Category: memories

Friday’s Theme Music

Mood: fierce

Friday, October 20, 2023, has risen. Or has it descended? Maybe neither; maybe it’s just there because the calendar said next time Earth completed its spin, this will be the day, the result of eons of evolution of people thinking about time and how to best track it in a coordinated, organized manner.

Today’s weather in Ashlandia, where the streams are low and the mountains are high-ish, looks like yesterday’s weather on paper. Same numbers. Greater quantity of thin white clouds have stolen into our picturesque blue sky fall theme.

The planet’s trajectory and axis have changed things, though. Weirdly, 80 F at this time of year doesn’t feel as hot as 80 F in spring and summer.

The sun rises further to south. Trees and mountains limit the early morning and late afternoon sunshine reaching my house. That reduced direct sunlight keeps it feeling cooler, even though the thermoment says otherwise.

The sun’s angles affect our house in other ways. The night cools faster and deeper. The house doesn’t warm as much during the day. Our interior temperature drifts along at 68 at night to 72 in the day, all temperaturs Fahrenheit. That was true yesterday despite reaching 82 at our house outside and 53 F last night. Not complaining, just noting it all. It is in fact, extremely pleasant and relaxing. Weather like this is one selling points for us to remain in Ashlandia, buy a house, and spread roots.

An interesting time was had in our house yesterday. My wife went to have lunch with a friend and then see Taylor Swift’s concert movie, The Eras Tour. She left at 2:00 PM. I came home from writing at the coffee shop at 2:40. A note was on my desk: “Strong smell of gas in the laundry.”

Natural gas heats our house. We also have a gas dryer, stove fireplace, and hot water heater. She and I both worry about gas leaks. It’s our nature, but when I a child, several homes in the area where I grew up exploded after gas leaks went undetected and untreated.

I went into the laundry. Yep, I agreed with her; I smelled gas.

So, I did all the things I’d been taught. Shut off the gas at the meter. Turned off circuit breakers so nothing could spark. Opened all the doors and several windows to air the house. Then I took my cell phone outside, along with a book. I called the gas company and reported the situation and sat on a chair on the porch and read and waited.

Nice day for such a thing if you need to endure, I thought, enjoying warm sunshine and a cool breeze.

The tech arrived about forty-five minutes later. He went through the house with an expensive gizmo which looked like a huge old cell phone, checking the gas levels, first with the gas turned off, then with the gas turned on. Nothing, he reported. “I don’t smell any, either.”

All clear, then. He left. I turned everything back on and set the clocks. End of emergency, though not end of worry. What did we smell?

I’d ask the tech for his ideas. He basically shrugged. Naturally, I checked the laundry for smells later. Nothing last night, nothing this morning. But it’s the kind of event that plague my mind, because nothing was essentially resolved.

For today’s music, I have Jimi Hendrix playing “Voodoo Child (Slight Return)” in the morning mental music stream (Trademark uncertain). The Neurons started playing it when I was out walking yesterday in a mountain’s shadow. It was very natural. I mean, the song starts, “Well, I’m standing next to a mountain.” Making a transition from standing next to a mountain and walking next to one and back was very easy.

Stay pos, be strong, and make the best of what you can with your day and what the situation provides. I’m off for coffee. Here’s the music. BTW, look at this stage and crowd. So different from many rock star concerts being put on this year, wouldn’t you say? Crank that up to eleven.

Cheers

1

Wednesday’s Theme Music

Mood: inspired

We’ve gravitated to Wednesday, October 18, 2023. Will it be one of those days? you ask. Thinking about what’s going on, I wonder as well. How will this day be remembered by us in five years and more? History will have one perspective, and each of us will have our own variation of what this day was like in hindsight, just as we do with absolutely everything that happens.

I believe that in a year, this day will be lost in the existential mud for me.

It’s 61 F with fog out there in Ashlandia, where the rockers are old, and the dancers are above average. From my window’s vantage, there’s not a scintilla of fog marring the blue, sun-fed expanse. Temperatures promise to live up to the sunshine; forecasters are announcing with some pleasure, it’s going to be in the low eighties today.

