Fridaz Theme Music
Welcome, welcome, welcome. It’s First Frida, January 2, 2026, a day traditionally celebrated with food, drinks, and jokes. Here is my joke. Fittingly for this era, it’s AI provided.
I once tried to do nothing.
It took all day.
Currently 49 to 54 F in Ashland with an expected high of 54 to 57. Strong winds are singing their warnings. Grey clouds and sunshine square dance.
I sent my stepmother a condolence card today. I was just expressing my appreciation for what she and her family did for Dad, providing him the love and comfort of a family. Mom, Dad’s first wife, and his biological children from that union, could never work that out. Too many variables to reduce it to understanding. Dad was part of that. As he once told Mom, he didn’t mature until he was 35.
My mood is all over the place today. As I shift away from Dad’s death and the reflections they provoked, I’m moving into the new year and trying to re-engage politics. I don’t want to be a downer. I want to be honest. My mood is up, as is my spirit, but then I read about the latest news, and the sighs creep out of me.
While a new year has begun, Trump hasn’t changed for the better. He’s projecting again, calling Democrats ‘the worst’. I suspect criticism of him squeezed past his handlers. He knows he’s not being held in high regard, and actions he lauds as being great are being disparaged. So it goes in 2026 as it was in 2025, 2024, 2023… That leopard doesn’t change his spots.
After reading political news, my cheeky Neurons introduced “Radio Ga Ga” into the morning mental music stream. That made me laugh. The 1984 Queen song is a nostalgia look back at the radio era as television and music videos rose in popularity. The Neurons jumped on the a chorus after reading about Trump.
[Chorus]
All we hear is radio ga ga
Radio goo goo
Radio ga ga
All we hear is radio ga ga
Radio blah, blah
Radio goo goo, radio ga ga, radio blah blah. That’s too often Trump.
The song itself, though, uplifts me. This particular version, with Freddy Mercury out in front, feels powerful.
With 2026 underway, I hope to see meaningful and positive changes for you and me. May grace and peace come together with us. Cheers
Being
Time races by
A flash of a second
A flutter of thought
The mess of a moment
Dreams flood in and fade away
Nothing seems to stay
For more than a day
Emotions arrive
In a moment’s wash
Soaking every other feeling
And thought
Debilitating and deepening, stealing thunder
Leaving us worked over
Tired
Feeling plundered
Thinking comes
Arriving from odd angles
Hooked by a word
A sound
A gaze at another
From all of it comes
Thoughts of life
Ways to improve
Methods to lesson our strife
So we go on our intelligent ways
Being
Coping
Seeing
Trying to look beyond the day
Thirstdaz Theme Music
I’m working through tendrils of a new day, a new month, and a new year. Not much of it taxes me yet, but we’re only nine hours into it in Ashland.
Winter continues its weather games. Today, Thirstda, January 1, 2026, brings rain and a leaden, swollen sky. Winds whisper, howl, and moan. Temperatures around town reportedly range of 46 degrees F to 53. My house says it’s 51. Today’s high will be…51.
I posted news of Dad’s passing on Facebook and heard from many, including military peers, corporation co-workers, fellow writers-in-struggling, and friends on other continents. Comfort and thankfulness rose in me for so many taking the time from their lives to comment.
I’ve accepted Dad’s death on at least the surface. Flashes of not being able to speak or visit with him slide like gentle waves through my thoughts. Some tears fell yesterday. Today, I’m remembering him with fondness, chuckling and laughing at memories of how he smiled, laughed, and spoke.
As for the new year and month, I’m uncertain of what to expect. Last year was a ride on a cantankerous bear. Too many Trump and GOP actions dismayed my core. That core holds beliefs that We the People are supposed to have a voice in our government; that laws will be followed and enforced; that everyone is equal and deserves freedom and respect. Actions such as Trump’s rants about hoaxes, fake news, Democratic scum, and ICE rounding up people without due process all undermine my hopes.
I’ll continue voting, protesting, and writing about how Trump is conducting business. And I’ll keep trying to nurture hope and optimism that we’ll see a shift toward my hopeful vision of progress and democracy.
Here’s today’s music: “God Gave Rock and Roll to You”. The 1973 song was written by Russ Ballard. Ballard was in Argent at the time, so Argent performed and released it.
