off it isn’t easy.
Let me introduce you. This is Monday, July 24, 2023. It’s a day which can really help you. You should get to know it.
Today’s weather in Ashlandia, where the cost of living is high and the less-fortunate struggle, finds the air stopping at 88 F. It’s 64 F, and I’ll tell you, brothers and sisters, that cool air feels so good to my skin. Goes well with hot coffee. Yes, I’ve already started downing a cup.
Smoke finally reached us in a serious manner last night. Kicked our AQI into unhealthy levels and was a stench in the air. Shut offended windows. Fortunately, not all required they be closed. Just the northern and western in our arc of Ashlandia.
The Neurons have planted “Secret Agent Man” by Johnny Rivers from the mid-sixties in the morning mental music stream (trademark dangerous). Secret Agent was a television show of the time in the US, a rebooted version of the Brit show, Danger Man. SA starred Patrick McGoohan. I wasn’t a huge fan that I recall, but I remember several extended family members would put it on when we were at Grandma & Grandpa’s house, and I’d watch. My preferred spy show was The Man from U.N.C.L.E. I adopted that in a big way.
Anyway, “Secret Agent Man” is in my stream because I started singing it to my cat. Floofurally, my version was “Secret Agent Floof”. This was dedicated to Papi because after he ate today, I’d find him peering around corners. When I said his name or went to visit with him, he’d galloped away on a mission, only to return a short time later. Ah, floof games in the morning.
So, I have my coffee, and I’m drinking it. You can have some of your own if you wish. Or something else. Whatever works for you, within the bounds of — well, you know the bounds. Don’t go out of bounds. Stay pos and strong, and don’t let the world’s multiple messes undercut your spirit. You can do this.
Here’s the music. Sound and pic sync is a little off. Tech. What can I say? Cheers
Welcome back to Ashlandia, where the men are fit and the women are fitter.
It’s Thursday, July 20, 2023. In brief, it’s 69, clear but smoky, with a high in the upper 90s, depending on how much smoke rolls in. We’re in the yellow zone of the AQI’s spectrum about how healthy the air is. I’m trying to figure out whether this smoke is coming up from California or over from the Flat fire in Agnes, Oregon. Might be both.
Today’s music is “Tomorrow Never Knows” by the Beatles, 1966. When I first heard it as a teenager, I was ‘interested’ in its sounds. It was later, while reading the Tibetan Book of the Dead that the song grew more enticing. That took place during my mysticism exploration era, which roughly began when I was nineteen and stationed with the military in the Philippines, and lasted a few years. Never took LSD, but I was instructed in transcendental meditation and meditated each day for over a decade.
I haven’t heard this song in a long time, at least twenty years, I think. Came about today I think because Les Neurons caught me thinking about the beginning of different things. That brought about that long period of the song when Lennon is singing, “in the beginning, in the beginning.” Next thing I know, it’s playing in the morning mental music stream (trademark pretended).
Stay as positive and strong as you can. I can it can sometimes feel like work. Sometimes, it is work, I think. Hopefully, good will come to you from being positive, strong, and shall we add optimistic? I’ve had some coffee, so, sure, let’s through optimistic in there.
Okay, ready? Three…two…one…let’s begin with your mantra. Ooommm. Here’s the music. Cheers
It’s Tuesday, July 18, 2023. A waxing crescent moon wins the night sky tonight, if you look for it.
Cool, quiet morning. A train unleashes long blasts of warning as it crawls through town. Mildish summer continues in Ashlandia, where coffee is brewed fresh and new pastries are baked every day. 67 F now, we appear to be due a high temperature of 92 F, 33 C. Sunrise was 5:49 AM, and sunset will be at 8:45 PM.
Our weather situation is better than many. Flooding in Korea today, joining the disasters of Vermont, India, and Japan. Heat dome fixed in place over the southwestern US. Hawaii on a storm watch. Wildfires are burning in Canada, causing breathing problems there and in the US. Parts of Iran are blazingly hot, China is described as ‘searing’, and extreme heat is threatening health and safety across Europe, and they’re battling wildfires in Greece. Will something be done on the human side to try to address these things? Probably not. A large percentage of folks prefer not to be woke about these things. Denying it and burying facts about things they don’t like is their M.O. until it reaches the point where there’s no where to hide, apparently. “Less taxes,” they cry. “Voter fraud.”
On the family front, a teenage nephew suffered a seizure. Terrified everyone. He recovered but tests are being run. Results are awaited. Fingers are crossed.
Also on the family front, a niece’s neighbor had three cars burn up. He had chemicals stored in his car for his work. The intense fire melted the siding on her home. She and her family weren’t home at the time. Nobody was hurt.
I have “Break On Through (to the Other Side)” circulating the morning mental music stream. By The Doors, the song was released at the onset of 1967, when I was ten and living in Penn Hills, PA. It was another of those songs which instantly seized my interest. It hasn’t let go. But why is it in the morning mental music stream (trademark — what?)? I put this to The Neurons, who shrugged and wandered off. I’ve enticed them back with the promise of coffee. The Neurons are suckers for coffee.
Stay strong and be pos. Time to begin the day. Here’s the coffee; breath deep the fresh aroma. Here’s the music. Cheers
I love the mornings, when calm rules, before I get into the news, before the weather shifts. Life outside the windows is firing up on the human side. Machinery is doing its thing somewhere. Loud-voiced neighbors preparing for a trip talk things over, greet passers-by, that sort of thing. A cool breeze teases me into thinking better things are coming.
