Center stage was the sun’s at 7:05 AM in Pittsburgh, and she used it to full, rousing effect.
Today is called September 20, 2022. I awoke thinking about dreams and then shifted to news, feeling concerns about all the storms hitting. Japan. Alaska. Puerto Rico. How are things there? Is help on the way. Politics are a little suspended as I wait for pieces of information to be released, and wait for mid-terms. Wait. Read. Listen. Think. Wait.
I feel like I’m on a low boil here in PA as the stout sunshine finds my skin. 19 C again, high of 77 F expected before the sun’s curtain falls at 7:21 PM. Clouds lurk and plot, meeting and muttering with one another, but the sun owns the stage in my zone.
Since it’s Tuesday, The Neurons have planted “Tuesday’s Gone” by Lynyrd Skynyrd in the morning mental music stream. First heard it when it was released in 1973 and I was a high school junior at Shady Spring High School. The song strikes deep chords in me, sealing another longing fit for what was and what never came to be. ‘Tis always been that way.
So, you know, have some coffee and enjoy Tuesday before it’s gone. Stay pos, test neg. Cheers
He cruised old familiars. This is where he lived from sixth to nine grade – only four years? But that was in child years when time stretched for him. Aging math is often astonishing. In this case, fifty-one ellipses around the sun were done since he’d last lived in the red brick ranch house with the single car garage. It was a laughingly small place to the mind of these times but had worked for a family of two adults and five children. Yes, bedrooms were shared. One bathroom provided service for all. But there was also the basement, converted into a laundry room and family room. That gave a little more space.
Seeing streets and houses, he plugged in who lived where, wondering where each now lived, or if they lived. Oddly, houses remained almost identical to what lived in memory. It felt the same. If cars weren’t parked in the driveway, it could be the same year that he last lived there; no other differences marked the elapsed time. Temptation seeped in to park and walk up to a door, knock, see if a friend was available. “Hi, is Curt home?” Or Bruce. Rick. John. Chuck. Their remembered faces light up like a game in his mind.
Then he notices that the large old oak where he and Vicky first kissed was gone. With that seen, he knew, time to drive away. Home was somewhere else.
His four sisters all call their mother ‘mummy’. Not mommy, but mummy. They have done so their entire lives. He calls her mom.
He wonders what drives the difference. His sisters’ children call his sisters mom, mommy, or mother. Their grandchildren call his sisters grandma. None of them refer to their moms as mummy.
It’ll be 103 F today, so we have that to look forward to. Everything is relative, so it could be worse. Fire might be consuming us, flooding drowning us, or hurricanes and cyclones could be blowing us away. A roulette wheel of disasters is possible.
The sun, though, never intimates these things. Rising at 6:41 this morning, the sunshine provided a sweet sight in the cool morning. Bathing the forested hills and pines with gentle light, illuminating a Technicolor blue sky, it seemed like the world was close to perfect. Perhaps, for that period, in that slice of valley, it was.
It’s 83 F now, getting hot fast. Haze now scuffs the sky. We still have workable breathing air — 62 on the scale, yellow and moderate — as shifting winds and high pressures protect us from wildfire smoke. Idaho is blazing away to the northeast. Several California infernos are drawing news and attention. The three that generally plague us, Mill Creek, McKinney, and Rum Creek, are all within seventy-five miles, are burning but containment is growing on them. Fingers crossed. When I mentioned this on FB and note that I’m safe, my siblings and their hubbies urge me to move east to where they reside.
This is Tuesday, September 6, 2022. Sunset will be at 7:36 this evening.
The Neurons dug into the mind section dedicated to when I was a thirteen-year-old living in Pittsburgh, Pa, in 1969. One of the songs dominating the air that summer was “Hot Fun in the Summertime”, a groovy, funky piece of rock by Sly and the Family Stone. Hope you find some enjoyment in it. Came to me as I was walking the hills as the land cooled down just before sunset yesterday.
Stay positive and test negative. I’ve had coffee but another cup is calling. Who am I to deny that coffee the pleasure of satisfying my tastebuds and stimulating my brain? Not I, sir. Not I.
Monday, September 5 of 2022 dropped in for a visit. I asked her how she was. She answered, “I’m on holiday.”
Yes, it be Labor Day in the U.S., the culmination of a three-day weekend. Many turn it into a four-day weekend by asking for Friday off.
Beautiful morning here. 17 C after a clear, languid sunrise at 6:40 AM today. AQI says our air is green, 17. Purple Air makes us green and 2. A high of 93 F is on the menu for today. They tell me sunset will come at 7:38 this evening. Who am I to argue with them about that?
The Neurons are celebrating Labor Day with “Waitin’ for the Bus”, a 1973 song by ZZ Top. It has an urban blues feel to it which I’ve always enjoyed. Used to listen to it in high school art class, as our teacher invited us to bring in music.
Hope your Monday is the best it can be for you. Stay posi, test negy. I’m getting ready to coffee up. Here’s the tune. Cheers
His wife needed new shoelaces. Only one store in town sells replacement laces.
He realized that finding shouldn’t surprise him. When he was a child, it was commonplace to snap a shoelace, forcing imaginative knotting to keep your shoe tied. In these times, the shoes usually wore out before the laces. His wife’s laces were for new shoes; she wanted white laces instead of the stripped ones that came with her shoes. Yes, it is a little first world pain, isn’t it?
It’s about 17 C outside. Minute haze dulls the blue sky’s purity. My wife looks out and says, “I wish it would stay like this for a month.” Welcome to Sunday, August 28, 2022.
