A Dad Leak Dream
There was a leak in the bathroom.
A thick tube of clear water spurted out of the wall. White tiles had been removed above the tub about five feet up. Oh, dear, what a mess, with some black fuzzy thing happening in the opening.
A trio of engineers, casually dressed, of different styles, heights, ages, one woman, two men, came in on behalf of the townhouse association. Because this wasn’t unique to this townhouse. It’d happened throughout the complex. This trio was going unit to unit to assess and strategize. I was just watching them from back by the door, listening as they ignored me. The spoke of how to fix it, what must be done.
Leaving, I headed across a common through sunshine to my own townhouse because, hey, that had been my father’s place, which slightly changed everything. He wasn’t there to look after it, so I was acting on his behalf.
I entered my own townhouse where the same problem existed but seemed to be on a much smaller scale. Some wall had been removed from the bathroom to the right which didn’t seem to have anything to do with the leak. I didn’t understand what that was about but I knew where to go for explanation.
I sought that women and this little rotund blonde explained something that kind of made sense and eased my anxieties. Going off again, I found I had a broken arm. No, not broken, just not working right. I’d been advised to keep it in a sling. I didn’t have a sling, so I fashioned one, and then modified it again and again, decided this was a good place to keep things, like my wallet, keys, and glasses.
So I tucked them in but then needed more material, so I added other things, and reshaped it, and reshaped it. People were going past as I did this and I turned away, trying to keep things private.
I decided to call my stepmother to tell her about Dad’s townhouse. Then I realized that Dad was dead and this was a dream. That I had actually a dream in a dream, and that the townhouse with the plumbing problem wasn’t real.
But I called my stepmother. I said, “I was thinking about Dad because it’s his birthday.” Then I realized, that’s not right. I said, “No, because it was my birthday.”
She was talking but it came to me, this call isn’t happening; it’s also a dream.
I awoke.
Let’s Not Forget
As Trump and MAGA break our norms, spread hate, and attempt to rewrite history, Jill Dennison reminds us of the results of such hate, events like the Pulse Nightclub murders.
We will not forget, and we will not turn away.
The Stuff
Mom has moved out of her house and into an assisted living facility.
A household of things have been left behind that we need to move to sell her house. That includes clothing, paintings, vases, dishes, appliances, furniture, electronics. My sisters contacted liquidators and estate sales businesses to see if they would do it for a cut.
Short answer: no. Not enough of value to make it worthwhile.
I wasn’t overly surprised. Mom has tons of clothing and shoes but none is really vintage. She has furniture but the agents said that furniture is a hard sale these days.
My wife and I talked about this in relation to our own life. Adverse to an estate sale after she passes on, my wife has been doing a slow-roll death clean: a drawer a day. A closet. Organizing, tossing, donating. She used to refer to it as simplifying; now she just calls it the death clean.
It’s one of the places where we diverge on our philosophies. I consider my life busy and frantic enough to do without going through my belongings to see what I still want and want I need to throw away or donate. I do so sometimes, but I don’t make it part of my daily or weekly routines.
This exchange summarizes it for us. My wife said, “I don’t want people having to come through the house to get rid of things for me.”
I replied, “I don’t care. I won’t be there.”
As I walk around the house, I wonder, what would the estate sales agents say to me?
I suspect they’ll tell me the same thing they said about Mom’s stuff.
Aging Reflections: the Balance.
A NYTimes headline scored my attention today:
5 Money Lessons From Readers in the Trenches of Elder-Parent Care
Regular visitors to my blog know that my family have been dealing with my aging mother for years. She’d been living a good life; a fall on some stairs changed that trajectory.
Mom fortunately had a good partner, Frank, as she moved toward her 80s. His drawbacks including increasing deafness, blindness, and being five years older than Mom.
We could see what was coming: Mom would need more and more care. The care would become more and more expensive. Frank would be less and less able to help Mom.
I spoke with Mom about it over the years, advocating to get someone in to help her clean and help her take care of herself. I also kept suggesting that they move into smaller place, such as an assisted living facility or a ‘senior’ community.
Mom resisted most of the suggestions. She didn’t want to leave her house. That home represented her life. She bought it on her own, then got her GED and went to nursing school. Mom opened her home to her grandchildren, taking care of them while my sisters went to school or worked.
I eventually convinced Mom to accept someone coming in and cleaning a few times a week. I paid for it, which helped Mom accept the help. She was also willing let that person in because it was a neighbor and someone she knew.
The arrangement ended when the cleaner suffered cancer and could no longer work. Worse, Mom was falling more often. Her recovery arcs were longer. Each hospital episode left her with more challenges. Yet her will to live was undiminished.
Things took a drastic turn last year. Frank, her partner, fell down the stairs. Hospitalized, he went into a coma and died, 95 years old.
This was devastating for us on multiple fronts and forced Mom’s health from concern to crisis.
