The slide began on a Tuesday, June 22, 2021. Sunrise at 5:35 AM was one minute later than the previous day. This depressed Michael. He could see the tunnel forming that would lead inexorably to the coldest, shortest day, which meant the longest, darkest night.
Brewing coffee, he shook it off. Summer was here! At 9:00 AM, the local temperature was 78 degrees F. Thunderstorms and clouds offered some refuge from the heat. They’d only be 94 today before the Earth’s turn shifted them from the sun at 8:51 PM. The thunderstorms might bring wildfires, though. Fingers crossed…
He began humming “More Human Than Human”. Humming it until he began singing, soto vocce, “Yeah. Yeah.” The White Zombie song came out decades before. When? Yes, back when he retired from the military in 1995. He’d been amused hearing it. The song title is lifted from one of his favorite movies, “Blade Runner”, based on a favorite book, “Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep?” He often thought of that slogan while slogging through corporate meetings in subsequent years. The start ups. Then Tyco. ISS. IBM. “More Human Than Human” encapsulated the misleading slant corporations bring to their marketing.
It was a depressing way to begin the day. Brewing more coffee, he turned to writing. Even if not a successful writing day (which was always iffy), writing was a distraction, his personal drug.
“Be positive,” he told himself. Test negative, his mind answered. Wear a mask when needed. Already got the vax. The state — his adopted state, Oregon — was almost at seventy percent.
Fingers crossed. It was becoming his personal slogan.
If you heard a sharp screeching sound earlier this week, it may have come from our area. The seasons hit the brakes on the weather. We had been warmly progressing toward summer. Nice weather, if you can get it. But then, some power shouted, “Hit the brakes! Reverse.” Temperatures scaled down the thermometer overnight, taking us into the mid thirties. Rain stormed in. Clouds unfurled, mocking the sun’s 5:45 AM arrival. While the sun is expected to hang until 8:30 PM, the temperatures won’t go much over fifty, they say. Enjoying the rain, though, and the snow in the mountains. We haven’t had enough of either. Give us more, please.
This is Thursday, May 20, 2021, in the valley where Ashland is homed, where I am homed. Our vaccination rate keeps climbing (knock on wood). We’ve climbed over fifty percent of peeps with at least one shot. Our local Family Y has set up a J&J one shot clinic, no appointment needed, all day when they’re open. As with most of these things, it’s not advertised well. All of my local friends and acquaintances are fully vaxxed, but I tell them so they can tell others. Pitter-patter, let’s get ‘er at ‘er, and get this thing done.
Reading about why people aren’t getting vaccinated brought Tracy Chapman’s 1995 song, “Give Me One Reason”, to mind. Vax hesitancy usually falls in four groups. Dominating it are those individuals who don’t believe that COVID-19 exists or have convinced themselves that it’s not that bad. A lot of them defiantly demand, “Give me one reason.” But, what’s the use? You don’t believe the news stories about survivors and deaths. What one reason can I give that’ll change your mind? I fear that if you’re one of those people, your mind won’t be changed until you’ve personally experienced COVID-19 hell.
For the music, I’ve selected a collaboration between Chapman and Eric Clapton recorded in 1999. It’s a different take, a little fatter on Chapman’s gem of a song. Stay positive, test negative, mask as necessary, and get the vax. Please. Here’s the music.
Today finds us at Sunday once again. I was just looking at the calendar, confirming that it’s April 25, and was surprised to realize there’s another Friday in the month. Just not paying attention.
The sun made it to Ashland at 6:15 AM and will make its departure at 8:03 PM. We’re getting close to almost fourteen hours of sunshine, which I do like. Like my cats, I am a sunshine fan. Don’t know how much sunshine we’ll see. The weather is continuing a drizzly, damp, chilly pattern. It’s 42 F right now, and we’re not expecting much higher. As I read on the net, the weather slowed down like a driver doing 75 in a 55 when he sees a cop behind him.
“Wedding Bell Blues” by the Fifth Dimension (1969) is looping through my mind. The great Laura Nyro wrote and originally recorded it. Her songs were hits by several others, like “Stoned Soul Picnic”, “And When I Die”, and “Eli’s Comin'”. She died way too young, 49, done in by ovarian cancer.
And while I like all those songs, I’m in the mood for something upbeat this morning. I challenged the mind for something. After a period of crickets singing and playing, the Foo Fighters crept in with “I’ll Stick Around” from 1995.
Upbeat? Up-tempo, I guess.
