I like being proactive and getting ahead of things for the holidays, so I went ahead and gained my holiday weight.
That’s just one less thing for me to worry about.
Sunday’s Wandering Thoughts
Someone said, “I’ve been watching Hallmark Christmas movies. I watched three yesterday.”
Surprise went through me. Had I missed Halloween and Thanksgiving? I replied, “What month is this?”
Another said, “We put up and decorated our first Christmas tree. We usually put up two, one in the living room window, and a larger one in the family room. That’s the one we put up.”
I was staring out at the sunshine and leaves. Many were still on trees, their chlorophyll declining, losing their green colors, letting other colors emerge. Autumn, in other words.
As others continued talking about their Christmas-themed activities, I thought, I’m really out of touch.
I’m still celebrating autumn.
Friday’s Theme Music
Launch the Mark V!
Today is Friday, May 26, 2023. Friday before Memorial Day in the US. This year’s Ashlandia weather has been set up for a fun weekend. 68 F now, no clouds to scuff the blue sky. We’re looking at some low 80 F highs for the period.
Many folks around the nation will employ the Friday Mark V. Features of the Mark V includes a four-day weekend, cook-outs, and general games and partying. Memorial Day is a Monday holiday, as established by law in the Uniform Monday Holiday Act of 1968. Gives many people at least a three-day weekend. Employees often invoke a three and a half day weekend, taking off from work early.
People are still working though. Restaurants, hospitals, emergency services, military, hospitality and travel industries. And sales. Memorial Day always invokes some kind of sales extravaganza. The opportunities used to be blasted over the radio and television airways. Cars, furniture, mattresses, lawn equipment.
Let me note, though, my wife’s family always treated as a solemn period. No cook-out or grilling, nor drinking and partying. They drove to the cemetery to pay respects to the passed and put flowers on their graves.
Not us. Mom always pushed for a big holiday for this one. Lotta food. Fried chicken, burgers, hotdogs, complemented by potato salad and chips, finished up homemade pies. We usually attempted to go to some park for the day, and my favorite memories involve Keystone Lake in Pennsylvania. We’d leave at dawn so we could get good parking and the best spot. Then we’d haul our food and gear across the land like some great pioneering family. Chairs, blankets, umbrellas, food, beer, sodas, Kool-aide, gloves and balls, frisbees and other games, radio, utensils and plates. Directed by Mom, I would run ahead to find the best spot and claim it, as if the park wasn’t almost empty at that point. Oh, we had such good times.
But sometimes, we stayed home, cooking out in the back yard, playing games there. Fun, too, you know? That was mostly done on Laurie Drive in Penn Hills, before things began unravelling.
Those were the years I was finding rock and roll. One of my early favorites were Steppenwolf with “Born to be Wild” from 1968.
Stay pos. Whether it’s a holiday for you or not, I wish upon you a great day. Not all days can be great but we can still try.
Here’s the tune. Dial up the volume and wake up the wayback machine and sing along.
Sunday’s Theme Music
Warmish and foggy, kind of cool, too. It’s Christmas day in southern Oregon.
Dawn dashed in under the fog’s cover at 7:38 in the morning. I fed the cats and we prepared food to take to our friend’s house for Christmas brunch. Sipping coffee, I looked out the kitchen window. The fog was hurrying away. Sunshine struck the valley’s southern edge, lighting the trees and the blue sky.
I thought about all the matters which have gone well for me and pushed that aside. Homelessness plagues our small town. All those people were out there, looking for places to get warm, to be safe, to rest their bones and minds. I helped a few this week but it never feels like enough. Never. It’s a pattern encountered across the nation, one of the most powerful societies the world has ever seen.
I thought about the misery of people in other states hanging on as snow and ice storms undercut their infrastructures and cut their power. I thought about the military forces battling for arcane logic in Ukraine and the people trying to help one another to stay alive there. Then I thought about all the wealth hung onto by our world’s most fortunate families, individuals, corporations, wondering if they’re the most deserving, and how the sperm lottery affects our existences. I’m flattened often by stories of the wealthy do the most that they can to stay wealthy and make more money. Work harder, others are told. It’s just that easy.
Just Christmas reflections, little different than my recurring daily thoughts. Not original, but worn and tired.
My music today has nothing to do with the holidays. The song came out of dreams and efforts, weariness but hope. Called, “Turn It On Again”, the song is by Genesis. Released in 1980, the song is about a man whose friends are the people on TV.
