Summer remains in full effect here. While it’s a pleasant, blue-sky 70 now, we expect 94 F to arrive before the sun curves out of sight.
Papi says, that’s okay. Let’s get something to eat, clean up, and take a nap.
With little surprise and total arrogance, Trump insisted on a huge fireworks display for the 4th. Per nature’s rules, that caused pollution which resulted in unhealthy air for We the People living and visiting there. The situation was made worse by the extreme heat the area is experiencing. Saturday’s temperature reached 103 degrees F that day. The extreme heat caused the pollution to linger.
I have “Cinnamon Girl” stuck in my morning mental music stream. It’s dream related. I had three dreams last night and one involved a woman with cinnamon-colored skin. With my wife, she and I were taken aback by the woman’s beautiful skin. She was petite, barely more than a girl. We saw her three times in the dream but never spoke with her. Instead, we would be walking through the throngs, look up and say, “Look, there’s the cinnamon girl.”
So, here is the song by Neil Young and Crazy Horse.
May happiness and joy fill your Monday and carry you into a brighter, better future.
It’s another hot summer day. Clouds are in the air and the temperature will be about 90 degrees, not nearly as life-threatening as so many others are enduring around the world.
We attended the Independence Day parade in Ashland yesterday. Very tepid. Low turnout to watch, low enthusiasm for the people marching by, dull interest in the music. The ‘flyby’ came about ten minutes after the parade ended.
It could all be me and my friends, of course, but I walked around to hear what others were saying. One young man pushing a stroller, a woman and another child with him, were all dressed in the national colors. “That wasn’t much,” he was saying, walking away. “Where should we go?
Trump broke more promises yesterday, of course. He said he was going to speak no matter what the weather, but then waited until it was cool, much later. That’s TACO for you. He also said he was going to speak for a very long time but spoke only 40 minutes. More TACO.
Your Trump Quote of the Day:
Trump was said to be talking about the crowd at the July 4th celebration. He thinks that crowd is “the craziest thing anyone’s ever seen.”
No, Trump, the craziest thing ever seen remains how much you lie and steal, and yet people keep saying how wonderful and great you are. That’s the craziest thing anyone’s ever seen in the last fifty years.
Trump promised a ‘golden age’ during his speech. I’ll tuck that promise in with these previous Trump promises:
We’ve seen the outcomes of these Trump promises. Trump has attacked several countries. He went to war with Iran. Inflation is still up and affordability is a hot issue for many people. Trump was frequently golfing during the war with Iran. Medicare has been cut. A new healthcare plan never emerged. Trump is still building the border wall; Mexico isn’t paying for it.
With MAGA’s unquenched love for Trump going strong, The Neurons unspooled “Crazy Little Thing Called Love” by Queen in the morning mental music stream.
I’ve read essays during the last few weeks about how Republicans have weaponized words like patriotism, woke, freedom, God, and religion. They essentially coopted and twisted these words and their meanings in the finest “1984” fashion. So while I use ‘love’ as a descriptor for what MAGAts hold for Trump, I’m not certain that it’s love in the sense that the rest of us employ it. If it is, it’s love in the sense of too many tortured relationships, where one is the abuser and the other is abused, yet the abused cannot quit the relationship. I know that I’m thinking of it from my side of the perspective, and not the abused MAGA position.
But how else can I think of it? Trump continually lies to them. He makes and breaks promises, just as it’s seen in many abusive relationships. Yet, they can’t quit him; they love him. They love him even though he made two billion dollars and did little to improve their lives, even as they struggle more and more with worsening conditions and deteriorating affordability.
So here we go: theme music for the MAGAts and Trump.
Hope your day brings you the best life you can live. May peace and grace smooth your way and take you on to better things.
When I saw the prompt, I laughed and wondered, what traditions? Then I thought about it more seriously.
Dad doesn’t have traditions. He and Mom divorced in the early sixties. I moved in with him when I was fifteen. Well, he did have two traditions in those years: partying and working. Still on active duty in the U.S. Air Force when I moved in, he also had a parttime job, running a base all-ranks club. I have never seen Dad cook. Nor have I seen him clean house. Both of those duties fell to me when I moved in. I confess: I went back home to Mom’s house for Thanksgiving and Christmas for the next few years. Then I graduated high school, joined the military, and was off in my own life.
Back at Mom’s house, traditions gravitated around Christmas, Easter, and Thanksgiving. I guess there was also traditions for Memorial Day and the 4th of July: we always grilled out. Mom’s Christmas traditions were digging out decorations, putting up a tree, and that sort of thing. Easter meant baskets for the children and baked home for dinner. Thanksgiving was a lavish meal, turkey with stuffing, a bunch of fixings, and apple and pumpkin pie with whipped cream for dessert.
