Another School Dream
Heading to school. Adult – roughly my current age. Driving through a dark, rainy day. It is pouring rain.
It begins with me in a car, driving. Traffic is heavy. I’m trying to get into the left-hand turn lane. A dark blue Miata is ahead, trying to get into my lane. Behind the Miata, a motorcycle is trying to also change lanes to my lane.
Patient and courteous, we work it out and go on. I turn left, then left again onto the school grounds.
Then I’m in a crowded small classroom. English lit is being taught. Other students present are famous and accomplished: movie, television, and rock stars, along with NFL players and coaches, and NASA scientists. I think, what am I doing here?
A man introduces himself as a NASA scientist. I once facilitated some NASA scientists in a team-building exercise. I struggle to remember their names. I can only tell him when and where it happened. He smiles, indulgent, but he’s not impressed.
An NFL player sitting not far from me recalls a ‘jet sweep’ play. He was blocking for the runner, and vividly remembers details. “Was the QB the runner?” I asked.
An NFL coach joins the conversation. Using a marker, he draws up the play on a sheet of paper, describing it in detail. I’m astounded.
We break to different classes. As I walk away, I notice that my computer bag, which is black leather, feels awfully light and floppy. Damn; I left my laptop at home. I think, if I have my phone, I can still log in and do things – but no. I’ve forgotten my phone, too.
Grimacing, I think, how can I recover? Not seeing a way, I sit, hoping to be inconspicuous, realizing, if called upon, I’ll just need to explain that I screwed up and forgot my phone and laptop. I’m so mortified.
Another person sits beside me. I recognize him as someone famous. He asks, “Hey, are you alright? It looks like something is bothering you.”
I explain that I forgot my laptop and that it upset me.
The teacher, a small elderly woman, comes in and sits at a desk at the crowded class’s front. She begins talking.
Dream end.
Trump Optimization: Breaking Down
I’ve been reflecting on Trump’s threats, lies, and broken promises.
I know that I’m on a loop with this. Partly blame my curiosity for checking the news each morning, a memory that pretty reliably reminds me of what happened in the past, and the constant news barrage about Trump. As POTUS, he and/or his administration are often suing and being sued. He keeps breaking political norms which served the nation well and does so on airy, fantasy fueled whims and desire for more power and control.
Yet, the power and control he exercises is often flawed and grows out of control. Trump consistently proves he’s a shallow thinker, with little thought or interest in collateral and secondary impact — unless they’re enriching him, or increasing his fame. His is a narrow spectrum of thought.
He makes and breaks promises with regularity that rivals the setting and rising sun. These are easily proven because of modern technology. We don’t need to pour over journals, records, ancient manuscripts, or dig through bones. Search engines verify them with a few fingerstrokes and clicks. Only those who are using his agenda to further their interests or those who want to willingly accept him as their golden leader pretends otherwise.
Trump is aware of his shortcomings on one level and tries to hide them or compensate. This has led to an ongoing, widening series of provocative declarations and impulsive actions which I lump under the umbrella of Operation Epic LOOK — SQUIRREL! Trump counts on people being easily charmed by him. He counts on being able to menace and bully people through power and wealth. His strategy leans heavily on people having short memories, being too busy to pay attention, or lacking the mental faculties and critical thinking to parse what he’s done and their impact.
His strategy is working on a smaller and smaller percentage of people.
That makes Trump more dangerous, because as he flails, fades, and fails, he seeks greater confirmation that he’s powerful, beloved, in control, and that all is going great, and that all is going great is due to him, and his leadership. Now, desperate to remain in power because he knows the consequences of not being in control will be accountability, Trump is fighting hard to control the upcoming elections.
Screaming fraud and stolen elections for years, he’s never proven any of his claim. On the contrary, investigations show the voter fraud is impressively small.
Nevertheless, Trump has gone after every facet of voting that he can. The Constitution specifies that states handle the voting mechanism, including time, place, location. States also determine voter eligibility and register voters. They decide how the voters are legally handled and counted. This has been going on as nation for almost 250 years, and has been under almost constant scrutiny and improvement.
