Tag: Changes

The Red Tricycle Dream

I was with some sort of military unit. A bunch of military units wre there, all living side-by-side with their families, including children in this big sort of hanger. It was a sea of chaos to my eyes.

The guy in charge held up a large white envelope. “Someone needs to go around and collect for the charities.”

“I’ll do it,” I said. Otherwise, it seemed like I was doing nothing but waiting.

Directions about what to do were in the envelope, along with a list of the units. My task was to go around and hit them up for money, not just the units, but some individuals in the units. Weirdly, I was to always get eight donations. That struck me because a few years ago, I had a series of dreams in which eight was always significant.

I began my collections, and fumbled my way through, telling others what I was doing and why, getting the required monies. After doing three, I thought, this is ridiculous. I was walking, and with the throngs of milling people and distances, snails would have outraced me. Going back and turning in my collection, I complained, “I need some way to get around faster.”

Someone gave me a little red tricycle to use, the kind of transpo suited to a toddler. I sat on the seat and grabbed the grips on the silver handlebars. The grips were white, with pink and white tassels hanhing off them. Applying my feet to the pedals, I tried to make progress, but it was ridiculous, with my knees rising above the handlebars and sometimes slamming into them.

Getting off the trike, I considered my transportation. “I need to make some changes,” I said, “but how?”

Like heat lightning on a summer evening, the idea came: I will think of the changes I want and make them happen.

First, the three-wheeler needed to be larger to fit my adultness. I picked up the thing and thought that until the trike was sufficiently sized. Next, I thought, I want the front wheel further out, like a chopper. Thought and done. Then, sitting on it again, I thought, I want the seat to be like a chair and reclined. Done.

Next, did I really need to pedal? Flying over this crowd and from unit to unit would make my task deeply easier. So I thought of wings, and then decided, yes, this can fly. Somewhere along that process, I gained a flying helmet with googles and a white scarf.

I took off on a practice run, flying around the hanger, and it was smooth as an icy pond. In quick order, I was flying to the units on my rounds. Some of the unit personnel knew me at one and asked, “How did you get that flying bike?”

I told them, “Someone gave me a red tricycle and I changed it.”

“But how did you change it?”

“I just thought of what I wanted,” I replied. “And that made it happen.”

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Monday’s Theme Music

Mood: weatherflective

It’s Monday, June 17, 2024. Ashlandia is drying out from yesterday’s late afternoon rain and more precipitation decorating the night. Branches are tangoing with the wind and a blue sky as dazzling as a diamond suggests, we have a nice day lined up for you, folks. It’s 50 degrees F out with humidity floating in the eighties and a chance for the thermometer to breach the upper sixties. Spring rules again, although all is fully bloomed, waiting for our entrance. I’m a little sneezy and itchy-eyed with allergies.

The neighborhood is so quiet, you can hear a cat meow. A flying crow chastises us as he beats wings to somewhere else. Cars roll up with stoic indifference, delivering a gentle rumble from engine and tires.

No updates on Dad. They were to call when opportunity for us to chat came. So, sigh, I wait.

Meanwhile, back in Pennsylvania, Mom is stirring up issues by claiming her beau made up an invitation that included Mom to go to a party with his family. She went to the party but did not enjoy herself because, she said, they were surprised to see her. She doesn’t think she was invited; my sister suggested, “Mom, you told them you weren’t coming. Of course they’re surprised when you showed up.”

But no, the invitation didn’t include her; it was manufactured. We don’t understand why he’d do that; discussing it logically with her is a task for someone with stronger shoulders. She doesn’t hear us, and doesn’t want to hear us. I remember taking conversations with her about this same matter fifteen years ago. It’s coloring our memories of her, making her bitter, angry, and hostile in our memories. That’s the problem with aging and living longer: we begin with a vision of who we want to be, and push efforts that way, and then our mind and body twist, erasing our vision.

Dinner with friends last night was entertaining. A jigsaw puzzle was begun. Featuring odd-shaped pieces, it’s not as fun as those with uniform shapes, even though it was an interesting scene from a museum with patrons.

This morning, we deliver for Food & Friends, and then I’m going to slip on my customary writing routine, and frequent the coffee shop. Ankle is wrapped. Swelling remains a matter to address but I don’t know how much is ankle injury and how much is my recurring edema. Ice, elevate, rest, but it’s tedious and mood-altering.