Have a merry one. Happy holidays to you, whatever your flavor of seasonal celebrating as the common era year slides to an end. Hope you’re warm and safe, with a belly full of food.
Cheers
Sunday’s Theme Music
Sunshine casts its web over the valley. Highlighted by a blue sky, shadow places are hard with white frost under the green pines and naked annuals.
It’s 21 F out but warming, which we’ll do until petering out at 42 F. The sun’s valley march commenced at 7:34 in the morning and though the march is ever going, our view of it will fade away beginning at 4:41, when curvature and action eliminates our view and negates the sun’s effects. Then we’ll endure the cold night and the whole cycle continues tomorrow.
This is Sunday, December 18, 2022. Time to do your next to last Sunday of the month cleaning, shopping, and celebrating. I don’t recognize the next to last Sunday, myself. Disguised as just another day, it slinks past my unwitting senses and drifts into the past.
We attended a Christmas concert yesterday. Friends play in the orchestra so we support them and buy a ticket and attend. It’s a fun time. They have only four concerts a year, not for the seasons, but for holidays of the seasons. Next will be the Spring Concert, though, just to toss a spanner into it.
As the oboe played its note and the others matched it to ensure they’re in tune, I sang the note in the audience, softly under my mask. My wife heard and leaned over with a chuckle. “Getting in tune?” she asked.
Well, of course. The Neurons immediately pulled up the Who rock classic, “Getting in Tune”, from 1971. But they surprised me by shifting to another Who song, “The Song Is Over” off the same album a little later, when we were waiting to see, is this a pause between movements or is the song over? Do we applaud now? Some audience sections had been fooled once. But it was over, so we clapped in appreciation, and The Neurons planted “The Song Is Over” into my mental music stream, where it remained this morning.
That’s impressive staying power because, other music. The Neurons were barraged with the usual Christmas popular favorites, like “Frosty the Snowman” and “Jingle Bells”, and a personal favorite, “March of the Toys”. I was introduced to MotT when I attended a concert as a young boy. Then I later saw Babes in Toyland, which left a staying mark. The Neurons shrugged it off, so here I sit with the Who. Love the opening piano in this song, though. Evocative to me. Then, of course, come the other familiar Who elements of bass, drums, and guitar notes dancing with the vocals.
Stay positive, test negative, and so on. Just got word via text that a third of my Pittsburgh nieces and nephews are sick with flu, along with a sister and her hubby. All adults were vaxxed. Word isn’t known on the children. I wish them all speedy recovers.
“On coffee, on bagel, on oatmeal, and dressing.” Sorry, The Neurons got a little silly there, substituting morning things for Santa’s reindeers as they’re called out by name in Clement’s classic. Here’s the music. Catch you later. Cheers
Tempting Tuesday’s Theme Music
Misty and 25 degrees F. Graylight bangs in through the windows. Gray stillness enthralls the landscape.
The cold outside works with the moment to tempt my spirit to cozy up under my duvet and covers and just hang tight in that warm cocoon for just a little longer, perhaps until March. The mists rule beyond a few hundred feet, depriving me of any mountain views. As far as I know, the lip of the world’s end is just over on the next street.
This is Tuesday, December 13, 2022. Not much of a holiday vibe rings the air. Sure, there’s Christmas music on store speakers. Holiday music thrills the coffee house ambiance off and on through the hours. Stores have some holiday items on display but overall, it feels like the holiday launch was premature and already peaked. Now we’re just waiting for the finale and the curtain fall so we can applaud and go on to the next big thing. Perhaps this is only my sentiments. Not many people seem jolly. Anxious is more how I’d color them. Anxious and tired.
It’s going to be 46 F as a high today. Of course, these are the same weather geniuses telling me that it’s sunny out there. Maybe it’s same zip code, different worlds. Sunrise entered at 7:31 but it was already light throughout the house by then. It seems like daylight is already showing up earlier in the morning. The sun show will end shortly before dark.
Freedom is on my mind this morning. I often feel constrained. Most of this is my own doing as I set up schedules to write, eat, exercise, and relax. Cats (2) and wife (1) add to this constraint, by their needs and wants. So does house and car mischief and the business of residing in the U.S. So I chaff. Even so, I know others have it much, much worse. It’s a fascinating thing, a web of emotions, logic, and expectations. Not complaining, I protest, just stating it as I see it.