By the way, the three-day green-smoothie fast ended for me yesterday, day eight. Energy level just felt too low. Tired while walking, and didn’t achieve twelve miles for the day. Been a while for that. So I’m back on solids, and just finished a bowl of gluten-free oatmeal with peanut butter, cranberries, and pumpkin seed/flax granola.
Stay positive, test negative, wear a mask, and get the vax, including the second dose, if you’re going the Moderna/Pfizer route. Cheers
TGIF! Yes, it’s Friday, April 16, 2021. Sunset is expected at 7:53 PM in Ashland while sunrise took place over thirteen hours before, at 6:29 AM. Summer’s shoulders are crowding into Spring’s thing as temperatures this weekend are expected to jump into the 80s. Controlled burns are underway around our small town. Smoke scars the blue sky and the burnt-wood smell lingers, an unpleasant reminder of past wildfires, and the ongoing threat.
Are you one of those who said, “Thank God it’s Friday”? I definitely am. I think that with so many people saying it, happy for the weekend, it lifted our collective energy. Still gives me a jolt although Fridays have much of the same flavor as most days of the week in these days.
“Name” by the Goo Goo Dolls (1995) came to me yesterday. I was in the car, waiting for my wife. She’d gone into a store to pick up two items. I wasn’t interested in going in. As I sat in the car, watching people going in and out, waiting in cars, etc., I remembered the song. I first heard it while on temporary duty in New Hampshire, visiting a satellite tracking station. The song always struck me as about anonymity, about being a person in a crowd of people where no one knows one another. Not a party group, but people going about the business of life.
Anyway, the song stayed with me. I present it to you. Stay positive, test negative, wear a mask, and get the vax. Cheers
Not really. I was a shift worker for many years. Friday had no significance except for which office chores were required. The weekends were a better work period because fewer were around. It was a good time to read as we sat, standing by — hah! — waiting for something to happen. Well, that depended on the command, theater, mission, and crises du jour. Such was the life of an Air Force Command Post controller.
In later years, working for civilian companies in the SF Bay Area/Silicon Valley, Friday was like the starting gun for a race through the weekend, running errands, doing chores, shopping, and eating out. In those days, yeah, TGIF definitely had its place for a while.
Anyway…
Today is Friday, March 12, 2021. Sunup was at 6:28 AM and sundown is 6:14 PM in southern Oregon. Temperatures dropped into the upper twenties last night. The sun has staked a bold claim under the day. Encouraged by it, unencumbered by clouds, we’re at 42 degrees F now. We’re expecting a high in the upper sixties. That’s some lovely yard work and walking weather.
Seeing that sunshine after I tumbled out of bed called out a 1995 song. See, I felt good, so I started singing “Good” by Better Than Ezra. Although its foundation is a break up song — he comes home to learn she’s gone — it ends on thoughts of change and looking forward to what might be. So, I thought, yeah, let’s look forward to what might be, once this pandemic runs its course. Maybe we’ll meet on the fourth of July.
Stay positive, test negative, wear a mask when you’re asked, and get the vax. Cheers
7:31 AM and 5:15 PM mark the times the sun rises and sets in Ashland, Oregon, today, Sunday, January 22nd. It’s 30 degrees F out, and feels like it. There are some days when the temperature doesn’t feel as cold (or as warm) as it’s supposed to be. That whole index and wind chill thing, I suppose. Today, though, felt 30 when we were out.
Yes, we were ninja shopping again, hunting fresh produce for soups, smoothies, and salads. My wife always times these things because experts say we should be in and out at the speed of sound because that confuses COVID-19. When people zoom by, COVID-19 reacts, “What was that? Someone there? Hello?” Then it forgets what it was doing and walks off muttering to itself, “I know I heard something. I know something was there.” Yes, COVID-19 is becoming old news.
I found myself humming “Days Like This” by Van Morrison. The song came out in 1995 but sounds like it’s from the 1960s. That makes sense because Van based it on the 1961 song, “Mama Said”, which was a hit for the Shirelles. I don’t know if I knew that before and had forgotten but Wikipedia claims it’s the truth, so it must be.
It was a day like this. My wife likes to be at the store at the beginning of time or the vulnerable hours, whichever comes first. I dislike shopping at the vulnerable hours, objecting to that expression, which is shorthand for “hour set aside for vulnerable and elderly people to go shopping”. To avoid the term, I tell myself we’re going at victory hour — you know, vee for vulnerable, vee for victory. I don’t want to call it the vee hours because there was a television show (and maybe a movie) called “Vee” about alien visitors. I don’t want to think of myself as a vee, in case I turn out to be a visiting alien the next time that I see a doctor. (Doctor: “It appears that you’re an alien.” Me, looking around, “Whooo, meee?”) Don’t mock me; my body is constantly revealing new information. Like, as my hair has thinned, I’ve noticed what appears to be a treasure map on my scalp. It could also be where a dead body is buried, so I’m not going to check it out, just to be safe.