Songs came together today from thoughts of summer. Specifically, the heat wave riding others in the U.S. Out of that train, The Neurons pulled in “Standing Outside a Broken Phone Booth with Money in My Hand” from 1996 by Primitive Radio Gods. Starting with that B.B. King sample, it plays and repeats in the morning mental music stream (Trademark chillin’). See, it has a line in there, “Does summer come for everyone?” I think the ground for this song and its lazy, reflective tone by a song on another blog the other day, “Tom’s Diner” by Suzanna Vega. They have similiar feels to me.

Coffee is making the trip between the lips. Be positive, stay strong, lean forward, and Vote Blue in 2024. Let’s go get ’em, tiger. Here’s the music. Cheers

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Thursday’s Wandering Thoughts

The thing about growing old is how you accumulate memories of so many of your firsts. I don’t know how much of it is true, but my mind informs me about many remembered firsts. Kisses and sex, purchases and experiences.

A big first for me was watching John F. Kennedy’s funeral on television. Another was watching the first moon landing.

But I remember buying my first car, and my family’s first color television. A big Magnavox console with a 25″ screen, my stepfather procured it after it fell off a truck.

Other big first include my first broken bone, meeting my wife and the first time we told each other, I love you. Another memorable first was the first funeral, for a school mate. Firsts fall in line: aircraft flights, purchasing a microwave, VHS player, CD player, home computer.

Now my latest firsts are witnessing a former POTUS declared guilty by a jury of his peers for crimes he committed, and NAZI flags being flown by his supporters as we commemorate the Normandy Landings done to fight NAZIs eighty years ago.

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Thursday’s Theme Music

Mood: flightrupted

It’s Thursday, May 30, 2024. Beautiful light blue sky with a little haze is outside the window. Sunny and 52 F.

I’m seeing the world through the Pittsburgh airport windows waiting for my Alaska Air flight. I was supposed to be leaving at 7:50 AM. About six minutes from now. Instead, estimated take off is now 9:18 AM.

That prevents me from my next leg, which was to be my final leg, Seattle WA to Medford OR. Now I’m going from Seattle to Salt Lake City to Medford. Instead of arriving about noon in Medord, I’m arriving about midnight. That sucks for my wife, who is picking me up.

Yeah, it’s all first world blues, innit? Still have food and a decent life. Just a series of bumps on this travel day, so I’m whining about it. I mean, I’m not out in a storm or getting shot at. I’m wired with a computer and reading the news.

And there’s a comic aspect. As I cope with these fight changes, the airline is urging me to start planning my next flight with them.

With this skewed schedule echoing in my head, The Neurons have Molly Hatchett performing “Flirtin’ with Disaster” in the morning mental music stream (Trademark delayed). The 1979 song isn’t quite right for the situation but I’d need to feed them more java before The Neurons will come up with something better.

Thank you to my sweetheart of a little sister and her daughter for getting up and picking me up and driving me to the airport. They’re both awesome people. They’re always doing things for me and treating me like a friggin’ prince, so I’m always in debt to them.

I’m coffeeing up. Stay positive, be strong, and lean forward. Let’s Vote Blue this year, shall we?

Here’s the music. Cheers

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Tuesday’s Theme Music

Mood: Cofflective

Here we go, Tuesday, May 28, 2024. Tornados have been messing with large swaths of the U.S. resulting in death and destruction. I’m thankful it’s milder here in the Churchill Valley, although it’s worrisome that lightning apparently struck a house and put it on fire.

Unevenly shaped, rough clouds muddle this morning’s pale blue sky. Sunshine skates in and out. It’s a cool but pleasant 60 F out. Today’s high will flex around 70 F. Thunderstorms and rain are in our close future.

Mom is doing well. Well is a relative term. She’s always expressing weariness and pain; those are regular life features for her. But she buzzed around the house, getting downstairs to do her laundry as only she can do it. She ate well. And she watched television, cursing Trump, wondering again who and why anyone would vote for “that thug”. ‘Idiot’ is sometimes subbed for ‘thug’. I need to remind her to do her property tax senior rebate.

