Wednesday’s Wandering Thoughts
Bit behind schedule today. Arriving in my office with a fresh cup of coffee this morning, I peered out the window. The sun was highlighting blue skies over green, yellow, gold, and scarlet autumn leaves. Under it all across the street was an enormous, beautiful light brown buck, blacktail, with a large set of antlers. He was standing in the neighbor’s front yard across the street, not stirring much except to flip his tail or to look one way or another.
It’s rutting season, though, so I knew what was up. Expanding my watch (in other words, lowering blinds, leaning forward, and turning my head), I spotted a doe busy eating in dense foliage beneath a giant old oak tree. She was about twenty-two feet from the buck. After a few minutes, she drifted out of her spot and across the yard, sometimes nibbling, passing seven feet from the buck. He paid little attention, so I wondered if he was standing guard against an intruder. I didn’t see one, though.
The doe crossed the driveway and into another blind of bushes and trees. I saw her turn and go between two houses, heading towards the Talent irrigation ditch. Only then did the buck turn and stroll after her.
Show wasn’t over folks, just taken to the next scene. All told, I watched for fifteen minutes, just enjoying nature on a sunny, fall day.
Wednesday’s Wandering Thoughts
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.
Wednesday’s Wandering Thoughts
This morning delivered light serendipity.
Waiting to turn, he was behind a silver third generation Toyota Prius and a current series Dodge Ram pickup, also in silver. Both turned left, and he did the same.
As the three accelerated down the boulevard, he checked the oncoming traffic: a silver third generation Toyota Prius, and a current series silver Dodge Ram pickup. From his angle, the two pairs of vehicles were identical.
He laughed as the cars and trucks passed each other, wondering if their drivers noticed what he was seeing and about the odds for this happening.
It would have been really freaky if a car like mine was behind the other two doppelvehicles coming my way, especially if the driver looked like me.
The Rock Dream
This is a short dream, or more explicitly, my memory of this one is brief. I have a sense that there was more dream but disturbances in the force truncated remembering more substance.
This was a neat part, though. Truging up a hill, I was in a deep twilight, one that curtailed light, limiting what I saw and knew. A weight was on me and my shoulders, back, and leg muscles were all aching. Weariness was slowing me. Each step was shorter and the time between steps was longer. I was thinking, I might not make it, and what should I do if I didn’t?
Taking a longer break to rest and rally my will, I looked almost straight up. Above me was a jagged rend in the darkness, displaying a galaxy splashed with red and blue swaths, a surprising and breathtaking sight.
Almost immediately after seeing the galaxy, I was in another place. Confusion punched through me about the change. I staggered a little, feeling myself off balance.
Then a man was talking to me, an older, baritone voice. I whipped my glances around, trying to understand who and where he was, missing what he was saying. When he paused, I asked, “What?”
Impatience glazing his inflections, he said, “I said, this is your new rock. We’re replacing your old rock.”
Bewilderment ascended in me. “What are you talking about?” But in parallel to me asking that, I saw a line of boulders in spotlights ahead of me. All were pretty large but the first one, an light grey ovoid, sucked in my attention. “What rocks?”
“You’ve been dragging a huge rock, a boulder, up the mountain. We think it’s time you get a break, so we’re giving you this one to drag for a while.”
“That little gray one?”
“Yes.” The impatience flared. “That’s the one.”
I shook my head. “I didn’t even know I was dragging a rock.”
“Dragging, carrying it,” the other said. “Do you want it?”
While that exchange went on, I took in a huge black monolith to one side, bending backwards to see its top. “Is that the rock I had?” I knew it was. Rock was a pale noun for the enormous piece towering over me. “I’ve been dragging that?”
“Yes, that’s your burden.”
Laughing, I was already answering, “I’ll take the grey one, then, sure. That’s a lot smaller.” I was thinking, that’ll make it all much, much easier.
“Okay, go ahead, then, take it, but you should now, it will grow. Burdens always do.”
Tuesday’s Wandering Thought
A coffee shop barista approached me as I sat typing. He was wearing a hat, sunglasses, and jacket and had served me just a few minutes before. Smiling big, he said, “Howdy, buddy.”
I stared at him in confusion. “Hey. What’s going on?”
Grinning, he removed his sunglasses and hat. “We were asked to dress up like our favorite customers for Halloween. I chose you.”
Bursting out laughing, I took in he outfit. “Spot on,” I said. “That’s cool. Thanks.” Then I laughed more.
Thursday’s Wandering Thoughts
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.
White Corvette Dream
The dream began when my wife and I, young people in our early twenties, were driving a red and white Chevy S10 pickup along winding roads. (My father drove a pickup just like this when I was in my twenties.) The roads were well-paved and we encountered no problems. It seemed to be a pleasure drive.
Returning to a house where I think we lived (it wasn’t clear in the dreamscape), we encountered Dad. He was tipsy, surprising me. He greeted us and then gave me a rambling speech and presented me with two checks, telling me, “This is for the hardship I’ve given you.” I protested that it wasn’t necessary, everyone makes mistakes, and so one, but he was adamant.
He went off and I went off. Finding my wife, I told her about it.
I was then outside, looking up at the blue sky. The moon and the sun drifted and floated across the sky’s highest reaches, leaving me startled because they don’t usually drift like an unmoored ship. Cartoon animals began crossing the sky with most changing and becoming something else as they did. One cartoon began very tiny and then grew into a small bunny as it crossed the sky, growing into a larger bunny, transforming from a cartoon creature into a real rabbit, which finished by bounding across the horizon.
Laughing and smiling, I tried telling others about this, but no one was interested beyond what they were doing, which disappointed me. One of my younger sisters then noticed the sky and announced it, and everyone stopped what they were doing to ooh and ah over the sky, irritating and exasperating me. I complained to them about it; all replied that they hadn’t heard me.
Back in the house with my dad, I told him that I need to go to the bank to deposit his checks and tried giving them back to him. He wouldn’t take them back and then declared that he had a check that needed deposited in his account and asked me to do that, scribbling out a check and signing it as he spoke. I took the check but then thought, Dad doesn’t have an account in my bank, does he? Also, he hadn’t give me acount information, although I supposed that they could get the info from the check. The whole exchange left me confused.
But I walked through the house and went upstairs to the bank. Two bank employees were waiting for me there. They already had Dad’s check but then swapped it with the one I had and destroyed the other one. While all this was going on, they sketched what they were doing but spoke so fast that I understood none of it.
Returning to the house and my wife, we went down concrete steps into a well-lit concrete garage. It was like a small maze of different garages but they were all mine.
We entered one of them and found a white 1981 Corvette with a red interior. (By happenstance, Dad had a ’81 Corvette but it was dark blue.)
The car was immaculate. As my wife and I took it in, I said, “I’d forgotten that I had this.”
She said, “Let’s take it for a ride.”
Her request surprised me but she was already getting into the car, taking the driver’s seat. My surprise doubled at that point; this wasn’t the kind of car she liked driving. I tried talking her out of it, pointing out the car’s power and that it’s a manual (she doesn’t know how to drive a manual) but she remained insistent and enthusiastic that she wanted to take it for a ride.
The dream ended with me getting in the other seat as she leaned forward and reached for the key already in the ignition.
Michael Seidel, writer 