Tag: change

Saturday’s Theme Music

Mood: positive

Let’s close our eyes and bow our heads; September, 2023, is passing. Today is Saturday, September 30, 2023. A fresh month — October — begins tomorrow.

“Alexa, weather,” I say.

“It’s 49 degrees in Ashland. Today’s high will be 62 degrees. Today’s forecast includes showers.”

I’m boiling her response down. Alexa is one of three sources for my daily weather info. The other two are my home system and wunderground.com online. I also often scan MSN’s weather forecast for us.

I do this because we’re located on the fringe of a small town, about three and a half miles long, with a population of about 20,000. I live on the southern end. The town is in a valley alongside Interstate 5. The southern end is where the valley pinches together and becomes a pass. For all these reasons, getting precise weather forecasts is troublesome. We’re usually a few degrees warmer than the forecast in the summer and a few degrees colder in fall and winter.

I don’t doubt Alexa’s forecast for today. It rained off and on through the night. Rainclouds are as thick as a Black Friday shopping crowd. Those clouds don’t look like they’re going to wander off without dropping more rain on us.

The cats are happier and more mellow with this weather. Both come in for shelter, washing before napping. Papi’s preference is the master bed where I keep a folded blanket at the foot for the cats. Tucker will used that at night, but it’s Papi’s during the daytime. Tucker prefers being with us in the daytime. He’ll haunt the desk in the snug, sleeping to the right of me, shoving around papers and rearranging equipment. I enjoy having him there, with his cute little black and white face and long, whirly whiskers at repose as he sleeps.

My wife and I have plans for the evening. Scienceworks is doing an outdoor showing of the movie E.T. Show starts at 6:30 PM. There will be food and beverage trucks, along with an ice cream truck.

Forecasts for that period tell us it’ll be colder by then, and it’ll be raining. Should be fun.

My wife particularly wants to go because she only saw E.T. once. This was when we were stationed on Okinawa, Japan. We saw a VHS bootleg copy of the movie, and the production values were terrible. Bootleg copies of films and TV shows was how we saw a lot of things in those pre-net, pre satellite TV days. Phoning home was still a major production that required us to go to the USO and use one of their expensive long-distance lines.

Well, with talk of “phone home” and memories of the way it was in 1982, Les Neurons have cranked up ELO’s 1977 song, “Telephone Line” for the morning mental music stream (Trademark fantasy). Makes sense, and I will allow it.

Stay pos and be cool, and strong. I’m refreshing my coffee — do you want a topoff? Here’s the music. Let the real day commence. Cheers

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Changing Times

Everything is changing. I’m not stupid. I know that it’s not unusual for things to change. Weather changes, clothes, all that. I’m not stupid.

This is different, you know? This is real change.

I was born in 2032. May, a taurus. I can’t remember much of my early life. I guess it was okay. Then the crumble began. You know, bridges collapsing, blackouts, gas and electricity shortages, water shortages.

I remember that from when I was around ten and our school was shut down. Dad said that taxes had been cut, so you know, the government didn’t have the money for schools, and we couldn’t afford a pay school. Dad was working a full-time job and two part-time jobs. Mom was working three part-time gigs. Working their asses off, both of them. My auntie, who was disabled from diabetes, schooled me and my sisters and cousins in our family room. That’s where she lived.

I did what I could myself. Made some change from helping with cleanups. People would abandon their cars and places, and I’d pirate things and sell them door to door. Tapes and books, old computers, that kind of thing.

We were always hungry, picking berries, apples, plums, whatever we could find. Best time was when I was a teen. Used to be able to pay two dollars to bus tables for fifteen minutes in a restaurant. They let me eat anything that was left. I’d try to stuff things in my pockets for my family, if I could, but I was so damn hungry all the time.

That lasted ‘bout five years. Now I’m 31, and it’s all gone. I’m trying to find a new gig but all I got is my ‘lectric bike and clothes. Most days, it’s too hot to be outside, you know? Gets over 110 by noon, and then climbs twenty degrees more.

Like Mom used to say all the time, the times, they are a-changin’.

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Tuesday’s Wandering Thoughts

The net can be a dizzying roller coaster. Bad news headlines, followed by humor on a friend’s blog, then disastrous breaking news, chased by sweet floof photos, which give way to dire predictions, trailed by fascinating new scientific or historic findings, war and political updates, and book reviews.