After all the local holidays and birthday parties, I’m afraid that we’re running out of desserts. We only have remnants of angel food cake, a chocolate chip cake, coconut cream pie, an almost whole large apple pie, half of a tuxedo cake with chocolate mousse, and pecan sticky buns. It’s looking grim.

Tonight I visit with my sister’s family again. Tomorrow night is my nephew’s graduation. Thursday, I wing my way out of the area on an Alaska Air flight. Fingers crossed that all goes well with the flight and weather. I’m already working out the packing logistics to account for items added while here.

I ended up with “Stick Season” by Noah Kahan (2020) in the morning mental music stream (Trademark sharp). This almost stream of consciousness song about who the singer is after the changes wrapped up with a relationship’s end just mesmerizes me. It felt like a natural as I thought of my relatives’ lives, as well as my own, and where I’m at, and where they’re at. In our conversations about these things, struggles, failures, success, and frustrations were discussed, sometimes in short, sharp anecdotes and confidential revelations, but often through a long lens of reflection.

Let’s get on the move. Stay positive, be strong, and go forward. Also Vote Blue this year, okay? It’ll help us be strong and move forward.

Coffee is being gulped down and my pulse has resumed. Here’s the music. Have a strong day. Cheers

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Friday’s Theme Music

Mood: Rainflective

Today is May 10, 2024. Sis’s 70 bday is tomorrow.

It’s spring with a wintry flush in Pennhillia, PA. The air is cold and wet. Last night’s rain lowered the temperatures, and clouds keep them down. I don’t know where this front came from but it feels like it was overnighting with winter somewhere.

Light rain is dripping down on us. Temperature is 53 F, which is about our day’s high.

Mother’s Day Cookout planning is ongoing. How many people? How many and what desserts? What about side-dishes, meats, buns and breads and salads, oh my.

Good weather isn’t a call we can make. Sunday is expected to be rainy and chilly, rising into the low 60s F by the mid afternoon. Little sister Gina is hosting us. Besides her husband, children and grandchildren, two other sisters with their husbands, children and grandchildren will be there, along with Mom, me, and Mom’s beau. Fingers crossed and knock on wood that we’ll have a good time.

Today’s music is Avril Lavigne’s “My Happy Ending” out of 2004. The Neurons parked it into my morning mental music stream (Trademark drifting) after my early AM cogitations. Besides dream surveying, I was out on the porch, tasting the cold air, listening to the rain, sucking down coffee and reviewing our family history. Highlights and lowlights came like breaking waves. I remembered this and then that.

2004 became mired in my mind. Mom was my current age in that year. I was but 48. So young, so young. Only two of the many the grands were born. Mom’s beau was justing coming into the picture. She was a healthy, energetic 68 year-old. No evidence of what was to come with all of us, but then how often do the harbingers of what’s to be appear to present a head’s up?

Anyway, from that came the 2004 song, “My Happy Ending”, a succinct song about what was tried and how it failed.

Stay positive, be strong, and Vote Blue in 2024. I have coffee, thanks, and I’m sucking it down like it’s the elixir of the gods. Here’s the music video. Cheers

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Wednesday’s Theme Music

Mood: Coffexcited

Sunshine rules Penn Hills and Monroeville this morning.

The clouds haven’t been dismissed like a MAGA claim. Oh, no. But they’re broken white and blue-grey pieces of what they once were.

This is May 8, 2024. Current temp here is 71 F. 82 F is our ceiling today.

We had a terrific thunderstorm around 1:30 AM this morning. Sky played cracked the whip with its sounds. I’d heard its soft rumbling beginnings as I was faded. Thought, what is that noise? Animal? Rain? Nope; thunder.

I listened to the storm progress and leave, then dropped into slumber land. There, the storm found its way into my dreams. Fun dreams, though. Nothing sinister or scary.

Mom had a good day yesterday. Physical therapist came by and spent time most of an hour watching her movements, talking to her, teaching her new exercises, closing with checking on the requested wheelchair and hospital bed for her. He was Jim, a nice guy. Man informed me that Jim also tends to clients in prison. I suggested that’s why Jim was selected to help Mom. A good laugh ensued.

Tonight, we attend my nephew’s final high school jazz ensemble concert. Other than that. preparations for a Mother’s Day cook-out at my sister’s house are in full bloom.

