A furniture company’s radio ad begins, “Nobody should go hungry at the holidays.”
I agree but nobody should go hungry the rest of the year, either. In a country that considers itself wealthy — and spends so much on military hardware — hunger shouldn’t be treated as a seasonal concern.
As the ad goes on, my cynicism kicks in. The familiar bargain is offered: buy from us and we’ll help feed the needy. It’s presented as “giving back,” but the giving is tied to the selling.
I don’t object to people being fed. I object to a basic human need becoming a holiday marketing opportunity and to charity being used to emotionally manipulate us when we make purchases. That sell is older than this ad, of course. Capitalism and marketing have simply become sharply refined at making consumption feel generous.
Open your purses and wallets. Break out the credit cards. Black Friday has begun.
Ashland, southern Oregon — Sunday, November 8, 2026.
Drizzly and chilly outside, a beaten gray sky hangs low over Ashland. 54 degrees, it rains off and on, a pattern expected to carry through the high of 60 F. A few remaining shimmering maples are ablaze in red against the misty gray.
Gina (sister) took Mom by the house Friday. The house is Mom’s house. Given the upcoming holiday season, my mind flashes back to past travels and its associated planning. Ten years ago — 2016 — my wife and I would be talking about going back East to see Mom and my sisters in Pittsburgh, then visiting my wife’s mother and sister in West Virginia. We usually flew into Pittsburgh, rented a car, visited a day or two in Pittsburgh, drove down, visited there for several days, and then drove back up to Pittsburgh and spent several more days.
Plans slowly changed. My wife’s mother moved into an assisted living place as her Parkinson’s advanced. Our visits were quiet times sitting with her, waiting for her to speak. We would take her favorite food to her a few times, dinner from Bob Evans. Then she passed and the visits were only to Pittsburgh.
Reflecting on this year’s travel plans, I’m working around my medical issues, and my wife’s RA issues would make cross-country travel a daunting challenge.
Part of these thoughts emerged from a friend’s medical crisis. She lost her husband on October 17, 2026. Thursday, she had a stroke and went to the hospital for a carotid artery stent. Her surgery was Friday morning. She’s been unresponsive since then.
Sorry. I didn’t plan to write a somber post. That’s just what emerged. It’s not unique; millions of people have similar stories about life, family, and change. Experiencing these things in parallel to me, my wife says little about it, but I know she deeply feels the changes and losses. Ultimately, as with almost everything else, we process differently. Neither way is right or wrong, just different.
On the very, very positive side, I have wonderful memories of journeys ‘home’ to visit with Mom and my sisters and their families and will keep feasting on them.
Also emerging were more reflections about the 2026 blue tide. Republicans staying home instead of voting was a significant reason why Democrats strongly prevailed. That’s nothing to count on for future elections, but it certainly repudiates Trump and the GOP’s direction for the company: Republicans couldn’t even hold their noses to vote to keep Republicans in office under Trump.
It seems like Trump is subdued since then. I imagine that a sane person in Donald Trump’s situation would be digging into the post-mortem to discover what went wrong. But Trump always buries his head. Right until he election, he insisted that his approval ratings were great. Since then, he blamed the losses on the candidates, continuing his standard of ignoring truth and reality.
Your Trump Quote of the Day:
Donald Trump refuses to accept that he was on the ballot, and that’s why Republicans lost. Trump thinks “everyone is profiting” because the stock market is up, completely ignoring the affordability issues caused by rising gas, diesel, oil, food, and healthcare prices.
Just like their leader, Donald Trump, MAGAts are blaming everything rather than looking squarely at the truth and Steve Bannon wants to double down on the failed policies.
With my thoughts of going ‘home’ in the past and Republicans staying home, Les Neurons predictably responded with…a song about home.
The Neurons actually played multiple songs about home in my morning mental music stream. We had Ozzy, Bruce, John Denver, Lynyrd Skynyrd, Motley Crue, Simon and Garfunkel all offering songs about being home, hometowns, and going home. It was Home-a-palooza in the head.
I eventually landed on a favorite song by Blind Faith, a 1969 gem called “Can’t Find My Way Home”. I came across this version by Rachel Price and enjoyed it, so I offer it to you.
I ended up on this song because I wondered how the GOP was going to find their way home. Under Trump, they’ve been promoting election deniers and candidates running on hate and deception. The voters rejected so where — or how — will the GOP turn now?
Meanwhile, the Democrats have found a cadre of strong, principled, young candidates, and many won. I’m not going to celebrate too much because holding office change people, as do events. Despite my age, I still can’t see the future.