I was thinking about how difficult getting out of bed was when I was sick during the last two weeks. Every day was worse until something broke on Sunday. Then it gradually improved until it’s much better today.

The Neurons heard me thinking. That inspired them to inspire me with “Moving in Stereo” by The Cars in my morning mental music stream (Trademark inspired). The song’s forbidding techno beat always gives me pause. Combined with the voice inflections in the song’s early verses, it inspires robotic movements.

The words themselves capture some of the essence of my life views. I hear in them my thoughts about how we so easily succomb to our problems and often magnify them.

It’s so easy to blow up your problems
It’s so easy to play up your breakdown
It’s so easy to fly through a window
It’s so easy to fool with the sound

[Verse 3]
It’s so tough to get up
It’s so tough
It’s so tough to live up
It’s so tough on you

[Verse 4]
Life’s the same, I’m moving in stereo
Life’s the same except for my shoes

h/t to Genuis.com

I hear myself magnifying my issues in things like me muttering to myself, “I feel so sick.” Well, it’s a relative thing, innit? I was not dying, just coping with some mild to strong symptoms that affected thinking, breathing, and moving.

I ended up mocking myself about those things. I always like to see those you-are-here depictions of our planet as a miniscule dot in the galaxy, and the galaxy is a tiny dot in the universe. That restores my perspective. Or some of it. It’s a relative thing.

Stay positive, be strong, and cling to whatever optimism you can muster today. Fortified with black coffee, I will do the same.

Here’s the music. Cheers

0

Thursday’s Theme Music

Mood: caring

We’ve come upon a rare beast: Thursday, October 12, 2023. It only happens once.

47 F in Ashlandia, where the air is clear and the people are refined. Never fear, the rain has stopped, and the skies are clear deep blue. With the sun and air working together, we’ll reach 69 F before sunset comes at 6:35 PM. This sunset gives us an swath of daylight just over eleven hours long. The clock is running.

There’s a great deal to care about in the news, as usual. Several wars and politics just edge baseball and football. Best news heard this week is that my little sister looks cancer free after having her rectum removed in September. Hurrah for that. As another friend privately noted, but once you’ve experienced a close encounter of the cancer kind, the fear it’ll return haunts you.

The Neurons have plugged a 1982 Donald Fagen song into the morning mental music stream (Trademark petrified). I heard “I.G.Y. (What a Beautiful World)” on the car radio a few days ago. The song is a riff off of an International Geophysical Year – IGY – which Fagen read about. The IGY was in the 1950s. Fagen then contemplates a beautiful future.

Standing tough under stars and stripes
We can tell
This dream’s in sight
You’ve got to admit it
At this point in time that it’s clear
The future looks bright
On that train all graphite and glitter
Undersea by rail
Ninety minutes from New York to Paris
Well by seventy-six we’ll be A-OK

What a beautiful world this will be
What a glorious time to be free

Get your ticket to that wheel in space
While there’s time
The fix is in
You’ll be a witness to that game of chance in the sky
You know we’ve got to win
Here at home we’ll play in the city
Powered by the sun
Perfect weather for a streamlined world
There’ll be spandex jackets one for everyone

What a beautiful world this will be
What a glorious time to be free

h/t Genius.com

The words and sentiment kept pestering my thinking. Simplifying, part of the IGY philsophy was to bring scientist together to discuss problems propose solutions.

Hearing this song, though, about how science and technology could advance and help us, I’m dismayed. Science and technology is under attack by many. Witness what’s been going on with the COVID-19 vaccines, along with other vaccines. (Point of order, many have derided vaccines for decades, so that’s not a clearly new development.)

So, let’s point out that people doubt what scientists are saying about global warming. This, despite the rise of sea waters, drought, melting ice caps, and increased extreme weather which scientists warned us about.

Led by hard right conservatives, people doubt the potential benefits of solar and wind power. Most focus on the negatives, ignoring the negatives behind the accepted energy sources like fossil-based fuels and nuclear energy.

Fagen talks about new technology like undersea trains taking us from New York to Paris in 90 minutes. I can’t help but wonder who that might help besides the people who can afford it. We already have space travel for the wealthy developing. Of course, they like to say that if space travel can become common enough, prices will come down.