Trump, however, is trying to increase the Executive Branch’s direct control over how the states register people, let them vote, and count the votes. Beyond his usual executive decrees and flawed texts and speeches about voter fraud, Trump has employed Federal money to bribe and coerce the states. He’s trying to curtail how ballots are counted by limiting when they must be received and counted. Trump is going after the state voter rolls themselves. Some states are pushing back but too many, led by GOP governments, are rolling over to Trump’s demands like well-trained pets.
All of Trump’s actions align with the Unitary Executive Theory, which gives the president and executive branch more power while sidestepping Congressional input and authority, and curtailing the judiciary’s impact and influence. We the People speak primarily through our elected officials in Congress.
With the UET in place, our voice is effectively muted. Congress can pass laws and establish agencies and dictate what’s supposed to be done and how the mechanics of government is supposed to work, but if Trump decides, “No, that’s not what I want,” then he ignores all of those limitations and legal requirements and does as he desires.
Trump’s approach becomes bifurcated, then. His financial policies and blueprint typically favor himself and the wealthiest in our nation. However, he leans on his shrinking base and Project 2025 for support, which means he advances policies to reduce business oversight and regulations for all aspects of working and living in the US.
Right now, aided by the Roberts Court and a compliant GOP in Congress, the Trump administration is trying to consolidate power. It all reminds me of the ECU problem.
Back in the late last century, computers were introduced to cars to manage engines, something called the Electronic Control Module. With it in place, car engines were constantly monitored for knocks and performance. The ECU then adjusted different aspects — fuel/air mixture, timing, advance, etc. But sometimes, by rigidly focusing on fixing these things toward one optimal goal, they ended up stopping the car from running. Mechanics then had to tear it all apart and rebuild.
Likewise, the Soviet Union, through Gosplan and central planning. Yet, when the data didn’t match the expectations demanded or expected, data was falsified, classic Cover Your Ass behavior.
Sound familiar at all?
Trump tends to fire those who don’t give him the news he wants. This will remove him further and further from contact with what’s really going on. So, like that ECU, he’s trying to overoptimize the system to the point that it will be rigid and then break under its own mechanism.
The questions are, where will we be then, and how will we adjust?
A Camaro Dream
I’d just signed a contract. Half of the money due me was paid and the other half would come later.
I was going next to visit my family. I decided I would surprise them. I bought four condos which were exactly the same, along with four 1968 Chevy Camaros, also exactly the same. Everything was in excellent condition. I can’t tell you what color the cars were, except they were immaculately polished and gleamed in the light.
I would be staying in one condo but I expected my sisters and Mom to stay in the other condos with their families. I would drive one Camaro; they would drive the rest.
Here it gets a little hazy. It’s about the keys. Whenever I got the keys for the cars or condos, there would be a green light.
I went to leave to meet with my sister, driving the Camaro I was giving her. First, I had to stop. There was unfinished business, leaves which needed to be moved away for Dad. I did most of those very fast, with the car door open and the engine running, then went off and picked up my sister and her son.
I told my sister to drive and told her the car was hers. She didn’t fully understand. I took her to the condos. Oddly, the three condos for the family were on one floor; my condo was alone, stacked on top of them.
I told my sister and nephew that this is where I’m staying and that it’s where I wanted them to stay as well. My sister worried about the expense. I kept telling her that I’d bought it and already paid for it.
Another sister arrived with her husband. I gave them the keys to their Camaro and showed them the four cars. They responded, “That’s nice.” I explained a few times that I was giving them the car. They finally got it and were shocked. My brother-in-law kept talking about the cars’ “mint condition”.
Other family arrived. Some young man from the condos came to help people with baggage. He asked, “Which condo is yours?” He seemed concerned about so many people staying in one condo.
I explained to him that I owned four of them but that I was giving three of them to my sisters and mother. I gave him the keys to their three condos. Catching on, he responded, “That cost a fortune.”
Mom was there, in her nurse’s uniform. She worried that she had to go to work. I kept telling her that she didn’t, but she was insistent.
