

Science fiction, fantasy, mystery and what-not
Ashland, southern Oregon — Sunday, May 10, 2026.
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.
Coffee is here. Cheers
A NYTimes headline scored my attention today:
Regular visitors to my blog know that my family have been dealing with my aging mother for years. She’d been living a good life; a fall on some stairs changed that trajectory.
Mom fortunately had a good partner, Frank, as she moved toward her 80s. His drawbacks including increasing deafness, blindness, and being five years older than Mom.
We could see what was coming: Mom would need more and more care. The care would become more and more expensive. Frank would be less and less able to help Mom.
I spoke with Mom about it over the years, advocating to get someone in to help her clean and help her take care of herself. I also kept suggesting that they move into smaller place, such as an assisted living facility or a ‘senior’ community.
Mom resisted most of the suggestions. She didn’t want to leave her house. That home represented her life. She bought it on her own, then got her GED and went to nursing school. Mom opened her home to her grandchildren, taking care of them while my sisters went to school or worked.
I eventually convinced Mom to accept someone coming in and cleaning a few times a week. I paid for it, which helped Mom accept the help. She was also willing let that person in because it was a neighbor and someone she knew.
The arrangement ended when the cleaner suffered cancer and could no longer work. Worse, Mom was falling more often. Her recovery arcs were longer. Each hospital episode left her with more challenges. Yet her will to live was undiminished.
Things took a drastic turn last year. Frank, her partner, fell down the stairs. Hospitalized, he went into a coma and died, 95 years old.
This was devastating for us on multiple fronts and forced Mom’s health from concern to crisis.
Mom tried living alone when Frank was in the hospital and everyone hoped he would recover. Falling, though, Mom couldn’t get up several times and slept on the floor. Cooking was a struggle, so she took shortcuts such as eating sardines with crackers for dinner. She grew thinner and weaker.
My sister took her in. Sis set up a nice space for Mom. Perhaps the biggest drawback was that it was located in my sister’s finished basement. It started out fine but soon devolved into a cold war between Mom and everyone living there. Mom has been vulnerable to UTIs, and we think that was part of the problem.
Mom ended up making suicidal comments. She ended up hospitalized and then in an assisted living place where she does not want to be.
All this is just foreshadowing to me. I’ll be 70 in a few months. My wife is a year younger. One sister is two years older, and another is two years younger. The other two sisters are 8 and 10 years younger than me.
The thing is, even as Mom needs help, all of us are also reaching that point. While I’ve been hospitalized and treated for several issues in the last five years, I’ve rebounded. The same can’t be said for my wife, my sisters, and their husbands.
We’re all facing the same issues that others face in this article: how do we help our parents when we’re crossing the threshold into needing help ourselves?
This is the Silver Tsunami, a term many do not like.
I’ve considered moving to be closer to my sisters and Mom. There are many legitimate excuses for why that hasn’t happened. While our southern Oregon home is ideal for us, the location is not any longer. Just under 1900 square feet, the house is single storied with two bathrooms, and three bedrooms. One bedroom is the home office. This is where we spend our most time, reading, exercising, watching television, on the computer.
The area, though, has been enduring droughts. With the droughts have come water shortages, wildfires, and smoke. As those hit, the local economy has suffered. As a result, Ashland is facing a financial crisis. Adding to that crisis is that two major employers, Southern Oregon University (SOU) and the town’s hospital, Assante Ashland Community Hospital, faced their own crises. Those crises forced them to drawdown in significant ways, with more on the way.
At this point, the future is not ideal. As the article points out, we’re not alone in our problems, both with our own health and aging, but also with helping our parents.
What’s troubling me as much as anything is how the GOP has responded. Trump has cut social services to the aging population. He instead wants to spend more money on the military. Equally troubling is that the GOP goes along with this.
There’s already a growing rural hospital crisis in the United States. With Trump in office, madly spending, the national debt has crossed the point where it is now larger than our Gross National Product.
Yet, Trump’s spending priorities are geared toward bailing out countries, starting wars or using the military as a stick to threaten other nations. These do nothing to help our nation’s aging citizens. Trump’s policies have instead resulted in higher prices across the spectrum, which makes everything worse for anyone living a marginalized life. Including people like Mom.
Projections show that it’ll probably get worse, with more citizens requiring healthcare and living assistance. Natural supply and demand for personnel, food, assistance, and medical care will further drive up costs.