But how much does space travel help the masses? For my end, I’d prefer to see high speed rail built in the United States so that it doesn’t takes days to cross the country and a small fortune, as it does now. Perhaps electric trains to move people and cargo so we’re not all crowding into commercial aircraft like sardines in a can.

And I’d rather see money and technology spent on solving problems that affect people every day, such as we saw happen with vaccines. Let’s do the same to battle cancer.

While saying all of this, I do remember a television show called “Connections“. James Burke hosted the show. The subject was about unexpected uses and benefits derived from technology, and how these improvements were connected through science and medicine, and the continual quest for improvement. So, while I poo-poo space travel for the wealthy, perhaps unexpected benefits will be derived to solve some of the problems our world faces.

Finally, Fagen mentions, “What a glorious time to be free.” Yet, war is on the rise. So are challenges to people’s basic rights.

Book banning is on the right, as is racism and white supremacy.

Doesn’t feel like a glorious time to be free.

Anyway, “I.G.Y. (What a Beautiful World)” is today’s theme music. Please listen to it and contemplate the ideas in it. I’d enjoy hearing what others thing. Perhaps, I’m just emerging as a pessimistic as I lean in toward my geezer years.

Time to saddle up this day and ride on toward the sunset. Be strong, stay safe and optimistic. Here’s the music. I got my coffee and I am a go. Cheers

2

Monday’s Theme Music

Mood: ennui

Hello, fellow trekkers through life. It’s Monday, October 9, 2023.

Heavy clouds clipped in under night’s cover, announcing autumn was ending our Indian summer flirtation. 65 F now, 66 F is the projected high for Ashlandia, where all ingredients are fresh, locally grown, and organic, except when it isn’t. Showers are expected shortly, the beginning of a local rainfest running this week.

Was tired this morning and didn’t want to leave my bed. Not happy news out in the world, in my mind, right? More war rising and escalating.

But, the cats clarified who has the power and how my desires fit into the morning routines when it comes to decisions about them eating or me sleeping. I also remembered that I’d committed to helping my wife.

Said wife — still the first (I know, it’s a surprise to all of us) — had Food & Friends deliveries scheduled that day. She’d be returning from exercise class, change clothes, swig down his coffee and don some lippy, and then she and I would jump in the car. I’m here driver for this monthly volunteer work.

Our last F&F outing didn’t go great. Three people didn’t answer the door or the food. Typical F&F beneficiaries are elderly, handiapped, or people coping with diseases. So, besides delivering food, F&F’s mission includes ensuring people are okay and don’t need assitance.

We picked up the food at the senior center and perused the list. Three people were off it. We talked about them, hoping they’re okay, wondering about their situation. Two new people had been added. Off we went.

It mostly went well, although there were hitches, such as being short one frozen meal. The biggest issue was that one new man didn’t answer his door. My wife called the number provided; not in service. After knocking more, she wrote a note to him on the official F&F slip and we pressed on.

Afterwards, we went back to his place. Still no answer.

The man lives in an apartment complex. The manager’s office was nearby so my wife went over to speak with the manager about the man. Turns out, the F&F client has a motorized wheelchair. He’s a smoker and likes to go out to smoke. The manager had seen him two hours before, buzzing around the campus.

Calling it a day, we returned to the senior center and my wife documented all that had happened.

The driving and waiting seemed to drain me today. Selfish of me, I reflected, but then again, that’s my writing time. Reactions involving writing doesn’t aways flow down normal culverts of thinking and emotions. Also, I volunteer to help her, and I enjoy it. Just one of those days.

I always wonder, though, what brings people to this point. Thinking about why they might be on a F&F client, I pursue the regular courses of reasons. Genetics, giving disease an unfair advantage. Bad luck, like car accidents and house fires. They might have been victimized by others, or made decisions which seemed to be the thing to do, only to have it all go south.

While sitting in the car, I listened to the radio and waited at one point. “Tailwind” by Kenny Wayne Shepherd came on. I’d only heard the song, which came out in 2019, a few times before. I know controversy about KWS was stirred a few years ago over his ‘General Lee’ replica. The General Lee is an orange ’69 Dodge Charger with a CAS battle flag painted on its roof. The car was featured in a television show called “The Dukes of Hazzard”, which aired from 79 – 85. Overseas most of the time, I didn’t see much of it.

