I was prescribed post-surgery meds and went to the drug store to pick them up.
Walking through the drugstore parking lot to buy them, I saw a small yellow car. Circling closer, I confirmed, 1964 Dodge Valiant, just like my stepfather drove. Might have been a different year but it was the same model and color.
I remembered him bringing it home although I don’t recall what he drove before that. I rarely rode in it. This was ‘his car’, something to commute to work and go off to bet. George was a gambler and went to the horse races five or six days a week, trying for a big score. He won big twice. Once was a $25,000 Daily Double payout, providing the down payment on a newly built brick ranch in Penn Hills.
Later, he won enough to buy a new 1976 Chevy Camaro. Like his Valiant, this was pale yellow, three-speed on the column and a black and white checked interior. Sis hated that car.
All of us disliked driving with George. Tending to drive about five miles an hour below the speed limit, he also liked to get into the faster lanes but not go faster. This terrified us as other drivers pulled up, slowed down and then sped past with blaring horns. Mom would often snap, “My God, get out of this lane.” George wouldn’t budge, though, sailing on without regard to others’ opinions.
The yellow Dodge in the drugstore parking lot had tiny tires and petite chrome bumpers, appearing small and fragile among the huge SUVs and a couple of ‘compact’ Toyotas and Hondas. All the modern vehicles were white, black, gray, or silver. Nowhere was another yellow car.
Seeing it still brought a smile as I walked on, reflecting, what a different world. And yet, back in the 1960s, that Valiant would have shown up as so much different than the preceding decades.
Who knows what our 2026 cars will look like compared to the cars of 2086.
Our first snowfall of the season has arrived. 32 F, about 3 inches have accumulated in my area. Heavier accumulations are expected in the mountains, but much more is needed. We depend on the snowbanks for our summer water.
It’s a pretty scene out there. At this temperature and elevation, heavy, fat flakes fall without stop. We’re expected to warm up to 41 today and the snow is forecast to become rain. Temperatures tonight are projected to drop into the upper twenties, and more snow is possible.
Speaking for himself, Papi offered a disdainful sniff and found a place inside to groom.
I had my best night sleep in days last, and my mind moves through concerns. My cold is winding down, as expected for day 6. Only one nostril is blocked, no sinus pressure is felt, and the violent sneezes that left my abdomen sore have subsided.
My wife asked yesterday, “Which is worse, cold pain or your oral surgery pain?”
Oh, easy, the cold by far. I feel next to nothing from the oral surgery. The surgical team did a good job. I still have stitches, but they’ll fall out on their own.
My wife’s cold seemed to be gone by Sunday. I had it worse than her but for both it was an upper respiratory infection.
Mom’s situation has occupied me more than my health and weather. After her suicide attempt on Saturday, we had a mandatory stay put on her for evaluation. A psychiatrist reversed that yesterday and the hospital said she could be discharged.
It seemed like the hospital was falling short in several areas. Mom was supposed to be evaluated for 72 hours for mental health and physical issues. They also said they had to wait to see if her urine tested negative for infections, which was supposed to be four days. Their rushed timeline alarmed us.
Besides Mom’s health, we have questions over where she will live and how she’ll get care. Yesterday involved phone calls and texts, trying to sort information and get answers. Today we have more methodical movement.
Essentially, because no family members would pick Mom up, the hospital was forced to house her again. It’s a painful way to say it but that’s the truth.
Physical and occupational therapists evaluated her today. They recommend assisted living or a skilled nursing home for Mom. The social worker seemed remote and disengaged yesterday. Today, she provided recommendations and contacts for finding housing and assistance for Mom.
Venting a little, I foresaw this years ago and tried getting Mom into a better place but she, bolstered by Frank’s presence, didn’t want to address it. Now it’s a crisis. It could have gone so much better, but yes, I know, it’s an emotional issue for most of us. I worry that I’ll be like Mom if I have to make such decisions in my future.
I’m hopeful that with the focus on Mom, we’ll finally get her somewhere that can provide her with satisfactory arrangement. An agency has been contacted to work out the arrangements to see what Mom wants and needs, and review the financial part. It’s progress.
Dad’s wife reached out to me yesterday via text. He was writing Christmas cards when he suddenly became ill and died. The cards were never sent.
His wife told me that he loved doing the cards each year, which surprised me, and that his card to me and my wife was in the mail. I think it sweet of him and her extra effort moves me.
In other focus areas, I’m concerned with the different military buildups happening around the world. More war machines are being shifted to the Arctic area. Additional U.S. troops are in Africa in advisory and training capacities. History shows that such involvement can easily rise into armed conflicts.
It’s a great concern with Trump. When Americans — two military members and a translator — were killed by ISIS, Trump ordered attacks in December. Operation Hawkeye Strike against 70 ISIS targets in Syria was conducted in early days but the military campaign is still active.
Just as worrying, a second U.S. carrier group is being sent to that region. It seems like the world is moving from trying diplomatic channels to manage disagreements to using military force.
Finally, to complete the circle of concerns, got my auto insurance bill yesterday. Premiums jumped $50, adding to our general affordability worries.