I ride throughout the day, breaking off to soothe myself with my personal writing, and then releasing all the pent tension with a relaxing game or two (or four). You know, Wordle. Spelling Bee. Sudoku.

How different from my youth. We watched television together in the family room — ‘in color’ — so it was a consensus choice. Five channels were available: PBS, the big three, and one UHF channel that washed in and out on a sea of static. Sitcoms (“Green Acres”), dramas (“Gunsmoke) and thrillers (“The Man From U.N.C.L.E.”) entertained us, or the Movie of the Week, delivering Psycho, Seven Days in May, and The Sound of Music, among a plethora of others.

Then I consider how different my mother’s childhood was. She was a little girl in Turin, Iowa, during the Depression and World War II, eating popcorn and listening to a radio with her family, or going to the hardware store to watch “I Love Lucy” on the only television in their small town.

Reaching further back, I struggle with visualizing how it was in my grandfather’s youth. He helped establish Turin a few decades before Mom was born. Guess I’ll surf the net about it and see what I find.

Once on the roller coaster, getting off it isn’t easy.

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On Becoming A Geezer

For a friend…

Becoming a geezer, if I may be so bold,

is more about a state of mind than growing old.

Geezers look back on time with misty eyes,

lamenting the lack of truth and the growth of lies.

They’ll disparage the young — “This generation” —

they say with a grunt and a sniff,

“Does so little no wonder the country’s adrift.

“The way it used to be is so much better,

“Like communicating with loved ones with a postage letter.

“And the things which they watch,

“The things which they say,

“The way that they dress —

“That’s not my way.”

Then they break off with a mumble and words which aren’t clear,

And say to the server, “Please bring me another beer.”

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Two Dream Moments

I had two dreams last night which are remembered. Both were extremely brief.

In the first, I saw a large headline blaring on a screen, “FORMER PRESIDENT TRUMP IS DEAD!” Don’t know what media source it was supposed to be, but utter shock went through me when I saw it. Below the headline was a black and white photograph of DJT. Then I recognized that the screen was angled in green grass like a tilted tombstone. That was all.

Awakening, I thought about it for some time. When I mentioned it to a friend later, he said that someone had hacked Trump’s son’s X account and posted something about Trump being dead. I wondered if I’d heard or seen the story in passing without realizing, and it manifested as part of the dream. Of course, Trump being dead would launch conspiracy ideas and rip through the GOP’s structure like a Force 5 tornado. Guesses about the end results went all over the place when I spoke about it with friends, including prophecies of violence, and the impact on financial markets; would the US be viewed as safer and more stable with him deceased? It’s easy to speculate that it could go either way.

Of course, as it’s a dream, it could also just be wishful thinking in my head about how much the man bothers me with what he says. For example, I rose this morning and read the news that he’s urging his party to defund the parts of the legal systems which are taking him to trial, claiming that these are political persecutions. As others pointed out, such a spending proposal by the House would might difficulties finding their way into law past the Senate where Dems rule, or past President Biden’s desk. So his proposal is pretty empty but it stirs up the fires of his base, doesn’t it?

Second dream, similarly brief, had me walking outside through short, dark green grass. Shiny things in the grass hooked my attention. Drifting toward the first, I found a half buried silver dollar. I easily pulled it free from the earth. As I reckoned what it was, I saw several more. Collecting them, I realized it was hill full of half-buried silver dollars. As I collected them in delight, I wondered what I should do with them — keep them or turn them in somewhere — and how they got there. No one else was in sight, nor were buildings, cars, or paths. I concluded, they must have somehow fallen from the sky.

I was really excited, though, taking them for signs of impending good fortune. That lifted my energy and reinvigorated determination to do things. I guess I need to make it so, number one.

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Saturday’s Wandering Thoughts

Meeting my sisters again, I reflected on happiness and success. Each sister has demonstrated at one time or another that they seemed supremely happy and successful only to have disaster, devastation, upheaval, foisted on them, forcing them to begin again. It’s always a journey. You can find and lose it all repeatedly. Learning to keep your balance as it swirls around you remains key to me.