I suspect The Neurons planted the song in the morning mental music stream because I was thinking about working hard on the novel-in-progress, and the need to keep editing it. The song reflects those sentiments on one stanza:
Lyrics (h/t to Genius.com)
If you wanna be a singer or play guitar
Man, you’ve gotta sweat, or you won’t get far
‘Cause it’s never too late to work nine to five
And if you’re young, then you’ll never be old
Music can make your dreams unfold
How good it feels to be alive
Coffee is served again. May peace and grace find you and guide you along a hopeful path in the new year. Cheers
Witness
Through the year
We did stumble,
Doing weary chores
With a soft-voiced grumble.
Peeking through doors,
Working through days,
Of laughing, sighing,
And weary, changing ways.
Sometimes we shouted,
And sometimes shed tears,
Wondering how it would end,
This long, most miserable of years.
Now we sit
On another cusp,
Wondering,
What the next months
Will deliver to us?
We make promises and vow
To create changes that stay,
But will we be happier
Twelve months from this day?
Dad
Reviewing life with Dad after he’s passed away.
Married while they were young, divorced while I was young, Mom seemed to give Dad a bum rap, something I didn’t appreciate until I was older and knew Mom and Dad better as adults.
Dad married three times. He sired seven children, two girls and five sons. Only two of his sons lived to adulthood.
One son tragically died in a car accident when he was just five years old. Dad was at his saddest and most silent then, and I was beside him at his son’s funeral.
I only lived with Dad twice: when I was very young until I was about five years old, and then again between the ages of fifteen and eighteen. I’d run away from home. Dad, in the Air Force and just returned to the U.S. from assignment in Germany, gave me a place to live. I was at his wedding with his second wife.
I’ve seen and visited him sporadically throughout the years. We talked on the phone more during the last few years, something that he actively pursued, trying to mend and improve our relationship.
Dad taught me to pee behind a bush. We lived in Arlington, Virginia in a rented house on a cul-de-sac at the top of a hill. Dad was in the Air Force; Mom was a telephone operator. Mom was working, and Dad, with the children, was locked out of the house. I announced that I needed to pee. Dad led me behind some bushes by the side of the house and told me to go. I was horrified but did it with his encouragement.
Mom came home just after I finished my business. I rushed out to her to inform her of my milestone. She was shocked and angry. Dad just laughed and laughed. He would’ve been in his mid-twenties.
I also give Dad credit for teaching me how to wrestle, how to catch and throw a ball, and how to ride a bike. He gave me his baseball gloves and bats when he came home on a visit and realized that I didn’t have either.
He also gave me his love of automobiles and encouraged me to think about problems and find my own solutions. Looking back, he was surprisingly patient and positive.
I don’t remember any Thanksgivings with Dad. We did share a few Christmases, and some July 4th celebrations. Most of those, though, were with Mom. He did take me on a fishing trip and gave me my first and only fishing rods.
Like many of us, Dad was a balance, a study in life, striving and trying, learning, and sometimes failing. But he always got back up and went on. I haven’t seen him much since he turned 85 seven years ago. I’ll miss him.
Wenzdaz Theme Music
It’s cold and cloudy in Ashland this morning. Our temperature went to 34 F about 8 PM last night. It’s still there. Stagnant air rules us today, Wenzda, December 31, 2025. Tepid sunshine squirms in past the clouds. With this sun and air combination, we expect high temperatures in the low 40s today.
Dad passed this morning in San Antonio, Texas. He was comfortable, as far as we know, and passed in his sleep, 92 years old, a veteran of Korea and Vietnam.
I received a text from Dad’s wife about his state yesterday afternoon. She said that he was in the last stages. I thanked her and then wrote a few texts to tell others. Afterward, I left my home office. As I did, I basically told Dad, goodbye, good luck, thanks, and I love you.
When I entered the adjacent room, a huge swirl of Dad energy swept around me. I was alone. Suddenly the room felt brighter and warmer. I sincerely and honestly felt Dad was with me.
It lasted about fifteen seconds and then left. I wondered if Dad had died but there weren’t any messages telling me of his death. I just smiled and accepted. Maybe as mystical and out there as it seems, my father and I made another connection just to say hello and goodbye one more time.
The hard part of Dad’s passing is done — getting the news and telling others, then accepting it. I’ll think and grieve for years, embedding his memory and life into my pantheon of existence.
The Neurons are playing “Flowers” by Miley Cyrus in the morning mental music stream. They made an interesting choice. I don’t understand it any better than I understand some of the dreams I had last night. That’s life.
I hope peace and grace come by your place and give you a hug. May the days ahead be gentle with you. Cheers
