The sale of Mom’s home was finalized today. The house now belongs to other people.
It’s a relief and a sadness.
Mom worked so hard to find and buy that house. Buying it was only the beginning as she redid it from top to bottom. Her children and sons-in-law helped, along with her boyfriend, Frank.
Mom’s house became a holiday sanctuary for several of us, a place to go to enjoy food, laugh, and share news. I resent the circumstances which forced Mom to move, but those circumstances were basically aging, health, decline. In other words, life.
As I always do with these things, I look back, sideways, forward, connecting Mom’s circumstances to others’ positions, including my own, my wife, her family, and the rest of my family and friends. I’m trying to look at the bright side of this. This is some, I’m sure. But it will take some time for that brightness to overtake the darkness I see at the moment.
I feel for Mom and where she is now. I hope that with the sale done, maybe she can relax and lean forward some. As with many losses, I don’t think it’s possible to fully heal. It’ll scar over. She’ll pick at it. I’m certain there will be mourning, regret, and many games of ‘what if’.
I wish that she could look back on what she did and celebrate that achievement. That’s where I’ll try to go, and I hope I can help her get there.
It’s the kind of news never wanted but always and never expected.
Dolly Parton, queen of country music and humanitarian hero, dead at 80
Never met her nor saw Dolly Parton live in concert. But she’s just ten years older than me and contributed song writing, singing, and acting to my life’s experiences. Dolly always seemed real and genuine — and you can make whatever joke comes to your mind — but I think the world is a better place with more people like Dolly Parton.
Ashland, southern Oregon. Tuesday, August 25, 2026. We’re into August’s final week. September begins next week.
Cooler day today. Cloudy this morning, there remains plentiful sunshine. 73 F, we’ll climb to 94.
Mom fell from her bed yesterday at the assisted living facility. We don’t know details, whether she rolled off or slipped off while sitting or missed the bed when she tried sitting on it. My niece, May, visited there yesterday and reported that the bed is very high. Mom texted me, the fix-it man was supposed to fix it but couldn’t because he was the cook. ?
Gina visited there today and reports, yes, it’s a tall bed. It’s stripped and she saw that it’s two thick mattresses. I asked, “Has it always been this tall?” Yes; this is the same bed Mom has used since arriving in February.
Mom has now been there a half year. It’s been a tumultuous time.
My wife and I are pissed about the Roberts Court decision regarding mail-in ballots. Basically, the POTUS, who has nothing to do with voting. That’s the states and Congress. But the Roberts Court walked a very fine line. Oh, the states filed too soon because they’re not yet being harmed by Trump’s efforts.
WTAF.
Not that Trump’s action are legal or illegal, or if has the authority to do this, etc. No, let’s wait and see, the Roberts Court declared. Kick it down the road. Wait till the election gets fucked up because the USPS isn’t delivering ballots. Then they’ll talk about it.
I was a conspiracist, I’d say the Roberts Court is trying to walk us into the state of midterm election chaos Trump wants so Trump can step in and declare an emergency.
Election fraud is another Trump boogey man. Just like his racism and his commie screams, he uses these words to instill fear and manipulate others.
Evidence of the voting fraud Trump screeches about is as scant as the cancer caused by windmills. Trump’s claims make as much sense as he did when he declared he’d lower prescription drug prices by more than 100%.
Trump is a weak person who thinks himself strong. I suspect the midterms will be as messy as Trump’s Iran War — reaching six months now, after he claimed it would be over in weeks — the Lincoln Memorial Reflecting Pool fiasco, or the White House ballroom. It’s another case built on lies and false claims. It’s as reliable and substantial as AI-generated pictures of Trump as Jesus or Superman, or Trump with George Washington.
That is Trump: a fake. A con. A charlatan.
Thank you for your attention to this matter.
Trump has always called himself a great negotiator. But progress with Iran and Canada both verify, no, Trump is not a great negotiator. Despite Trump claims about what was done to Iran, the war continues. Prices continue rising and the affordability crisis grows.
Now, Trump’s negotiations with Canada has resulted in yet more pain for US consumers.
Thinking about the court’s narrow approach, The Neurons gave me “Walk On” by U2 in the morning mental music stream. The song came out in 2000.
Sample Lyrics
And if the darkness is to keep us apart And if the daylight feels like it’s a long way on And if your glass heart should crack And for a second you turn back Oh no, be strong
Walk on, walk on What you got they can’t steal it No, they can’t even feel it Walk on, walk on Stay safe tonight
Yes, Trump is the darkness, trying to tear our nation apart.