Anyway, KWS had a nomination for Blues Musician of the Year (or some honor like that) rescinded because of his ownership of the car. In his response, KWS acknowledged he had the car but had the CSA flag covered up because he knew it represented racist elements. He apologized for it and stated that he stood against racism and oppression for everyone.

Well, hearing the song, The Neurons kept it going in the morning mental music stream (Trademark confusing) after we’d shifted into the afternoon. So, I’m gifting it to you. The Neurons and I agreed that the lyrics fit my mood.

Sometimes I feel like a man in a can
About to go hurtling through
Space, whiplash fast
Soon as the match hits the fuse
Sometimes it seems like I’m making it up
Crazy and crazier days
When fiction ain’t stranger than the truth
Turn the page
Turn the page

Roll around the world
And around again
Someplace we’ve never been
Blow a kiss and
Fly with the sun
See how lightning fast we can run
With a little luck
We might just catch a tailwind
Hey, fellow travelers
Keep travelin’

Somedays I swear that the game must be rigged
Jokers up every last sleeve
And if crooked is straight
Then what the hell does that make me

h/t to AZLyrics.com

Stay pos and be strong. Here’s the music. Off for coffee and writing. Cheers

0

Sunday’s Wandering Thoughts

Austin is gone. I haven’t seen him in days.

Austin showed up earlier in 2023. Just after spring, is what I think. A white man in his mid-twenties, he appeared to be in good health. About 6′ 2″, his hair was bright, shiny copper. His shoulders were broad but he was otherwise lean, but didn’t seem very musular. His clothes, usually green or gray, the sort worn for hiking, were in excellent condition. A large backpack rested on his shoulders and back.

My interactions with him were brief and superficial. I nodded to him once and said, “Hello.” He didn’t answer. I held the door open for him another time and was rewarded with, “Thank you.” Thank you is the most I ever heard him say to anyone.

Quickly becoming a daily regular, Austin usually requested water or ordered tea. His voice was low, with a soft tone. I rarely heard him order, but saw the tea or water. He never spoke to other patrons and sat alone, sipping his drink and listening to his phone through earphones. He didn’t have a regular seat, as I do. He sat wherever there was space, stripping off his huge backback and setting it on the floor beside him. People tried to give him money several times; he always rejected it.

His routine presence intrigued me. I like watching people and observing matters. Regulars and their habits are like a weird hobby for me, which I call ‘coffee shop spotting’. I have made several friends in this way. I’ve often included aspects of what I observe in my fiction writing.

Since we’re located close to the Pacific Coast Trail (PCT), I speculated that Austin was walking it and stopping in Ashland for a break. Many hikers pass through here in that way. They’re a normal, regular sight. Many stock up on supplies, rest and clean up, pick up mail, and receive packages. I figured Austin was doing these things.

But one week became two, and two weeks expanded into several months. Austin spent the entire summer in Ashland, walking Ashland Street with his pack on his back, stopping at the coffee shop, and then going back out and walking down the street again. I never saw him anywhere else. I don’t know where he slept. He always presented a neat and clean impression.

Now he’s gone. I never met him but I worry about him. He’d become part of my daily landscape. I asked the coffee shop workers if they knew any more about him; no. Several shared my concerns and had made many of the same questions. Austin never elaborated to him about any of his plans and situation. I know that local homeless individuals tried becoming his friend, but he rebuffed him, too.

I hope he’s okay, and that he’s not same killer or something on the run, and that whatever brought him spend the summer in Ashland has been resolved in his favor. Maybe there never was anything. Perhaps he was just taking time out from his life for a while.

It shouldn’t be important to me; other people have come and gone. It’s that Austin was a regular but an enigma. That made him a puzzle.

Now he’s gone but the puzzle remains, probably never to be solved. I hope he wasn’t injured or hurt. In my mind, I’ve sent him back to the world where he started. He’s resumed his life, and is back in college.