Conversations of note with Mom: she was talking about a meal her father used to make in the winters. This was a tangent from some jokes about goulash. She told me about slumgullion: ground beef, tomato sauce, macaroni or pasta, sometimes vegetables. I realized I’d eaten it throughout my life without knowing what it was called.

Another topic was the coal deliveries and the backbreaking work the boys in the household were required to do to get it into the house for its use.

It was absorbing talking to her and Frank about their youths, once again absorbing the mammoth changes in American living compared to eighty years ago. It definitely promotes speculation what people in America will be living like 80 years from now.

Today’s music comes from the dream. “Hang Fire” by the Rolling Stones was released in 1981. The Neurons released it to my morning mental music stream (Trademark stalled) after I contemplated my dreams this morning. It was a pretty good matchup. The song is a lightweight, pop offering. Not my favorite among the Stones’ offerings.

I would write about the Trump trial featuring Stormy Daniels, but I’m a little burnt out on it. I followed it live yesterday, discussing it with Mom. Now the trial has a day off, and I’m taking a day off from thinking and talking about it.

Nor do I feel especially inclined to bring up Gaza and the cease fire agreement, or the campus protests and crackdowns, politics in general, or the bad weather in some parts of the country and world. Just not up to it. More coffee is required before slipping down those muddy paths.

Stay positive, be strong, and Vote Blue in 2024. Here’s the music video offering. Look at those youngsters!

And away we go. Cheers

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Tuesday’s Wandering Thoughts

Warning: short rant ahead.

I don’t know if laws, customs, or behaviors are changing when it comes to driving in Ashland, Oregon. I don’t think it’s a change law. Although I sometimes zone out of what’s going on locally, I believe I would have heard about a law changing how turn signals are used.

Note: turn signals are also called blinkers. More formerly, they’re called direction indicator lights.

See, I’ve noticed a new development here. Drivers stop. As you stop behind them and wonder why they’re stopped, they start to turn and then put on their turn signal.

WTF? I thought the idea behind turn signals was to communicate with other drivers and notify them of their intention to turn. Doing so reduces the chances of accidents and injuries. Already enough of that potential when people are driving around in these powerful metal machines.

I see it in all situations, including changing lanes and at traffic lights. Red light. Stopped. Green light. They move up, begin the turn, and then put on the signal. Meanwhile, the driver they faced was starting to go. Now they hesitate because what the other drive is doing is different from what they’re communicated. The communication confusion spills down the line.

Was the driver who didn’t use their turn signal really just changing their mind? Could happen. Sure. But it’s happening so often now, I’m dubious. And they consistently begin moving into the turn first, and then put on the signal. That strikes me as premeditated.

It happened to me this morning. A large late model Ford pickup truck was stopped in the lane ahead of me. As I closed on him, I could see that no one was in front of them.

Were they broken down? Lost or confused?

Maybe. Because after the traffic coming toward them thinned, the began turning left and then put on their signal.

Yes, they put on their signal after they started turning, after they’d been stopped for about twenty seconds.

It didn’t make sense. For the record, the driver looked white, and a male — I say that because of the beard — in their late twenties to early thirties.

I’m not the only person complaining about the lack of signals. A 2019 NYTimes article explored the same sort of problem.

The NYT article asks, “So what’s the problem here? Why don’t many drivers take this simple safety precaution? When asked about their bad habits in a national study, their explanations seemed confounding.

“The study by Response Insurance of Meriden, Conn., found that 42 percent of drivers claimed they didn’t have enough time to signal before turning. Nearly a quarter of drivers blamed laziness, while 17 percent said they skipped signaling because they were apt to forget to cancel the blinkers. Worth noting: Men admitted that they were more likely, by 62 percent to 53 percent, to change lanes without signaling.”

Laziness. Really? Turning on that signal is that challenging to their strength, attention, and energy?

My situation is a little different. Drivers here ARE turning their signal on, but not until they actually start turning.

I don’t understand what’s going on in their head. It’s such a simple thing. As the NYT article notes, “Is it that some drivers just don’t care about the other guy? If that’s the case, consider this: There is evidence that the act of signaling provides a cognitive benefit to the driver.

“When you turn on the turn signal, you’re turning on your brain,” said Chris Kaufmann, a driving school instructor who specializes in teaching people who drive V.I.P.s.”

