Tag: Changes

Sunday’s Theme Music – Days like this

Ashland, southern Oregon — Sunday, May 10, 2026.

Happy Mother’s Day to the mothers in the United States. Oh, what the heck, make it to the mothers of the world, no matter your religion, nationality, or species.

It’s 65 F in Ashland with light clouds mildly blocking the sunshine. Our high will hit the upper 70s, giving us pleasant holiday weather.

I’d written a post earlier. Edge crashed, taking the post with it. WordPress hadn’t ‘autosaved’ it, so there was nothing to show that I’d been typing and thinking. Foolishly, I hadn’t saved it myself.

After that, I decided, I’m taking a hiatus from thinking about the news today and commenting on it. Do a MDB: Mother’s Day Blackout.

That’s when the 1995 Van Morrison song entered the morning mental music stream. I retired from the US Air Force in ’95. I heard this song on the radio in one of the first few days of life after wearing a military uniform for twenty years.

I wasn’t employed for the first time since 1974. Wasn’t really looking yet, either; I had my retirement pension. My wife was getting antsy, though. Still, I’d decided to take time off for myself. There would be other days for work.

That happened in early November. By December, I was employed and was fortunate to remain employed for another twenty years.

Today has a similar vibe to my memory of that 1995 day. Look at how over thirty years have passed, and here I sit, feeling like I’m at another threshold. Then again, every day is another threshold.

Remembered Lyrics

When you don’t need to worry there’ll be days like this
When no one’s in a hurry there’ll be days like this
When you don’t get betrayed by that old Judas kiss
Oh my mama told me there’ll be days like this

When you don’t need an answer there’ll be days like this
When you don’t meet a chancer there’ll be days like this

When all the parts of the puzzle start to look like they fit
Then I must remember there’ll be days like this

Hope your Mother’s Day is a good day for you and yours, no matter your sex, gender, whatever. Just celebrate the day, rejoice in what is, and make something to build in.

Coffee is here. Cheers

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The Lost Jacket: A Dream

Dreamed I was traveling but also that I’d arrived somewhere. It was both familiar but different. I was then again in the military. Several sisters and Mom traveled with me, yet I arrived before them so that I was there to greet them when they arrived.

I put them up in a room and then told them, “I have to go work. I’ll be back and then we’ll go out.” I also suggested to them that maybe they could come see where I work.

In parallel, I’d been out walking around. I took off my jacket: this was a brown leather ‘flight’ jacket. I’d left my money and my wallet with my ID in it.

I suddenly remembered, oh, no – I forgot about that.

I rushed back to get the jacket.

Gone!

I was frantic with worry. What am I going to do?

Casual friends who used to be co-workers arrived. One, a big guy, younger than me, said, “Hey we found this. Thought you might need it.” He gave me my brown leather jacket.

I was relieved but worried, and reached into the pockets.

Empty.

He then held up my wallet.

Relief rushed me.

Then he held up my folded cash in his other hand. “This was in your pocket, too.”

I thanked him, then hugged him, saying, “You are a true friend.”

Dream end.

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A Traveling Dream – with Pie!

I was packing all my personal goods up. Part of that was a lot of money, which I and arranged in boxes, cases, bags, and scheduled it to be picked up and taken east.

That done, I sought transportation for myself. I found a bus and bought tickets. Inside were blue seats. I found an open seat and sat. The bus’s seating reminded me more of a widebody jet, except, I saw, it was arranged in a star pattern. Either way, I thought it unusual for a bus and too big.

A crotchety woman was managing the passengers. She announced our itinerary. We were in Maine, heading for New York!

That was wrong! I was supposed to be on the west coast, going east. That’s where I packed my stuff.

Now I worried about my stuff. Had I sent it in the wrong direction?

Then I worried about all that money I’d packed away, fretting that somebody might steal it. I shouldn’t have left it like that, and I should have brought more with me.

A young dark-haired woman in red clothing was in the seat next to me. I recognized her but she apparently didn’t remember me. I played a sly little game, ‘guessing’ things about her because I knew her. She was amazed by how I correctly guessed.

They announced we were in New York and would have a rest stop. The crotchety woman came around serving us slices of pie. I took two pieces and passed them on to other passengers, then ate the third piece. It seemed like some kind of runny custard pie. I didn’t care much for the filling so I only ate the crust.

We arrived at our destination. I don’t know where it was but began looking for my stuff, anxious about how much of it I’d find there. Several of my bags were discovered. Inside them were bundles of cash. I gave some to another traveler because they needed help.

The dream ended as I was walking toward a building, finding and picking up more of my bags.

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Dreaming: Not My Glass

I was at a very crowded camp. We were outside. Lot of activity going on, including food and drink being served, and eating. I was not alone but with a group of friends and casual acquaintances, but it seemed to change throughout the dream.

Two parts retain clarity. One, I was drinking red wine in goblets. Almost everyone was, so it was challenging to track what drink belonged to who. Two, a group of Black friends were talking about movies and books. I’d not heard of either one.

One showed me a book. It was thin children’s book. I think it was called Riverrun City. When he showed me the cover, it showed brown cartoon bears moving across it. I thought I’d heard of the book but admitted I’d not read it. I made promises to try to do so as they encouraged me.

I went back to get my glass of wine but couldn’t find it. I recalled that I’d just filled it and set it aside – out of the way – so nobody else would pick it up by accident. It wasn’t where I remembered I put it and thought, I either mis-remembered, or someone moved it.

I spotted another glass at a different location. It could be mine, but I wasn’t sure. I walked around looking but also understood, how the hell am I supposed to know what glass is ‘mine’? They all looked alike.