Ashland, southern Oregon. Monday, August 24, 2026.
Damn hot today: 100 F, but it feels warmer. A red flag warning is in effect. We are expected to cool down again on Wednesday.
I’m off to a late start, courtesy of some animal fight at 2 AM. Woke us up. Went out, gathered our critter, who came in all puffy tailed, although he didn’t seem to be involved.
We decided to keep the cat in. That ignited his determination to go back out. Everything was done to convey that determination: beating on the door, meowing, beating on me. I finally succumbed after an hour and granted freedom. Then, though, I worried: was the cat safe? AAARGH!
I didn’t get up until after nine and had some calls scheduled which proved to be time sucks. Then, off to shower, dress, coffee and writing. Now I’m back home. Just finished lunch, finally posting the theme music.
Really, it’s my own fault for 1) having a cat and 2) for letting the cat worry and control me.
That led to “Wrapped Around Your Finger” in my morning mental music stream. This is a 1983 song by The Police. Charted around the world, so you may have heard it before.
My wife and I greet each other many mornings with, “What’s the news? He dead yet?”
Then we laugh and say, “I know he’s not or you would have shouting the news.”
You know, this is the only person in our lifetime together — over fifty years — that we have ever said such things about. And we never specify who we’re talking about. That’s. Not. Needed.
Mom is complaining about her relationships with her daughters. “Three of them live nearby and none of them will take me to my appointments. Which will only HASTEN my death anyway.”
My sister’s daughter, May, is going to visit Mom tomorrow. We’re interested in the after-visit report. Mom helped raise May, and she and Mom had a great relationship until about four years ago. Then Mom became so angry and bitter, complaining about so many things, May declared, “I can’t do that any longer. It’s just too much.” Which is the case with my sisters and the rest of their children. Mom just became too much. I’d seen that trend developing and told Mom over and over through the last several years that all she does is complain and scold, that she’s always angry and bitter. Once she said that her partner, Frank, had just told her the same thing.
Trump has big action happening in DC with the Freedom 250 Indycar Grand Prix. It’s all part of Operation Epic LOOK — SQUIRREL! He’s just trying to distract all he can from how crappy things are going. Lots of corporations are going along with him. Retail sales are down, reflecting people’s challenges with the increasing affordability of living in the US. But corporations overall are doing well, with energy and technology companies doing particularly well.
So, yes, many corporations are all in for Trump’s Operation Epic LOOK — SQUIRREL! distractions. Hey, they’re getting theirs! Make hay while the sun shines! So what if the wealth gap continues to widen, if personal bankruptices are increasing, rural hospitals are closing, measles outbreaks are increasing, and the extreme weather gets worse? Corporation execs and shareholders are making money. Later, when the situation changes, they’ll contritely reduce prices, announcing ‘we’re all in this together’.
No. We’re not. They make that clear. They’re only in it together with us if it’s going to affect their profits, and then, they’ll only act under duress.
Today’s music emerges from my dream. I didn’t hear it in the dream but as I went through the night’s third dream, I suddenly heard Karen Carpenter singing “We’ve Only Just Begun”.
That could be an apt song for now, as far as the title’s sentiment. We’re about to go through some heavy duty loads with Donald Trump. He tried staying in power when he lost his bid for re-election, encouraging his supporters to resist the bona bide election results, encouraging them to ignore the law, resulting in death and destruction while widening the trust gap and polarizing the electorate. This year, he’s been working on trying to undermine the system.
Here’s the irony: Trump is cheerleading the nation’s 250th anniversary while simultaneously undermining the system that we’ve developed and improved for 250 years, the system which actually delivered him victory — twice.
Yet, Trump keeps whining and complaining about stolen elections without evidence. Is cutting much of the federal government in order to shift loads to states because of states’ rights. Meanwhile, he’s working hard to hollow out the states’ role in the national elections, basically usurping it so he can mold it as head of the executive branch of the federal government. It’s such a naked, wanton, power grab.
Trump is doing it because he’s a failure. His policies are failures, and people are awakening to this. His only way to get ahead, as always, is to lie, cheat, and steal.
So get ready: we’ve only just begun.
May your day begin with love and happiness and end on a high note.
One of them is barely recalled. It’s one of those episodic dreams I sometimes have, where there’s no one who I recognize as me. It’s just a story being told, like a television show.
