A conversation with friends about fire ants reminded me of the places where my family lived.
My oldest sister was born in Des Moines, Iowa. I was born in Arlington, Virginia. My next sister was born in San Antonio, Texas, then my late brother was born (and died) in Fairfax, Virginia.
The family split, courtesy of a divorce. My two little sisters via Mom were born in Wilkinsburg, Pennsylvania, and Penn Hills, Pennsylvania.
My two little brothers from Dad’s side were born in Beckley, West Virginia (where my youngest brother also died).
I guess that it’s little wonder that wanderlust plagued me by the time I was seventeen and joined the military to see the world. It shouldn’t be a surprise that after almost twenty years of living in Ashlandia (the longest I’ve ever lived anywhere), I’m ready to move again.
Despite a cloudy presence, it’s a sunny Tuesday, November 7, 2023. An election day in many precincts, we’re not voting on anything this year in Ashlandia, where the voters are blue with purple tints and mostly retired professionals. It’s 49 F now with plans to burst into the low fifties, perhaps even hitting up to 53 F. Woo – break out the shorts and tank tops.
Do people still wear tank tops?
My clothes amused me today after I dressed. They were so funny, cracking jokes among themselves. Yeah, I need to say that information differently: The Neurons pointed out how old my wardrobe is, amusing me. Like, the jacket was purchased in San Francisco at Macy’s in December, 2005, during a trip to the city from our new home in Oregon to visit with friends and hear some blues at a club. Pants, underwear, and socks are fairly new at four ~ five years, but my brown Nunn Bush shoes are over twenty-five years old, which strikes me as impossible. And they still fit and are amazingly comfortable. Just a little older than the shoes is the Arrows shirt, purchased at the Naval Air Station Moffett Field Exchange back in 1996.
Weird what memories stay sharp in the mind. Adding it all up, I’m an old clothes man who will never be accused of being a fashion plate. Oh, well.
I keep finding pieces of kibble at odd places in the house, such as the bedroom hallway, in the living room by the television, and in the office. I normally pick them up and toss them away. Yesterday, though, I saw Papi, the ginger blade, come up, sniff the kibble, look around, and then head for the feeding station. That put it all into context: these kibble pieces are not lost or misplaced, but precisely located elements of the KPS, the shorthand for the Kibble Positioning System. Consulting the KPS provides the floof about food locations. The floofs have such amazing technology, yeah?
The Neurons knocked me back with the music they slotted into the morning mental music stream (Trademark fishy). I was in the kitchen, minding my own business, getting on with needs. Having fed the house floofs, I’m preparing my own brekkie when I hear, “Words can’t bring me down.” Within a heartbeat or two, I’m hearing more of Christina Aguilera singing “Beautiful” from 2002.
Why this song today? I asked Der Neurons.
No, they didn’t respond, but I knew that it was about words. First, words in the news about polls, politics, and elections; then words about wars, killings, and death; and finally, words in my novel-in-process and where it stands and what I’m gonna do with it next.
It’s such a strong and lovely song, though, well sung and produced, I’m happy with it in the MMMS.
Every day is so wonderful Then suddenly it’s hard to breathe Now and then I get insecure From all the pain, I’m so ashamed
I am beautiful no matter what they say Words can’t bring me down I am beautiful in every single way Yes, words can’t bring me down… Oh no So don’t you bring me down today
To all your friends you’re delirious So consumed in all your doom Trying hard to fill the emptiness The pieces gone, left the puzzle undone Is that the way it is?
You are beautiful no matter what they say Words can’t bring you down…oh no You are beautiful in every single way Yes, words can’t bring you down, oh, no So don’t you bring me down today
No matter what we do (No matter what we do) No matter what we say (No matter what we say) We’re the song inside the tune Full of beautiful mistakes
And everywhere we go (And everywhere we go) The sun will always shine (The sun will always, always shine) And tomorrow we might wake on the other side
We are beautiful no matter what they say Yes, words won’t bring us down, no, no We are beautiful in every single way Yes, words can’t bring us down, oh, no So don’t you bring me down today
Oh, yeah, don’t you bring me down today, yeah, ooh Don’t you bring me down ooh… today
It’s a song worth listening to and thinking about. I hope you’ll listen and agree.
On to the day. Stay pos, be strong, lean forward, and remember that you’re beautiful. Coffee is at hand once again to bolster my will. Here’s the video. Cheers
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?
Gerfloofious(floofinition) – Humans or animals fond of the company of animals. Origins: 1660s (Latin), from ‘gerx’ – flock or gathering. Initial use of the word was to reference people who ‘gathered in herds to celebrate or learn’ but the meaning gradually shifted to its modern definition and was widely used as such by the early nineteen hundreds.