Well, it’s just my wife and me. Married for fifty years, we never had children. We did make Easter baskets for each other for a while, but neither of us claim a religion or a belief in God. I was also a shift worker for the first dozen years of my military career and often worked on Thanksgiving, Christmas, Easter, etc. And my wife became a vegan over thirty-five years ago.
The bottom line is, my Dad had no traditions, and Mom’s were limited. Now we have a tradition of going to a friend’s house to celebrate spring. We all bring a dish, hunt for easter eggs, and play cornhole. Once a year during the summer, we go to a local lake and dance to a local band with friends. There were fifteen of us this year. For the 4th of July, we always go to Pam’s house for a potluck branch and to watch the parade. A friend opens their farmhouse for all of us on Thanksgiving, another potluck affair, but they always provide a turkey.
I guess we have a new tradition of finding friends and celebating with them.
The parade is over. The fireworks await us tonight. Cloud cover has passed away so viewing shouldn’t be a problem. The arguments over whether they’re entertaining and patriotic or an environmental hazard and an ordeal for animals continues.
2025’s Ashland Independence Day parade was remarkable for its thin festivities and shortness. Didn’t even go an hour this year even though four bands entertained us with march and show music. The are the same four bands heard every year. Indivisible had a “No Kings” display and vocalized that, encouraging us to join. La Clinica was barely there. Climate awareness scuffled past, as did Peace Corps members who knew their legacy was being defunded and dismissed.
Applause was muted; many participants seemed tired, trudging, not marching, forcing dull smiles out as they remembered to toss a feeble smile. Some performers, like the elderly female dancers, were still into it, zinging us with smiles and waving with happiness, but they were the rarity. Mayors from Medford, Phoenix, Talent, and Ashland all drove by, along with other minor local government functionaries. The cars, an Austin Healey 3000, two Jag E types, and a Bugatti GTC, brought comments, along with the vintage and antique cars that gassed us with exhaust fumes out of the 1940s.
The weather stayed cool but the sunshine was hot, a crisply contradictary way of being, which felt perfectly symbolic for this national holiday in 2025.
Same ol’, same ol’. A routine enjoyed as a child. Now, admiring the wilting, crackling brown leaves and bushes and dried out grasses, I’m less enamored of the beautiful rain-free broiler days.
Hello! Welcome to Independence Day in the U.S., the 4th of July, aka July 4, 2021. Many will celebrate the holiday with swimming and boating, grilling out, and music. Others will be working to help the rest of us celebrate independence.
We will be without fireworks this year. No parades, either. The flyover, symbolic of, um, something, would be taking place in five minutes. We’d be at Pam’s house. One of the few brick houses on Siskiyou. Built over seventy years ago, the house is a treasured mix of modern thinking, modern when it was built, modernized at different remodeling eras.
Carrying our food in — my wife usually made her Mexican quiche, which is very popular — we’ll put it on the big wooden dining table with the other food offerings and eye the assortment. Fruit salads often dominate. Someone, though, will bring a cobbler. Others will ferry in pies. Additional quiches will compete with my wife’s dish. Variations on potatoes always draws a crowd. Cookies will be in the mix, and cinnamon rolls. Baklava. Coffee, lemonade, water, and tea is available. Greetings will be given to people we rarely see, updates provided on health and life events since the last encounter. Then seats will be sought on the road so we can see the parade.
Not this year, as it wasn’t last year. But, like last year, our friends came through and carried on with some small measure of routine. Root beer floats and fireworks are part of our tradition, thanks to these friends who know how to socialize and somehow like us. Well, they like my wife and permit her to bring me along. She does, because I drive her. No fireworks, but the root beer floats were a joy to the palate, and the conversation in the small group was relaxed and entertaining. Made for a memorable fourth by what was there and what was missing.
All this holiday thinking brought out CCR and Bruce Springsteen. I went with Bruce for today and “Born in the USA” from thirty-seven years ago. Stay positive, test negative, wear masks if/when/where they help, and get the vax. Here’s the tune. Happy holiday. There go the jets. Not.
Thanks to everyone for the birthday wishes, given here, or on FB, or in private messages. Although I’m not a celebrating type, your thoughts and comments are meaningful to me.
Wore one of my favorite shirts yesterday. I bought it the year we moved to Ashland from Half Moon Bay, 2005. Shortly after moving up here in June, we went back down to the SF Bay area to address some issues, do some shopping, and visit with friends. We stopped in at an odd sale, where a convenience store on Middlefield had been converted to a sale of overstocked items. That’s where I found this shirt. It was bought on a hot day in July, 2005. As one of my favorites, I’ve been photographed in it at work and parties. I’m wearing it in this photo in 2010 with my little sister and her youngest daughter. I’m the one with the facial hair. I know, you can barely see the shirt.
