‘The Bad Old Days’ is the title of Herb Rothschild’s latest book. Not a novel, no. Bloomsbury’s Books in Ashland, Oregon, has an excellent bullet on the book:
“Herbert Rothschild Jr.’s The Bad Old Days: A Decade of Struggling for Justice in Louisiana depicts in vivid detail the kind of local work that transformed the Old South. In this blend of grassroots history and memoir, Rothschild tells story after story of confronting injustice. Engagingly written, his accounts bring to life a world that, while still recognizable, no longer exists as it did when he confronted it.”
Herb will be reading from his book at Bloomsbury’s in Ashland at 7 PM today, Monday, January 16, 2023. Sorry for the short notice but I just found out about it. If you’re in town and interested, stop by. Herb has been an activist for decades and remains a prominent force for change in Oregon’s Rogue Valley. He makes a terrific mulled cider and generously boozes it up. His pumpkin cheesecake is also damn good. Neither will be served tonight; just saying.
The moon’s visit moved beyond normal to sublime. Sometimes a clear night hosts a moon that lights the night and finds something more primal and hopeful in the mind. Last night’s moon was one of these, romantic and inspirational, a moon with light that whispers, “the impossible is possible.” No wonder a moon like that is spoken of in sentences about magic, fairies, and spaceships.
It’s January 16, 2023. It’s Monday. It’s 30 degrees F and sunny. It’s calm. It’s a new week’s start. Happy New Week! Have you made any New Week resolutions? I have. Of course I have. I don’t do NY ones, but I do daily, weekly, and monthly resolutions. You only fail if you give up trying, am I right? Some people place the week’s start on Sunday. I consider Saturday and Sunday neutral ground. The week begins on Monday and ends on Friday.
The sun pressed its presence into our valley at 7:37 this morning, coming around like it’s nobody’s business. Daylight will light us up until about 5:05 this evening. Then the sun will set and bring on dusk, followed by night. The cold front will keep our high from getting much above 42 F. Some say that rain is due but the clouds for that job haven’t checked in. Snow is visible in far fields on high mountains, appearing like cake frosting on the ridges’ pines and firs. It’s a tranquil blue-sky sight.
News continues emerging about President Biden and the classified documents found at his home and office. This turn pisses me off more than Trump’s classified doc scandal. I thought Joe Biden was responsible and this oversight, this sloppiness, is infuriating. I was in the Air Force for twenty years. With high secret clearances and active in special access programs, dealing with classified material, including stuff that was Top Secret with special qualifiers, including nuclear war plans, launch codes, attack plans, and intelligence materials, I was frequently the Top-Secret Control Officer, the unit security manager, and also often the OPSEC/COMSEC and COMPUSEC manager. I took it seriously. My peers, commanders, and those we supervised all took it very damn seriously. I was appointed as an investigator several times when processes failed or people violated the governing regs and laws. Trump’s conniving to keep some classified documents ‘as his own’ insulted our efforts to keep the nation safe by properly protecting such material. Joe Biden’s sloppiness — or worse, as the investigations are only under way — undermines our systems as well. President Biden has at least acknowledged that what has happened is bad, unlike Trump, who dances and shouts, trying to deflect blame and responsibility, squeaking out ridiculous justifications for what he did.
Okay, off the soap box. Today’s music is “Don’t Let Me Be Misunderstood”. I went with the Animals version of 1964. Besides being the version seared into my memory by radio play repetition, I’ve always liked Eric Burdon. I also enjoyed the band’s keyboard use and the gritty blues sound they brought to their performances. The Neurons decided on this song and put it in the morning mental music stream after conversations with the cats. They were asking for something and I didn’t understand what it was. The felines’ insistence was the final driver for Les Neurons. Listening to them, Eric Burdon’s voice just rose from the depths of memory to sing, “Oh Lord, please don’t let me be misunderstood.” And there we were.
Try to stay positive. I know it can be tough. I feel less than positive on many days. Right now, I’m positive that I would murder a cup of coffee so I’m heading to the kitchen for that black brew. I’m excited just thinking about it! Here’s the music. Hope your week takes you to new heights. Cheers
Today’s wind music is a head-banging offering of fast guitar riffs, thrumming bass, and shrieking Deep Purple concert vocals. Christmas trees were on the curbs to be picked up. Not any more. Wind rolls them into the street like holiday tumbleweeds. A few trees have been downed, and branches have surrendered.
It’s warm, though, for January 4, 2023, 40 degrees with a forecasted high of 13 degrees C. Sunshine and clouds have been doing moves since the sun’s 7:40 valley appearance. (“It’s a valley sun, a valley sun, oh my my, fer sure fer sure, it’s a valley sun and there ain’t no cure.”) The planet’s rotation will spirit the sun’s presence from us at 4:52 PM. Rain is on the way, the radar says.