May you and your family enjoy a wonderful day at home or traveling, whatever works for you, as long as you find solace and joy in what you do.
Ashland, southern Oregon. Thursday, September 10, 2026.
Heat is in the air again today. Sunshine sluices down between scattered clouds. 83 degrees F as of now, we’re looking for a high that’s ten degrees more.
I’m trying to negotiate a peace between Mom and one of my sisters. I’ve written before about my younger sister, Gina. She put in a lot of work helping Mom over the years. Gina’s husband, Pat, was right beside her.
When Mom’s partner, Frank, died at 95 last October, Mom was put into a bad situation. Given her needs and medical challenges, she couldn’t live alone in her home. Gina and Pat took it upon themselves to make space for Mom in their home, and tried including Mom in their activities.
It turned out to be a six-month experiment which became progressively worse. By the time Mom was taken to a hospital in February, Mom was accusing Pat of spying on her, stealing her things, and hurting her. We knew from security cameras that none of it was true.
Mom ended up being in an assisted living facility after that. Pat’s feelings were hurt. He was upset, which upset Gina. Since that time, Gina has slowly cut off communications with Mom.
Labor used to be special for our family as we all prepared food and came together to celebrate. I wrote Mom on Labor Day. She was pretty sad and miserable, reporting that she’d not heard anything from any of her daughters. She knew a celebration was going on but nobody included her.
I passed that on to Gina. Gina replied, “If Mom apologizes to Pat for all those mean things she accused him of, I’ll welcome her back to our gatherings.”
I sent that on to Mom two days ago.
I’ve not heard anything back.
Trumpapalooza kicked off last night. As anticipated, it’s about how wonderful Trump thinks he is, the almost open acknowledgement that things aren’t going well in our nation, and Trump’s desperate attempt to win the election by bribing voters. In other words, it’s more Operation Epic LOOK — SQUIRREL!, an attempt to distract voters from what’s really happening.
Beyond all that, the event is about stroking Trump’s ego. He thinks he’s great, and all others need to bow down to him. If everyone was as great as him, we’d have a great nation is his basic message.
Yes, Trumpapalooza was short on logic, facts, and truth, depending on your point of view. If you want the national and international order disrupted, Trump is doing a great job. If you want a nation based on democratic principles and freedom and equality for all, he’s driving hard away from those principles. Either way, he’s having fun, golfing on the taxpayers’ dime, sending out ridiculous little AI-generated images and videos trying to convey himself as great, blustering at other nations and people with threats if they don’t do what he wants.
Your Trumpapalooza Quote of the Day:
After all that, I ended up with “The Stroke” by Billy Squier in my morning mental music stream.
“The Stroke” came out in 1981. The song is about the music business and the need for bands to stroke music exec egos while the execs must stroke the artists’ egos. Everyone is stroke someone to keep it all going.
Sample Lyrics
Better listen now They said it ain’t no joke Don’t let your conscience fail ya Just do the stroke
Don’t ya take no chances Keep your eye on top Do your fancy dances You can’t stop, you just
Stroke me, stroke me (Stroke, stroke) Stroke me, stroke me (Stroke, stroke)
And that’s pretty much Trump. He does his silly dance and his fancy ‘word weave’. The rest of us know the weave as lie upon lie upon lie, but for Trump, it’s the dance.
May this day reward you with patience, happiness, and good health.
Ashland, southern Oregon. Monday, September 7, 2026.
Our valley will warm back up today. It’s 52 F now but the high is supposed to be in the upper 70s. Sunshine and blue sky are all my vantage offers. Warmer tomorrow, in the low 80s, and low 90s by Wednesday.
It’s Labor Day in the US. Happy Labor Day! Labor Day used to mark the unofficial end of the summer and the start of the autumn and school year when I was growing up. As I moved to other areas, I discovered the school year starting in August as districts frontloaded the school calendar in anticipation of school closures for snow days.
This is one of those holidays Mom enjoyed as family. It usually meant a gathering and cookout. I feel fortunate to have such memories of enjoying life, delicious food, fun company.
For today, there is no cookout. We’re going to friends later for dinner and games. I go on with my normal routines.
Trump launched another part of Operation Epic LOOK — SQUIRREL! last weekend. He’s been making some outrageous claims by changing the names of places, generating AI images, and doing his pathetic little kicks dance. And Trump changed his hair style to some very ugly reviews. He’s even trying to fix the Lincoln Memorial Reflecting Pool — again — crowing — again — how great it’ll be, which stirred a lot of mocking about him and his previous claims, and the amount of money Trump has spent trying to fix it.
