Sunday’s Theme Song — Promises
Ashland, southern Oregon. Sunday, October 4, 2026.
Supposed to be bright, sunny, and hot today, but clouds swamped three fourths of the sky, and sunshine struggled to be seen and felt. Never reached close to the 90 which was forecast, but it’s now 83 F.
Dreamed last night that I was in basic training. When I awoke and saw the date, I realized it was the anniversary of my first enlistment. October 4, 1974, I took my first oath. Twenty years later, I declared done.
I remember that first day. Rainy and overcast. Went in oh dark thirty. Was given a meal voucher for breakfast at a nearby local diner. Then had lunch at the same place with another voucher. We didn’t take off until late that afternoon.
That was my first time in an airplane, too. Flew from West Virginia, where I then lived, to San Antonio, Texas, via some other city.
It was a Friday, too. When we arrived at Lackland AFB, Texas, to begin basic training, we were informed there weren’t enough to make a full flight. We wouldn’t begin training until the following Tuesday, and spent the extended weekend in silence in our civies, waiting to begin.
Yes, welcome to the military. That’s how it was during my entire career: hurry up, then wait, then GO!
I spoke with Mom today. She called so I ended up chatting with her for an hour, just talking about life in the assisted living facility, Heritage Grove, Penn Hills. While I was speaking with her, my wife took a call on the home line and we learned that our friend, Larry, passed away at 3 AM this morning.
Larry was 96, and a military veteran. Obtaining a degree from Purdue via the GI Bill, he ended up as an engineer and an executive in the aerospace industry. After college, he lived and worked most of his life in the Los Angeles, California, area, moving up here to Ashland after retiring. He was married and adopted and raised two children and had two grandchildren. Although staunchly conservative and Republican, he was intelligent, trustworthy, and fun. I’ll miss him.
I read the NYT’s coverage of a 2026 Trump rally. They’re heavy with promise and rituals: attack the Democrats, maybe throw in a commie scare. Lie about multiple things. Donald Trump will use profanity — his fans love it when he uses profanity, because he’s telling it like it is, isn’t he? Trump sometimes claims prices are way down, which probably surprises anyone who regularly shops.
At many stops this year, Trump is begging people to support AI and data center construction. It’s the primary commercial construction now underway. He might claim the US already won against Iran, or he might threaten Iran with more bombing.
What is so sad is that after the many lies Donald Trump has made, and after all the promises that Donald Trump has broken, his brand of chaos, hatred, and bigotry still serve a portion of the Republican party.
Today’s music is by Incubus. The 2011 song, “Promises, Promises” did not come from reading the news. It came instead while listening to my mother talk about the inherent promises made — work hard, save your money, buy a house, raise a familiar — all that American dream debris, will bring you happy closure when you pass away. Mom relates that she and her gang of assisted living friends refer to their new home as jail — three hots and a cot.
I hope you live up to the promises you make, and that others fulfill the promises they make to you.
I also hope that promise and swear to Vote Blue in November, 2026.
Cheers
Thursday’s Theme Music – Wrong
Ashland, southern Oregon. Thursday, September 24, 2026.
We’re winding September down. Less than a week to go. Autumn continues stealing in, delivering threats of light rain, weaker sunshine, shorter days, cooler temperatures. Clouds give the day a weary bleakness. Sunshine seems like it needs to go back to bed. Yet, today’s high will tap the low 80s F.
Unemployment stayed about the same, while the broader U6 declined a little. Looking at the reports, though, many were associated with local government and schools. In other words, it was because the school year started again. Hospitality service also had some small growth in employment, bouncing back after a miserable summer for that industry, as far as employment goes.
Mom is begging my sisters to let her live with her. She’s also painting a different recollection of what’s happened in the past year. I spent time last night reading my sisters’ texts to me from the early 2026 troubles with Mom. Leaving with my sister, Gina, at the time, Mom was texting me about how unhappy she was, how she wanted to return to her own home and live there. Now she’s telling us — again — how unhappy she is at the affordable living place and wants to move. Texts from last October include Mom’s confession that she while living alone, she kept falling and ended up sleeping on the floor. It really is a no-win period for all involved.