It’s a terrible spiral. As wealth becomes more concentrated in the hands of billionaires who care mostly for themselves and their businesses, the rest of us will keep sliding further into debt and crisis.
Sadly, that is Trump’s America. As it now stands, it’s the future for far too many.
Some may say that I’m being fatalistic. I reply, I’m just reading the news and watching the trends.
I dreamed I was at a sister’s house with other family members, getting ready to go somewhere. I never actually saw anyone but knew this and frequently spoke with them, but just in passing comments.
I knew my sister had decided to start a new business. I saw these large, clear plastic trays, made for transferring fluids, were dirty, so I stopped and cleaned them all, to help her out.
They were all in my sister’s car, waiting for me, a maroon vehicle. I then downloaded two computer things to her car: business planning software for her, and directions to my uncle’s house for me.
When I got in the car, my sister said, “There are two downloaded items.” I explained what they were.
She was driving. I got on the phone with my uncle for directions. I knew how to get there; I just needed the final address. (This uncle is deceased in real life.)
He gruffly asked me if I had pen and pencil. I didn’t but felt that wasn’t needed, and would just depend on my memory.
My sister dropped me off at a facility where I was to graduate. Others who were to graduate were also arriving, in groups. Most were younger. I got in line alone. Watching the operation, I realized that they graduated us in small groups in a building and not on stage.
As I reached the door and stopped, waiting to enter, I noticed the man behind me was trying to push me forward. I turned around and told him not to do that. He, a bearded white guy with wavy blonde hair and blue eyes, backed off.
I went into the room when called forward. I again had to wait. I noticed that they were providing mysteries to the people ahead of me. They were expected to solve them using math. I began trying to shift my focus to do better.
We went left, and then right, lining up. When I was second in line, a man helping with giving out the diplomas came to me to identify me. After he did, he explained that I was graduating at a higher level than the others, and things were a little different for me. He moved me to one side to wait.
After a little bit, he brought over a white sheet of paper and told me to hold onto it. I examined it and gathered that it was a summary of my achievements and records, but it was written in a small font and was often different foreign languages so it didn’t make much sense to me. There were also symbols, like the ‘eye on the pyramid’ used on US money.
Dream end
Ashland, Oregon — Wednesday, April 8, 2026.
54 F, clouds are parading across our valley’s blue sky. Forecasters tell us we have a high of 75 F and thunderstorms expected this afternoon.
Relief and tension feed my morning. Mom went to her PCP yesterday for blood in her urine. “What transpired of that?” I asked.
“Nothing,” is the answer.
I don’t know what nothing means in this context because it can mean so much.
Mom’s outing yesterday was a bit chaotic. They arrived at the doctor’s office only to be told that Mom had cancelled the appointment. Mom replied, “I thought it was a video appointment.”
That triggers an abundance of questions, like, hey Mom, where do you think sis was taking you? Why did you ask for a specific outfit to wear to the doctor?
Sis managed to talk the office into seeing Mom anyway. The doctor talked to Mom at length about living in the assisted living center vs living at home with the physician telling Mom, “You need 24 hours asistsance.” Mom was adamant; don’t want to live there. Can’t afford it. “Sell your house.” No!
Around and around and around it goes.
Likewise, there’s relief that a cease-fire was called in Iran. Just two weeks, leaving open the questions, will it be honored and what happens after that?
Not a surprise at all but both Iran and the United States claimed victory.
Oil prices plunged. Markets surged. Neither of those are a surprise, either. Reminders proliferate among economists and pundits, the price of gas won’t drop quickly because it’ll take time to restore the supply chain and start facilities that were sidelined.
We filled our gas tank yesterday. What amazed us was the vehicle ahead. He took eight minutes to fill his truck. What is going on, we wondered. And how much is his gas? Turned out, he filled a 31-gallon tank, which is over twice our tank’s size: $192. This was at Costco, which offers the lowest gas price locally.
I joked, it probably took so long to fill because he had to call for a loan.
Back to Trump, I wondered what he learned from this episode. He had been talking about using the military in other places. Hope that he pulls back from that.
Then I check the news: Iran is stopping traffic from going through the Strait of Hormuz because Israel attacked Hezbollah in Lebanon.
Not surprising but I ended up thinking about storms and shelter. The Neurons fed “Gimme Shelter” into the morning mental music stream. The song features some relevant lyrics.
