Mom has moved out of her house and into an assisted living facility.
A household of things have been left behind that we need to move to sell her house. That includes clothing, paintings, vases, dishes, appliances, furniture, electronics. My sisters contacted liquidators and estate sales businesses to see if they would do it for a cut.
Short answer: no. Not enough of value to make it worthwhile.
I wasn’t overly surprised. Mom has tons of clothing and shoes but none is really vintage. She has furniture but the agents said that furniture is a hard sale these days.
My wife and I talked about this in relation to our own life. Adverse to an estate sale after she passes on, my wife has been doing a slow-roll death clean: a drawer a day. A closet. Organizing, tossing, donating. She used to refer to it as simplifying; now she just calls it the death clean.
It’s one of the places where we diverge on our philosophies. I consider my life busy and frantic enough to do without going through my belongings to see what I still want and want I need to throw away or donate. I do so sometimes, but I don’t make it part of my daily or weekly routines.
This exchange summarizes it for us. My wife said, “I don’t want people having to come through the house to get rid of things for me.”
I replied, “I don’t care. I won’t be there.”
As I walk around the house, I wonder, what would the estate sales agents say to me?
I suspect they’ll tell me the same thing they said about Mom’s stuff.
We bought new tires for one of our vehicles yesterday.
I took a memory train back to the first time I bought new tires after I was married.
That would be 1975. The car was a 1968 Camaro. Sweet, small, fast car. RS, 327 V8, automatic. I bought it for $1100 after I arrived at my first permanent duty station in my Air Force career, Wright-Patterson Air Force Base, in Ohio. Paid cash.
I married later that year. My wife and I have wonderful memories of being together in that car.
Buying new tires for it was a major financial decision. Recaps were cheap, $20-$25 each, installed. But recaps? I distrusted their safety and reliability.
That meant new tires: $40 each.
$160.
Ouch.
We didn’t have credit cards, so we’d need to buy the tires with cash. I had that in savings but that would severely reduce the balance.
I remarked about this to my wife at dinner last night.
She remembered, adding, “Yes, the things we couldn’t afford then that we needed, and the things we buy now, that we really don’t need.”
I paid for the dinner with my credit card. Leaving, I thought, I could have bought two new tires for the price of that dinner.
Of course, I could have bought the Camaro for the price of the new tires I put on the car.
I was younger, traveling with my wife and a small group. We were in separate vehicles. I knew I was traveling with a group but none of them stand out in memory.
There was a snowy mountain involved. My wife and I were leading the way, driving in an SUV, heading to a site of four cabins partway along our journey. The cabins weren’t our destination but just a stop.
I was driving and we were well ahead of the rest. My wife and I arrived as dusk began. It was on a slope, heavy snow, with large bare and fallen trees. I felt that some paths and parking for the others were needed and set to work doing that. While I made progress, time was limited, and I needed the proper equipment, so I went on.
Reaching a large conference center, I gathered my people. They were a small group – six to seven, I think. A larger conference was going on. I called my people together to talk about what I’d already done and also to note that we needed equipment to clear out the snow around the cabins, but we also needed to move some stuff.
That last seemed important to me. While I don’t specifically know what I was moving, I knew it was big, heavy stuff. Challenging for a small group, I was hoping the other conference’s attendees would overhear us and offer some help.
That didn’t seem to happen. I went back to the cabins with my wife. Arriving there, I now had a red piece of equipment to move the snow away. While I started doing that, I thought I saw some trees smoking.
I examined the trees. They turned out to be short, gray wooden statues carved from tree stumps. I confirmed they were smoking to me and went back to get my wife’s opinion but also to call it in.
She confirmed what I saw. While we were talking about it, a large group of teenagers arrived. They began climbing on the statues. I went over to warn them that I thought the statues were smoking and might be on fire. As I told them this, I pointed out the smoke to them, and then spotted open yellow flames on one of the statues. I then made everyone move away. I also spotted a statue that had turned into smoking black char, telling me that had been happening for a while.
My wife wanted me to go get help. She said she’d stay there but I felt that was unsafe for her and said, “No.” I explained my thinking and she accepted that.