Jumping onto the idea of circles, The Neurons ordered some Billy Preston. “Will It Go Round in Circles” from 1973 is playing in the morning mental music stream. I also enjoy the song’s musical intricacies, and the lyrics make me grin. Here’s my favorite part.
Lyrics
I’ve got a dance I ain’t got no steps, no I’m gonna let the music move me around I’ve got a dance I ain’t got no steps I’m gonna let the music move me around
Yes, just let the music move me around.
Now I got my coffee. I had a cup yesterday, first since my surgery, but today, I’m drinking it hot out of the pot.
Hope your day finds a groove that takes you to a place where peace and grace join you and makes your life a little better.
Colder but dry, Friday the 13th stole into Ashland. Sunlight and warmth are now missing, shrouded by thin clouds.
It’s February 13, 2026, 48 F in Ashland, but that ‘feels like’ index probably shows a colder picture. Today’s high will be in the low 50s, still better than many areas.
Pivoting from weather to Mom, it pains me to report that Mom, 90 years old, texted me that sis is slapping her, shouting at her, being mean, etc. Mom also accuses her son-in-law of sneaking in at night to hide her remote control, lock the brakes on her wheelchair, and other cruel things.
None of it is true. Sis has sent me several recordings of her interactions with Mom. Mom insists her stories about the SIL of doing things to her is ‘absolutely true’, adding, “Why would I make it up?”
But Mom is staying up all night, sleeping all day, exhibiting classic sundowner syndrome, including confusion about what’s going on and the date. She texts other sisters in the middle of the night, asking them where they’re at, asking them to bring her things to eat and drink, when she has both available.
Sis is again angry and frustrated with Mom and wants Mom gone, based on what Mom is saying about sis’s husband. The managed decline in their relationship and Mom’s situation continues.
All that about Mom has The Neurons playing “Slip Slidin’ Away” by Paul Simon in the morning mental music stream. Lyrics like these make it feel like the song fits the day.
Lyrics
I know a woman Became a wife These are the very words she uses To describe her life She said a good day Ain’t got no rain She said a bad day’s when I lie in bed And think of things that might have been
I feel Mom is doing a lot of looking back, wondering what happened and pondering what’s going on.
I hope you all have a strong day of health and safety. Cheers
Wednesday, February 11, 2026, and it feels like spring is launching in Ashland. Let’s call it a false spring. 51 F with unchallenged blue skies and sunshine, 60 F is the expected high. Papi would be so happy, except a balmy breeze, which chases him back inside to nap his misery away.
I have dental surgery tomorrow, disrupting the normal flow, and spent time this morning responding to texts about Mom’s mental issues. Connecting dots, my thoughts turned toward an overheard conversation from yesterday.
Sitting in the coffee shop, typing and thinking, two women of about my age shared a table to my right. Music and conversations were cooking but now the room was empty. The two women’s conversation floated to me through the sudden quiet.
One chatted for a while about health concerns regarding her mother, daughter, and herself. The tone changed a little as the other one talked about her concerns over Trump’s policies, ICE, and the general news tone, which she referenced as ‘disturbing’.
The first woman agreed with her and they both addressed concerns about being tired and depressed. Then they touched hands and smiled, telling each other how much it meant to meet and have moments like this.
I studiously tried to stay out of their circle. But one glanced at me and smiled as they rose to leave. Smiling back, I said, “I hope you have a beautiful day.” Thanking me, she wished the same for me.
Their conversation resonated because it feels like an echo of my life, and other people I know. We’re all sailors trying to navigate change. Some of it is about aging, maturing, dying, not necessarily depressing but certainly generally somber matters. Norms for me and them are shifting, and so are expectations. Our emotions become compressed under the loads we carry.
With all that rolling through me, along with dreams, The Neurons’ morning mental music stream offering is Harry Styles singing, “As It Was”.
Chorus
In this world, it’s just us You know it’s not the same as it was In this world, it’s just us You know it’s not the same as it was As it was, as it was You know it’s not the same
That about sums up my reflections this morning: it’s not the same.
Hope peace and grace find and carry you forward into a better future.
With another year under Trump completed, it’s time to take stock.
I was one of those who predicted that Trump would be aggressive in his immigration policies and against political opponents, and would be detrimental to our nation. I believed Trump’s social, economic, and trade policies would worsen life for people in poverty or needing assistance. And, while there may have been places where the Federal government could have been trimmed, DOGE’s cuts did not address needs or cause and effect.
Dealing with flattening revenue streams and running out of surplus funds, local and state taxes and fees are rising to compensate for Federal cutbacks.
Insurance rates and repair costs for personal vehicles are rising. So, too are healthcare premiums and healthcare costs, further eroding spending power for many families and individuals.
Uncertainty among corporations is showing up in job reports. Corporate layoffs touched a level not seen since the 2008 recession. New employment is flat with companies backing off hiring plans. Minority unemployment rose, and disparities widened.
None of this surprises me. History and science told me that this is where Donald Trump’s philosophy would lead. The results are catching up with his decisions.
Tuesday, February 10, 2026, finds Ashland reunited with sunshine. White and grey faintly marble a powerful blue sky with 44 degrees F on the thermometer.