The Neurons noted my subject on their radar. Their response was adding “Freedom! ’90” by George Michaels to the morning mental music stream. The song is about freedom and reflects his feeling that he’d lost freedom because of his stardom. Cry me a sea, right? But many celebrities end up on Michaels’ path, lamenting what success has done to their privacy. It’s a tricky labyrinth to follow, but that’s seen in most endeavors attempted where success is found. Success pulls admiration and brings more pressure to succeed and be. It ends up like golden handcuffs.
Now, I knew this song when it came out in 1990. Heard it on the radio all the time. Knew of Michaels and his success. But I’d never seen the video associated with the song. Seeing it today, I read more about Michaels’ reflections and frustration with success and freedom.
I know, waa-ville. Okay, I accept that. Stay positive and test negative. I’m up for a cup of coffee now. The cats are with me. Not that they’ll be having coffee — I shudder to think of them hopped up on caffeine — I mean, woof — but they’ll accompany me as I leave the office, make the brew, etc.
Here’s the tune. Hope your Tuesday works out well. Cheers
Sunday’s Wandering Thought
Two subjects wander through his mind as he situates himself at the coffee haunt to write. One, it’s raining and holidays are coming. Those conditions always make drivers less attentive and more dangerous. In his two-mile trip to the coffee place, he witnesses two near misses with people in cross walks and another involving cars making turns. Stay alert, he tells himself. Dn’t be one of them.
Two, what’s with the pajamas look? It’s forty degrees F out. Cold rain spits down. It’s leaning toward noon. Yet people of several generations are walking around in sandals with fleece clothes that resembles something worn to bed. And the sandals? Well, the whole ensemble looks like they rolled out of bed and were too lazy to dress and put shoes on. He wonders if they brushed their teeth. Their hair looks uncombed. Well, that’s fashion.
Yeah, he knows, he sounds like a cranky old man.
He knows.
Thanks-day’s Theme Music
This is it, the fourth Thursday of November, Thanksgiving in the U.S. President Franklin Roosevelt signed a Congressional proclamation declaring this is what we were going to do as a nation going forward. Before that, Thanksgiving was all over the place, sort of like Elon Musk and Twitter, an agent of chaos and close to unpredictable.
It’s November 24, 2022. Feels like spring is visiting autumn outside. Recognizing sunshine, the cats wanted out immediately. Their eagerness was rewarded by calm air hovering around 56 F on its way to a 65 F high. Gadzooks, what a treat. Sunshine invaded at a little before the 7:12 AM sunrise. Sunshine will hang out until 4:43 PM.
Thanksgiving is a day of deep planning for many families. Traditions are observed, new ones established. Martyrs are born as people go to extremes to satisfy their Thanksgiving commitments. Warnings are a newer Thanksgiving tradition as people point out which foods are vegan, gluten-free, vegetarian, or contains eggs, dairy, or nuts. Mom and my sisters do Thanksgiving up, going over-the-top with their food. There’s turkey with stuffing and all the American food staples associated with that through the years of Thanksgiving, but also pasta dishes to honor the Italian side. Dessert and treats? My god, yes. Apple pie, and pumpkin, along with cookies, pretzels and chips, cheese trays with crackers and bread, relish trays, and, yes, cake and cheesecake. Leftovers are eaten for a week. Some things are frozen and eaten later in the year.
My wife and I celebrate Friendsgiving with a group. We’ve been doing this for a while and it’s become our Ashland tradition. I’m looking forward to it, as friends that I’ve not seen in months will be there. I enjoy their company and catching up with their news.
A friend of ours is breaking her tradition this year. She loves Thanksgiving and plays hostess to her extended family every year. This year, though, her newly married son invited her and hubby to his in-laws’ Thanksgiving celebration, an enthusiastically accepted invitation, with just one hitch: part of his new family’s Thanksgiving tradition is a visit to the family spa in the nude. About that, she is not enthusiastic. She is seventy years old and a radical mastectomy survivor. She’s not excited about others viewing her nakedness, age and mastectomy or not. She’s just not one to share her nakedness. We understand. As my wife said to, “Hell to the no. Nobody outside of you is seeing my body.” That’s a position she’s held since she was a little girl.
Today’s music comes out of a car ride yesterday. The song is called “Classic” by Cam and came out in 2020. There are lines in it which we enjoy: “Johnny and June, Chevy light blue (They don’t make ’em like this anymore), Bette Davis, Yellow pages (They don’t make ’em like this anymore).” When we first heard it after its release, we laughed, went home and confirmed that we heard right.
Well, if you’re read this post before, you know that The Neurons liked that and have kept it going in the morning mental music stream this morning.