With all that bad press happening, Trump went to the net and — quick. LOOK — SQUIRREL!
“THE MOON IS OURS”
Yes, that’s Donald Trump, current Oval Office occupant, highest elected position in the land, acting like a cartoon villain.
Just to prove how much of a fool he is, and keep us distracted, Trump also floated changing New Mexico’s name.
I’m sure MAGAzens are chortling, “Look how Trump is owning the libs!” Meanwhile, they’re paying a lot more for food and gas. For example, gas prices on Labor Day 2024 were about $3.29 a gallon. Thanks to Trump, they’re at a record Labor Day high.
The gas price per gallon US average is $4.14, 32 cents per gallon more than the previous record, set in 2012.
Affordability remains a crisis in the US, Trump’s war with Iran is dragging on — 191 days and counting — he hasn’t released the Epstein files…it’s a long list of failures and broken promises.
That’s the Trump legacy.
That’s the MAGA legacy.
In honor of Trump’s absurdity, my morning mental music stream is gushing with songs about the moon. So many are out there…”Dark Side of the Moon” punched in fast. But I ended up with “Man on the Moon” by R.E.M.
Sample Lyrics
Mott the Hoople and the Game of Life Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah Andy Kaufman in the wrestling match Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah
Monopoly, twenty-one checkers, and chess Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah Mister Fred Blassie in a breakfast mess Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah
Let’s play Twister, let’s play Risk Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah See you in Heaven if you make the list Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah
Now, Andy, did you hear about this one? Tell me, are you locked in the punch? Andy, are you goofing on Elvis? Hey baby, are we losing touch?
If you believed they put a man on the moon Man on the moon
If you believe there’s nothing up his sleeve Then nothing is cool
The 1992 song was a tribute to comedian Andy Kaufman. It’s also about questioning truth, history, and reality, and losing track of these things. It’s a suitable song to reflect what we seem to be seeing from Trump and his long, very public decline.
As always, I wish the best for you and yours on this day as well as every other day.
It’s tougher for me this year. A year ago, Mom and Frank, her live-in partner, were residing together at Mom’s house. All of that has changed.
I bought Mom flowers on line a few days ago and scheduled their delivery. Bought her a card, wrote a note, and mailed it. Provided her with a gift card to help with her expenses.
I was thinking, though, how very difficult the time is for my younger sisters. They live not far from Mom. Mothers themselves, it used to be their practice to take Mom to a local restaurant for a Mother’s Day buffet brunch.
Mom loved those times out, raving to me about the food and how nice it was to be with her daughters and their families, to be out at a restaurant with everyone, to see other people.
Change is change. We all do what we can to mitigate its impact. Some things remain out of reach.
Sorry, don’t mean to be a downer. I know that I follow in the steps of many others who have walked this path. In the end, my family has many good memories of this holiday. There are others who never managed to find that level of joy and happiness.
Bottom line for myself: accept the blessings. Reflect on the past.
But let go.
I hope you can balance your memories and changes with the day. If you’re fortunate enough that you and your mom are together and can celebrate the day, I hope you build something wonderful to remember.
High winds imitated taxiing jets all night long. We awoke to quiet sunshine and a drying land. 42 F, we hit like 49 F before the weather flipped into falling temperatures and increasing precipitation. It rained hard for a while and dropped into the thirties. Now it’s in the thirties but clear under fading sunshine. This was Christmas, Thirstda, December 25, 2025.
We were out of the house before nine AM, hitting the road to buzz to the other side of town for a breakfast brunch. The time was dropped on me yesterday. “We’re going to be there at nine?” I was incredulous. Friends had invited us to their place but that seemed like a early holiday hour when gift exchanging and children weren’t involved. We made it, no problem.
They weren’t ready for us. The husband didn’t make an appearance for over thirty minutes. We know him well and understand the health issues which slowed him. Guest number five arrived about twenty minutes after hubby showed. Guest number six was a no-show. She later called to apologize but she was having memory issue and forgot.
No matter. I was stewing about hurrying to be there when others clearly were less prepared than me for the early hour. The food, however, was sensational. Ham steaks. Plant based sausages. Dutch baby. Mexican quiche. Bananas, oranges, raspberries and blueberries. Delicious food, and after all but one arrived, a fun time, despite the early hour.