All is not well, as Papi pointed out. Hustling in from outside, he turned and snapped a sharp meow at the wind. Winds are at the evilest of the evil, in the ginger wonder’s opinion. After cleaning the wind off him, he curled up, pacifying his sour mood with a nap.
Hard to think that we’re already ten days into February. 2026 has no speed governor and the days seem like they’re tearing along. It already feels like the month was a year with everything going on. Trump’s hold seems diminished, and that appears reflected in less violence, although his hate remains turned up.
We’re still awaiting many outcomes. The Trump Effect of transforming things to trash has hold of the crypto market and the US dollar is losing value. Part of the White House is literally demolished. The full revelations of Trump’s multiple appearances in the Epstein files is still snaking to the surface.
Yet, the Roberts Court somehow hasn’t announced an announcement about the Trump tariffs legality, even though arguments were heard months ago. It’s almost like they’re stalling.
In hilarious news, Senator Rick Scott, a strong Trump supporter, insisted that US Olympian daring to employ their freedom of speech to criticize the nation should be stripped of their uniform because the United States a ‘beacon of freedom and democracy’. Apparently, what he’s saying hasn’t sunk into the Florida senator’s brain.
And despite the speed of the month, we’re still awaiting the official jobs report, which was due last week.
With all that going on, Trump’s approval ratings are going down like the Titanic. It’s almost like a spell has broken.
And that transports me to today’s music.
The Neurons have “I Put A Spell On You” playing in my morning mental music stream. The song was originally called up in response to a dream about discovering someone had cursed me. As I thought about the day’s news headlines and Trump’s activities, I thought the song fit the need as Tuesday’s theme music. There are several wonderful covers of this song but I’m going with the one which surfaced in my head first, the CCR version.
Once more into the day. I hope that peace and grace bring you fair winds and good news.
We attended a musical show in Talent last Sunday. The woman beside me started chatting during intermission. Eventually, she asked, “Where do you live?”
“Ashland. And you?”
“Ashland. I moved here in 1976. When did you move to Ashland?”
“Over twenty years ago.”
“Really? A town this size, I meet many people but I don’t recall seeing you before.”
I smiled. “Well, we’re southies. We live on the southern end.”
“Southies.” She laughed. “I like that. Yes, I’m on the northwestern end of town.”
The show resumed. I wondered where she did her grocery shopping. Ashland is unofficially divided into the center, north, and south. North Ashland doesn’t have a grocery store. The south is the town’s newest area and offers five stores. A small Safeway is the only store in the center.
Townies who have lived here a while seem to go to Medford for their shopping needs, especially WinCo. From conversations, it seems like the southern stores — Market of Choice, Shop N Kart, Albertson’s, BiMart, and Grocery Outlet — haven’t been there ‘that long’. In fact, old timers often regale us with what ‘used to be there’ and how they loved those previous places.
I didn’t get a chance to ask my new friend where she shopped, but I’ll be sure to take it up with her, next time I run into her.
Driving back home, I pulled up to stop behind other cars. My attention drifted from traffic to the mountains to the north.
Gasp.
Snow.
Not much, mind you, but snow was topping the northern mountains. Excitement building, I leaned forward to look east as traffic moved.
Yes, more snow capped Pilot Rock and the eastern mountains.
Been too long since snow crowned those mountains. More rain is expected tomorrow, moving in from the south later this week. Weather forecasters are calling for snow, but only at higher elevations. Still, if a bit more of the mountains are covered, I’ll be a much less worried camper.
It’s a day of conflicting signals. Friday, February 6, 2026. Ashland began at 37 F at my house. Yesterday was gorgeous, dry as summer, warm as spring. Today has the southern sky hazy with a little gray with blue commanding the remaining vista. Highs will escalate into the mid to upper 60s.
Papi and I enjoyed sunshine in the back. He rolled around in warm grass while I cheered, declining his invitation to join him rolling around. Returning inside, I offered him some of my morning coffee, which he declined with a mild golden-eyed gaze.
I perused the news with a little edge of worry about what might have happened overnight or in the early hours. Yes, there was more bad news.
Trump posted an immature video on his social media account depicting former President Obama and First Lady Michelle Obama as monkeys. After immediate and widespread criticism, the video was removed and a staffer was blamed.
Unfortunately, I think it undermines Trump’s assertions of being a unifier or peace president. Consistent, emerging patterns keep showing Trump as the opposite of peace and unity. His silence since matters as much as the initial posting, as a unifier would be out front, apologizing and taking responsibility.
Some probably theorize that Trump was trying to reinvigorate his base or that sharing the video was an effort to distract from the growing Epstein noise, or the less than impressive TrumpRx rollout. They may be correct, for all I know. Trump remains opaque and transparent.
The Neurons ended up feeding me “December” by Collective Soul in my morning mental music stream. I sang along, “Don’t scream aloud, don’t think aloud, turn your head, now baby, just spit me out.” A song written out of hope and frustration, it feels like a fitting song for today, after Trump disparaged the Obamas, who offered hope when they loved in the White House.
I hope Friday finds you safe and healthy. May peace and grace hold and carry you.
Michael Seidel, writer 