This is a late post. I’ve had my coffee, as I spent the first hours cleaning up and doing dishes after my wife did her cooking last night. Stay positive and test negative. Hope you have a day with an outcome worthy of giving thanks. Here’s Cam with “Classic”.
Cheers
An Easter Memory
Preparing for an Easter brunch with friends prompted my neurons to pull up a memory. I was young, in my crewcut years. Honing in on the period, I was living in Wilkinsburg, PA, attending Turner Elementary School on Laketon Road, and going to my grandparents’ house in Irwin for Easter. So, it was 1964 and I was seven going on eight.
Dad was in Turkey or Greece on military assignment. He and Mom were divorced, and she was now a single mother working as a Bell Telephone operator, raising me and two sisters. I was the middle in this child sandwich. Mom and my Dad’s parents coordinated an Easter visit, probably so Mom could work the holiday and get the extra pay. She went all out that year, buying us new Easter clothes. It was a suit for me – blue and cream houndstooth jacket with a smart dark blue vest which matched my dark blue pants. I wore a clip-on tie. Black and white photographic evidence exists somewhere, but they’re in boxes on shelves in the garage that require an expedition along the lines of an archaeological expedition looking for a lost civilization, so it’ll need to hold for another day. On that Easter morning, we found three enormous baskets waiting for us. We were spoiled children, so there were large chocolate bunnies, jelly beans, peeps, marshmallow eggs, hard-boiled eggs which we’d dyed the day before, and a large coconut chocolate egg, all in pink, yellow, and green baskets with fake green grass made out of fine, shiny plastic. After discovering our baskets, we hunted for eggs around the apartment and then dressed in our new duds. My Uncle Bill, Dad’s youngest brother, picked us up in his brown Plymouth Fury and conveyed us to grandma and grandpa’s where we dined with all the area aunts, uncles, and cousins. Grandpa prepared his favorite, a ham. He baked one whenever he had a chance. (Uncle Bill would trade in that Fury in a few years and buy a year-old dark green Dodge Charger that had me and my friends drooling on its vinyl bucket seats. It was such a cool car.)
Mom joined us after dinner. The adults told us to go play or watch television while they gathered in the dining room for card games, focusing on the traditional family favorite, Tripoli. They were all smoking back then – Pall Mall, Lucky Strike, Kent, Kool. Several adults enjoyed beer such as American lagers like Iron City and Stroh’s, but whiskey sours were also very popular.
Yes, it’s my favorite memory. Smelling a Pall Mall or one of those other cigarettes whisks me right back there. It’s rare that such smoke touches my nose in these days. As for those beers, I found them light and tasteless. Over in Japan, I often indulged in beer from Australia and New Zealand. In Europe, I drank whatever was brewed in that country, but they had some excellent offerings everywhere. By the time I returned to the US, the craft brew industry was booming.
Today, though, brunch with friends outside, with the sun shining and laughter ringing across the yard, will be another favorite memory. Another favorite, but of another kind. Nobody smoked cigarettes. No alcohol was consumed. A potluck brunch, salmon was served with grilled asparagus along with several sorts of potato dishes, delicious quiches, fruit salad, and cinnamon muffins.
It’s a long, long way from Pittsburgh, PA, in 1965 to Ashland, OR, 2022.
Monday’s Theme Music
Monday, December 27, 2021, 6:55 AM. Sunset was forty-five minutes away, but the light was strong. “Alexa, what’s the temperature?”
“The current temperature in Ashland is thirty degrees. Today’s high will be thirty degrees. Have a nice day, Michael.”
We have about fifteen inches of snow around the house. It snowed all Sunday, stopping at night, as if it was checking out of work. Snow fall resumed about 8 AM. I was checking on the temperature because I’d just let the ginger wonder, Papi (formerly known as Meep) onto the covered back patio. He walked the bare cement, judging the snow, then made two long leaps to some bushes where scant snow covered the ground. I thought he’d come back then, but no, he turned and made a mad dash along the fence and disappeared into the back bushes. Twenty minutes later, he returned, heading for the kibble.
For the record, sunset is at 4:45 PM. Snow is expected to continue throughout the day. For the record, I hope all are safe and warm.
I have an Eagles cover of “Please Come Home for Christmas” jing-jing-jingling in the morning mental music stream. Mellow cover, fine voice, came out in 1978, so it’s thick with memories.
Stay positive, test negative, wear a mask as needed, and get the jabs when you can. Stay safe but have fun. They’re not mutually exclusive. Time for coffee for me, for being a good boy. At least, that’s what my cats tell me. Cheers
Michael Seidel, writer 