Thinking about Mom, my sisters and I repeatedly focus on ‘what went wrong’. I often hear ‘it’s Mom’s own fault’, but I’ve seen her personality and mental acuity change, along with her memory. Yes, I bemoan Mom’s choices as we tried to get her and her partner to move into a safer space or to allow us to hire someone to clean and otherwise assist Mom. Mom, and her partner, Frank, rejected all those suggestions. Yet…yet, we could not have predicted that Frank would fall down the steps and die. We did worry about it.
‘What went wrong’ seems like the wrong question. Mom aged and changed, as we all do. This is another of those ‘if only’ exercises so many of us find ourselves going through as we look back on our lives.
Today’s music is by Oasis. “Where Did It All Go Wrong” is a soft lament about struggling to understand change.
Hope your day goes well — friction free, with good decisions, and wonderful outcomes.
Cheers
Dark, Chaotic Dream
The dream was dark, chaotic, and brief.
I was somewhere as a young adult, long-haired, with a reddish black background. I was busy and others were there, but I have no idea what was going on. At the same time, I seemed to be optimistic and productive.
Then I saw trees and knew – time to change clothes. Next I knew, I was naked and a torrent of water was carrying me down a street. Yes, I knew: this was how I always changed.
That same sequence repeated itself again.
On the third time, the water was much higher and faster. I reminded myself, “This is how I always change clothes.” But this was frothier and far wider. Gray light appeared in the sky as daylight trickled in. Gray clouds were visible. My river ride grow steeper.
Becoming worried, I noticed trees to my left. I’ll just stir myself that way, I told myself, and grab branches as I go by, to slow myself.
The dream ended as I put my arms out and turned.
Wednesday’s Theme Music — History
Ashland, southern Oregon. Wednesday, August 26, 2026.
Just so you know, it will not be 08262026 ever again. As far as we know. The way some of this news cycle goes, some days feel like a rerun.
Damn, that’s a scary idea, that we’re living in the same days over and over again, a cosmic “Groundhog Day”.
Today’s weather is cooler again, 68 F, with light, high clouds. Today’s high is expected to achieve 86 F.
Oh, boy, the news today. Tim Curry died, 80. Montana man killed 8 members of his family. Lightning strike killed Mom and daughter in Florida, and the US claimed Chinese hackers broke into DoJ, the Senate, NASA, and the Federal Reserve.
Just a good news Wednesday.
News like this isn’t out of the ordinary. Other than the Chinese hacking, this could be the headlines compiled in many other years. Only names and locations have changed.
Trump is using the FBI hacking revelations to claim that the Chinese manipulated the 2020 election. I counter that the Chinese influenced the 2024 election, making Trump illegally elected. Therefore, Trump should be immediately removed from office, because Vice President Kamala Harris really won 2024.
See, Trump? I can make claims, too.
Speaking of that:
Obama for President in 2028!
Trump’s head will explode if he sees and hears that too much, so please, whatever you do, don’t put Obama for President in 2028 on any social media. Thank you for your attention to this matter.
Speaking of Trump, this headline had me grinding my teeth.
Trump’s tariffs force closure of century-old Connecticut manufacturer
Yes, that Trump economy — great for the wealthy, but an excellent reminder that shit rolls down hill.
Mike Lindell is still out there. After losing the primary, he whined about the election being stolen. Refusing to concede, he’s asking for TROs and demanding a recount. In parallel, he missed the deadline for filing the payment for the recount he’s demanding. In his demands, he’s ignoring what Minnesota law requires, insisting that things are done his way for him.
Given how Lindell is handling this, doing it the same way that Trump would, making it all about him, Minnesota dodged a bullet when Lindell lost.
Today’s theme music is “After the Gold Rush”. This came into the morning mental music stream as I reflected on Dolly Parton passing. I remembered hearing the Trio — Emilylou Harris, Dolly Parton, and Linda Ronstadt — perform this. “After the Gold Rush” was written by Neil Young and released by him in 1970. It’s a reflective song with tripply lyrics about dreams, change, and being, IMO. Trio does a beautiful job of delivering it, recording and releasing it over a quarter century later.