It was raining, with light flooding. To go to work, Mom had to cross a muddy, swampy stream. I didn’t want her to cross because I didn’t think she would make it. But she went. As I watched, she fell into a hole and went underwater. I began rushing forward to help her but a large man showed up on the other side. Reaching down, he lifted Mom, drenched and covered with mud and weeds, and set her down on the other side.
Dream end.
Tires & Food
We bought new tires for one of our vehicles yesterday.
I took a memory train back to the first time I bought new tires after I was married.
That would be 1975. The car was a 1968 Camaro. Sweet, small, fast car. RS, 327 V8, automatic. I bought it for $1100 after I arrived at my first permanent duty station in my Air Force career, Wright-Patterson Air Force Base, in Ohio. Paid cash.
I married later that year. My wife and I have wonderful memories of being together in that car.
Buying new tires for it was a major financial decision. Recaps were cheap, $20-$25 each, installed. But recaps? I distrusted their safety and reliability.
That meant new tires: $40 each.
$160.
Ouch.
We didn’t have credit cards, so we’d need to buy the tires with cash. I had that in savings but that would severely reduce the balance.
I remarked about this to my wife at dinner last night.
She remembered, adding, “Yes, the things we couldn’t afford then that we needed, and the things we buy now, that we really don’t need.”
I paid for the dinner with my credit card. Leaving, I thought, I could have bought two new tires for the price of that dinner.
Of course, I could have bought the Camaro for the price of the new tires I put on the car.
It’s all part of Einstein’s Theory of Relativity.
Wednesday’s Theme Music
Ashland, southern Oregon — Wednesday, May 5, 2026.
Today’s is a picturesque spring day, Ashland edition — sunshine, clouds, 56 F. They say we’re heading to the lower eighties. We cracked 80 at my place yesterday.
I caught up on some local news last night. A rural hospital crisis is affecting the United States. Been going on for years but getting worse.
Trump’s One Big Beautiful Bill worsened the situation. By removing healthcare subsidies, healthcare premiums shot up. Many people had no choice but to severely cut back.
It’s playing out here in southern Oregon.
Asante warns of a projected $50M shortfall leading to 300+ job cuts
Asante is already reducing many services at Asante Ashland Community Hospital in my town. Now operating in other southern Oregon cities such as Medford and Grants Pass, they note that they’ve lost money in the first six months of this fiscal year and cut personnel. Part of the reason why they’re losing money is buried in a paragraph down in the story:
“Patients covered by private insurance are at the lowest percentage in Asante’s history at just over 14% of all patients so far in 2026.”
Oregon saw average premium hikes of nearly 10% for individuals after Trump’s OBBB took effect. Asante’s CEO noted that many local businesses are being priced out of offering health insurance due to these rising costs. Medicare and Medicaid barely cover the costs they say. It’s not a sustainable model.
Yet, with this crisis going on, Trump pretends to worry about the Iranians having nukes and attacks them.
Trump worries about his own security and image, naming things after himself, wrecking part of the White House to build that ridiculous Epstein ballroom, which went from ‘costing Americans nothing’ to $1,000,000,000.
Trump screams freedom! Security! Peace! Then he has the military attack and kill more people in boats.
So much for law and order.
Waiting to see what Operation Epic LOOK — SQUIRREL! brings today.
Your Trump Quotes of the Day.
He’s so consistently inconsistent!
Today’s song was another one inspired by Papi, my ginger furbrother. I was petting him after giving him his meds. He was purring like mad. But his personality requires that he be given space. I wouldn’t let him go, keeping hold of him until he gave me an annoyed look. Meanwhile, I laughed and sang the lines from “Magic” by The Cars:
I’ve got a hold on you
I got a hold on you
Got a hold on you
I’m off for my cystoscopy to see what’s going on in my bladder. It’s being done at Asante in Medford so I better do it before they close.
I hope the best possible day of grace, peace, and joy finds you and carries you on through life on a great wave.
Cheers
Cooperating
I drove down Siskiyou Boulevard under bright sunshine. Traffic was light. We traveled at 30 MPH, just over the speed limit.