My impression is that drivers not using signals until they’re in the turn unaware of the law or they’re not mentally involved in their driving. Maybe they’re on the phone, listening to the radio, or chatting to another in the car.

Driving a car is part of a system. When some drivers don’t follow the system’s rules, it starts breaking down. Maybe it’s anal of me, but that’s how I see it.

Probably just me.

3

Saturday’s Wandering Thoughts

I saw it in their body language and shaded eyes: what does this guy want? Can he be trusted?

Three women, three places, three weeks. I was being friendly. Thought I was charming, as I’ve done all my life. Maybe I was wrong all those years. Now, addressing these women in public places, catching their reactions, I have to re-think matters.

First, it’s their right to not be bothered by others, just as it’s mine. I thought that asking what someone was reading was safe and innocuous as we crossed paths at the coffee shop. She’d previously asked me to watch her purse for her. As a writer and reader, I’m often trying to learn what others are reading. It interests me. But asking this sixty-ish woman clearly disturbed her. Haven’t seen her since when she was a coffee shop regular. I hope I haven’t driven her away. I’m sorry.

I sincerely believed I knew the second woman from another place. I judged her to be in her sixties. She indulged me and responded but clearly thought I was up to something, maybe hitting on her. Sorry, ma’am. I won’t do it again.

I’m used to being flirty. I always thought I was charming. My wife and sisters always told me I was charming. Maybe they were being nice. Polite. Maybe I used to be charming but, older now, it’s no longer charming. Perhaps, because I’m older, it’s perceived as creepy.

Could be that it’s not me at all, but other matters, a product of our times. Women have endured unwanted male attention and assumptions and decided, enough. I’ll note, I do the same with males, chatting with them sometimes about what they’re reading, their accent, or talking to them because I think I might know them.

My wife has spoken of being approached by men in public. For example, she’s working out and a man walking by will tell her with a grin, “Smile.” Pisses her off. She’s exercising and sweating. It’s work. She’s focusing. Smiling is not part of her agenda, and she resents him telling her that because men are always saying things like to women.

I thought what I was doing was different. I guess I was rationalizing it as different and okay.

I quit, though. I’ll keep to my private circle, drop a cone of secrecy around it, only speak when addressed, and keep myself to myself.

This all probably reads like self-pitying whining. That’s not my intention but you’ll reach your own conclusion. I like to write to think through my thoughts. Doesn’t mean I need to post it for the public, but I often find that things which confuse me also confuses others. Or maybe I’m fishing for sympathy and just rationalizing that I’m searching for understanding. It’s a challenge for me because this is how I learned to be from Mom and my wife, polite and friendly. It’s inculcated in me.

I guess this is the new world, at least in progressive Ashlandia, for a sixty-seven-year-old white male. I just need to learn, accept, and adjust.

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Monday’s Theme Music

Mood: flexible

Good day, humans. Rise and shine. Time to try again.

Monday has opened its eyes. Today is Feb. 5, 2024. Cloudy is today’s sky description. Wind has calmed; rain is on a break. 47 F now, 51is the suspected high, after an overnight low of 38 F.

Haven’t read much news this morning, as I’m into a book by Colson Whithead, Crook Manifesto. I admire his language use, the phrases he turns, the characters he projects. Suberb pacing and plotting as well. He’s won a few Pulitzers for a reason.

When I did turn to the net for news, I sighed and thought, more coffee needs swallowed before I can take on those headlines and their stories. I wondered, when will we land on the Star Trek track where we make greater and more impressive changes? Will we ever reach that point, or will we forever fight the same wars again and again? At the rate we’re going, we’re going to ruin civilization, take down humanity and much of the planet in the same blink.

Yeah, I’m a bit pessimistic and cynical on this chilly AM.

Out of this, I remembered a song line, “I hope we see the light before it’s ruined.” Took me a few to recall it’s from “Ghetto Gospel” by 2Pac, and then the 2005 song began running the course in my morning mental music stream (Trademark coming in two weeks). Released in the year that I moved to southern Oregon, I caught the song on as I traveled back and forth to meet with my team in San Mateo, California, every month. I find the song has a lovely and intriguing melody and a powerful but hopeful message. I’ll take some hope with my coffee today.

Stay strong, be positive, lean forward, and vote. Back to the coffee cup for me. Enjoy the video and music. Cheers

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