The early hour did have me smiling in memory about my childhood. Back then, filled with Santa-inspired energy, we were up by five AM, eager to see what presents had arrived. It’s a sweet look back at memories of an innocent period. Well, innocent for me. Mom and Dad were busy adulting, managing children, money, and all the associated pressures and needed.
Our fifth guest was a stranger. A music student from the Czech Republic, Tereza is 23 years old, a keyboardist who is learning music history (which, yes, she finds boring and tedious) while also being taught about more instruments. Most fascinating is her growing mastery of the pipe organ. She travels to another town to play a pipe organ in a Presbyterian Church. She shared some video of her playing.
She also gamely responded to our inquisition about the small village where she grew up, her parents and life in the Czech Republic, and their Christmas holiday traditions. A catholic, she shared their story that baby Jesus brings gifts and puts them under the tree. Yes, I wanted to know, how does baby Jesus get around? She laughed and replied, “That was our question, too.”
Then, following Christmas traditions (not), we played a full game of Mexican Train. Mexican Train felt like some kind of inherent slur, so we sought other names for it as we sorted rules, cheered wins, and lamented losses. A different and fun way to spin away Christmas hours.
Meanwhile, my sisters and I and Mom and I shot texts and videos back and forth. It’s the latest new holiday tradition.
Today’s music is “Come As You Are” by Nirvana. The Neurons fired it up in the morning mental music stream when I rolled out of bed and began fumbling through showering, shaving, and dressing. I don’t mind get up ‘early’ but I dislike being forced to forego my leisurely morning routine. As I progressed through my routine at a faster pace, The Neurons teased, “Just go as you are.” Hence, the song’s presence in the MMMS.
Had a pleasant Christmas with my wife and friends. Barely any coffee consumed. I think peace and grace peeked in on us. Hope peace and grace dropped in on you, too, however briefly it might have been, whether this is a holiday you celebrate or just another day on the calendar. Cheers
The holiday party season has kicked off. One day already this week. Tonight is the second. Then there are parties, outings, brunches, and get togethers on Satyrda, Sunda, Twozda, and Thirstda. My spouse is quite popular. That’s a lot of socializing for one like me, who, my wife tells me, is a virtual recluse. Thank dawg for the breaks.
Getting ready was easier this year. Weight loss has given me a broader range of clothing choices. Hurrah for that. Most important part of this was that I didn’t need to iron anything. Hurrah for that!
Also, my wife still giggles whenever she encounters me in underwear with a shirt and socks but sans pants. Come on, girl, it’s been more than fifty years. Do you really still find it that humorous?
Guess it’s one of those eyes of the beholder things.
Looked out the window and what did I see? Weak, uneven sunshine, blue sky patches, thick towels of scattered white clouds. I also saw the far-ish mountains with their thick evergreen coats. Sunshine and shadows spangled them in different verdant hues. Sunshine sneaks through the windows and darts away. It’s been a few weeks since I’ve been able to look across and see the tops of the trees on the top of this low mountain because of the weather, and I missed that scene. This is Thirstda, December 18, 2025.
Two friends lost family members this week. Both lost members were sisters and both passed after prolonged cancer struggles. So, a moment of thought for each of them. The holidays are stressful enough for people without the added weight of a family member passing. Although in one case at least, the family was relieved because they hated how their sister/mother/aunt/grandmother was suffering.
Thinking of sisters inspired The Neurons. I’ve been doing many text exchanges with my second-oldest ‘little sister’. She’s the one who volunteered her home and family to take care of Mom. Taking care of anyone is a challenge but Mom at 90 can be a test for your nerves and patience. The two are again at peace, and I hope that lasts. Of course, Mom is going through a chunk of stuff with her health, age, and the loss of her longtime live-in boyfriend, Frank. Frank was a giving and caring steward for her, and though his feet were small, those are big shoes to fill. Add to that, the natural stresses brought on by winter storms and the holiday season, and it gets to be a very heavy load.
So, the Neurons filled the morning mental music stream with Stevie Ray Vaughn and Double Trouble playing their cover of Hank Ballard’s song, “Look at Little Sister”. I have three younger sisters. I regularly text with them. All are mothers, two are grandmothers, two are tremendously fit, and two are very successful. All are a treasure to me. My fourth sister is the single sibling older than moi. She and I get along well but don’t exchange many texts. Still working, she’s engrossed with her children and grandchildren.
Coffee is treating my cells to some wake up energy. Hope peace and grace come out of their hole and don’t see their shadow.