I then went back in and got on a red telephone to call someone for help with the snow removal, getting the students to safety, and putting out the fire. It was both a friend and an authority in charge of such equipment. He began talking, assuming he knew why I was calling. It was noisy and hard to hear. My wife was with me and I told her, “He’s assuming things.” Then I told him, “No, listen to me. That’s not what’s happening. There are three things going on here. Pay attention.”
He promised to pay attention and then said he’d send help.
It’s 66 F in Ashland. Clouds have painted a thin white veneer over the blue. Thunderstorms are forecast, along with an 87 degree high as spring moves toward summer.
Papi and I went out back. As I was stretching and yawning, I looked down and saw him doing the same. I laughed. “Nice stretching, oh great fur being.” He sat down and began grooming places that I groom in the shower.
News from home is that Mom is sick again. Details are shared. Her sciatic nerve has flared up and she’s back in her wheelchair. Also suffering from diarrhea. Sis says that’s been going on for a week.
My sister has been in content with estate sellers. Familiar with them? They buy the contents and then sell it to the public. They really want to know if there’s anything there besides furniture. Yes, there’s all the things you’d find in house where someone lives. I know that there’s a new movement on about ‘vintage’ stuff. Corning Ware is very popular now. Old clothes. Mom has all that stuff.
Strange and humbling to think simultaneously of all that stuff being bought, used, and sold to others. Decisions made about each purchase. I’d rather that someone else finds and uses the stuff rather than having it going to trash or recycled for its materials.
Today’s music has a two-prong inspiration. One, Jill Dennison recently played ELO’s song, “Turn to Stone”. A good song, it brought to mind another song called “Turn to Stone”. As soon as I read “Turn to Stone” on Jill’s blog, The Neurons introduced Joe Walsh’s “Turn to Stone” song.
I also remembered that I once read that Walsh said the song was about frustration. In true ‘net spirit, Wikipedia.org has a good quote about that from Walsh.
“‘Turn to Stone’ was written about the Nixon administration and the Vietnam War and the protesting that was going on and all of that. It’s a song about frustration. Also, I attended Kent State. I was at the shootings. That fueled it, too. In those days it felt like the government’s priority was not the population. They had an agenda that was about something other than doing what was necessarily good for the country.”
That last line echoes through Trump’s agenda. Driven by ‘right-wing values’, also known as racism, sexism, and greed, and orchestrate by the Heritage Foundation and Project 2025, Trump’s agenda is about him and not at all anything necessarily good for the country.
As Joe sings, “Read the writing on the wall.”
Your Trump Quote of the Day:
Inflation news grabbed headlines this morning. Driven by Trump’s non-war in Iran, inflation jumped 3.8% in April. Rising gas prices were a big factor.
Trump’s disapproval rating keeps climbing. The NYT’s page summarizing polls and their Trump ratings are a column of red, showing net disapproval in every poll.
One another piece of news was that Epstein survivors are testifying in Florida. Standing by for another salvo from Operation Epic LOOK — SQUIRREL to distract us from these pieces of news.
On to the music. Hope your day is full of good intentions and good results.
Just got a text reminder. I’m due to receive my next dental implant on June 25. That’s exactly a year since the molar and cyst were removed.
Since then, I’ve had my gallbladder removed. Stones and sludge in there, you know?
That was about a year after my ruptured tendon surgery. About two years after my broken arm, itself about two years after my kidney stones emergency room visit, which was about two years after my obstructed bladder emergency.
Now I’m due for Transurethral Resection in my bladder to remove cancer.
On June 25.
Damn, what are the chances that those two things would end up scheduled for the same day?
I’ll need to change the implant appointment. Although I’ve waited a long time to get that completed, facts: the bladder cancer is a greater priority, and it’s harder to schedule. I began noticing blood in my urine in March, and there’s been long periods between blood tests, examinations, CT scans, cystoscopy, and surgery. I don’t want to extend it yet more.
From the half-full point of view, though, I’m fortunate to be able to get any and all of this treatment. So, sure, I’m whining, but it’s first world blues.
It’s way worse for my wife, who has had to visit me to all these different appointments and help me recover. Don’t know where I’d be without her and her support.
It was a complex dream, shifting as ocean waves with a brisk wind. As I thought about it, I distilled it into these general scenes, but it wasn’t quite this linear.
Younger, I was sometimes in the military, sometimes in some other work, seamlessly moving from one to the other from scene to scene. Most of the background was dark, but as if I was in office buildings.
