Grayda’s Theme Music

Wenzda, Mai 14, 2025, is Grayda in Ashland. Gray hangs over us with gravity’s weight. Sunshine comes in and leaves quick. No rain is expected, but neither was Grayda. This is Ashlandia. We’re supposed to be basking in warmth. It has risen to 56 F. 61 F is on the menu. All these gray clouds do something to my mood. Their impact is much different if its over a crashing sea, but that scene is a coupla hundred miles away.

Today’s tune was brought to me by nature. Nature; when you want the very best.

I was out looking for pollinators. My wife and I are down. “I’ve seen one fat bumble bee,” she said, “and one dragonfly, and a looper, but that’s not really a butterfly. So I haven’t seen any butterflies.”

I recounted my count: two bees, no dragonflies, butterflies, wasps, hornets, or hummingbirds. Even the birds are frequenting our area less. We’re used to being a buzzbox of activity. This non-activity disconcerts and worries us.

Papi was with me during my pollinator watch. “Where are the butterflies?” I asked him. He rolled around on his back on the patio cement, his eyes scrunched closed and his paws working the air.

A dog barked. Papi flipped over and studied the area, his ears finetuning themselves to the dog’s position. Not in the backyard, which is fenced. And it wasn’t either of his mortal enemies, the dog to the east, or the wicked dog to the north, Cowdog.

And then, “Dog & Butterfly” by Heart started in the morning mental music stream. The Neurons’ thinking was clear in this instance. That’s often rare so I appreciated the linear clarity.

“I’m going back in, Papi,” I said. Papi yawned and stretched. A jay came to the yard and conversed. I closed the door on the scene.

Ann Wilson said about “Dog & Butterfly”, “This, like a log of songs, came from something iteral and changed to something more poetic. I was upstairs in my music room waiting for my muse. It doesn’t always happen on cue but, in hindsight, it did this time. I looked out of my window and saw the dog chasing a butterfly. He wouldn’t give up; he just kept chasing that butterfly. I thought it was impossible, yet he kept on going. The chase took on another meaning for me. Like so much in life, the spirit is undaunted, you keep going after it.

“Many people have said that it is that thought in this song that has helped them through rough times. When they’re up against the wall I life, thy could refer back to it and keep going.

“Nancy (Wilson) and I, as Heart, were new at the time in 1978 or so, and this became our personal theme song as well. Now if we don’t play it in our set, people are disappointed.” h/t to Wikipedia.org.

I think it’s a good day to help push through graydas. Sometimes these days in Trumpland feel gray and heavy despite the sunshine. I turn to music to help get through. Do what’s needed, without doing yourself harm.

Coffee has been consumed. Here we go again. Three…two…one…

Hey, the sun’s out. Things are looking up again.

Cheers

Reminder: No Kings Day

If you want to save democracy in the U.S., here’s a reminder to protest against people who would crown themselves as our rulers, like Trump. Yes, I know our democracy is not perfect. It can be improved. Letting it fall to a self-serving, empathyless individual like Donald Trump is not the answer. Nor is letting it get torn down to be rebuilt. Better to save it now, fix what he and the Gutless Old Trump Party have broken, and then work on improving from there. Cheers

Twosda’s Theme Music

The rain has been paused. So has the warmth. Sunshine skips between the cloud breaks but doesn’t do much for the temp. Twosda, Mai 13, 2025, is a cold pizza day, 53 F now with a high that will take us five degrees higher.

Your daily reminder of how Trump is gutting the United States legal system and corrupting our nation.

Today’s music has me more puzzled than ever. I don’t know what nudged The Neurons to spark my morning mental music stream with Roxette and “Joyride” from 1991. I barely recall the song and it required some deep coffee sipping to bring out the name and title from the lyric and tune playing in my head. After searching the net, I was filled in with deeper memories of the song. I think I first heard in it in Europe. I started 1991 there and then arrived back in the US after a four-year tour of Germany. None of that explains what inspired The Neurons, though. Perhaps, with more coffee, the truth will emerge. I’ll drink more coffee and let you know if it does.

Coffee is flowing through my established routes. Writing is planned, along with editing. Don’t know which of the two will have more of my attention. Have a better one. Cheers

Twosda’s Wandering Political Thoughts

I decided to channel my INNER TRUMP today to write about him in the way that he texts and rants about anyone who does not either kiss his ass or assume the position to get screwed. I think it’s reasonable and appropriate to use his playground style. He’s established this level or respect, decorum, and discourse. The rest of us usually shy away from ‘stooping to his level’.