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Tuesday’s Theme Music

Mood: watchful

Tuesday, September 12, 2023. At the airport. 5:05 AM, bracing myself against the chilly night air. Dawn is haranguing the eastern darkness. We were picked up at 4:20, deposited here at 4:45, waiting for our flight now. Seems to be on time. Travelers trapped in drowsy amber drag bags, watching, listening, killing time, anxiously fidgeting. My wife and I settle and chat. Worries and anxieties are voiced on her end. I do what I can to reassure her. I’ve traveled a lot, usually alone, and just roll as I need to. She tends to work herself up into indignation and irritation.

The Neurons are playing “Leaving on A Jet Plane”. John Denver. Mama Cass. Peter, Paul, and Marry.

Of course The Neurons are playing this. What else would they be playing? Well, they’re The Neurons, so that query is wholly hypothetical. They shift to “Silver Bird”. Mark Lindsay. “Jet Airliner” – Steve Miller – comes up, which is then replaced by Pink Floyd, “Learning to Fly”. “The Letter” by The Four Tops – “Give me a ticket for an aeroplane” – supersedes it, then it’s another “Learning to Fly”, this time by Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers. “Come Fly with Me”, Frank Sinatra follows.

I’m reminded of how it used to be to fly, when friends, relatives, lovers would escort people down to the gate. Can’t do that these days. That’s all left beyond the security’s other side.

Then a woman tells the child with her, “Come here, stand by me.” And that changes where The Neurons are hanging around. Let that, I hear “Stand By Me”, but it’s the version made by “Playing for Change”. Okay, I’ll take that, Neurons. If I can ever harness their energy, I might be able to get more done.

So here we are, and there we go, today’s theme music. I’m looking forward to getting on the aircraft and going back to sleep as we wing down to SFO from southern Oregon. Then, after I board that next flight, I’ll indulge in a cuppa joe. Just a few more minutes and boarding will begin.

Stay pos, test negative, be strong, and remain on course. Time to board. Here’s the tune. See ya. Cheers

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Automotive Issues

I had car problems this week. They look like they’re now resolved, but a comment by a friend reminded me of a surprising recent trend, at least locally.

Three friends all had cars with a cracked windshield this year: Ford, Subaru, Toyota. None knew how the windshields broke, they just noticed cracks which were getting bigger. For each, it meant getting the windshield replaced, which was a high price and lengthy time, especially for the Toyota. Windshields are infrequently just a glass piece these days. They often have electronics and sensors embedded in them, or they’re linked to systems. Replacement requires a special machine and a specially trained individual to take out the old and put in the new and connect and calibrate everything. The machine required to replace the Toyota windshield was broken and required specialized repairs, which took months. In the case of the Ford, the specialist was out for a few weeks for reasons unknown.

I remember the old days, when a guy came to our house and replaced the windshield in an hour in the garage. My, how times have changed.

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Thursday’s Wandering Thought

A clothing purge was conducted last week. On of the items uncovered in the closet was my military cap. Last worn in 1995, I put that sucker on my head.

Or tried.

It would not cover my head as accustomed in my mil days. I took it into the other room for my wife to enjoy. With a burst of laughter, she exclaimed, “That looks like a skull cap.”

Questions arose. Did the hat shrink as it sat on a shelf for the last 28 years, or did my head really grow that much? I might start measuring my head, track its progress, see how much it changes in the next ten years.

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Two ‘Project’ Dreams

In the first, I was in a dark place. Not threatening or anything, just limited light, like narrow sporadic spotlights. Third person personal POV, I couldn’t discern my age but I’m younger than now. I heard a brief comment, always in a male’s voice, and sensed the presence of someone much larger than me watching.

In front of me were a line of orange building blocks. They seemed like they were made of foam but I knew they were more substantial. I also ‘knew’ that I was part of a project. We’d been chosen to align these blocks in some way to harness their energy, and that the blocks were full of creative energy. Although I was working with others, I never saw anyone else. As I walked and studied the blocks, I concluded some things and moved them, sometimes physically, but as frequently by using my mind. As I worked, I heard the voice say, “They’re figuring it out. They’re coming together.” Dream end.

The next dream found me now arranging black blocks in almost the same situation, except the background was gray instead of dark. Again, I was moving the blocks with my body or mind, trying to bring them together, and I felt change taking place around me as I worked. Sometimes other blocks would appear and I would understand that someone else from the project had put the blocks there. As I connected my blocks with their blocks, I remembered the previous dream and realized, the first dream’s blocks were about generating creativity — that’s why they were orange — and these second set of blocks were to build from the orange blocks by using logic.

Dream end.

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