I remember just part of a second one. Three other men and I were traveling together in an early 1960s something Cadillac convertible. We drove through sunshine with the top down. I was very impressed for some reason that there were four of us, two blacks and two whites. I believe we took turns driving.
We wore a uniform, and I knew we were on the same team but have no idea what team. From what I remember of the uniforms, they were white with dazzling embroidery, like something Elvis Presley would wear in concert.
Hungry, we stopped at a place where we decided we would pretend to be lawyers. We thought that ruse would gain us some food because we didn’t have any money. That didn’t seem to work so we drove cheerfully on through a winding orange canyon to another town.
We decided this time to claim that we were reporters. Women were running this place. One large, barrel-chested blonde woman was in charge. She mocked our claim that we were reporters, but they fed us anyway.
Dream end
Third dream involved family and food. I was with my sisters at some gathering at someone’s home. We were outside for most of the dream, where, weirdly, my sisters were baking. Besides them, there were many children. I barely knew most of them and didn’t recognize them from real life.
I needed an engine for some reason and ended up with a V8 engine with headers, a high rise manifold with a single four-barrel carb. The engine block was painted bright blue, and the air filter cover was chrome plated. After I got the engine, I realized, “I don’t need this.” But I wanted to save it. So I picked it up and put it in one of the rooms. I thought, I’ll leave that here for now but I’ll need to move it later.
My sisters and I talked a little politics. Then one announced, it’s time to eat. We got trays and loaded them up.
As I did, I went to cross the patio. Four tiny, perfect silver and black tabby kittens were playing. They’d found something and pounced on it, batting whatever it was with furious energy. I swear, these kittens were no more than three inches long.
My older sister asked me what I was doing and I showed her the kittens. She watched with me a bit, then I moved the kittens so they’d be safe.
The children and I decided to watch television. I wanted to watch football. I knew it was Sunday and games should be on, because of the time. No games were on, confusing me. I did the math: back home, the games start at 10 AM and it was almost 1 here, so there should have been a game on.
I went back to eat more cookies. My youngest sister was still baking. I walked along long tables mounded with food and wondered, laughing, why is she baking more? I ate a few cookies, which was delicious.
One brother-in-law, the Trump-loving one, was present, stretched out on a dark-brown sofa, talking. I wanted to hear what he said, but a plastic cocoon formed over him, sealing him in. I could hear him still talking but it was only a rumble of sound, and couldn’t see him at all.
Getting another cookie and eating it, my little sister demanded in her ominous ‘mom-voice’, “What are you doing?”
Laughing, I replied, “Eating a cookie? Why are you making more? Do you know you how many cookies there are?”
I saw her move the V8 engine which I’d move. I went over and picked it up to take it away, but then didn’t know where to take it.
It wasn’t one of the places she lived in real life, but I knew it was her house.
No one else was there. The place was messy in many places, totally opposite of anyplace I’ve lived or visited where Mom was in command.
Getting there, I found a narrow bed. White sheets, pink blanket, pillow, but unmade. I decided to sleep a bit.
A long-haired gray and white cat joined me. I talked to it in the way we do with animals, telling the cat, a male, I knew, was very handsome. The cat then *ahem* indicated that it wanted to have sex with me.
Full-blown horror lashed me. I rejected that completely, telling the cat that was sick and disgusting. I added, “You can sleep with me but as a cat, not a sexual partner.”
Unable to sleep after that, I got up and walked around, taking notice of the mess. Part of it on one end was a pond with rocks. Water fed into it but the water was scummy, full of plants and crap. Deciding I would clean it, I went off, found rags, buckets, tools.
My sisters arrived, chattering and laughing, before I could clean it but after a sort pause, I did. In dream fashion, it was miraculously fast and easy.
I showed the others. Everyone was impressed by what I’d done. Two turtles emerged from the pond. My youngest sister exclaimed, “I knew there were turtles in there.”
One turtle puked. Examining that, my sister announced with happiness, “It’s pregnant. I am so happy.”
Mom arrived shortly afterward, the middle-aged person I knew for most of my life. Her hair was blond and she was wearing black slacks with this black and white polka-dotted frilly shirt that she often liked to wear. Smiling and happy, she came in, saying hello to all of us.
Ashland, southern Oregon. Friday, August 21, 2026.
It’s a cool 75 F under cloudy skies right now. Looks like it could rain but rain is not in our forecast. Today’s high is expected to be 90, ten degrees lower than what we saw yesterday.
Mom is really down right now. She feels trapped and ignored, and that’s very understandable.
