Conventional wisdom can get it right many times. But sometimes, you just need to flip conventional wisdom the bird and get on with what you think you need to do.
Saturday’s Theme Music
Mood: lifted
Blue sky fall fever is settling over Ashlandia, where the trees are green and the sunshine is warm. 69 F on this Saturday morning, the expected high for September 9, 2023, will climb into the mid to upper 80s, depending upon exactly where you stand in the valley.
Got my car back from its repairs. All seems well. Continuing to prepare for our trip for a nephew’s wedding in PA. All the marriages in this family on my side, sixteen, and this will only be the second one with my attendance, the other being a niece a decade again, if you don’t count Dad’s second marriage. Have attended one marriage on my wife’s side, which is 20%. Couldn’t attend most of the others as I was outside the U.S. on military business.
Reading more today about the slow speed overthrow of democracy in America. Since Twitter went to X and throw off its controls, Chinese and Russian disinformation bots have ramped up production and influence. I read this in Heather Cox Richardson’s “Letters from an American” for September 7, 2023. Here are some of her pertinent words:
“A report published last week by the European Commission, the body that governs the European Union, says that when X, the company formerly known as Twitter, got rid of its safety standards, Russian disinformation on the site took off. Lies about Russia’s war against Ukraine spread to at least 165 million people in the E.U. and allied countries like the U.S., and garnered at least 16 billion views. The study found that Instagram, Telegram, and Facebook, all owned by Meta, also spread pro-Kremlin propaganda that uses hate speech and boosts extremists.
“The report concluded that “the Kremlin’s ongoing disinformation campaign not only forms an integral part of Russia’s military agenda, but also causes risks to public security, fundamental rights and electoral processes” in the E.U.”
Coupled with Google and Meta’s decisions that they’re going to allow AI generated fake political ads — with suitable ‘disclosures’, of course — and the sea of confusion and disagreement is bound to overtake us as surely as a storm surge during a hurricane in Florida. But don’t worry, we’ll have shiny toys to play with.
But today’s most heartbreaking story has to be the quake which slammed Morocco. Over 1000 dead at this point. Rescue missions and supply deliveries will ramp up soon. Hope there are no aftershocks.
The Neurons have gifted me with “Wait” by White Lion (1987) in the morning mental music stream (Trademark classified). Again, I don’t know what kicked the song in there. White Lion was a big hair band with a sound similar to several other bands of the era and a strong Eddie van Halen guitar influence. I haven’t heard this song in years and years, I don’t believe. It was never deeply in my hearing rotation so its arrival this morning is startling.
Stay pos, be strong, and be true to yourself. Coffee is being consumed already. Here’s the music. Cheers
Automotive Issues
I had car problems this week. They look like they’re now resolved, but a comment by a friend reminded me of a surprising recent trend, at least locally.
Three friends all had cars with a cracked windshield this year: Ford, Subaru, Toyota. None knew how the windshields broke, they just noticed cracks which were getting bigger. For each, it meant getting the windshield replaced, which was a high price and lengthy time, especially for the Toyota. Windshields are infrequently just a glass piece these days. They often have electronics and sensors embedded in them, or they’re linked to systems. Replacement requires a special machine and a specially trained individual to take out the old and put in the new and connect and calibrate everything. The machine required to replace the Toyota windshield was broken and required specialized repairs, which took months. In the case of the Ford, the specialist was out for a few weeks for reasons unknown.
I remember the old days, when a guy came to our house and replaced the windshield in an hour in the garage. My, how times have changed.
Neighbor Tale
Friends of ours who live about a mile away in another neighborhood related that they came out to a bloody yard the other morning. They speculated that a bear got a deer. Seems both animals enjoy the apple tree in their yard. No carcass there; I suggested it may have been a cougar but it was related to me, no, they found a huge bear dump in their yard, so they thought it was a bear.
Then they remembered, hey, they have security cameras! Let’s see what they show. Well, they showed a deer bounding up to the apple tree and a cougar pouncing on it immediately. The camera recorded the scene as the cougar carried the carcass down the street, across into a neighbor’s yard, and into a wooded ravine.
That’s life, some days. Made me want to order my cats, you are never going outside again. But the young ‘un makes life miserable for us when we keep him in. Poor excuse, but that, too, is life.
Military Dreams Again
The dreams flowed together. All were of a military sort but had nothing to do with my military career.
The first found me with others outside, beside parked cars outside of apartment and business complexes. My wife was with me and the others. All the folk were dream acquaintances, no one from real life.
My wife said with alarm, “I just heard that they’re going to set off a nuke.”
Disbelief coursed around the group. Several said, “They wouldn’t.”
A muted boom froze us. Turning like one being, we looked across and over trees. A bright white light flashed.