One can hope.

0

The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly

It was The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly in our backyard, if that movie was done by cats.

The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly is a 1966 spaghetti western film. That name, ‘spaghetti western’ was given to a series of western films based on the US west, but generally written, directed, and produced by Italians and filmed in Europe. Sergio Leone was one the leaders of this movement. With a string of successful films, he became influential in how westerns were made. This film was one of his masterpieces and judged by film critics to be significant.

Clint Eastwood starred in several spaghetti westerns, including this one. The movie’s morally complex story is that three gunfighters are searching for stolen gold during the American Civil War. The gold is supposed to be buried in a cemetery. The three men are searching and fighting for it while coping with the war going on. They eventually find the cemetery. A final showdown is set up.

It’s a climatic scene, delivered with long shots of the three gunfighters interspersed with tight close ups of the squinting and sweating sunburned men as flies pester them. These movies were always gritty and tense, with impressively realistic details. A music box is playing – yes, it’s part of the story – along with the titular theme song. When the music box finishes, the gunfight commences and finishes the tale.

My cats, Papi and Tucker, aided by a stranger, recreated the scene in the backyard. A jay provided the background ‘music’. Standing in an equilateral triangle about eighteen feet apart, Tucker and Papi faced off against a gray and white stranger.

Tucker is a black and white long-haired/short-haired mix with crazy long, white whiskers. There looks like some Maine coon in those whiskers, along with his ears and face shape. He used to be a fierce fighter but has finally chilled as he’s aged. Papi, the ginger blade, is years younger. He’s been in a few fights – he was in one just last night – including at least twice with Tucker, but prefers to not fight if fighting can be avoided.

A strong wind was blowing. Tucker was in sunlight on a small knoll on which three trees are perched. Their branches blew wildly over his head. The stranger was back by the wooden plank fence between two bushes. Papi was in shadowed dark green grass. The only movement I saw on the three floofs were small eye slides and ear shifts.

Though Tucker isn’t the right ‘colors’ to be Eastwood, his expression was worthy of being Clint’s character. I could easily imagine a cigar in Tucker’s mouth as he stared down the other.

A few minutes into it, Papi slowly settled into a more comfortable watching posture. Tucker followed suit a couple minutes later, encouraging the third cat to do the same. They stayed like that for about three minutes. Then, Papi, I guess growing bored, looked around and discreetly walked off. Tucker lowered his head down for a nap. The stranger carefully shifted, and then went up the fence and away from the scene.

All very anticlimactic. While it reminded me of the famous movie scene, none of these three participants were ugly. I can’t speak for the stranger, but my two can sometimes be good, or bad. Come to think of it, they’re as morally complex as the gunfighters, and just as entertaining.

0

Thursday’s Theme Music

Mood: energetic

Hallo, fellow earthlings. Greetings from Ashlandia, where the sun is shining, and the inhabitants are spirited.

Today is Thursday, October 5, 2023.

It’s started out at 52 F this morning. Sunshine lit the bedroom with a golden haze.

Wasn’t so nice in the rest of the house, where it was dark, even a little gloomy. Mountains and trees hid the sun until the Earth and sun moved enough to bring the sunshine over the obstructions.

60 F is now on display on the thermometer. Autumn colors have crept into my windows’ views. Sunshine blazes across the colors, sparking stunning vividness in the scarletts, golds, yellows, and greens. A madcap blue sky lids it with perfection. Today’s high will be 86 F.

I think Indian summer may have arrived.

Our beer group met last night. Under fading sunlight and the mountain’s long shadows, a light breeze carried an air temperature of 69 F. Lovely setting for having a beer and chatting with friends. We had a good turnout of twelve people. One member, Mark, has his younger brother in for a visit. Those two joined forces with two other members to build a pergola in Mark’s backyard. Tales of mistakes made and corrected were shared for some of our time until discussion about the vacated House Speaker position.

From there, we strangely pivoted to cars. “What car that you owned would you like to have back?” one member queried us. 1960s muscle cars were mentioned by many. A pickup truck was thrown in. I would opt for my orange 1974 Porsche 914. My wife and I had much fun in that car, tooling around San Antonio and the local Texas countryside, targa top off, sunshine soaking us. Conversation then shifted to rock concerts people had attended.

