I was a young middle-aged man again. Several people who worked for me in the military and at IBM were working for me again. I was setting them up with some kind of project. Terry, Gil, and Lainie were at a round table. I stopped by to provide more instructions.
For some reason, I ended up asking Lainie if she knew her fours table because she had to use them for some task I was setting up. She was hesitant. Knowing she’s often hesitant because of self-doubt, I began quizzing her – what 7 * 4? She didn’t know, so I tried, what’s 3 * 4? She correctly but slowly responded, twelve, with a shy smile.
Encouraging her, I then asked, what’s 4 * 4?
She wasn’t sure. Terry responded, 16.
I began going through the fours table with Lainie with the others sitting there. As we did, she made wrong guesses about the numbers, sometimes saying numbers that ended in three or five. I told her that the result would always be even, and that it would end in a 2-4-6-8 or zero. I then began taking her through the table and went from 1 * 4 to 200 * 4, pointing out the repetitive pattern in the results.
Everyone grew quiet, listening as I went through the times table. When I finished, Terry and others said, “I never knew that about the pattern.”
I replied, “There’s a pattern to everything. Always look for the pattern. If you can find that, many other things fall into place.”
Ashland, southern Oregon — Monday, October 12, 2026.
Autumn continues its golden, chilly reign. 53 F now, we’ve risen from the overnight low of 32 and we’re getting close to the 62 F expected high. It’s a boldly blue sky and marvelously sharp sunshine. A small herd of clouds — momma and four or five kits — hard to say because they keep moving — feed on the blue to one side.
No more on Mom and her situation today. Patience is needed as I await news and developments. That’s a life stage many of us know very well.
Time is extremely tight today. Food & Friends deliveries began the morning, writing in the late morning to early afternoon, BCG wash in the mid-afternoon, and then back to help a friend move some items. I made the plans, so I accept them. Tomorrow will be as busy but in other areas of needs.
Today’s music is a throwback tune, “The Fool and Me”. The Neurons placed the Robin Trower offering in my morning mental music stream early today after I went through a cursory review of news stories followed by a fast reflection on dreams, time, and appointments. Make sense, I guess.
Sample Lyrics:
Traveling that wind and laugh at the crowd, mmm the fool and me Howl at the moon baby yell out loud, the fool and me And ohh oh, where ever we go We keep the spirit free Ohh nobody knows No one but the fool and me
Stretching on out and feeling fine, the fool and me Two fools dancing on the hands of time, yeah The fool and me And ohh oh, where ever we go We keep the spirit free Ohh nobody knows No one but the fool and me
Yes, and there is a connection to Donald Trump in this: his impact on my life, and his impact on my nation, my friends, and family. Trump is politically divisive. That’s just the starting point. Consumed with thoughts about only himself, he’s consuming our world and tearing it apart. Some MAGAzens applaud this: “Tear it all down and start over.” Yet, when Trump’s destruction hits their lives, many call, “Wait a minute. What’s going? This isn’t what I want.”
Well, I can tell you for sure, what Trump has done and is doing is sure as hell not what I want.
I hope we can vote Democrats into office and take over Congress and offset the madness that is Trump.
May your day end with you feeling fine and looking back on what you did with smiles.
Sunday, October 11, 2026 — Ashland, southern Oregon.
The weather and foliage matched perfectly yesterday and feel right today. Many of us enthused about the crisp and cool autumn air. This was what we’d been looking for! Temperatures topped in the mid 70s yesterday and dropped to the low 30s last night. Right now finds us at 42 F. Though it’s quite sunny and the sky is clear and blue, today’s high is expected to close out in the mid 50s.
Mom reports a new decline. She’d in pretty good spirits this week. Today, she reported, “My pain upon urinating is worse than ever like it was when I first had the bladder infection and it is brown up upon the pads. And it smells rotten. And I feel physically ill.”
This blow came as my sisters and I have been working out what to get Mom for her upcoming 92 birthday at the end of this month.
Trump and Hegseth are excited for their upcoming military execution by firing squad. Outside of them, Americans are checking their priority lists and problems and realizing that Donald Trump is completely out of touch with them.
People are concerned about Trump’s broken promises, the war in Iran, rising prices, AI, and high food, energy, and healthcare costs. Trump responded with more Operation Epic LOOK — SQUIRREL! antics.