Ooh, a storm is threatening
My very life today
If I don’t get some shelter
Ooh yeah I’m gonna fade away
War, children
It’s just a shot away
It’s just a shot away
War, children
It’s just a shot away
It’s just a shot away
The Rolling Stones came out with this rock classic way back in 1969. I enjoyed this version with Lady Gaga visiting to add vocals. She delivers. Her shoes, though…amazing how she moves on them. Wow.
Hope peace and grace shelter you from the storms.
Cheers
Ashland, Oregon — Tuesday, March 31, 2026.
March’s last day finds a dismal spring day in our valley. Rain, 49 F, high of 60 F, cloudy. Papi curls up and broods. I’m with him.
Mom reports blood in her urine and a UTI. She said she’s reported it to the staff, but nobody has seen her about it or given her antibiotics. Sis has volunteered to pick up Mom and take her to Urgent care.
Mom also said she is walking better, using her walker, and says she only fell once, when she was using the bathroom. She only uses her wheelchair when going to the bathroom.
My sisters are suddenly talking about Mom moving to an apartment. I can guess this is being pushed by finances. It’s not sustainable for Mom to stay in assisted living. Just costs too much.
I don’t see how moving her to an apartment is better than being on her own in her house. I’m sure Mom will argue that same point with my sister. My other sister had already said that Mom can’t live alone at home because of the mechanics of living: buying and preparing food, laundry, personal hygiene, cleaning. How will being in an apartment be any different?
I’m staying mute. Let them work it out for the moment. I’m weary of saying, “But, but, but — .” They want to follow this course, let it ride.
My wife addressed politics and world news this morning. “I can understand why people aren’t keeping up with the news. Trump started a war, kidnapped a president, talks about starting other wars, the ballroom. Then there’s all these other things going on. He’s having this named after himself or that. Prices are going through the roof. It’s all crazy and upsetting.”
Florida has chosen to rename an international airport after Trump. Trump showed drawings of a Miami skyscraper that’s said to be his library.
I think Florida should go all in, rename the state after him: Trumpistan. Why will become clear as extreme weather driven by climate change sinks and damages Florida. It’ll be the perfect symbol for misplaced lies, greed, and denial.
My wife laughed when she read the article about Trump’s library, saying, “Oh, honey, we’re gonna burn everything down that you ever touched.”
“Let It Ride” is in my morning mental music stream. The Neurons promoted it after I was thinking about trying — trying to do things, figure things out and understand, try to endure. That translated to try, try, try. Hearing that in my head, The Neurons added, “Would you let it ride.” So here we are.
Sis is giving updates that she has Mom at Urgent care. No drama yet, fingers crossed, knock on wood.
Cheers
Ashland, Oregon — Sunday, March 29, 2026.
49 F here this morning, we’ll looking for another day where the high temperature is in the low 70s. Yesterday ended with clouds mixing up with sunshine, and that’s where we’re starting today.
My wife and I were zonked out from attending the No Kings protests. Standing there, holding letters spelling out “No War”, blasted by sunshine, car exhaust, and noise, just undone us. We ate at Ruby’s Grill, a local favorite afterwards, and then did some errands. Back home, I read myself into a thirty-minute nap.
Still, it lifted our spirits to be among so many protesting Trump and his policies. I was pleased by how many young people participated this time. The responses from motorists going by also pleased me, especially when I say cars full of young children go by, the driver honking their horns while the children waved, gave thumbs up, or flashed peace signs.
Seems like ICE isn’t popular. Nor is the Trump Iran War. Nor is Trump’s grifting, tariffs, lies, and pardons, or his connections to Epstein.
My sisters and I received a good Mom report today. Karin — daughter of Mom’s late partner, Frank — visited Mom yesterday. She reported that Mom was happy and healthy. Using her walker, Mom showed Karin around the assisted living facility, pointing out her friends and their names. Mom said she could live alone at home except she struggles to get out of bed.
My sisters and I pointed out to one another that Mom is doing well because she’s more active. Part of that is her vanity: other women are using their walkers there, so Mom will, too. She doesn’t want to be known as the ‘old woman in the wheelchair’.
Mom is also eating better there, and probably sleeping better. Her desire to be home stems from her fixation on finances: she has a home that she owns and doesn’t want to be paying a small fortune for a place to lay her head. Mom also knows her finances will only go so far — and then what?
Yes, it’s an aging riddle wrapped up in a social enigma. We’re happy that Mom is reported to be doing well.