Screw that. Disrespecting and tarnishing him as he does others is all that he deserves.

Munda’s Wandering Political Thoughts

See the news on the new Air Force One? Course you have. You’re not living under a rock.

First, it’s like saying you got a new car when it’s 14 years old. Also, it’s like a deal from a friend of a friend. People, including me, are questioning the legality of this. I’m pretty sure by now that the Trump Regime will do what they want and dare the rest of the nation to stop him. Republicans won’t. DOJ sure as hell won’t. So, you know. There’s gonna be new used Air Force One.

I was more interested in collateral ideas. I’m sure the Secret Service, FBI, CIA, and others will check it over for surveillance equipment. Will they also check to ensure it can’t be taken over from afar? Remember that Trump comment about a ‘killswitch’ on the F35s the US was selling to other countries?

Do US F-35 jets have a ‘kill switch’? European countries forced to deny claims Trump could cripple air force

Feels like Trump stirred that pot long ago, but it was only a month. I know, in Trump years, one month equals five years . I base that on the feeling that I’ve aged about twenty years since he took office.

I wonder if Qatar ever considered adding a killswitch to this aircraft gift to Trump — I mean, the United States. Could you imagine that scenario? “Fed up with Trump’s mangling of the global economy, the Saudi royal family pressured Qatar to employ the killswitch on Air Force One. After the aircraft lost power and control, it crashed into the Earth and exploded into a fireball. There are no reported survivors.” I can see a movie or novel in it.

On the other hand, Qatar, the country giving Trump the plane — sorry, the country giving the United State the plane — is telling everyone, “Hold on, this isn’t a done deal. We’re just thinking about it.”

We’ll see. You know how it is with Trump. One minute, he says he’ll never change his mind. Next thing you know, he’s saying, never say never. The aircraft news might be old news by next month.

Sunda’s Wandering Political Thoughts

A friend shared this on Facebook. I felt it deserved wider dissemination.

Sec of Education (????) Linda McMahon and the Trump administration gave schools 10 days to gut their equity programs or lose funding. One superintendent responded with a letter so clear, so bold, and so unapologetically righteous, it deserves to be read in full. PLEASE READ, to see if this makes sense to you

April 8, 2025

To Whom It May (Unfortunately) Concern at the U.S. Department of Education:

Thank you for your April 3 memorandum, which I read several times — not because it was legally persuasive, but because I kept checking to see if it was satire. Alas, it appears you are serious.

You’ve asked me, as superintendent of a public school district, to sign a “certification” declaring that we are not violating federal civil rights law — by, apparently, acknowledging that civil rights issues still exist. You cite Title VI of the Civil Rights Act, then proceed to argue that offering targeted support to historically marginalized students is somehow discriminatory.

That’s not just legally incoherent — it’s a philosophical Möbius strip of bad faith.

Let me see if I understand your logic:

If we acknowledge racial disparities, that’s racism.

If we help English learners catch up, that’s favoritism.

If we give a disabled child a reading aide, we’re denying someone else the chance to struggle equally.

And if we train teachers to understand bias, we’re indoctrinating them — but if we train them to ignore it, we’re “restoring neutrality”?

How convenient that your sudden concern for “equal treatment” seems to apply only when it’s used to silence conversations about race, identity, or inequality.

Let’s talk about our English learners. Would you like us to stop offering translation services during parent-teacher conferences? Should we cancel bilingual support staff to avoid the appearance of “special treatment”? Or would you prefer we just teach all content in English and hope for the best, since acknowledging linguistic barriers now counts as discrimination?

And while we’re at it — what’s your official stance on IEPs? Because last I checked, individualized education plans intentionally give students with disabilities extra support. Should we start removing accommodations to avoid offending the able-bodied majority? Maybe cancel occupational therapy altogether so no one feels left out?

If a student with a learning disability receives extended time on a test, should we now give everyone extended time, even if they don’t need it? Just to keep the playing field sufficiently flat and unthinking?

Your letter paints equity as a threat. But equity is not the threat. It’s the antidote to decades of failure. Equity is what ensures all students have a fair shot. Equity is what makes it possible for a child with a speech impediment to present at the science fair. It’s what helps the nonverbal kindergartner use an AAC device. It’s what gets the newcomer from Ukraine the ESL support she needs without being left behind.

