Category: walking

Sunday’s Theme Music – Trapped

Bandon, southern Oregon coast. Sunday, August 16, 2026

It’s clear and sunny, 61 F, here in Bandon. Supposed to rise to 66 F here.

Last night was clear and beautiful, to be sure. We stopped on the way to dinner to see what was left of the circles.

As you see, they were totally gone by then. Still, breathtaking to gaze across the beach and ocean while soaking in sunshine.

Didn’t read much news yesterday. I did read this Jamelle Bouie opinion in NYT about Trump’s fantasyland. Which, yes, I believe this, based on all that I’ve seen and heard from Trump, and the results.

“Trump, according to Haberman and Swan, has not simply junked this process in its entirety — he has set up his White House to affirm his frequently arbitrary instincts above all other considerations. He has insulated himself from opposing views and made internal dissent verboten. At no point does Trump receive neutral information; just about everything is tailored to his whims, impulses and mercurial disposition. The result is that he is isolated from reality to the extent that he is practically living in a fairy tale.

“Haberman and Swan describe a Trump who cannot see beyond the first few steps of any given action and is constantly taken aback by political obstacles and backlash. Recent controversies, from the depletion of our military’s stock of sophisticated munitions to worsening conditions on some of our naval vessels, are easier to fathom when you consider the strong odds that Trump is told precious little about the actual conditions of his war. More likely, he is told what he wants to hear: that America is winning and Iran is on the verge of surrender.

“So far, much of the destruction of the second Trump administration is self-inflicted. It is Trump and his allies who have wrecked the administrative state, undercut science and mired the country in a new Middle East quagmire. There has not yet been an external crisis — the kind of catastrophic event that demands an active and effective leadership. Through their reporting, Haberman and Swan make clear that if and when this country faces such a crisis, both the president and his administration will be caught flat-footed.”

The worse for me remains that the GOP condones this policy by fantasy by not talking about it or taking action, while MAGAts pretty gleefully support it until FAFO smacks them in the face.

Till Trump is back out of office, we’re trapped in a box. The Neurons responded to that thought with “Trapped in A Box” by No Doubt in my morning mental music stream. Song came out 1992. The song came out of a poem the drummer wrote. Although it didn’t chart in the US, I sometimes heard the song on the alt adult stations I often listened to as I drove around the SF-SJ Bay Area. I always thought the song has a Squirrel Nuts Zipper vibe to it.

Sample Lyrics

Trapped in a box of tremendous size
It distorts my vision, it closes my eyes
Attracts filthy flies and pollutes in the skies
Sucks up our lives and proliferates lies
Trapped in a box

Trapped in a box, four walls as sky
Got a screen for a window about two feet wide
My mind rides and slides as my circuits are fried
No room for thought, use the box as my guide
Trapped in a box

Ooh, trapped in a box
Watch the world as it flocks
To life’s paradox
We’re all trapped in a box

Hope you’re not trapped in a box, but enjoying a day of peace, grace, and good health.

It’s off to a walk on the beach for me. Cheers

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Saturday’s Theme Music — Circles

Bandon, southern Oregon coast. Saturday, August 15, 2026.

We’re in Bandon to do the Circles in the Sand walk. Back then, it was about 60 F. Clouds played keep away with the sunshine. I dropped my wife off at the Face Rock Wayside at 8:15. Then I drove back to the hotel and walked back to do the walk with her. We finished the walk at 10 AM, then I walked back, got the car, and picked up my wife. So it was a refreshed, relaxing morning by the sea.

Back in the room, I spoke with the house sitter. She and Papi are old familiars so he’s comfortable with her presence.

After that cool morning, it’s a gorgeous afternoon — 61 but feels 71. Sunshine washes over the coast.

Now:

The labyrinth — well, a third of it, from the parking lot overlook:

A few news headlines attracted my afternoon attention.

‘The government cites no binding authority’: Trump admin’s losing streak continues in lawsuits seeking ‘unredacted’ voter 

The buck stops somewhere else: Trump takes blame game to a new level

‘This is Trump’s economy‘: Nobel winner butchers president’s claims

Retail sales collapse as Trump slump continues 

Trump Is Still a Loser: Courts Edition

These aren’t news headlines so much as they’re affirmations of who Trump is, and how his poor decision-making and aggressive power moves are backfiring on him.

Trump and his administration refuses to learn or change course, so we keep going in circles. Trump attempts the same policies; they’re taken to court and are often denied or overturned. Trump then tries another tack to see if it’ll stick.

Over and over again — round and round in circles.

Meanwhile, the United States economy is circling the drain, along with many political norms.

Not surprising that between Trump circling the drain and walking the circles in the sand, The Neurons put a song about circles in the morning mental music stream. “Circle in the Sand” was released by Belinda Carlisle in 1977 and was a global hit.

I signed my name at the beach. The tides will erase it by tomorrow, but I have the photograph and memory — as long as they don’t fade…

Cheers

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The Sisters Dream

I was with several of my sisters. We were all younger than now.