At one point, a guy came by and gave me a silver computer. “Your instructions are on here,” he said. I nodded, understanding, ready to go to work, confident about how to proceed.
Opening the laptop, I brought up the guidance and sat back in surprise. These instructions were different. No worries; I’d figure it out. Probably just take longer.
I was called into another area. It was a small space, and dark. In there were two high-ranking Air Force general officers, small but slender and fit. I wasn’t there to see them. Passing behind the higher ranking one, I heard him describing someone.
I said without thinking, “Oh, you’re talking about – “
I stopped myself from finishing the sentence because I felt I’d overstepped. Then I apologized.
The general gave me a sharp look and then nodded once. “You’re right. Good job.”
Leaving there, I went back to my dark office space and reclaimed my seat, reading to resume my work. Two other people came by. They’d received their instructions but weren’t sure how to do it.
Laughing, I gave them some insights about how to proceed. We chatted for a few more seconds before they left and I resumed work, pleased about what I was doing.
59 F at this moment, the cloudless blue sky and sunshine is promising temperature in the mid 80s.
Happy birthday to my one and only ‘big’ sister. She’s two years older, living in Georgia, mother of three, grandmother of a bunch more.
Had a wild night of dreams. I awoke and went out with Papi. We breathed in the air and enjoyed the sunshine. And Bill Withers’ song, “Lovely Day” entered the morning mental music stream.
I’m staying with that. Despite that the non-war still continues, and an energy crisis looms. Trump says that the ceasefire with Iran is ‘on life support‘, but little of what he says means much, except when he denies things and accuses others of crimes. Then he’s often projecting.
Trump’s gas prices continue toward record highs and Trump’s ballroom remains a mess. Trump himself is heading for China. Operation Epic LOOK — SQUIRREL! saw the release of UFO/UAP files.
Most of us shrugged; we’re more concerned with life on Earth and the here and now of war and climate change, along with Trump’s corruption and grift, and the crimes which might involve him in the Epstein files.
Just a reminder. Trump didn’t understand the problem COVID-19, or he was lying. They’re not mutually exclusive, and he may have been doing both.
Trump’s tone has changed between his first and second terms. He at least tried sometimes to be diplomatic and presidential, it seemed like. Now he’s just angry, bellicose, belligerent, sneering, smirking. Aging, sickness, indifference, or true colors?
I hope this Monday finds you and your community well.
Happy Mother’s Day to the mothers in the United States. Oh, what the heck, make it to the mothers of the world, no matter your religion, nationality, or species.
It’s 65 F in Ashland with light clouds mildly blocking the sunshine. Our high will hit the upper 70s, giving us pleasant holiday weather.
I’d written a post earlier. Edge crashed, taking the post with it. WordPress hadn’t ‘autosaved’ it, so there was nothing to show that I’d been typing and thinking. Foolishly, I hadn’t saved it myself.
After that, I decided, I’m taking a hiatus from thinking about the news today and commenting on it. Do a MDB: Mother’s Day Blackout.
That’s when the 1995 Van Morrison song entered the morning mental music stream. I retired from the US Air Force in ’95. I heard this song on the radio in one of the first few days of life after wearing a military uniform for twenty years.
I wasn’t employed for the first time since 1974. Wasn’t really looking yet, either; I had my retirement pension. My wife was getting antsy, though. Still, I’d decided to take time off for myself. There would be other days for work.
That happened in early November. By December, I was employed and was fortunate to remain employed for another twenty years.
Today has a similar vibe to my memory of that 1995 day. Look at how over thirty years have passed, and here I sit, feeling like I’m at another threshold. Then again, every day is another threshold.
Remembered Lyrics
When you don’t need to worry there’ll be days like this When no one’s in a hurry there’ll be days like this When you don’t get betrayed by that old Judas kiss Oh my mama told me there’ll be days like this
When you don’t need an answer there’ll be days like this When you don’t meet a chancer there’ll be days like this
When all the parts of the puzzle start to look like they fit Then I must remember there’ll be days like this
Hope your Mother’s Day is a good day for you and yours, no matter your sex, gender, whatever. Just celebrate the day, rejoice in what is, and make something to build in.
Michael Seidel, writer 