Eavesdropping on the conversation, Les Neurons began playing Bob Seger singing “Fire Lake” in the morning mental music stream (Trademark fallacious). This mellow 1980 song has such a throwback feel that brackets a story-telling mode, ending with a philosophical question, “Who wants to go to Fire Lake?” With Bob Seger’s throaty whiskey delivery, it’s a pleasant song to have in the MMMS.

Stay positive, be strong, and keep your head in the clouds and keep reaching for the stars. Coffee is being consumed. Time for the day to be embraced. Here’s the music. Cheers

0

Octmonedai’s Theme Music

Mood: hopeful

Welcome again to Octmonedai in Ashland, where the bears are large and the pets are wary.

Octmondai comes four to five times each year. These are the Mondays (Monedais, or Moon Days) in October. We’ll have five this year. Many people observe these days by getting out of bed, dressing, and rushing off to work, meetings, or schools. I celebate by drinking black coffee. Salute.

It’s October 2, 2023. Over 75% of the year is done. Ninety days remain. The clock’s digital numbers are running on anything you want done in 2023.

It’s fifty degrees now, that’s Fahrenheit, under a spotted white and blue sky. Sunshine has arrived but doesn’t seem too interested in getting warm. Today’s high will be 64 F, and rain will come this evening. I still keep my fingers crossed that a pleasant Indian summer will be enjoyed this month.

I’m in a hopeful mood today. That’s brought on by some news last week. Judge Engoron’s ruling regarding Donald J. Trump’s real estate valuations said — paraphrasing a little — they would be more at home in Dungeons & Dragons and other fantasy existences rather than the real world. Score one for justice. Trump’s civilian fraud trial begins in New York this week — today! — and is expected to go on to December. Knock wood and fingers crossed, justice will prevail.

In other news regarding Donald Trump’s indictments, one of his co-defendants, Scott Hall, plead guilty and has been sentenced in the Georgia election racketeering case. One down, eighteen to go.

A temporary funding extension was achieved for the US government. The process behind it demonstrated the lack of a Republican will other than to generally support Trump (and ignore anything bad said about him), a great deal of party infighting, and their inability to govern. That, combined with the poor showing that was the GOP debate to find their presidential nominee, reveals a narcissistic and confused political organization.

We went to the AIFF outdoor showing of E.T. the Extraterrestrial last night. The event’s organization was a bit sloppy. Starts at 6, they said. Well, no, playing the movie didn’t start until 7. Multiple food trucks were due to be there but only one was now available. They offered Carribbean food, and weren’t ready to serve food until almost 6:30. There was beer, wind, and popcorn for a small donation, but they seemed sadly unprepared for children. Only popcorn for them and water for them.

E.T. was as I remembered it, solid pacing, with an interesting basic story and plot. The dialogue in the movie’s first quarter seemed lamer than what I remember; my wife reminded me that it was a different time back in 1982, and that might account for that dialogue. Drew Barrymore was definitely the best actor on screen. The temperature grew colder as the film rolled on, with a sharp northern wind visiting us as we sat chairs, but we were zipped up and under blankets, with gloves on, and endured.

I have “Walk On” by U2 ringing out in the morning mental music stream (Trademark reckoning). I don’t know what prompted The Neurons to call it up and put it on repeat today. Although the song has noble intentions (Aung San Suu Kyi’s fight for democracy and her house arrest for her activities), the 2001 song left little mark on me. I prefer the live version much more than the studio rendition. Live version is more energized and uplifting.

Stay pos and strong. Chase the day and lock it away. Coffee drinking is finished until the next roun in about an hour. Here’s the music. Cheers

0

Sunday’s Theme Music

Mood: mellow

Greetings to the first day of October. Sunday finds us awash in blue sky in Ashlandia, where the apples are plentiful and the deer are eating well. We saw twenty-three of them around town yesterday while running errands, usually in small herds of four to six.

It’s a chilly day despite sunshine that stings the eyes with its brilliance. 48 F now, we’re doing 66 F today.