Today’s morning mental music stream inhabitant is “Only A Fool Would Say That”. This is a 1972 Steely Dan tune. It came to mind yesterday during the No Kings protest in Medford. A young white woman stopped at a traffic light rolled her window down and shouted “God bless Trump” five times.
People around me laughed and said, “What a fool.” The Neurons picked it up and rushed to the music memory module to find the Steely Dan song.
I hope your Sunday proceeds with grace and peace.
Cheers
Ashland, Oregon — Friday, March 27, 2026.
39 F and the heater is on. Blue skies and sunshine dominate, and we’re expected to reach the mid to upper 70s today.
Mom dominated thoughts and energy yesterday, and this morning, so far. My sisters began texting about three hours ago and are still going at it. There’s a lot of dark humor in today’s text, though. Mom once told one of her husbands that if they made a television show of our family, it would be “Combat!” A sister replied, “One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest”. Yes, I answered, and there’s our issue: Mom sees one thing and we see another.
Gina took supplies to Mom this morning but didn’t talk with her. Gina reports that she thought she saw a staff member spotted her entering the building and hurried away.
I’m fuming over Trump news. First, he voted by mail in Florida’s elections, which is something he’s trying to do away with. It just leaves me incredulous. But when asked about it, he said, “I’m president.”
Bingo. That is his response to everything. He sees a different standard for himself, and by extension, his people. Voting by mail, okay for him — bad for everyone else.
He exercises an infuriating double standard. With the GOP’s help, and SCOTUS, he’s made a mockery of the office and what it’s supposed to be, a servant of the people. He clearly sees it the other way, as is evident by his behavior and policies.
Now he’s putting his signature on the money, adding to where his name shows up in the nation. It’s all about him.
We see it, too, in the war with Iran. “They gave me a very nice gift”. The gift was letting supposedly Iran letting tankers through the Strait of Hormuz.
Not a gift to him, except in his ego-crazed mind.
And he’ll end the war “when he feels it in his bones”. Not about the war and its objectives, the nation, or even Iran; it’s about him.
Oddly, The Neurons provided me with a song that goes in a different direction in the morning mental music stream. Although I recall several dreams — one involving collecting diamonds and another about traveling and eating pie — I have George Harrison singing “What Is Life”. My subconscious might be feeding off those opening lines, “What I feel, I can’t say.”
I can’t say. *smile*
May your day progress with peace, grace, and happiness. See you at the protests tomorrow, Saturday, March 28, 2026.
Cheers
Mom, 90, suffering from several medical conditions, in on many medications. My sisters, Gina, Lisa, and Sharon, live not far away from Mom. An intelligent person and retired nurse, Mom moved into assisted living this year after a suicide threat which she denies.
Before that, she lived with her partner, Frank, in her own home. That changed when Frank died last October.
Gina took Mom in and gave Mom a room with a bathroom. Mom was initially happy but slowly professed that she hated it and wanted to leave and go back to her house. She then began accusing her son-in-law, Pat, of ‘using a device on her head to hurt her’, spying on her, and hiding her TV control.
Pat denies it all. Pat and Mom had a great relationship until five months ago, when Mom’s accusations began. Last September, he converted her back porch into a room so she could live in her house on one level. After Frank died, Pat set up the room for Mom in his house.
Mom has a consistent pattern of accusing others of being mean and hateful to her. She did that with Frank. I never witnessed Frank being like that.
When Mom moved in with Gina, Mom began accusing her of being mean and hateful. I visited for a while and never witnessed Gina being mean and hateful. Those traits are completely contrary to Gina’s personality.
I called to chat with Mom last September. She launched into a diatribe about Frank being mean to her. I said, “Mom, I’m not listening to this. We’ll talk later.” I waited for her to respond. She said, “Okay.” We said good-bye.
Mom reported to Gina that that I’d been mean and hateful and had hung up on her.
Mom told us that Lori is being mean and hateful to her.
Lori at the assisted living facility told us that Mom has given a notice to vacate. Mom told them she plans to return to her home.
Mom’s physical therapist, Jennifer, visited Mom this week. Mom claims that Jennifer witnessed Lori being mean and hateful.
Gina called Jennifer. Jennifer said she witnessed a heated exchange between Mom and Lori. She also reported that Mom is thriving there. She’s using a walker instead of a wheelchair, socializing, and eating well.