And let’s not skip past the most insulting part of your directive — the ten-day deadline. A national directive sent to thousands of districts with the subtlety of a ransom note, demanding signatures within a week and a half or else you’ll cut funding that supports… wait for it… low-income students, disabled students, and English learners.

Brilliant. Just brilliant. A moral victory for bullies and bureaucrats everywhere.

So no, we will not be signing your “certification.”

We are not interested in joining your theater of compliance.

We are not interested in gutting equity programs that serve actual children in exchange for your political approval.

We are not interested in abandoning our legal, ethical, and educational responsibilities to satisfy your fear of facts.

We are interested in teaching the truth.

We are interested in honoring our students’ identities.

We are interested in building a school system where no child is invisible, and no teacher is punished for caring too much.

And yes — we are prepared to fight this. In the courts. In the press. In the community. In Congress, if need be.

Because this district will not be remembered as the one that folded under pressure.

We will be remembered as the one that stood its ground — not for politics, but for kids.

Sincerely,

District Superintendent

Still Teaching. Still Caring. Still Not Signing.

The writer ably exposes the Trump’s Regime regular use of doublespeak. They expose the flaws Trump and his minions use in their logic. They expose Trump’s tactics of bullying, his administration’s empty rhetoric, and his deliberate cruelty and lack of empathy.

Trump’s United States is not my United States. I learned from teachers like the nameless superintendent who wrote the letter. I know more are out there. I hope they stand up and speak out.

As they taught me to do.

Sunda’s Theme Music

Sunda, Mai 11, 2025, has arrived, per schedule. Happy Mother’s Day to all you mothers who celebrate it on this day. Happy Mother’s Day to all mothers even if you don’t celebrate it on this day.

I ordered Mom’s Mother’s Day present in April. It was delivered before the requested delivery date. I wasn’t overly concerned by that, except that Mom’s house was victimized by a wind storm that took out her power and caused her an electricity-free week plus of suffering and coping. I reported to my sister that Mom’s package was delivered, and if she has a chance, see if it’s there. I also told Mom, and repeated that message today. I didn’t call Mom but texted her. I didn’t call because she tends to drop into free verse laced with bitterness, anger, and suspicions, and doesn’t like talking on the telephone any longer because she can’t hear. Frustrating situation, as anyone who’s experienced things like this can attest.

I reminded Mom about how it used to be in my texts. Back in the day when travel was easier and less expensive, before the enshittification of so many travel aspects. I would have loved to go back there for Mother’s Day. We used to take her for brunch. She had her favorite places. In her later years, about the time she turned 70, she started eating dessert before main course, surprising me, cracking me up.

I haven’t heard back from her.

Ashlandia’s weather pulled a Trump on me. Flip flopping about the weather, one thing was promised and another thing was delivered. In the weather’s case, spring promised sunshine and warmth. Instead, we find the wind has fashioned wintry inflections. Instead of hyping “Summer is coming,” it’s singing, “Winter is coming,” ala Game of Thrones. Although it is 57 F outside right now, clouds are gathering and darkening, encouraging the wind. Today’s high will be a meager and un-Ashlandia May temperature of 64 F, if that.

Papi started today’s music. His nemesis came around last night. Gray and white, with a sneering attitude and chunky body, the interloper wasn’t moved by Papi’s loud demands for the other to surrender or leave. I went out and encouraged Papi to return inside. Papi loathed doing so. When Gray & white trotted away, Papi wanted pursuit. Finally, he surrendered to me and returned to the house’s safety.

Happening at pitch black AM, recalling the confrontation this morning invited The Neurons to add music. The music was “Surrender” by Cheap Trick. The song came onto the pop rock scene in 1978, when I was but twenty-two. It’s kind of an odd rock song as it addresses who his mother was before the narrator came on the scene versus who she is now. Then, reveal, Mom and Dad still have a wild streak that’s bared toward the son’gs finish.

But why that refrain? “Surrender, but don’t give yourself away”? Doesn’t it seem contradictory? Yes and no, to me. I think the surrender part is about giving up on some puzzling matters but leave your core values intact. But hey, it’s music. It’s rock. It doesn’t always necessarily make sense as long as it sounds good.

Coffee has been served and drunk. Shopping is on the horizon for my wife and I. Hope you have plans. Remember, doing nothing is still doing something. Cheers

Saturda’s Wandering Thoughts

I was out for a walk. A beautiful day embraced me with warm air, an immensely hot sun, and a consisten breeze that worked on softening the heat’s edge. Moderate success was enjoyed.