October has special meaning for me. I joined the military in October, 1974. Twenty-one years later, I retired in October. And my wife and I bought this house in October of 2006.

Meanwhile, yesterday’s rain postponed our E.T. showing to this evening. This is the second rescheduling; two weeks ago, the outdoor movie screening was postponed to yesterday because of hazardous air quality due to wildfire smoke.

Keeping this short today, so I’ll just go with the music. The Neurons have sowed the seeds of “Wheel in the Sky”, a 1977 song by Journey. I’ve romantically identified with the song’s idea that everything changes quickly and in surprising ways. As Journey portrays in the song, most of us can be anywhere tomorrow. I was in the military in ’77 and wholly agreed with the idea that I could be anywhere the next day. My Air Force units were usually tagged for mobility. That meant that we could be deployed to elsewhere as needed. Although stability has become my norm in this stage of my civilian life, weather disasters or personal upheaval such as health issues can force a shift with little warning. I’ve seen it happen with friends and family.

Beyond that, I moved numerous times as a child, because my father was in the military. Much of that was overseas for Dad, but Mom and we kids remained stateside. Dad was enlisted and that pay wasn’t much. So Mom drove us to live with relatives in Chicago, Iowa, and Pennsylvania. Then Dad would return and we’d head to Texas, California, Virginia, Ohio. Then I joined the military. For the next twenty-one years, I was assigned across the US and around the world on temporary, special, and permanent assignments. Eventually, I retired in California and moved to Oregon.

Remain positive, be strong, and keep chill. Let me finish this coffee and then I’ll kick off the day. Have a better one. Here’s the music. Cheers

2

Saturday’s Theme Music

Mood: positive

Let’s close our eyes and bow our heads; September, 2023, is passing. Today is Saturday, September 30, 2023. A fresh month — October — begins tomorrow.

“Alexa, weather,” I say.

“It’s 49 degrees in Ashland. Today’s high will be 62 degrees. Today’s forecast includes showers.”

I’m boiling her response down. Alexa is one of three sources for my daily weather info. The other two are my home system and wunderground.com online. I also often scan MSN’s weather forecast for us.

I do this because we’re located on the fringe of a small town, about three and a half miles long, with a population of about 20,000. I live on the southern end. The town is in a valley alongside Interstate 5. The southern end is where the valley pinches together and becomes a pass. For all these reasons, getting precise weather forecasts is troublesome. We’re usually a few degrees warmer than the forecast in the summer and a few degrees colder in fall and winter.

I don’t doubt Alexa’s forecast for today. It rained off and on through the night. Rainclouds are as thick as a Black Friday shopping crowd. Those clouds don’t look like they’re going to wander off without dropping more rain on us.

The cats are happier and more mellow with this weather. Both come in for shelter, washing before napping. Papi’s preference is the master bed where I keep a folded blanket at the foot for the cats. Tucker will used that at night, but it’s Papi’s during the daytime. Tucker prefers being with us in the daytime. He’ll haunt the desk in the snug, sleeping to the right of me, shoving around papers and rearranging equipment. I enjoy having him there, with his cute little black and white face and long, whirly whiskers at repose as he sleeps.

My wife and I have plans for the evening. Scienceworks is doing an outdoor showing of the movie E.T. Show starts at 6:30 PM. There will be food and beverage trucks, along with an ice cream truck.

Forecasts for that period tell us it’ll be colder by then, and it’ll be raining. Should be fun.

My wife particularly wants to go because she only saw E.T. once. This was when we were stationed on Okinawa, Japan. We saw a VHS bootleg copy of the movie, and the production values were terrible. Bootleg copies of films and TV shows was how we saw a lot of things in those pre-net, pre satellite TV days. Phoning home was still a major production that required us to go to the USO and use one of their expensive long-distance lines.

Well, with talk of “phone home” and memories of the way it was in 1982, Les Neurons have cranked up ELO’s 1977 song, “Telephone Line” for the morning mental music stream (Trademark fantasy). Makes sense, and I will allow it.

Stay pos and be cool, and strong. I’m refreshing my coffee — do you want a topoff? Here’s the music. Let the real day commence. Cheers

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