It’s always odd to me that Lee Greenwood lets Donald Trump use Greenwood’s song, “God Bless the U.S.A.”, at his events. The song has lines that refers to being free and the men who died for that right . Trump has denigrated many military members, past and present, in his speeches and remarks. He holds the statues of the Confederate States of America, which was a nation formed from states who broke away from the United States. After they broke away, they attacked the U.S.A., starting a war in which they killed many Americans. If that doesn’t say enemy and traitor, what does? Beyond that, the C.S.A was fighting a war to keep people enslaved. All of that is the antithesis of what Greenwood’s song is purported to be about. Yeah, makes me wonder. Yeah, me makes me sad and cynical, too.
Ashland, the little town that I’ve staked out as home, cancelled July 4th fireworks and celebrations cause, COVID, masking, and social distancing. A few fireworks went off but I’m pleased that the town mostly observed it, making it the quietest July 4th in my memory. Meanwhile, we visited with friends in their gazebo, six feet apart and masked, except to eat cupcakes (still six feet apart or more) and consume root beer floats. We noted, though, two of the masks being used by others had valves. I thought they — the health experts — do not recommend masks with vales. One of the participants wore their mask above their mouth and another wore their mask below their nose. I didn’t call them out, the be respectful, but I stayed back, and we were outside. Made me sigh, though; why wear the mask if you’re not going to do it right?
I’d welcomed July as a positive move, posting to friends, hey, don’t fear July just because the year has been a bit sucky so far this year. This might be the month it all begins turning around. Well, it was like 2020 said, hold my beer, as the next day, I read an article about the Chinese being worried about bubonic plague cases. A resurgence of the black death is all that we need, given how many in the U.S. dismiss the threat of COVID-19 as just another flu, a hoax or conspiracy, refusing to take precautions against the novel coronavirus. God knows what they’ll do if the black plague begins spreading.
We watched Avengers: Endgame last night. Yeah, all three hours of it. Looonnnggg film. One, good thing we watched it at home, where we could pause it and take bio breaks, and where we could also google info. We were constantly wondering, “Okay, who is that character?” They brought them all back, and we’re not deeply invested in the MCU. After all the hype and reviews, I expected something better. Yes, I know, my cynicism (or my age) is showing. Some of the acting appearances were fun and surprising, but I liked Avengers: Infinity War, Guardians of the Galaxy, and Black Panther much better. To each, right?
Got my coffee. Time to write like crazy, at least one more day.
There has to be four things today because it’s the Fourth of July, Independence Day in the U.S., right?
Best fourth of July celebration for me is the first one with my wife. She wasn’t my wife or girlfriend yet. I was fifteen and she was fourteen, and she was just a girl I’d just met a few days before. Yep, just a smart, long-haired girl who captured my attention from the first time I saw her. Fortunately, I had the same impact on her, she claims. Guess it was fate.
I subscribe to the Hulu service with commercial breaks. I don’t like spending money on streaming services. They’re an indulgence, so I try to minimize the cost. I’m watching two shows on Hulu, “Cardinal” and “Justified” (again), so I don’t think it’s worth paying more for it. They’re like an awkward, gamboling puppy with their commercial breaks, erupting in odd points in a scene (butchering the tension or mood). They usually show two or three commercials, and they usually cut off , and then cutting off the last twelve seconds of the final commercial. If I was that advertiser, I’d be demanding better service. My cynical aspect (which occupies about ninety percent of my mind) suggest Hulu does their breaks deliberately to motivate me to pay a few more dollars a month to avoid commercial breaks.
Watched Hamilton on Disney Plus last night. Had the captions on, and it’s a good thing. It’s a continuous flow of life, song, revelations, and relationships, and worth every damn piece of praise that I’ve read or heard. I recommend it to you so you can witness for yourself.
Gonna be a mellow day in spirit. I’m going for a walk in a little while…after I write. A pair of jets did a flyby to mark the moment when the parade would’ve begun but there are no parades in town, although our friend and state rep did a singleton parade. Pam Marsh wears the Statue of Liberty outfit every year, has for years. The mask is new…so is the Black Lives Matter sign…and the coronavirus on a chain… We’ve watched the town parade from her front year for the past ten years. It’s a potluck where everyone attending brings a food or drink. We’ll miss the parade but Pam is carrying the torch for it (yeah, get it?). We’re fortunate to have such an intelligent, energetic, and concerned person as our friend and rep. Did I mention her sense of humor?
Yeah, got my coffee. Yes, it’s a holiday, and it’s time to write like crazy, at least one more time…
Michael Seidel, writer 