Your Donald Trump Quote of the Day:
Call me an enemy, then, Trump, because I’ll continue to adhere to history and industry standards and refer to artificial intelligence, or AI.
At this point, reading the political news has me growling and shaking my head. I never expected much out of Trump, but he and his administration is an absolute trainwreck. More of Trump’s supporters are pulling away. I doubt it helped Trump’s cause when Trump told supporters at one recent rally, “It’s amazing. When you stand up here, it’s just like…the love. I could say the stupidest things and you’d clap. ‘Oh, I love you so—’ It’s true.”
We’ll see how those Donald Trump supporters feel when the midterm elections results come in next month. Trump said to make the upcoming elections about himself. He doesn’t know how much disapproval of him has grown, how many are turning away from him, and tuning out from him.
Between Mom and Trump, The Neurons put “Bad Moon Rising” in the morning mental music stream. This song by Clearance Clearwater Revival, aka CCR, was released in 1969. It’s about premonitions about bad things on the verge of happening.
Sample Lyrics:
I see the bad moon rising I see trouble on the way I see earthquakes and lightning I see bad times today
Don’t go around tonight Well, it’s bound to take your life There’s a bad moon on the rise
I hear hurricanes a-blowing I know the end is coming soon I fear rivers overflowing I hear the voice of rage and ruin
May this day bless you and yours with fresh air, good health, and good fortune.
Young again, as it often happens in my dreams, my wife and I were at a three-day festival. We knew a few people there casually, but most were strangers. We were making acquaintances, though.
I’m not sure what the festival was about. It was partly outside and inside, on different levels, but was very easy to get around. Some areas were set up with drinks and other areas had food, dancing, and demonstrations.
After wandering around some, my wife and I went to explore different things. I ended up in the company of a young charismatic man with thick, dark curly hair. He was the de facto leader of a social group there and invited me to be part of that group. I had a lot of fun with them.
Then there was a quiet time for resting. He invited me to find them the next day. I ended up borrowing his car. First, it was a silver blue. Then, it was red. Both times, it was a small car, convertible and sporty but nothing familiar. Yet, with the second car, I thought that I remembered them. Very red and small, it still seated four. I recalled that a panel could be put over the rear seats to give the car a racier look, but that could be removed for seating, which I thought was clever.
I drove the car a bit but had trouble parking it. Misjudging an angle when I turned into the garage, I had to wait until people walked around the back of the car before I could reverse, widen my approach, and park in the space.
After that, I began to drift through the festival, eyes open for my wife or my new friends. I ran into my wife. We talked for a moment but she went on.
The festival was thinning out. A woman who had been with my wife approached me as I looked at a menu board. She asked if I wanted something. Her way of talking confused me and I politely declined and walked away. She re-approached with a large bag of potato chips. Giving them to me, she lectured me a little, telling me that I should accept offers when they’re given. Then she finished, “We Americans need to stick together and help each other.”
She seemed to indicate that we were the only Americans at the festival. Her remark confused me. I came across my wife again and offered her some chips. She declined and went off again. I gave the chips to someone else and went to watch a demonstration of fire department teams showing their skills doing different things.
One woman led a team. She was very impressive with how she went about rolling hoses, wielding axes, and other things. Growing drowsy, I laid down to watch her from a platform. Others were there. I could hear them talking about the same woman who impressed me. After a bit, one of the other people jostled me. Faking indignation, I turned around and demanded to know who was disturbing my sleep.
I was surprised. It was my sister. She was her ‘real age’, that is the age she is now. Her youngest son, also in his current age, was with her, along with a few other people who I didn’t know.
I was now my real age. Telling them, “I’ll see you later,” I decided it was time to leave the festival and went off into a large warehouse lit with yellow lights to find my wife. Behind me, I heard my nephew say, “That’s how he is. Watch, he won’t be back.”
I remember two dreams from last night but only snippets from a third. Here’s what I recall about the two.
First, there was a writing dream. A young man again, I was in my early twenties.
I love how my dreams often make me younger. *smile*
I was sitting with my wife at a low, light gray counter. She was on my right. To my left was a young girl, white with long brown hair. I think she was about 12. Nobody I knew.
In front of me on the counter was a yellow legal pad. A male voice outside of my dream frame was suggesting that I write a book about writing fiction.