“They did it,” someone said, a comment echoed by others.
“We’d better get away,” people said, “get to shelter. Run, hurry.”
The rest ran. I stayed by a car. I wanted to see what would happen to me when the nuke’s energy struck. Seeing it coming as a red light, I closed my eyes and ducked my head, then flattened against the car’s side. Red radiation painted my skin. As I rose, looking at my skin, I thought, I’ve made a mistake. I shouldn’t have done that.
But it was done.
Next, I was with an army in place outside. We were all in woody camo gear. Thin, steady drizzle dampened our spirits, clothing and equipment. Across the valley was a like enemy encampment. We were waiting for them to attack.
The waiting was so tedious. Boredom overtook me. And I was cold, wet, and underdressed. From this, I decided to sneak away to get a outerwear. With continuing glances to ensure I wasn’t observed but also that the attack wasn’t imminent, I stole away from the woodsy front. Behind it was a village with widely spaced dwellings. Free of tension, relaxed, it was a wholly different state. I found the cottage where I’d been staying, went in and found my gear. After changing, I added the coat and headed back out.
Outside, I saw our commanders talking, heads down, close together, strolling. I slipped in behind them, following them, to see what I could learn. Eventually, they went to a place where a whiteboard had a map drawn on it. They wrote on it. Continuing to spy, I realized that the two men were in love with one another but wouldn’t address their relationship, and that was paralyzing their abilities to think, plan, and lead. Dismayed, I headed back to the front.
Back there, I settled back in. Nothing had changed. I stayed for a while, watching, drizzle falling, chill air kissing me, until someone came by and told me I was relieved so I can sleep and eat. Fully dressed, I settled into a bed. Someone else was on my left side. As I slept, others would join me and I’d wake up. Typically a woman, they would curl up against me for warmth, slept for a time, and then leave. Waking to return to duty, I knew that had happened nineteen times. One had been my sister, who came by, laughing, confessing that she’d heard I was warm and comforting.
I returned to duty. Looking through the drizzle across the valley, I saw a smiling white woman with frizzy brown hair and glasses appear. The enemy commander, I knew. I passed the word that she was there and warned others to be ready because she was working her way down through her troops, and I thought they might be preparing to launch their attack. We got ready to fight but the commander went down and disappeared from sight.
Suspecting subterfuge, I began watching our flanks. In a moment, I saw her appear, coming to us from the left. “There she is,” I told the rest, rising to go and confront her. As I went out, though, she transformed into another person who looked almost the same.
Surprise surmounted me. Had I been wrong, or was this a trick? I divided my time between watching her and surveilling the enemy across the valley, waiting for something to happen.
Dream end.
Thursday’s Wandering Thought
A clothing purge was conducted last week. On of the items uncovered in the closet was my military cap. Last worn in 1995, I put that sucker on my head.
Or tried.
It would not cover my head as accustomed in my mil days. I took it into the other room for my wife to enjoy. With a burst of laughter, she exclaimed, “That looks like a skull cap.”
Questions arose. Did the hat shrink as it sat on a shelf for the last 28 years, or did my head really grow that much? I might start measuring my head, track its progress, see how much it changes in the next ten years.
Aside
For me, my first coffee sip is with the nose. Having that steaming dark freshness clambering over my olfactory system grants a momentary lull and a psyche lift.
Wednesday’s Wandering Thoughts
I find myself part of a new breed, one that looks at the activity tracker on their wrist and then taps it to reach a specific piece of desired information or function. I think I’ll call folks like me ‘wrist-tappers’. Maybe just tappers.
Tuesday’s Wandering Thoughts
My wife said, “I’m going to wear my blue sweater that I wore the other day, but I think you can see through it in the sunlight.”
I answered, “You can.”
“You could see through it?”
“Yes.”
“You could see through it but you chose not to say anything?”
“You’re very fashion aware. It’s a loose knit sweater. I thought you knew.”
Eyes rolling, throwing her hands up, she stormed off. I shrugged, guessing, I must be the asshole for not saying anything, and then reflecting on the entire process one more time.
We didn’t stay angry long; after being together for over fifty-two years as friends and everything else, we don’t stay angry. Act out or vent, move on. She came out, ready to go. She wasn’t wearing the blue sweater in question but a light blue sweater. I said, sincerely, “You look nice.”
She grinned at me. “Not see through?”
“Totally opaque,” I replied.
Sunday’s Wandering Thoughts
He and his wife made some plans for cleaning, organizing, and purging. “Can we do this after you come back from your writing?” she asked.
“Yes,” he answered with confidence. He had other plans as well. He could do it all, couldn’t he? Of course he could, right?
“That’s been taken under review,” his neurons replied. “We’ll see.”
Michael Seidel, writer 