I was musing about time and changes and the shifts I’ve seen in my lifetime. Some of them were the changes witnessed in other individuals, or the organic growth of new norms and mores that accompanied technology’s growth. A few thoughts went along fault lines of how I see myself as changed, and what I can’t see about myself that’s changed.
After staying quiet over this for a while, The Neurons began the 2006 song by Staind, “Everything Changes”, in the morning mental music stream. The song came out a year after our move from the SF bay area to Ashland, a huge shift of demographics and density. It was also ten years after my military retirement, and the year that IBM bought ISS. All of those were large changes for me. 2006 was a year of huge changes and recognition and adjustments to previous changes. So this song kindled thoughts about what was once the way and the plans which had been made, and how all of it tilted and rolled. That’s life for some of us. Others plot it out and follow their life like sheet music.
Stay positive, test negative. Adjust and change as needed to thrive. Speaking of thriving, I’d do much better with coffee in me. Here’s Staind. Cheers
It’s a nice day for a white sky. Trees still demonstrate a belly-dance shimmy to the wind’s energetic music. Temperatures have climbed to 41 F. Sunshine sneaks in, lays a flash on us, and darts back away. A high of 46 F is on the way, they say.
Today is Tuesday, Jan. 3, 2023. I find myself surprised. Tuesday, already? Three days into the new year. Well, that was fast. It’s like the year is racing in to claim it as its own. Sunrise was at the same time as the last two days, 7:40 AM, but sunset has moved another minute back, to 4:51 PM. I cherish the extra light.
News has me delayed from the posting the theme music. First there was news that another friend died last year. Nobody knew what had happened to her. We kept asking others. Yesterday, we learned that she died the Tuesday night before Thanksgiving. Processing that used some emotional currency. Then, watching that NFL game last night, and witnessing what happened to the Bills Safety, Damar Hamlin. I instantly thought, cardiac arrest from how he dropped. When they mentioned he was hit in the chest during the play and I saw the impact, I was absolutely certain, and waited to hear what happened to him. Yes, it’s a violent game. The world is a violent place and yet we play these games. It’s another part of my socialization, playing it as a child, through my teenage years, and then watching it. I admire and appreciate the athleticism and experience vicarious joy when my team wins or the players do well. Hamlin’s injury is a terrible shock and highlights my frustrations with myself and my choices. Regardless, I despise those who try to blame Hamlin’s collapse on COVID-19 vaccinations. They offer no proof. They disgust me.
Then there was the House Speaker drama. Kevin McCarthy did not win. Not surprising to anyone following the buildup. What’s terrible is the impact to House business. None can be done until a Speaker is voted in. The question before us is, will compromise among the GOP factions be achieved so that we can move forward? The last time this happened, I read, was in 1923. Nine votes were required to elect a Speaker that year.
I’ve been swimming in dreams for the last two weeks. Reviewing today’s dreams, I thought, it’s a good thing that I’m not being charged for my dreams. Wouldn’t that be an interesting world? No dreams allowed until you pay the dream tax. That’s the law.
Anyway, as part of that cogitation, The Neurons burst into the morning mental music stream with a Blondie song from 1979, “Dreaming”. Seems to fit. Besides the nocturnal brain action, the energetic music affirms plans, hopes, and efforts — you know, the elements of the real-world dreams which I pursue through writing, plotting, and murder. Oops, not the last. Nobody has been harmed in my RW dreams except my ass and various organs.
Stay pos and test neg. I’m about to murder another cup o’ coffee. Hope good fortune has kick-started your 2023 and you can ride that fortune all year long. Cheers
He always defends what he says by proclaiming that he’s just giving ‘the unvarnished truth’. But when others deliver the unvarnished truth to him, his defensiveness spikes to Mt. Everest levels.
Not a great surprise, as he lives in a very varnished bubble.
Happy gray, foggy, rainy Solstice! Yes, it is the Solstice, December 21, 2022, summer solstice down south, winter solstice in my realm and other northern latitudes. Our sunleak began at 7:36 this manana. The leak will be done sometime after 4:42 this abend. Our temp is now 40 F after enduring a low of 36. We’re gonna spring up to 46 before sinking back down to 36 F for the night.
Lovely Solstice weather but the weather doesn’t matter on Solstice. This is a day for renovating energy and dreams, for looking ahead to the light and celebrating. I might even go dancing in the rain. Depends upon how my bones feel once I get out there.
The cats have decided that they’re not going out much any longer, because it’s not very warm out there. They sometimes forget, go to the door and demand exit. But the greeting scene prompts them to vent an irritated noise, whirled back and retreat into the hourse. I feel better with them inside, so I’ve no complaints.