I was laughing and denigrating the idea. “I’ve had a couple short stories published, and I self-published a few books,” I rebutted. “That’s not really a good position as someone giving writing advice.”
But as I was talking, I was scribbling ideas on the yellow pad. Using a red pen, I wrote down four columns.
My wife said, “I think you should.”
And the out of dream voice said, “The girl will type it up for you.”
And the girl was saying, “I’m bored. Is there anything for me to type?”
That all made me laugh harder. On the yellow pad, I jotted down ideas in the four columns as I laughed.
Dream end
The Race Dream
I was in some coastal area with my wife and some friends. (The friends weren’t anyone from real life.)
A storm was coming in from the ocean, building up. The winds were growing higher, and the surf was rising and becoming more violent.
But a race was being held in the water. I don’t know what distance was involved but people could parasail, surf, bicycle, swim, or run to win. The race would go along the coastline.
I had a friend there with a saddled brown horse (with a black mane and tail) and several young children. The friend BTW looked like a young Viggo Mortensen. The children were begging him to enter the race. He was uncertain but they talked him into it. So he climbed into the saddle. After pulling the two children up onto the saddle with him, he urged the horse forward to join the race.
I watched, amused and also wondering, “Is that safe?” I saw that the surf was much worse than I thought it was. I was considering how he would do this, envisioning the horse galloping sometimes through waves breaking on the shore, but mostly urging the horse along on the firm, wet sound just above the water line.
I heard people mocking my friend, “Oh, look, here’s another one who doesn’t know how to surf.”
The starting gun went off and the race began. I watched as the racers went south, through the crashing waves, as sunlight broke through thinning gray storm clouds.
Knowing the race would be away, I went to the house where we were staying. This was actually a large, lovely terra cotta mansion. I was standing out there, having drinks with friends and my wife. It was a small group. Two of the friends were from my childhood, and two were adult friends.
One childhood friend asked, “Why did they call you the professor when you were young.”
I laughed it off. “Probably because I read a lot and had to wear glasses.”
My wife said, “No, it was because you were smart.”
My other childhood friend said it was because I always got good grades.
As we were talking, I noticed a blonde teenage girl standing off to one side, listening. I realized that she was going to back and tell her friends about this conversation.
Turning, and shifting angles, I found a view of the ocean. The race was still going on. I saw about forty competitors and thought I spotted my friend on horseback but wasn’t sure.
Ashland, southern Oregon. Tuesday, September 29, 2026.
Another lovely autumn day in the Pacific northwest corner of the United States — at least in my small valley. 65 F, with sunshine and blue skies, and a high of 75 F expected.
Spent some time reading sickening news of the Cornell 7. The truth is dribbling out. Right now, the university and those seven men appear despicable, part of the patriarchy and ol’ boys network which so many of us have come to despise. It reminded me and my wife of how Brock Turner got off.
Mom’s birthday is next month. She’ll be 92. My sisters and I are sharing ideas about what she needs and what we can buy her to show love and caring while filling needs and making her a little happier.
One of the other residents is an elderly blind man. Mom returned to find him in her room after lunch today. He’d taken all her clothes out of her closet and strewn them around the room, knocked things over, and made a big mess. Mom summoned the home’s director. She’s calling the blind man’s daughter.
While what happened to Mom is disturbing, I think about what the blind man might be enduring, and how this call can affect his daughter and her family and plans. It’s another of those things which just induces sighs.
Trump also masquerades as being indifferent about the war, referring to it as small potatoes. I’m sure that Iranian citizens will be pleased to hear that Trump thinks the bombing of their nation and the killing of their children and others is ‘small potatoes’. But that’s Trump — a monster trying to masquerade as a human.
Most distressingly, so many Republicans, too many citizens, too many in the media, and even too many Democrats treat what Trump and the Project 2025 contingency embedded in his administration as if it’s normal. Chief Justice Roberts in the Supreme Court bounces around the masquerade ball, fretting about what Trump is doing, then enabling him via unsigned shadow docket rulings for emergencies.
So today’s music is “This Masquerade”. George Benson had a hit with this half a century ago, a fact that makes me LAUGH OUT LOUD.
I hope this day gave you a number of reasons to laugh out loud and look back with joy.