This is Monday, July 17, 2023. Gonna be in the low 90s again today, although it’s in the 60s F right now. A layer of thin clouds ruled in yesterday and cut our temperature and stirred a breeze. We barely touched 80 F and those breezes were wonderful gifts. Hope others under the heat dome get some breaks, along with those dealing with flooding in India, Japan, and parts of the US.
We were talking about “Sing Along with Mitch”. That would be Mitch Miller. Started as part of a Trivial Pursuit question. Cards were at the table when we were having brunch. My wife and I enjoy asking and answering those question.
One question was, what was the name of Mitch Miller’s backup singers? Neither of us knew. We vividly remembered the show. I looked it up later; it was on in the early 1960s. So, I’m thinking, how do I remember that show so vividly?
The Neurons posted three songs in the morning mental music stream (trademark — what’s that?) competing for Monday’s theme music. First was Tom Petty with “Runnin’ Down A Dream”. Know what that was about? Yeah, trying to remember a dream I’d had. Came after a bit of noodling. Second song was “Whip It” by Devo. Cause I’d gotten up and was organizing things to do in my head. Third offering, “That Smell” by Lynerd Skynerd, which came up when I brewed my morning java. I went with “Running’ Down A Dream” because I liked the energy it brought.
I sooo remember that song coming out in 1989. Stationed in Germany. We were a small flying unit, pretty relaxed and friendly with one another. Rockers dominated. Several officers swept by my office to ask me if I’d heard the new Petty song. Indeed, I had. Soon as, I popped over to the Main Exchange and procured my own CD. They — and their spouses — were a good group of folks.
Time to press on. Stay pos, stay strong, and work the day like it’s made of clay. I’m havin’ my coffee. Love how the hot brew slips into my mouth, chatting up the taste buds as it does its flow, exchanging excited greetings with The Neurons, then washing down, warming my gullet. Good times. Here’s the music. Cheers
Hey, it’s Fried-day, July 14, 2023. Birthday for one of my late cousins. Years younger than me, cancer claimed her in 2019.
Gonna be hot today here in Ashlandia, where the plays are entertaining and the musicians are local. Not OMG help hot, like AZ’s impressive daily highs, nor Palm Springs 120 F hot, but protect-yourself-family-and-pets hot, 98 F. And that’s why it’s Fried-day.
When I was being educated in the US in the 1960s, attending elementary school, teachers talked about a ‘can-do attitude’. They were always encouraging us to rise up to the challenge and find a way to overcome it. I vividly recall listening to one teacher standing before us rapt, dewy-eyed second-graders as she said, “The can-do attitude helped make America great.” Before we were taught history and learned that the country wasn’t great, that America was flawed. Yet it had to the potential to become greater, if we kept after things with a can-do attitude.
I grew up believing that we can fix things, whether it was injustice, inequality, poverty, or going to the moon. This was in the aftermath of President John F. Kennedy’s assassination. He seemed to empower ‘can-do’ for young me. No, wasn’t perfect, but he was willing to set goals, create a vision, and strive to achieve them.
Now we’re mired in a severe can’t-do existence. Money is typically the ‘can’t-do’ motivation, followed in the US by ‘Founding Fathers’. The Founding Fathers and their vision of a Democracy run by the people, for the people, are thrown up as an obstacle as people stop to think, not what is best by and for the people, but what would the Founding Fathers say and do?
I believe that attitude would have the Founding Fathers appalled. They would ask, “Have you not established a robust education system that helps people? Do you knot know how to think? Do you lack the courage and principles to come together, find solutions and move forward?”
And that’s a big now. Big reason for me, whether it’s about climate change and half the country setting new high records for high temperatures year after year, sensible gun control, or taxes, is that half the country is trying to go backward. Yes, let’s go backwards. Just bury our heads and deny what’s going on.
That shows a true ‘can-do’ spirit.
All of that explains my exasperated mood today.
I woke up with the Looney Tunes theme music in my morning mental music stream. As I went about re-establishing my existence, mocking myself as I fell into my comfortable, middle-class routines once again, The Neurons opened some “Canned Heat” and spilled “Let’s Work Together” into the morning mental music stream (trademark non-existent). The 1970 version of Wilbur Harrison’s take on “Let’s Stick Together” could be an inspiring theme song for promoting a can-do attitude. Feel the energy behind that gravelly voice, courtesy of Bob Hite, as he urges us to work together.
Together we’ll stand Divided we’ll fall Come on now, people Let’s get on the ball
And work together Come on, come on Let’s work together Now, now people Because together we will stand Every boy, every girl and man
People, when things go wrong As they sometimes will And the road you travel It stays all uphill
Let’s work together Come on, come on Let’s work together, ah You know together we will stand Every boy, girl, woman and man
Oh well now, two or three minutes Two or three hours What does it matter now In this life of ours
Let’s work together Come on, come on Let’s work together Now, now people Because together we will stand Every boy, every woman and man
Ah, come on Ah, come on, let’s work together
Well now, make someone happy Make someone smile Let’s all work together And make life worthwhile
Let’s work together Come on, come on Let’s work together Now, now people Because together we will stand Every boy, girl, woman and man
Oh well now, come on you people Walk hand in hand Let’s make this world of ours A good place to stand
You know, we do show the ability to come together. We come together to cheer performers — singers, actors, athletes — to cheer them on. And we come together to cope with disasters. We come together to offer hopes and prayers after mass shootings, floods, wildfires, hurricanes.
Honestly, can’t we begin to find a way to come together before disasters and deaths?
Yeah, I know. It’s all been said before, all been written with more inspiration before, and here we stay, stuck on yesterday, moving toward last century, burning up and and falling down.
Guess I need coffee. Stay pos, if you can, and strong. Wish you the best in whatever situation you face today, tomorrow, next month, next year.
Michael Seidel, writer 