On a side note, I had a special moment today. I went into the bathroom to do some business and not one of my three cats showed up to supervise, even though they’re all in the house and awake (because I saw them watching me on the way to the bathroom). Although I was first surprised, then hurt (“Don’t they care any more?”), I was then delighted to be in on the can alone. I so enjoyed it, I lost track of what I was doing and ended up wondering if I should paint the baseboards, of it they’ll just come clean with Mr. Clean Magic Erasers. Upon exited the restroom, I discovered one of my cats waiting for me. Looking at me, he said, “I would have come in, but it stinks in there.” He wasn’t smiling. (He sort of looked like Abe Vigoda as Fish on “Barney Miller”.) Then I encountered the other two cats waiting in the hall. They said, “He’s right, it stinks in there. You should have that checked out.” Like they know what they’re talking about. They’re cats. They can’t even open a can or use a spoon.
For the record, we were in the store for nineteen minutes and spent $115.10. That works out to $6.06 a minute. 2021 is gonna be an expensive year. I’m glad that we weren’t in there an hour.
Is there a song called, “Years Like This?”
Be positive, test negative, wear a mask, and get vaccinated. Here’s the music. Listen to it while I go get some coffee. I need it.
And what it all boils down to Is that no one’s really got it figured out just yet Well, I’ve got one hand in my pocket And the other one is playin’ a piano And what it all comes down to my friends, yeah Is that everything is just fine, fine, fine ‘Cause I’ve got one hand in my pocket And the other one is hailin’ a taxi cab
“December” is about endings and breaks from what’s going on. For Ed Roland, the songwriter, it’s about parting with the band’s manager. Pour moi, I pull the sarcastic and bitter sense of weariness from the sound: it’s done. Let’s end this, and this is just the polarized, argumentative state of the United States. I went to see Trump and the disastrous GOP reign end. The sooner that comes, the happier I’ll be.
Many songs that I remember have specific moments attached. They follow traditional, predictable patterns of love, success, pain, and failure.
Today’s song is hotly linked to success. It was 1999. Retired from the military, I was working in a medical device startup company. I began as the customer service manager. Then the company was bought out. And on this day, the new VP of marketing from the company who bought us had offered me a big promotion, to become a product manager, and I’d accepted.
The world looked great. This was in the summer in the Peninsula portion of the SF Bay Area known as Silicon Valley. I was in my car, a vehicle I enjoyed The sky was blue, the sun was bright and warm, and the future seemed amazing.
Traffic wasn’t bad either, as I left Highway 101 and I-280 behind me and headed west toward home on highway 92. For that day, I put in Bush, Sixteen Stone, and selected “Comedown” (1995).
Here are the lyrics that drew me that day:
‘Cause I don’t wanna come back down from this cloud It’s taken me all this time to find out what I need I don’t wanna come back down from this cloud It’s taken me all this all this time
(BTW, I wanted to indent the lyrics to call them out, but can’t find the indent on this new, cumbersome, tedious, loaded WP editor. This is supposed to be a quick post; I don’t want to spend a lot of time searching through blocks and patterns, widgets and menus to find what used to be a simple matter. And where is the help? Oh, let me look for that.)
Don’t have a specific reason for this song in my head today. Just awoke to that beginning from the song. Maybe it was a dream thing, or a writing thing, or my generally foolish, optimistic nature.
I encountered a friend on the street. He was coming out of a store and I was walking by. Eighty years old, his wife is two years younger. She’s having medical issues.
Married for fifty years, his only spouse, he seemed like he was going through the process of thinking about life without her. They’ve downsized their home twice in the last eight years, but her mobility is going, as is her vision and her mental acuity. In his words, “It all seems to be falling apart for her.”
Sad, and an often heard story. I commiserated with him, but what struck me was his comments about being nothing without her. He said, in his thinking, everything that he’d done after getting his college degree was about her, and then their family that they created, and their life together. It was his constant motivation.
After we parted and I thought more about what he’d said, “Bring Me to Life” by Evanescence (1995) slipped into the stream, a song about being nothing without another.
Michael Seidel, writer 