In use: “Mouse was usually taciturn or withdrawn around people but encountering animals, he became a gerfloofious socialite.”
In use: “Learning that their youngest child, Davy, was austistic, Lori and her family often struggled with his angry outbursts and lashing out, but when animals came into the household, his demeanor shifted and he became a gerfloofious individual, displaying characteristics and personality that they’d never witnessed heretofore in him, boosting their hope for the manner of life he could lead.”
Recent use: “When Meerkat Manor began airing in 2005, the gerfloofious meerkats quickly charmed many people, turning viewers into peri-addicts to see what happened next to Flower, Tosca, Shakespeare, and the rest.”
Slipperday, October 28, 2023, skated into Ashlandia, where people walk carefully in the shadows, wary that their feet will find ice and take them down. Spiky clumps of green grass stand tall, sprayed white, and stiff with cold. A wind keen with an icy edge lashes the house. It’s 31 F outside but no fear; sunshine is lifting over the trees and mountains. Soon the sun will gain enough elevation to pump some heat into the moment. We’ll be sizzling in the mid-50s F by the mid afternoon.
Warmer weather is on the way. November’s early days next week will take us into the mid to upper sixties as autumn entertains a last hurrah before December flexes in. All we can do is watch and adjust, and brace for holidays.
I have “Burning Down the House” by Talking Heads ringing out in the morning mental music stream (Trademark burning). The Neurons put it in there after a convo with friends and general remarks made about GOP intentions. Some thought they were burning down the house, others posited they were burning down the government, burning down the country, burning down the world, through their calculated disinterest, continuing efforts to manufacture and stoke divisions and fears.
The song title and repeating phrase, “Burning down the house,” is a metaphor as I understand it, about the house not burning down but being torn apart. In an interview heard years ago, David Byrne, who wrote the song, said it was also about schizophrenia.
[Verse 2] Hold tight, wait till the party’s over Hold tight, we’re in for nasty weather There has got to be a way Burning down the house
[Chorus 1] Here’s your ticket, pack your bag, it’s time for jumping overboard The transportation is here Close enough but not too far, maybe you know where you are Fighting fire with fire, ah!
[Verse 3] All wet, here, you might need a raincoat Shake-down, dreams walking in broad daylight Three hundred sixty-five degrees Burning down the house
[Chorus 2] It was once upon a place, sometimes I listen to myself Gonna come in first place People on their way to work say, “Baby, what did you expect?” Gonna burst into flame, ah
Burning down the house
[Verse 4] My house is out of the ordinary That’s right, don’t wanna hurt nobody Some things sure can sweep me off my feet Burning down the house
So it seems apt as a theme song. We have elected officials in the form of Republicans (Marjorie Taylor Greene, Mike Ross, Lauren Boebert) who don’t understand the Constitution or are willing to dismiss it (and people’s rights) for the expediency of their own religion, rights, and privilege. There’s the schizophrenic part – elected to serve but instead tearing the government down – as well as the tearing down the house aspect.
I think The Neurons made a superb choice, and this live video is sharp with sound and energy.
Stay pos, be strong, and keep moving forward. Freshly delivered coffee will fuel my flight today. Here’s the music. Cheers
Friday, October 27, 2023, slid into Ashlandia on icy paws, clear skies, and sunshine. Was 32 F. Warming now, and people are out walking among the gold, rose, and brown fallen leaves. None of the walkers kick them up, as I like to do as I march thlrough drifts on the paths.
Ashlandia, where the trees were imported and the people revere them, will reach the mid fifties by late afternoon. Now is the time to prepare for freezing weather, if you’ve not done that already. Disconnect the hoses and bring them in. Cover the outdoor faucets to protect them from freezing.
I’ve done those things. Now I need to deal with the furnace which just doesn’t seem to be warming us as we expect. Don’t suggest the thermostat or the filters; both are new and the vents are clean and unobstructed. No, some other technical challenge is behind this matter. I’ll search the net for what to do.
The Neurons hooked me up with Van Morrison in the morning mental music stream (Trademark facetious). Started while I was driving yesterday. A station played Steve Winwood doing “Higher Love”, a song I enjoy, inducing me to increase the volume and sing along. Counting Crows followed up with “A Long December” which forced my finger to find the volume button and add just a little more volume. Lenny Kravitz followed and a little more volume was added.
From that process of events, sounds, and thinking, The Neurons put “Caravan” from 1970 into the stream, where it remained this morning. That’s because of the Van’s repeatitive urging, “Turn it up. Turn it up. On the radio.” I went with the version from The Last Waltz to help release it from the mental music stream, where Van Morrison is backed by The Band. Hope you like it.