Don’t know where we exactly were. Outside. Mostly flat and sort of muddy to start.

I’d been off doing something and then returned, looking for them, as it was time to go. I found them by a large broken cement sewer pipe coming out of the base of a dirt hill. Multiple bottles and trash was there.

One of the sisters asked, “Michael, can you help us? We want to clean up these bottles but we don’t know how.”

They had two large plastic containers with a spout on top. Way too small to put the bottles in. So I tore the top of the plastic away. They thanked me and we loaded the bottles up, often breaking them. Some bottles were already broken. As they warned me to be careful, I picked up the bottles and put them in the plastic. Then I carried those away, depositing them somewhere safe.

I was ready to go, so I began walking. My sisters were several hundred yards away. I wanted time to myself. Deciding to avoid them, I began running. My sisters called my name: I ignored them, running faster.

I crossed the muddy plain and then ended up on a highway’s wide shoulder. Traffic was heavy to my right. Dusk was coming. Left was a lot of new constructions: houses and stores were being built, but was suspended for the night.

I thought, wow, that’s a lot of construction. The construction and changes threw me off. I hadn’t been in the area for a while. Confused about where I was going, I decided to go back to my sisters.

Turning around, I gawked with some amazement. I hadn’t realized how far and fast I’d run. Running back, my speed amazed me even more.

I reached the spot where I’d last seen my sisters. They weren’t visible. I called them; no answer.

Then I found them, along with their previous husbands, and more of my family. I looked for my wife but she wasn’t there. I saw my younger sister’s ex-husband, JJ, and said hello to him, adding, “Good to see you.”

The group told me we were going to Sharon and John’s. She’s my sister and that’s her husband. Then the group kind of wandered around, dawdling. Impatient, I went to Sharon and John’s house.

It was a small place. In the dining room was a large oval, polished wood table. Arrayed in front of it on one side were three rows of seven baby highchairs. They were different colors and ages. Each had a placard on it.

I was mystified. Like, what’s going on here? Is this where they expected us – adults – to sit? We wouldn’t fit in those chairs. No, they seemed to be set up for something. Classes for children?

Then the chairs rearranged themselves. Many disappeared. Matthew Perry was seated at one of the tables. Reprising his role as Chandler Bing from “Friends”, he did a few scenes. Except, he was the size of a baby.

John came in. I said, “How was that done,” gesturing to Perry/Bing in a highchair. John explained, “Oh, that’s Matthew Perry. He was in “Friends”.”

I answered, “I know all that, but that’s not him. That’s the size of a child. Is that a puppet? Animation?” It was completely lifelike.

We went back and forth, with John explaining the same thing in almost the same ways. I kept asking questions, trying to clarify it, but never got an answer. My sister came in, interrupting us to announce that there were sandwiches in the other room.

Dream end.

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Thursday’s Theme Music

Newport, Oregon — Thursday, May 21, 2026.

Fog struck. The wind’s been strong the entire visit. Today, it felt like it shifted into a higher gear, cutting through our clothing with an icy edge. 52 F in the morning, the day’s high would be 58 F, but the wind would make it feel much colder.

We checked out early, heading north just a few miles, to Newport. Here we’ll stay two more nights. A new hotel, a new view, but it’s the same ocean and Oregon coast.

Meanwhile, we stopped at our favorite coastal eatery, The Green Salmon. It’s all vegan there. After a satisfying breakfast — “Only Murders in the Building” omelet for me — we fought the wind walking on the 804 trail for ten minutes. Retreating from nature, we went north to Depoe Bay to see if any whales were hanging around. Short answer: no.

Retracing our steps, we went back down Highway 101 to Nye Beach. A bookstore popular with us, Nye Beach Book House, was no longer a business. We stopped at a bakery and shared a large frosted cinnamon roll, hot out of the oven. Then, on to our Newport hotel, Hallmark and checked in. Once we were settled in, my wife napped. I went for a walk on the beach, one mile in each direction, battered by the wind in both directions. As long as I didn’t look at the buildings overlooking the beach, I could pretend that I was an exploring, the first to walk on this stretch of land. As it was entirely empty, it was entirely believable.

Is it any wonder that The Neurons are playing “Against the Wind” in the morning mental music stream? Well, it started in the morning but it played all day. The 1980 song was a hit for Bob Seger, who wrote and performed it. It’s about looking back and thinking about the choices made. Besides the wind, being alone on that beach made this song a good companion piece because of that connection about reflecting on life.

As far as the news goes, we went without knowing anything until about an hour ago. We’re just starting to reconnect with the world again. I see that Trump’s war has now been going 82 days — longer than the four to five weeks that he once claimed.

I see that the Epstein files still aren’t released and the price of gas here is still high, as it does across the nation.

It seems like Trump is counting on his ballroom to distract us as part of Operation Epic LOOK — SQUIRREL! Trump is now babbling about the ballroom’s roof as a drone base and snipers’ nests. Not sure why he thinks either are needed as part of Washington D.C. Maybe he’s planning to stay there, hunker down after he’s removed from the Oval Office.