Spent time reading about Trump’s tax returns this morning. Was thinking about starting a business, selling nothing, and writing off losses. That sounds like genius. It also sounds illegal. My business would probably be discovered within a year, maybe two, and then I’d be written off as a con man. Then again, maybe I’d run for Congress, make some more grand claims, see where it takes me. It’s Solstice! A world of possibilities awaits.
For Solstice, Les Neurons began pumping “Wake Me Up Before You Go-Go” by Wham (from about thirty-eight of Earth’s trips around the sun) into the morning mental music stream. Sure, why not, you crazy neurons. I don’t know what they’re thinking, but I’m going with it. It’s a rousing song. Maybe it’ll wake me more fully up.
If the song won’t do it, maybe coffee can help. I’ll have some Solstice coffee, please. It’s the same French roast which I drink every day, with a little splash of Solstice dust. My wife also made almond tartlets for her exercise class’s holiday extravaganza, and designated two for my consumption. One awaits me. I think it’ll go swell with coffee. Confidence is high on that as I’ve had them with coffee before.
Let’s get this day started. Stay pos and test negative. Here’s the tune. Cheers
-2 degrees C. Sunshine soaks everything in sight. Two runners in cold suits run up the street. It’s a tough hill, so I am impressed, especially in this weather. Then I pour coffee and sip, reflecting, I used to do that stuff.
I was thinking about issuing an NTF about me and things I’ve never done or been. I can be a superhero, rock star, astronaut, and other things I fantasized about becoming as a child. It can be a good way to make some extra cash, if I can bring some buyers to the table. That’ll be a task worthy of Hercules. I’ll also need an artist to make me prettier and clean up my looks. But it’s a good winter project.
It’s Saturday, December 17, 2022. The countdown to winter solstice has accelerated. Oh, yeah, other holidays are under way or approaching, too. We like to celebrate solstice with mulled wine, soup, bread and salads. Then we burn a log, write our wishes on little scraps of paper, tie them with string or ribbon, and burn them. Hasn’t really worked as far as granting wishes, but it’s a hopeful and joyous evening. The company and wine is good, too.
While it’s below freezing now, we expect a high of 42 F. Sunrise, when this shine was unleashed on us, 7:34 this morning and daylight’s ebb will fall on us at 4:40. And so it goes. Last night had a solid moon out there and lots of moonshine. I can only wonder about what was going on in the shadows. The cats showed little interest in leaving for change, until 5:37 this morning, when Papi said, I must go out and make my rounds. I’m thinking about issuing an NTF of my cats, too. There will probably be more buyers for them. Maybe if I put my cats in my NTFs, like I’m a muscular handsome superhero carrying my cats. Will that work?
I have the song, “Season of the Witch” by Donovan in my mind, a song which was released in the mid sixties. How’d this come about, you ask. Why do you have that song in your head? Well, that was about looking out the window. As I sipped coffee and contemplated the other side of the pane, Der Neurons began the lyrics, “When I look out my window. what do you think I see? And when I look in my window, so many different people to be. It’s strange, sure is strange.” So there we go. So many recent events might evaporate out of my head and bits of knowledge challenges my recall, but my mind can pull Donovan lyrics from almost sixty years ago.
Going in for another cuppa coffee and a bagel. Stay pos and test negative. Dress appropriately for the weather wherever you are, and whatever weather which you weather. Here’s the music. It’s a typical Donovan style tune. Enjoy Saturday. Cheers
Our sprawling Christmas Cactus is resplendent with large red flowers on its window perch. Wind dances with trees outside the glass. Grass and bushes shiver under the wind’s tickle. 36 degrees F outside, sunshine washes over valley as the clouds have surrendered the sky to blue. It’s Friday, December 16, 2022, just five sleeps from winter solstice and two weeks and a day to 2022’s end.
Our weather has been pingponging between rain, high winds, and then days of freezing fog and stagnant air. Hope this day brings on a change. I don’t think I’m really a winter person. Today’s high will be 46 but the wind’s northern mountain ice edge will make you think it’s less. The clock saw 7:33 AM when the valley was gifted the sunlight’s first direct light. Daylight will go until 4:40 this afternoon.
I was given an earworm yesterday. Running errands, music playing, The Neurons heard a song which made me laugh. Then they kept playing it, and here it is, sixteen hours later, hogging the morning mental music stream. I’d never heard “Victoria’s Secret (2022) by Jax before yesterday, but after arriving home and settling in, I looked up the lyrics to confirm what I heard. This is a song pushing back against body types and body shaming, focusing on the stereotypical Victora’s Secret model, all boob on a skinny body. I applaud the song. Fake bodies aren’t needed. Nor is starving yourself or “going without carbs” as the song mentions. Our adherence to fake images and the efforts to achieve those is a sickness that undermines our national mental health, as is the whole heavy slant toward the need to be young and pretty, as portrayed too many times in movies, television shows, and advertisements. Hope you’ll give the song a listen. Hope you don’t get stuck on the same line that hooked The Neurons, “Victoria is made up by a dude (dude)!”