Mom texted me that her PCP told her she looks tired and old. Mom’s claim; don’t know if that’s what the doctor said. Mom also texted me, “I don’t want to see another birthday,” “Why won’t God let me die,” and “I don’t want a memorial service when I die. I don’t want anything.”
Mom, to me, always depended upon the structure of routines and schedules. Now her aging, medical issues, and medications has fractured her norms. She used to use cleaning as an outlet to stay on track, along with writing copious notes on her calendar about what was going on: children’s schedules and visits, appointments, bills due and paid, house and car maintenance. Those mechanisms are gone, too. She’s being told one to sleep, eat, and socialize, and she doesn’t like it. Additionally, she and her daughters who live closest to her have a huge emotional schism relating to their lives together and Mom’s choices.
Mom reacts to the gap with anger; the sisters react to Mom’s anger with more distance.
It’s like a self-fulfilling doom loop.
The closing for the sale of Mom’s house is next Tuesday at 5 PM. I texted Mom to ensure she was aware.
She didn’t respond.
Without real surprise, I see that Trump is encouraging the construction of AI and data centers. Backlash against AI/data centers is growing across the United States, creating an ideological trap for Donald Trump.
Part of this is that these types of sites take up land, water, and electricity, but nothing tangible that can be held in your hand emerges from it.
The other part of the trap is that the corporations often demand huge tax breaks and subsidies for the privilege of building there, and the locals are not usually consulted. That pisses them off, because nobody is listening to them. That was exactly the angry and emotional fodder Trump used as fuel to win their votes; he was speaking for them, ‘telling them like it is’.
Now, as others have done, Trump is ignoring them.
And it’s happening on the cusp of the midterm elections.
Those of us who understand who Trump is aren’t surprised. He used MAGA to achieve political power. Then he used that political power to enrich himself. Now he’s using it to further enrich the ultra-wealthy. There are no surprises there, if you’ve been paying attention.
Trump is breeding discontented supporters. They won’t vote for Democrats — “Never Democrats” is probably one of their most repeated mantras — but they won’t come out and vote for Trump, either.
All this thinking has The Neurons playing “Everybody Hurts” by R.E.M in my morning mental music stream. When people feel ignored, they hurt. Released in 1993, the song was written about and for teenagers and what they endure. I think it’s sensibilities are more universal than that.
Sample Lyrics
When your day is long And the night, the night is yours alone When you’re sure you’ve had enough Of this life, well hang on
Don’t let yourself go ‘Cause everybody cries Everybody hurts sometimes
Sometimes everything is wrong Now it’s time to sing along
When your day is night alone (hold on, hold on) If you feel like letting go (hold on) If you think you’ve had too much Of this life, well hang on
‘Cause everybody hurts Take comfort in your friends Everybody hurts
May you prosper today, enjoying peace, joy, and happiness. Hopefully, you won’t feel ignored or alone.
Though I can’t say where or for who, nor anything like that. Wasn’t anything out of real life.
I was a mid-level manager, mostly working alone. Our corporation was merging with another, a larger one. Although it was labeled a merger, the partner would subsume our company.
I’d ended up providing some important information to make it happen, things which were requested at the last minute. I’d worked fast, long, hard, alone, to make that happen.
Now the merger was taking place.
I went outside. Early dusk was falling over a spare, sort of rocky desert landscape with spiky green plants, along with some thick, squat bushes. Meandering out there, I spotted a wolf.
It saw me.
I cautiously moved back. The wolf closed on me. I moved slowly. As the wolf came closer, I saw it was a husky.
The husky and I regarded each other around bushes, wary and curious. I drifted back into work.
Celebrations about the merger were beginning. Cake was being serves, which was fashioned after NFL teams. My cake was based on the Steelers and had black frosting.
I ate my cake and enjoyed it, then wandered. Speeches were being made. The CEO walked by to make a speech, pausing to slap me on the shoulder and say hello to me.
I moved on, encountering a pair of young men. They were by a pipe. Light lime green water gushed out of the pipe into a large square bright metal pan. The two men sat by it watching. One said to me, “They were asking who you were.”
“Do you mean me?” I responded.
“Yes, they were asking, who are you?”
“Did they mean me or you? I think the know who I am.”
“The new people wanted to know who you were because you were mentioned a few times. They wondered why.”
Shrugging that off, I went back outside to the same landscape. As I walked, I saw orange stripped cats doing different things. A clowder of dark gray kittens were playing at another place. I wondered where the husky was and if the cats were safe.
Michael Seidel, writer 