Mom told Jennifer that the conversation she was having with Lori was about moving out. Mom insists she’s moving back to her house. Jennifer related to Gina that she told Mom, “I don’t recommend that you leave here or go back home. You’re doing well here but you’re not capable of living on your own.”
I texted Mom today:
“Hey Mom, heard your plans to leave the facility in April. I want to understand your plan so I can stay in the loop. Where are you planning to go and have you talked to anyone about helping you move?”
Mom responded:
“I’m going to my house where I don’t have to pay 5500 a month and be screamed at by this boss. I’m having diarrhea today and last night. I finally got two Imodium‘s but I only have one big pad left many small ones Jennifer, my physical therapist stopped to see me on Tuesday and heard LORI screaming at me about medicine from Sam’s. She said oh, Dee this is too stressful for you. I said I know I’m paying her a fortune to be screamed at. I have asked Lisa when she brings me pads if she ever does to take me home no answer. I’ll probably have to pay Uber. I have to be out by April 18. I’m very surprised to hear from you.”
I replied:
“Thanks for explaining, Mom. I understand you want to go back home. Who is confirmed to help you get there with your things, and what day are you planning to leave?”
She answered:
“No one is confirmed to help me get there with my things. Gina and Sharon don’t speak to me and Lisa doesn’t answer me. All my friends are dead. Ever since Frank died how my children have turned against me, even though I went to the hospital in Gina was proving wrong. The night. I went to the hospital Pat said to me I need to talk to you. I was crying so hard. I said Pat all you have to do is say three words it’s all true and he did not do it so I lost my whole family.”
My sisters, Gina and Lisa, were with Mom when she went to the hospital. Pat was not. Gina and Lisa deny that Mom’s conversation and crying took place.
And that’s where we now stand.
Ashland, Oregon — Thursday, March 26, 2026.
It’s 35 degrees out with disorganized traces of thin fog and a bright blue sky. Today’s highs will carry the mercury into the sixties.
We have gnat trouble in our house. We’ve been slowly noticing the little critters. From what I’ve read, they may have started around the houseplants but have moved to the bathroom. My wife takes hot Epson salt baths and the skylight has a new ‘white film’ and a spider web up there is littered with gnat bodies. Now we need to address stopping these from spreading.
Adding to today’s troubles, my sisters are anxious about what’s going on with Mom. They’ve asked me to contact her about her plans. I was asked because I haven’t been publicly denounced as mean and hateful. My plan is just to ask her what her plans are and not to otherwise engage. I’m doing this by text as Mom has developed a confrontational communication style in the last year.
Mom’s activities are driving my sisters’ anxiety. Mom gave notice to the assisted living facility that she is moving out in April. She also informed them that she had contacted an elder abuse lawyer. She then changed all her prescriptions from the assisted living facility pharmacy back to Sam’s Club, where she used to get them.
It seems like Mom’s intention is to return to her house. That’s what she keeps saying she wants to do. But since she moved out last year, all the food has been removed, along with most of her belongings. The home was being readied for a sale in the spring, with Mom’s agreement. Everything now is topsy turvy.
My fingers are crossed that something useful will emerge from this attempt. I am not out to argue with her plans or try to make her see reason or anything. Just trying to see what she thinks is going on.
Political issues are troubling me on multiple levels. Locally, we’re working through what to do with the town hall. Plans are incubating to build a new complex, co-locating all local government facilities. The price attached to that is five million. But this is a town which already carries a heavy structural debt, has a large headcount and payroll, and has been cutting services while increasing service fees. Spending more money doesn’t seem prudent.
Nationally, I’m waiting to see what the jobs reports and inflation looks like next month. The Iran War has pushed up prices. We’re in a momentary lull with the war but Trump is issuing new threats, increasing tension again. This comes after he said that Iran gave him a very nice gift, and that Iran and the U.S. were negotiating, which Iran denies.
On a parallel course, the U.S. said it destroyed another four more ‘narco-terrorists’ when they destroyed another boat. No evidence has been presented to date that the people they’re killing are involved with drug smuggling, or that the drugs were destined for the U.S.
Different trouble-oriented songs were served up by The Neurons in the morning mental music stream. I ended up with a 957 recording of B.B. King of “Troubles, Troubles, Troubles”. It’s such a classic sound and just fits my mood.
I hope the best for you and yours, no matter where you are. May peace and grace carry you forward through all your troubles.
Cheers