Other than weather, writing, exercising, and socializing with people and cats, life is moving at a slower pace. I need to carve out more reading time. That’s my significant complaint, other than the nastiness of life for so many and the general mess called politics. Stay positive, test negative, and so on. Time for my morning coffee rations. Have a super one. Here’s Jax. Cheers
My fellow Earthers. Today is the first day of the rest of your life. It’s also Friday, December 9, 2022.
I’ve been following a local online debate. A newly elected city councilor wants to change the time when the meeting begins, move it up an hour. He argues that will allow more people to attend. Well, let the debate begin.
Moving the meeting an hour forward will allow more people to attend, those in favor say. Some moms have said, “Yes, I can attend at four, but I can’t attend at five.” The meeting goes for three hours.
No, others say. “I’m still at work at four, or I’m driving home. I can attend at five but not at four.”
So each side uses the same argument. There were no complaints or calls for the meeting start time to change before the new councilor brought it up. Also, each side points out, the meetings are televised, streamed, and recorded. It feels like another variation of the daylight savings time argument, which can be reduced to, which is better for me? By extension, if it’s better for me, it’s better for all.
It’s foggy outside, Alexa tells me, and 34 F. She’s staked today’s high at 46 F. Says, expect rain. Except there’s no fog outside my windows. I can see distant mountains where snow is sprinkled across the green pine ridge. The winds are picking up. A drizzle has begun. The house floofs are not happy. They’re clambering for reparations because the sun isn’t giving them the shine they like. All reparations have been rejected — kibble, canned food, treats, and catnip. Attention is okay, they admit. They will take some scratching and stroking, but when I stop, they shout, more, more, more, like Billy Idol in fur, with less piercings.
As for the sun, it curved over the earth’s shape and into our valley at 7:28 this morning but remains sequestered behind sturdy clouds. Departure time for sunshine is 4:39 PM.
You can probably guess the song will be Billy Idol with “Rebel Yell” from 1983. Soon as that comparison went through my gray matter, The Neurons exclaimed, “Ooh, ‘Rebel Yell’, Billy Idol, yeah,” and began playing the song. Bourbon called Rebel Yell inspired the tune. I guess that’s a kind of scratching that satisfies some itches.
Speaking of scratches and itches, I’ll need some coffee. This is the first day of the rest of my life, you know. Stay positive and test negative. Here’s Billy with the music. I must admit that the video, with the musicians sneering, smirking, and posturing, gave me a laugh. Hope you enjoy it. Cheers
Howdy, peeps, and merry Thursday. Have we got a Thursday in store for you. Sunshine and — well, not yet. No clear sunshine, not yet. Not with that plate of clouds guarding the valley sky. Which also means, um, no blue skies, either, not yet. Maybe later. Although today’s winter weather advisory has some skin in that outcome.
But it is 44 F under all that wintry sky. No signs of incipient precipitation, other than, you know, clouds. And today’s high will be 45 F, so we have that going for us.
Not bad, no. Others are enduring worse, yeah. We await the outcome of the weather advisory and hope for more snow up on the mountain’s packs. The sun stepped up at 7:27 this morning and will retire from valley duties at 4:38 PM. This is Thursday, December 8, 2022.
I enjoy posting the day’s sunrise and sunset every day. Tracking how those times change for my valley through the year’s action helps me solidly envision planet Earth’s tilt and rotation as it speeds around Sol. Sometimes I try looking closer to see myself, peering down at the racing planet surface as it flashes by about 1,000 miles an hour. But I’m usually in the house or in a car or the coffee shop, only emerging to check mail, do some work, or take walks. A small percentage of day is actually spent ‘outside’. When I am outside, I’ll often look up and wave, thinking that either ET civilizations or government satellites will spot me. Just being friendly, you know?
Canned Heat and their 1970 song, “Let’s Work Together” came up in the morning mental music stream. The Neurons heard me pleading with the muses yesterday while I was walking and glancing up for spy satellites and aliens, “Can’t you guys get organized and work together?” The muses seem to like rushing the writing room en masse and then throwing things at me from different angles to see what sticks. I type like mad, write notes, and make plans, but it’s all ugly intense. Hearing my plea caused The Neurons to dig into the music memory box and tug this song out. I used it as theme music back in 2018 but it feels like it’s time to use it again.
It’s also a good song for dealing with some issues of the day, like divided politics and climate change. Just saying.
Stay positive and test negative. I’m getting The Neurons a cuppa coffee. I’ll probably have one, too, and grab some for the muses as well.
Here we go. Enjoy the music. Merry Thursday. Cheers
Michael Seidel, writer 