I hope your day was as satisfying for you as my day was for me.

Cheers

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Monday’s Theme Music – A Sunny Day

Ashland, Oregon, April 13, 2026.

We begin the day with rain, which is expected to continue off and on into the evening. It’s 50 now with a high of 54 F possible. Sunshine does break through, but clouds quickly rush over to block it.

It’s another Trump day. We’re now into week seven of Trump’s Iran War. Trump is blockading the Strait of Hormuz to keep it open and bring Iran to its knees after assuring us, “We won.”

The peace president continues to threaten to bomb Iran if they don’t capitulate. That’s the ‘art of the deal’ for you. It’s worked wonders so far.

The Pope’s comments about peace and the Iran war outraged the peace president. Peace president Trump blasted the Pope on crime and foreign policy, areas which Trump has demonstrated no knowledge in. That means that he assumes he knows more than anyone else, in his mind.

To complete the journey around the bend, Trump shared a social media post likening himself to Jesus. Jesus, who helped the poor and sick and counseled against wealth, greed, and rich men; and Trump, who lies, makes life more miserable for the poor and sick, whose names is almost a synonym for 21st century greed and avarice. Trump certainly remains tone deaf to irony.

Happily, over in Hungary, Viktor Orbán appears out after losing the election and conceding. I hope that’s an omen that more positive change is coming.

Today’s music is brought to me by my dreams. I went through another long one last night. Loaded with family, many of my family members were often on bicycles while I was walking or running. We mostly stayed in contact during this shambolic excursion, which was sometimes alongside a river and was mostly on a dusty road. I was young in the dream, and often sweaty. There were stops for food and eating, and beds where I sometimes stopped and rested. While doing that once, an older copy sat on the bed’s edge to rest. Remembering that I wanted to tell my sister and her husband something, I sprang up from the bed, apologizing to them for startling them. I noticed that the man looked like Alan Rickman.

I was thinking about the dream, revisualizing the part where I began running along the river, when The Neurons introduced music to the morning mental music stream. CCR came out with “Walk on the Water” after John Fogarty’s brother died from a blood transfusion. The song makes sense to me because it’s about being near home.

Late last night, I went for a walk
Down by the river near my home
Couldn’t believe, with my own eyes
And I swear I’ll never leave my home again

Hope peace and grace lift you up and carry you through all your adversity and troubles.

We’re off to do Food & Friends deliveries.

Cheers

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To Continue

A Suite of Thoughts

“Shiny”

Pennies and nickels
Money we hold
Kept in jars
Doesn’t fold
Saved for
Rainy days
Other times
Dust collecting
As we add dimes
Quarters are coveted
Wash and wax
Till someone else
Counts the cash

“Going By”

Shadows dance
On mind walls
Coming alive
Hearing old songs
Whispering
Remember
When you see a smile
Ordering
Forget
When you freeze
For a while
Always there
Awakened
And dead
The people
You’ve met
The person
You’ve been

“Orientation”

Just like that
There I am
Slipping along
A spectrum
I don’t understand
Looking for footing
As I
Slide along
Grasping for pieces
Hoping to right
Wrongs
Smiling
Like everything’s ‘okay’
Looking for spaces
In places
Where I sit
Struggling
With something
To say

“Dwelling”

It’s just a moment
To explore the day
Lost in thought
Feeling old
Maybe gray
Hunting for a mood
That’s muddied
And sullen
Hoping answers
Might come
From sources
Hidden
I’ll sit a while
In this well of mine
Doing my business
Thinking
About time

“Reconsidering”

Framing comes
With a frozen
Snap
I blink again
Wondering
Where I’m at
How much time
Has passed me by
As I sit
Reflecting
Wondering why
Maybe it’s time to stand
And stretch
Get on with life
And off the bench

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Wenzdaz Wandering Thoughts

The markers of familiarity intrigue me. I like to walk and friends and strangers comment on seeing me walking around town. People often mention they know me by my hat and its flair. My flair reveals my interests in writing, coffee, beer, the Steelers, and being retired military and living in Oregon.

On my end, I know several dogs who come into the coffee shop by name but I don’t know their owners’s names. People socialize differently with animals. The baristas and other customers often talk to the dogs by name. But even when people talk to the owners, names are rarely used, a facet of behavior which intrigues me.

Things are changing, though. This week, I learned that sweet Lenny’s owner is a retired sociology professor. Happy and social Sugar’s people are Thomas and Alice. Bear — who lives up to his name with his size but is a friendly, relaxed pup — belongs to Norm and Sarah. In this way, gaps are closing, and we’re all becoming friendlier and more open.

Today, Jessica didn’t know my name or regular coffee order. She did remember my Co-op number and knew that I was Brenda on that account. She and I enjoyed a good laugh about it.

Little interactions like all of these help enliven the coffee shop writing life for me.

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