Here we go, out to westing with traffic, time, weather, writing, and intentions once again. Stay positive, be strong, and remain steadfast. Coffee is steaming from a mug beside me. Here’s the music. Cheers
Here we go. Thursday ends in a y, so it must be time for me to rant.
Subject: Are more people running red lights?
It seemed like that was rare for me to witness anywhere outside of Japan, which was over thirty years ago. I’d see one sometimes in the Bay area, especially in San Jose.
Now, here in little Ashland, I typically witness two cars or more a day running red lights. I rarely if ever saw them before the COVID era began. Now they’re increasing. While some are people turning left across traffic and waiting for an opening that doesn’t come until the light changes, the huge percentage are going straight, speeding up to hurtle through an intersection before the light goes red.
They often don’t make it. People get the green light and begin to go and then, here comes the red light runner, forcing everyone with the green light and right of way to slam on their brakes. I often witness very close calls between vehicles, or the speeding vehicle and cyclists or passengers.
It reminds me of the one crash I saw when someone ran the redlight.
This was around 1997. We were living in Mountain View, California, and had decided to go to the Mall of America in Milpitas. Stopped at a traffic light, I realized I needed to be in the lane to the right. Only one car inhabited it, so I thought I’d delay until they went and then shift over.
The light changed. The car in the next lane started off. I followed.
Suddenly, here comes a Cadillac sedan. Running the light from my left, they slammed into the driver’s side of the first car.
That could’ve easily been me.
We went right, around the block, coming back to check on the cars. Took a few minutes and by the time we arrived, the cops were there and the people from the crash were in a parking lot. But my wife and I stopped anyway, to share what we witnessed, and to check on the people.
As we approached, we heard the young female driver whose car was hit say with heavy sobbing, “I thought the light had changed.” On the parking lot’s other side, an old man paced while an elderly woman fumed beside him, arms crossed, lips tight.
I immediately said to the young driver, “It had changed. I was there. It was green when you went.”
The cops looked at me and asked who I was. I explained it all. My wife and I verified, the light was absolutely green when the woman went forward.
I heard the fuming woman say, “You’re always doing this. I knew this was going to happen.” As I looked her way, she finished to the old man, “You’re lucky you haven’t killed someone yet, but you will, if you don’t change.”
Watching these people taking greater and greater risk, I often now think the same thing which that woman said that day.
Winter stepped closer to us today. Though it’s Thursday, October 26, 2023, in Ashlandia, where the animals are heading for hibernation, and so are quite a few people, the lows are now in the thirties at night. Our present temp here is 38 F, and it’s blue-sky sunny. Today’s high will be in the low to mid sixties, but tonight will drop to 32 and more snow will kiss the elevations.
Snow on the els is a good thing, though. Snowpacks require replenishing, as do all the ways we save water to support ourselves through the dry, hot summer.
Today’s mood (disappointed) results from the House GOP Speaker vote. With Rep Johnson installed, another right turn toward the dark edge was taken. Yeah, pessimist, aren’t I? No reason to believe otherwise. Modeates went along with him because they realized that the GOP’s naked dysfunction was ugly optics. Voters no like, markets no like, allies no like. Had to change those optics somehow. And Rep Johnson, a hard right conservative who preaches religion to save us while stamping out abortion choices and rights but affable enough to get along with all the GOP factions, is their Missouri Compromise, a temporary peace with nothing resolved.
My internal optimist suggest wait; see. My pragmatist laughed at my optimist.
Feel like we’re just bleeding the Earth dry. Suck out all the fossil fuels. Drink all the water, bottle it up and sell it for a few dollars more, or throw it on landscaping and golf courses. Douse the crops and fill the swimming pools. We keep butting up to limits. So what will be cut? Who will stop getting water? The wealthy and powerful will keep getting water. ‘Cause they’re the ones with the most say in a capitalistic democracy. Some voters and citizens will shrug it all off as a temporary setback or completely deny it’s happening. Others will desperately fight to change our course but will be blocked and obstructed every time, on every initiative. That’ll go on right up to the bitter end, when even the wealthy start singing the out of water blues.
Speaking of vampires and blues, The Neurons eavesdropped on my whining and dropped Neil Young and “Vampire Blue” into the morning mental music stream (Trademark fading). It’s a classic Young song, spare of chords, simple structure and words, delivered in a weary tone. At least, that’s how I har him.
Stay pos, vote, be strong and keep getting up after you go down. I’ll do the same. Just pour some coffee down my throat first, would’cha? Say, how much water does coffee take? I’m as addicted as the rest to the way it was.
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
Michael Seidel, writer 