The blue Subaru in the left hand’s right turn signal began blinking. The driver started over. Realizing that my car occupied the space, they veered back into their lane.
I dropped back to give them turning space. Seeing that, they completed their turn, and gave a big wave of thanks out the window.
Laughing, I waved back and headed on toward the coffee shop. That simple exchange gave me a shot of happy energy.
Things go so much better when we cooperate and don’t turn everything into a competition.
A Little Yellow Car
I was prescribed post-surgery meds and went to the drug store to pick them up.
Walking through the drugstore parking lot to buy them, I saw a small yellow car. Circling closer, I confirmed, 1964 Dodge Valiant, just like my stepfather drove. Might have been a different year but it was the same model and color.
I remembered him bringing it home although I don’t recall what he drove before that. I rarely rode in it. This was ‘his car’, something to commute to work and go off to bet. George was a gambler and went to the horse races five or six days a week, trying for a big score. He won big twice. Once was a $25,000 Daily Double payout, providing the down payment on a newly built brick ranch in Penn Hills.
Later, he won enough to buy a new 1976 Chevy Camaro. Like his Valiant, this was pale yellow, three-speed on the column and a black and white checked interior. Sis hated that car.
All of us disliked driving with George. Tending to drive about five miles an hour below the speed limit, he also liked to get into the faster lanes but not go faster. This terrified us as other drivers pulled up, slowed down and then sped past with blaring horns. Mom would often snap, “My God, get out of this lane.” George wouldn’t budge, though, sailing on without regard to others’ opinions.
The yellow Dodge in the drugstore parking lot had tiny tires and petite chrome bumpers, appearing small and fragile among the huge SUVs and a couple of ‘compact’ Toyotas and Hondas. All the modern vehicles were white, black, gray, or silver. Nowhere was another yellow car.
Seeing it still brought a smile as I walked on, reflecting, what a different world. And yet, back in the 1960s, that Valiant would have shown up as so much different than the preceding decades.
Who knows what our 2026 cars will look like compared to the cars of 2086.
Remembering Dad Again
I was in the coffee house, deep into writing, when a casual coffee shop acquaintance stopped and said hello. Now a choir direction, he’d spent most of his life as a master mechanic. Cars somehow became the topic.
I mentioned that I was a sporting car kind of person. Car ownership was about BMWs, a Porsche, Mazda RX-7, along with a Camaro and a Firebird.
His response pivoted me to remembering Dad’s cars. Dad mostly drove Corvettes, Mustangs, and Thunderbirds. Aging, he also began driving a pickup, and then a Cadillac. Both were so unlike him.
That’s just like me. Those car choices were ‘needs must’ decisions, exactly why I now drive a compact SUV.
After finishing the conversation, though, I realized that this was the first time since Dad died on the last day of 2025 that I remembered him without grief. Instead, there was fondness and a reflective smile.
Dad was an interesting guy.
Wenzdaz Wandering Thoughts
A new problem arrived at our house.
My wife’s car died on her the other day. Absolutely no power — lights, radio, engine, etc., a very disconcerting event. Fortunately, she was in a parking lot and easily steered to a safe place. It started right back up, but you can imagine the alarm a car dying without warning can give you.
A 2003 Ford Focus purchased new, 110,000 miles are on the car’s odometer. It’s been garaged for all of its life and pretty well maintained. She only uses it for local buzzing around, usually driving just three miles in any direction. Once a month, she might go further, up to twelve miles away.
Now, though, she’s working on a project that requires her to meet with others, pick up things, all that. The big event is Feb. 1. She’s been working on it for months, pulling it together.
I’ve been trying to convince her to trade in the Focus for new wheels for years. In fact, when we bought our CX-5 over ten years ago, it was supposed to be her car to drive. We would then purchase a second car for me and trade in the Focus. She reneged on the agreement and kept her car.
I told her to take the Mazda but, she doesn’t want to drive it, having driven it once since we bought it.
So, it’s a drop everything, change my schedule day to get this resolved. I drove her to her appointments and local garage will check it tomorrow. I have my suspicions about the cause, but we’ll wait for the experts.
Michael Seidel, writer 