Ashland, southern Oregon. Monday, September 28, 2026.
Lovely fall day with bold white billowy clouds and small, scattered negligee clouds hanging against a blue sky. Temperature crept out of the forties into the mid 70s F.
I got the first world blues this morning. Internet went out at 11:15 last night. I rebooted our system and went to bed. All looked good this morning but ‘lo, no Internet. I called our ISP, Ashland Home Net (HSN), to see what they could tell me. First tech said, “Reboot your router for me.” Pretty damn imperial about it, too. I did and we agreed I’d call back in ten minutes if it didn’t work.
Fifteen minutes later, I called HSN again. This tech was not the same as the first tech. He told me, “Oh, there’s an outage in the city. They’re working on it. Should be fixed in an hour. If you still don’t have a connection then, call back.”
Hour later, no connection, call back. Get the first tech who told me again, “I told you to just reset your router.”
I blew up on him and channeled my pissed-off senior NCO genes, which greatly changed his attitude. Anyway, to make this long story a little shorter, I decided I needed a new modem.
In parallel to this happening, my sister, Gina, took Mom to a doctor’s appointment as a follow up to the UTI that sent her to the hospital, keeping us up to date via texts. Mom has also been complaining of chest pains. EKG showed no issues with Mom’s heart or pace maker, but other test showed that yes, she still had a UTI. So, there’s more antibiotics scheduled, and an appointment with another doctor.
Gina took Mom clothes shopping, too, which was very nice of her.
Back here at home, it was our day to do Food & Friends delivery. However, my wife didn’t put it on the official house calendar, so we were double booked. We had noticed some slight leaking around the bathroom skylight. I’d scheduled a consultation for today for 11, which directly conflicted with the F&F timing. A friend volunteered to replace me so my wife could do the route and deliveries while I stayed home with the skylight folks.
Skylight folks, Andy and James, arrived at 11 and left at 11:30. Just flashing, Andy assured me. I’m waiting or the estimate to get that done. He says it’s minor work and can schedule it and do it done soon as I say go.
So, that was my morning. As I say, first world blues.
Later that day…(which is, yes, today…)
Went to the coffee shop. Researched routers. Went out and bought a new one. Came home, installed it. Everything except my Ooma VOIP linked up. I’m working on it.
My wife’s Food & Friends deliveries with her friend went fantastic! Everyone was home, and many were already at the door when she arrived. My wife said it was much better than when I go with her… *smile*
Later that same day…(which is, yes, still today..)
I was focused on software, settings for the new router, etc. Modem, cell phones, computers, and Roku all seamlessly connected. Terrific!
Our Ooma VOIP wouldn’t connect.
I’ve been an Ooma customer since 2008, and the unit I have is now ten years old. I thought that maybe its card had gone. No matter what I tried, I could not connect between the router and the Ooma telos. Lo, turned out to be the old ethernet cable was failing. With that replaced, all is up and running. Took hours of trying different paths, though. But, yes, done.
So ends my first world blues.
Today’s song is “Roadhouse Blues”. The Neurons began playing this 1970 song by The Doors when I rolled out of bed and told myself, “Let’s get this day rolling.” Bang, the song rolled through my morning mental music stream.
I hope your day treated you well, and you were able to avoid all kinds of blues, whether they were just simple first world complaints like mine today, or more serious blues.
A full-fledged fall day here — cool at 63 degrees F, warming to 73 today, with sunshine breaking through cloud blockades.
All quiet with Mom today. My sister, Gina, called Mom to see what was needed and she could help. That seemed to mollify Mom. Not to make light of it, or anything, because Mom’s needs are real. But she becomes fixated, and it often seems to stem from her sense of helplessness and isolation.
Today’s theme song is “Run Like Hell” by Pink Floyd. The song was on the album “The Wall”, released in 1979. My younger cousin was so into Pink Floyd and tremendously excited when this album came out. I was stationed at Randolph AFB in Texas at the time. He lived not far away, in San Antonio. We had a lot of fun when we could hook up. Sadly, he passed away from cancer a few years ago. I can’t hear any song off “The Wall” without remembering him.
The Neurons plugged the song into the morning mental music stream today after seeing a Robert Reich Bluesky post.