It won’t stay like this today. 90 F is expected as a high. The sun showed up this AM at 6:32 and will vacate our sky at 7:52 tonight as the length of daylight continues shrinking. I do miss the ocean and beach where we spent last week. Oh, that lovely air, and the glory of hearing the ocean and watching waves hurry in and crash and then drift away. We had no sinus issues there, whereas we began experiencing sinus blockages and postnasal drip when we were still a hundred miles from home. Today brings me full stoppage and the need to blow a few times.
The Neurons are feeding Echosmith and “Cool Kids” (2013) into the morning mental music stream. I don’t know the course that brought the song in. I suspect it emerged from a spectrum of thoughts and slivers of quicksilver dreams at once reflective and amusing. I was a cool kid. Just sayin’, that’s how I was often described. When I pressed why that was used to describe me, people said, as the song says, that I seemed to get it. Yet, I had issues, loads of family matters, though not as heavy as many endure. At least I had shelter and food security. Nobody was abusing me.
Of course, I sang a slighter different version as I pet my orange buddy, the little ginger bear known as Papi. I sang, “I wish that I could be like the cool cats because all of the cool cats get all the kibble.” Papi was too cool to respond beyond disdain. It’s his standard M.O.
The coffee has landed. Stay positive, test negative, and so on. Dream your dream and pursue your hopes. Here’s the music. Cheers
When they finally broke through to the other side and the dust cleared, they found a material world with many boulevards of broken dreams. No matter; it was Saturday, August 27, 2022. They had that going for them, if nothing else.
It’s overcast in my swath of the world. Though the day advanced with the sun cresting the eastern mountains at 6:31 AM, the sun’s warmth is remote and oblique. 18 C now, we expect 83 F to be the temperature’s peak. Night will take over at 7:53 this evening, when the sun ‘moves on’ as the world turns.
For music, The Neurons are plying the morning mental music stream with a song from Peter Gabriel. Named “Blood of Eden”, you might expect it to be an energetic, uplifting, hard rocker. Surprisingly, it’s not. (Yes, you correctly detected snark. Good for you. You must have already had coffee.) I’ve always been a Peter Gabiel fan. This 1983 song was another one which prompted me to listen carefully as my brain asked, “Wait, what’s he saying?” The Neurons restored the song to active presence in my mind after overhearing an older man and woman chatting over coffee. He said in response to her reply, “She said that she can’t afford the insurance.” And while my brain remained engaged on its task, The Neurons took up that line and hooked it up with the “Blood of Eden” lyric, “I cannot get insurance anymore. They don’t take credit, only gold.” That’s just how The Neurons play.
My coffee is at hand. I wasn’t always a coffee drinker. Didn’t start that until around fifth, sixth grade, while visiting a friend’s house. We had the same first name, Michael, although he was a Mike. People habitually said, here’s Michael and Mike, or M and M. Mike used to have coffee with a lot of sugar and cream. I only drank it this way a few times, always at his house. When our compasses took us in different directions, I quit drinking coffee and didn’t resume until I was twenty and in the military. Even then, I was only an occasional imbiber of the black brew, usually on midnight shifts. I became a regular drinker when I went off shifts and became the Training NCO. My boss would come in each morning and say, “Let’s go get coffee.” That’s where the habit really developed for me. That was at Kadena on Okinawa, after I’d been there a few years, so I was twenty-seven. My relationship with coffee blossomed. By the time I reached Germany a few years later, I was identified as a hard-core coffee drinker.
BTW, the coffee was bought at an Army & Air Force Exchange Services cafeteria upstairs from the command post where I worked. It cost ninety cents.
Stay positive and test negative. Take care of your family, community, tribe, and self. Here’s the music. Cheers
We’re into the middle band of the rainbow of days, a prism that never ends. That’s right, it’s Wednesday. We’re also into the final seven days of August, this being the 24th, and over halfway through the memorable year of 2022.
It’s 71 F right now and we expect to be in the upper nineties by day’s end, although we’re not anticipating passing 100. Not in the cards today, fingers crossed. Air quality isn’t bad today. It’s gone up and down by the hour in the last two days as the winds ebbed and flowed. Nighthold was broken at 6:28 this morning, but the darkness will be restored after sunset at 7:58 PM. “Night is coming,” people whisper. They’re talking about the long night. Others mock them, but those who understand these things are preparing for the long night.
“Lay Lady Lay” by Bob Dylan from 1969 has won the morning mental music stream over. The Neurons allowed me to see the progression made from thought to song today. It involved some writing so I’ll not say anything else. It’s a superstition of mine. The song was a favorite of mine for a bit. It came out when I was thirteen. There was a girl in school who showed interest in me. Sweet Vicky loved this song, so when she asked me about it, I loved it, too! We held hands, went to dances, malls, and movies, necking in secret for a few months, before going toward different lights. I have good memories of her and this song.
Stay positive, test negative, and take care of yourself, family, and community. I’ve had my coffee, thanks. Feel free to have some yerself. Here’s the music. Cheers
Three young girls arrived. He’s not an expert in these matters, but their lithe size and small stature made him guess that they were probably ten to twelve years old. All were white and wore shorts, and four-to-five-inch-high heels with ankle straps. One of the pairs of heels had clear plastic. The other two were stiletto.
These, he was certain, were the youngest people he’d ever seen wearing high heels. He’d certainly never seen them on children this young before. It seemed like they portended something, but he didn’t know what.
Michael Seidel, writer 