Mom tried living alone when Frank was in the hospital and everyone hoped he would recover. Falling, though, Mom couldn’t get up several times and slept on the floor. Cooking was a struggle, so she took shortcuts such as eating sardines with crackers for dinner. She grew thinner and weaker.
My sister took her in. Sis set up a nice space for Mom. Perhaps the biggest drawback was that it was located in my sister’s finished basement. It started out fine but soon devolved into a cold war between Mom and everyone living there. Mom has been vulnerable to UTIs, and we think that was part of the problem.
Mom ended up making suicidal comments. She ended up hospitalized and then in an assisted living place where she does not want to be.
All this is just foreshadowing to me. I’ll be 70 in a few months. My wife is a year younger. One sister is two years older, and another is two years younger. The other two sisters are 8 and 10 years younger than me.
The thing is, even as Mom needs help, all of us are also reaching that point. While I’ve been hospitalized and treated for several issues in the last five years, I’ve rebounded. The same can’t be said for my wife, my sisters, and their husbands.
We’re all facing the same issues that others face in this article: how do we help our parents when we’re crossing the threshold into needing help ourselves?
This is the Silver Tsunami, a term many do not like.
I’ve considered moving to be closer to my sisters and Mom. There are many legitimate excuses for why that hasn’t happened. While our southern Oregon home is ideal for us, the location is not any longer. Just under 1900 square feet, the house is single storied with two bathrooms, and three bedrooms. One bedroom is the home office. This is where we spend our most time, reading, exercising, watching television, on the computer.
The area, though, has been enduring droughts. With the droughts have come water shortages, wildfires, and smoke. As those hit, the local economy has suffered. As a result, Ashland is facing a financial crisis. Adding to that crisis is that two major employers, Southern Oregon University (SOU) and the town’s hospital, Assante Ashland Community Hospital, faced their own crises. Those crises forced them to drawdown in significant ways, with more on the way.
At this point, the future is not ideal. As the article points out, we’re not alone in our problems, both with our own health and aging, but also with helping our parents.
What’s troubling me as much as anything is how the GOP has responded. Trump has cut social services to the aging population. He instead wants to spend more money on the military. Equally troubling is that the GOP goes along with this.
There’s already a growing rural hospital crisis in the United States. With Trump in office, madly spending, the national debt has crossed the point where it is now larger than our Gross National Product.
Yet, Trump’s spending priorities are geared toward bailing out countries, starting wars or using the military as a stick to threaten other nations. These do nothing to help our nation’s aging citizens. Trump’s policies have instead resulted in higher prices across the spectrum, which makes everything worse for anyone living a marginalized life. Including people like Mom.
Projections show that it’ll probably get worse, with more citizens requiring healthcare and living assistance. Natural supply and demand for personnel, food, assistance, and medical care will further drive up costs.
It’s a terrible spiral. As wealth becomes more concentrated in the hands of billionaires who care mostly for themselves and their businesses, the rest of us will keep sliding further into debt and crisis.
Sadly, that is Trump’s America. As it now stands, it’s the future for far too many.
Some may say that I’m being fatalistic. I reply, I’m just reading the news and watching the trends.
Monday’s Theme Music – Waiting
Ashland, Oregon — Monday, April 27, 2026.
Spring continues in Ashland where hefty cumulonimbus clouds are invading the blue sky. 43 F, we’re rich in sunshine at the moment. Rain is expected in the afternoon with a high of 65 F.
It’s a busy morning of waiting. Water showed up on one bathroom floor last week. I did some amateur diagnostics and concluded, 1) blocked sewer line; 2) blew out the toilet wax seal. After researching the DIY, my wife and I reached out to friends for a plumber recommendation.
In parallel, the toilet shutoff valve in the other bathroom began leaking. I turned it off but it kept leaking. I modified an extra kitty litter box to catch the water and empty it. Then water showed up on that floor.
It’s a single story place with stacked drains, etc. So called the plumber last week. He can’t get to us until today, 11:30. That’s my day.
My texts blew up at 2:50 AM. Mom pulled a 180 on us. Had been campaigning to leave assisted living. My sister approached her about staying there, selling the house, etc. Wrote to us, “Mom seems agreeable to selling her house and staying there.”
On the other hand, the staff wanted to take Mom to the hospital because Mom was leaning to the left and her eyes looked bad. Mom said no.
Sis said she would go over and check out the situation today. She is also finally focused on getting a power of attorney and taking Mom to the post office to change her address.
Waiting for updates to see how this all went. I’m not sure why my sister felt a need to send it so early in the AM. It was 5:30 in Pittsburgh…
Trump had three more people killed in the eastern Pacific and Carribbean. Some news articles give Trump cover by saying the deceased were accused of being drug runners or narco-terrorists.
Sorry, but they accused. They weren’t seen in court. There was no jury, just the U.S. military again killing civilians.
That brings the number killed to at least 186 for the Bible-thumping regime.
We’re still waiting on the full Epstein files, and we’re waiting to see what will happen next in Operation Epic LOOK — SQUIRREL! We’re also waiting to see what will happen next in Trump’s Iran War, now beginning its ninth week.