I think it holds up well, but that’s me.
Sample Lyrics
I was thinking about what a friend had said
I was hoping it was a lie
Thinking about what a friend had said
I was hoping it was a lie
Well, I dreamed I saw the silver
Spaceships flying
In the yellow haze of the sun
There were children crying
And colors flying
All around the chosen ones
All in a dream, all in a dream
Thanks for the music, Dolly.
No matter where you are, I hope this post finds you well, and that you have a wonderful day.
Cheers
That Kind of News
It’s the kind of news never wanted but always and never expected.
Dolly Parton, queen of country music and humanitarian hero, dead at 80
Never met her nor saw Dolly Parton live in concert. But she’s just ten years older than me and contributed song writing, singing, and acting to my life’s experiences. Dolly always seemed real and genuine — and you can make whatever joke comes to your mind — but I think the world is a better place with more people like Dolly Parton.
This one stings.
RIP forever, Dolly Parton.
Strange, Short Dream
I arrived at home. Not mine, but Mom’s.
It wasn’t one of the places she lived in real life, but I knew it was her house.
No one else was there. The place was messy in many places, totally opposite of anyplace I’ve lived or visited where Mom was in command.
Getting there, I found a narrow bed. White sheets, pink blanket, pillow, but unmade. I decided to sleep a bit.
A long-haired gray and white cat joined me. I talked to it in the way we do with animals, telling the cat, a male, I knew, was very handsome. The cat then *ahem* indicated that it wanted to have sex with me.
Full-blown horror lashed me. I rejected that completely, telling the cat that was sick and disgusting. I added, “You can sleep with me but as a cat, not a sexual partner.”
Unable to sleep after that, I got up and walked around, taking notice of the mess. Part of it on one end was a pond with rocks. Water fed into it but the water was scummy, full of plants and crap. Deciding I would clean it, I went off, found rags, buckets, tools.
My sisters arrived, chattering and laughing, before I could clean it but after a sort pause, I did. In dream fashion, it was miraculously fast and easy.
I showed the others. Everyone was impressed by what I’d done. Two turtles emerged from the pond. My youngest sister exclaimed, “I knew there were turtles in there.”
One turtle puked. Examining that, my sister announced with happiness, “It’s pregnant. I am so happy.”
Mom arrived shortly afterward, the middle-aged person I knew for most of my life. Her hair was blond and she was wearing black slacks with this black and white polka-dotted frilly shirt that she often liked to wear. Smiling and happy, she came in, saying hello to all of us.
Dream end
Wednesday’s Theme Music — Frank Beard
Ashland, southern Oregon. Wednesday, August 19, 2026.
August is moving on slow as molasses for me. I’m okay with that.
The claim is that it’ll be 96 F today. Forecasts yesterday said we’d hit 95 but we were four short of that. It’s 68 outside with high clouds clotting across the blue sky.
Our fingers are crossed that Mom’s house will finally close today. The buyers are using a grant to buy. The involved realtors say that the grant review and approval process has significantly slowed this year. It’s a federal program. A large part of me wonders if the Trump administration with its personnel cutbacks is responsible.
I’m not going to go into news and politics much on this post today. Writing a separate post on them.
I’m dedicating this instead to ZZ Top and Frank Beard. ZZ Top is an American rock band which had a heavy blues influence in its early years. They were a trio: Billy Gibbons, Dusty Hill, and Frank Beard. I started listening to them in high school. Saw them in concert a few times. Now only Billy Gibbons, lead vocalist, guitar, and song writer remains as Frank Beard, 77, joined Dusty Hill in that big gig in the otherworld.
I basically divide ZZ Top’s sound into two eras. In their early years was that blues sound. Multiple favorite songs hang with me from that period. For today, I’ll go with “La Grange” and “Jesus Left Chicago”.
The second period moved ZZ Top more into commercial mainstream pop. They became phenomenally successful. My preferred sound from that era was “Sharp Dressed Man”, which my wife and I liked to sing as ‘short, fat man’.
So here we go, into the morning mental music stream. May your day be blessed with happy memories of good music and good times, and optimism for our future.
Cheers