On the corner was a park. Within it, a gaggle of geese milled and ate. Not far from them, a flock of cyclists enjoyed a picnic break by a sycamore tree. Forty feet out, a quad of deer ate and digested in an Oak’s shade.

Saturda in the park in Ashlandia.

The Kennedy Dream

I was in the White House. My role there was to escort Jackie Kennedy to an event where President John F. Kennedy was expected to also attend. I was young; they were white haired and elderly.

It was a kind of chaotic scene. We left the formal White House. There were about thirty of us. Using a secret corridor, we went into an annex. White walls and floors, with white lights, it was like a warehouse but it was completely empty. There seemed to be two levels as well.

I ended up chatting with the first lady. Just chit chat. Then finger sandwiches were served.

By then, JFK arrived. He and the first lady walked across the space and embraced. Both were using canes. They looked like they were in their nineties.

We then engaged on our reason to be there: flying model airplanes. One was a sort of large model biplane. Red, with yellow wings. It was slow and easy to fly. We took turns with it, flying it through the large space, around a corner and down another corridor and back.

The second model aircraft was a gray B-52. Smaller than the biplane, it zoomed around with a fighter jet’s the speed and agility. It really impressed us all and I had a ball flying it. It was very easy to control.

After a while, we were tired. Boredom got its fingers into us. We ate more and napped on the floor. Then I was awakened. Mrs. K was ready to leave. She wanted me as her escort. The President was already gone.

I walked her out of the annex and back to the White House. Then I left. I later saw her on the street. I waved at her but she didn’t see me.

Dream end.

Saturda’s Theme Music

Papi and I weren’t synced this morning. At some ridiculously early hour, he banged on the pet door. I let him in. He thundered through the house in a burst of spring energy. I stumbled back to bed.

Minutes later, he thumped to come back in. The pet door was on because of smoke. Controlled burning was the smoke source. Controlled burning is a lot like vaccinations. There’s some immediate reaction but benefits to doing it are established.

I took the pet door off and let Papi back in. He returned within minutes, banging to come back in. I talked to the floof about it. Showed him the door was off and the pet door was open. Reminded him how it worked. He galloped away as I was speaking.

So went Saturda’s dawn stage on May 10, 2025, for me in Ashlandia. A cooling trend has been embraced. Dropping our high to 79 F today. It’s 71 F and sunny now. Visibility for a long way and more. Clouds are negotiating with the blue skies and sunshine. I’m unfamiliar with their negotiating skills, so I don’t know how it’ll turn out.

Anyway, after that, I hung in bed for a while, revisiting a dream. Papi kept coming back to see if I was going to provide him fresh food and affection. While I finally acfloofesced to his antics, a song started playing in the morning mental music stream.

“Bang on the Drum All Day” is by Todd Rundgren. Came out in 1983. It’s a lively and happy song about the urge not to work. Don’t know if you’ve ever had that urge. It had a strong grip on me today. Probably because my sleep was floofrupted.

More stories about Trump’s United States are emerging. How ’bout those Newark airport radar failures? That’s some reassuring shit. Fits right in with the trend of increasing aircraft accidents. Many more accidents than in last year. So air travel was safer under President Biden. To channel my inner Trump’s voice, “Air travel is a LOT WORSE with TRUMP as President!!! This could be the GREATEST year for DEADLY plane crashes than ANY TIME in the HISTORY OF THE WORLD!!!” An ongoing shortage of air traffic controllers doesn’t alleviate MY worries about air travel in ‘Merica.

But, PINO Trump’s Regime is on it! Yes, the team that fired people and then rehired them because they found out they needed them is going to hire more air traffic controllers. Gonna supercharge the system, they claim. This is being brought to you by the same regime with Defense Secretary Hegseth giving away secrets on unsecured systems. The same gang who declares NOBODY IS ABOVE THE LAW while they elevate PINO Trump to a position ABOVE THE LAW. Same folks who think empty ports are great because then we’ll lose less money! Same people destroying the national parks system created through decades of work by people from both parties. Yes, tattoo me as cynical, but I don’t think that Trump Regime is up to fixing the air travel problems.

Coffee has engaged The Neurons. We now return to our normal programming. Hope it all goes well for you today, tomorrow, and so on. Here we go again. Cheers

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