I went back to that one which ‘might’ be mine. There seemed to be brown fibers floating in it. I tasted it; it tasted like tobacco juice.

This is not my glass, I decided.  

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Two Dreams

‘I’ wasn’t in this dream, which was more like the ‘television dreams’ which I sometimes experience.

Three people were renting a place together for vacation. One was a gay male. I don’t remember the other two much, as ‘the camera’ mostly focused on him.

It was the vacation’s final day so they were talking about leaving.  The house was cluttered and messy from their time there – pizza boxes and take-out food containers, dishes on counters, etc. They were being vague about what to do but when remembered seeing a move-out checklist. Remembering roughly where it was on the counter, they pulled out a typed-up two-page checklist.

The group began reading from it. One of them took a half-eaten piece of pizza from a box and began eating it, disgusting the others. He mocked them, saying, “It’s only a little old and hard.”

They were then outside, walking back and up toward the vacation place. It had a broad glassed-in overhang above a double garage with a cement drive.

Large, thick tree branches were on the drive on either side. They discussed that the branches probably fell during a storm a few days before. The gay guy wanted to chop up the branches and remove them as a nice gesture. He seemed very excited about doing it while the others hung back. Getting an axe, he lined up a branch to cut it apart and took an ineffectual swing.

Dream end

Second dream…a short time later…

Very messy dream. I was there, and my wife, and others, but many were coming and going. We were preparing to go out, and it seems like we were investigating something but as a social group. I think there was a core of three to give but things were weakly framed.

We were in an apartment. My neighbor, Wade, was in the opposite apartment. We were dressing, and I was dressed first, and was wearing a light gray suit, I think with a light yellow shirt. I remember thinking it odd.

To both kill time and because I had an idea that I thought would help, I went to Wade’s place. I was doing it furtively because I didn’t want the rest to know. I also was ambiguous about being in Wade’s place. He hadn’t given explicit permission, but I felt that he would have if asked. But, that hadn’t been asked, so it felt like a gray area.

But I knew Wade harbored a device to create a sort of document which could help us. I went over to use that. I was trying to be quick but things went wrong and the device wasn’t as easy to use as expected.

While I was in there, another person arrived and ‘caught me’. I explained that it was Wade’s – which they knew – but tried avoiding explaining why I was there, trying to put things back to how they were.

I then went back over to the apartment, where my wife was ready and talking about doing something. Another had some stuff. They said if you shake it over your eyes, it reveals that there are some insects there. My wife was eager to have this done on herself and me, saying that it was something that she wanted to do for a long time and disparaging me because ‘I never wanted to do it’.

The guy came over, told me to close my eyes and kept them closed. He then sprinkled stuff on them and then said, “Oh wow, look how many Michael has.” It was sort of gleeful in a horrified way. I asked, “What do I do about them?”

Then I looked in a mirror. I confirmed some small black insects were crawling around my eyes but I was horrified with how my hair looked. It was wet and sloppy, so I tried fixing it.

I think there was a little more to the dream, but this is what I remember.

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Thursday’s Theme Music

Ashland, Oregon — Thursday, March 5, 2026.

We’re winding through winter’s last days toward spring in Ashland. History provides us reminders that Ashland often experiences late winter to mid-spring snowstorms. I’d like more snow in the area, especially in the Cascades where our snowbank resides.

Today, it’s overcast with uncertain, flexing sunshine. 48 F, it feels neither warm nor cold, and our high is arcing toward just 50.

My phone has developed problems with receiving text messages all of a sudden. I’ve added fixing that to my todo list. I did get some updates from my siblings about Mom before the system went tango unform on me.

Mom is reverting to the behavior displayed in January. I drift toward remembering who she was and the complex relationships my sisters and I have with her. I contrast what’s she’s enduring with who she was, what and who she was trying to be, and where she arrived as a person. Much of it now is beyond her control. Doesn’t stop my sisters from getting angry about it. But we saw this pattern emerging. There was little we could do, which we learned with time, because we tried to do things to change the course.

I smile at some things, like her potato salad. My wife insists nobody makes potato salad like Mom. My wife tried but when she asked for a recipe, Mom was more about the ingredients and less about the measurements. One thing I learned from helping her make it sometimes was that Mom depended on tasting it and how it looked — color, texture. That’s hard to translate through recipes.

I was just settling into checking on prices, the war that Republicans don’t want to call a war, and other matters when breaking news arrived.

Trump replaces Noem at DHS, taps Mullin for job

I think at first, “about time”. Her arrogance and attitude doesn’t fit with what I look for in public servants. I temper that, though, with the understanding that she was carrying out Trump and Miller’s policies, and generally working as a functionary for Project 2025. It’ll be interesting to see how much this change will actually manifest as change.

On the heels of that thinking, I scoff, but of course Trump has replaced Noem. She’s become a lightning rod for negative impressions about Trump. With his popularity falling, he made her his scapegoat.

Today’s music is “Wild Horses” by the Rolling Stones. When The Neurons first settled it into my morning mental music stream, I sang it as “Wild Kitties” for Papi’s entertainment. He did not seem entertained.

I’m not sure why the song is playing in me. I can see how its themes and melody is about yearning for another time, for a different outcome, even for hope. I suppose that’s where I reside now — wishing for other things than what now exists. It also came out in 1971, when I was fifteen, so I suppose remembering the song stirs some nostalgia for being back there — young, with Mom, facing a bright future.

I’ll close with best wishes for you and us to stay safe, be healthy and find new ways toward a peaceful, prosperous, and inclusive future.

Cheers

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