“I feel optimistic about the midterm elections, just over five weeks away. But my stomach aches when I think of what’s at stake. Call me nauseously optimistic“
Yes, that’s me, too. And if Trump loses, many will see it as validation that Trump is wildly unpopular and unsuccessful. Angry as hell, Trump will probably tilt more into authoritarian ignorance and violence, while shouting, “Cheating! National emergency!”
“Run Like Hell” is about a rock star who orders an attack on the riff raff, so it’s appropriate as hell for my feelings today. I’m optimistic, nauseous and anxious, and quite ready to metamorphically run like hell.
Sample Lyrics
You better run all day And run all night And keep your dirty feelings Deep inside.
I hope you have no need to run like hell today unless it’s because you decide to run out and get a favorite treat for yourself. Remember to treat yourself kindly and try to do unto others as you’d have them do unto you.
Ashland, southern Oregon. Saturday, September 26, 2026.
The roads are never ending.
Autumn lines today’s road with beautiful trees and a blue sky. I saw a single white cloud. Not large or small, it was oblong shaped and thin looking. Blue streaks thinned more of it, like someone had tried to scape it from the sky.
We hit the low 70s today. Just a cool, calm, chill day. Tonight’s low temperature will dip into the mid 40s.
Texting with Mom occupied some time. She repeatedly calls and texts. And we’re apparently expected to instantly answer, take her call, etc. If we don’t then she accuses us of ignoring, abandoning, or avoiding her.
I am doing some of that. As my sister, Gina, won’t answer Mom, Mom comes to me to be her intermediary. Gina told me she hasn’t blocked Mom, but like me, she’s busy and a little weary. I honestly told Mom I don’t immediately respond because I’m busy and I’m emotionally, physically, and mentally weary. Yes, Mom contributes to some of that, but so does other things happen in our existence. She took it well.
Today’s song is “Big Empty” by the Stone Temple Pilots, often known as STP. The song came out in 1993 and became part of my music rotation as I commuted around Mountain View, Palo Alto, and Sunnyvale, CA. The Neurons tipped the song into my morning mental music stream when I was thinking about conversations with Mom. If you know the lyrics, you can get that.
Sample Lyrics
Drivin’ faster in my car Falling farther from just what we are Smoke a cigarette, and lie some more, these conversations kill Falling faster in my car
Time to take her home, her dizzy head is conscience laden Time to take a ride, it leaves today, no conversation Time to take her home, her dizzy head is conscience laden Time to wait too long, to wait too long, to wait too long
Too much walkin’, shoes worn thin Too much trippin’, and my soul’s worn thin Time to catch a ride, it leaves today, her name is what it means Too much walkin’, shoe’s worn thin
Time to take her home, her dizzy head is conscience laden Time to take a ride, it leaves today, no conversation Time to take her home, her dizzy head is conscience laden Time to wait too long, to wait too long, to wait too long
May this autumn day in the north, spring day below the equator bring you good company and delicious meals.
My wife and I were traveling together. Young adults, I’m in the military again.
We were traveling to some fancy do. Although the details of that weren’t shared in the dream, we were pretty excited.
We arrived at some huge airport. She went off to do something. I wandered, and then drifted into an aircrew lounge. People went to block me from entering, but the officers in there recognized me and invited me in. At least a dozen friends from my Air Force life, pilots and navigators, were in there.
Settling in with them, I watched a baseball game on television for a while. When I saw the score, I asked, “When did this happen?”
Leaving there, I went to find my wife. We connected. I was now carrying her formal gown along with my dress uniform. I realized our flight was supposed to be boarding. On the heels of that, I thought, we need to be in the military terminal. I ran out into the growing wet dusk to hurry there. Where my wife was and why she wasn’t with me was completely overlooked in the dream. As I looked down the airport tarmac, I decided that the military terminal was too far inside and raced back inside
Connecting with my wife again, we hurried to board. Somehow, we boarded through the aircraft’s rear. So we were onboard but didn’t have seats.
The aircraft’s interior was like a large building with stairs, lounges, little sitting areas, etc. I looked for staff to help us find a seat, which was odd as we were passing orange seats that weren’t occupied, but couldn’t find help.
My wife said, “We need to get to the wide part. How do we get to the wide part?”
Looking around at the tall ceilings and seating areas, I mused, “This all looks pretty wide to me.”