I’m also waiting to see how much gas prices will increase in the U.S. this week.
Your Trump quote of the day:
Today’s song is “Waiting” by Green Day. The tune is all about the frustration of waiting for changes and differences — “Wake up!” Billy Joe sings. No wonder The Neurons pulled it into my morning mental music stream.
Hope your day has less waiting than mine and that you end up looking back on it and say, “That was a pretty good day.”
Cheers
Wednesday’s Theme Music – Outs & Ends
Ashland, Oregon — Wednesday, April 22, 2026.
After a day in which the thermometer didn’t press past the low fifties and the sky cried most of the day, we are seeing more of the same. Less sunshine, so it’s chillier, just 44 F now. The high will be 56.
I skimmed through the news but most of it had me saying, meh. More deaths, more politics, more crime and punishment.
Your Trump quotes for today:
Read those Trump quotes and the contradictions they expose, the outright hypocrisy, and the ignorance. Trump can’t be trusted.
BTW, the Epstein files have still not been all released.
I’m out of sorts today so I don’t have much to say. Dave Mason passed away, 78. He’s a musician. Just a few years older than moi, he was part of my musical landscape. He played with many others, wrote some songs with staying power, and had his own act.
When I read the news, his song, “We Just Disagree”, entered the morning mental music stream and stayed. The song came out in 1977. Married, I was alone on assignment in the Philippines with the US Air Force. 21 years old, I was wrestling with adulting basics. Mason’s music was one of my evening companions as I sat in my room, read, drew, and painted between shifts. Hearing of his death brought that music and time sharply back into focus.
Now I look back and think, wow, look at how many years ago. I sweep a mental eye over all of the changes the world has seen since then.
My hope for you is that peace and grace find you and give you the strength to make this day a success for you.
Cheers
Sunday’s Theme Music – Spring!
Ashland, Oregon — Sunday, April 19, 2026.
It’s an amusing but irritating thing. Whenever I type Sunday into WP, it automatically suggests December should follow.
It’s a comfortable, green spring day. Clouds and sunshine are mixing it up. It lightly rained earlier. We’re sitting at 59 F and expect to reach 72.
Mom is still at the assisted living facility. Says she’ll stay there until May 1. Plans after that? She has none. She meets with a social worker and therapists this week. They’ll give their assessments. Mom says the social worker told her that she’ll provide Mom with a ride to Mom’s house. The social worker says she hasn’t spoken to Mom.
Mom’s yard needs mowed. She wonders why her son-in-law won’t do it. This is the same SIL who she accused of doing things to her. The same one she says is hateful and mean. The one who moved her into his house and rearranged rooms to make space for her.
My wife’s elderly aunt passed away, 86. That was the last of her mother’s brothers and sisters. She was a sweetie, religious, a bit conservative, but tolerant and friendly. RIP, Betty.
I think it was on Meidas Touch where I read of the Strait of Schrödinger: the Strait of Hormuz is open and they’re not. Iran boats fired on tankers, another testament to Trump’s marvelous negotiating and planning skills.
How is it Trump’s fault? The strait was open until he attacked Iran. He destabilized the government. Although a hardliner is in power, the factions are stronger now. They’ve seen that blocking the strait is a money-making proposition. A toll must be paid to get through. Thanks, Dozy Donny.
Ever a cliche, Trump warned Iran, “No more mister nice guy.” Apparently, he thinks that dropping bombs, killing a few thousand people and threatening to wipe them out is being ‘mister nice guy’.
I read up about TrumpRx this morning. If you recall, Trump touted this as a historical achievement which will significantly impact drug prices.
- About 24,000 drugs are available for sale in the US. TrumpRx has less than 100 on it.
- A survey of adults showed that two thirds said they’d heard nothing or little about TrumpRx.
This is much like Trump’s other promises, big on hyperbole, short on execution, tiny on impact. Examples of that is his wall with Mexico. Now in Trump’s second year of his second term, 25 miles have been added. But they have big plans…
Trump has canceled Operation LOOK – SQUIRREL! He’s replacing with Operation EPIC LOOK – SQUIRREL! This is because Trump and his planners like using ‘epic’ in their project names. Operation EPIC LOOK – SQUIRREL! has two objectives: stop people from talking about Trump’s role in Epstein’s life and crimes, and to improve Trump’s approval ratings.
Unfortunately, it’s not working for him to date. His approval ratings are tanking. Two thirds of the nation say the nation is heading in the wrong direction.
I have Bruce Springsteen singing “Hungry Heart” in my morning mental music stream. I have no idea why The Neurons are playing it. Far as I could tell, the 1980 song is a jaunty tune about a man abandoning his wife and children. But that’s The Neurons for you: they play by their own rules.
I’m off to Operation Epic Yard Waste Cleanup. Loaded it all up last night. Now it’s time to drive to the disposal center, get in line, and drop it off.
Hope you all have a great day, full of peace, love, and good food.
Cheers
