Bandon, southern Oregon coast. Saturday, August 15, 2026.
We’re in Bandon to do the Circles in the Sand walk. Back then, it was about 60 F. Clouds played keep away with the sunshine. I dropped my wife off at the Face Rock Wayside at 8:15. Then I drove back to the hotel and walked back to do the walk with her. We finished the walk at 10 AM, then I walked back, got the car, and picked up my wife. So it was a refreshed, relaxing morning by the sea.
Back in the room, I spoke with the house sitter. She and Papi are old familiars so he’s comfortable with her presence.
After that cool morning, it’s a gorgeous afternoon — 61 but feels 71. Sunshine washes over the coast.
Now:
The labyrinth — well, a third of it, from the parking lot overlook:
A few news headlines attracted my afternoon attention.
These aren’t news headlines so much as they’re affirmations of who Trump is, and how his poor decision-making and aggressive power moves are backfiring on him.
Trump and his administration refuses to learn or change course, so we keep going in circles. Trump attempts the same policies; they’re taken to court and are often denied or overturned. Trump then tries another tack to see if it’ll stick.
Over and over again — round and round in circles.
Meanwhile, the United States economy is circling the drain, along with many political norms.
Not surprising that between Trump circling the drain and walking the circles in the sand, The Neurons put a song about circles in the morning mental music stream. “Circle in the Sand” was released by Belinda Carlisle in 1977 and was a global hit.
I signed my name at the beach. The tides will erase it by tomorrow, but I have the photograph and memory — as long as they don’t fade…
Our weather is cool, 62 F right now. It’ll rise to the mid 80s, basically as it did yesterday. The air is clear with an AQI that says ‘it’s good’. Clouds muddle around the sky as if they’re waiting for a door to open somewhere.
I’m suspicious of it all.
Things are going well — here. Relatively. Everything is relative. We live on spectrums of changing needs, abilities, awareness, knowledge. It all seems more acute for me as I grow older.
I don’t feel particularly old now but then I look in the mirror. Like, who stole my hair? Will they be returning it?
My face just looks different. Not like my parents or grandparents. Now I’m wondering if someone stole into the house and replaced my face.
Then, why would they have taken my average white, upper middle age (ahem) face?
Answer is, of course: they’re going to use my face to commit a crime somewhere.
So now I wait to see what crime my face shows up as part of.
Watching Mom, friends, and Trump, I don’t look forward to getting much older. Mom, 91, is cranky on most days. Filled with pain, she tells me. I see a video of her in a chair, trying to exercise. She’s listing to her right as she jerks her right arm up. She doesn’t look happy or healthy, but she’s trying.
Trump worries me even more. His language, never a strong suit, has become much worse. There are reports of him crapping his pants or delivering some nasty farts. Where there’s this much smoke, I got to wonder about the truth behind it. If he’s crapping himself or emitting enough noxious foulness that others are gagging and turning away, those aren’t signs of good heatlh.
In photos, Trump’s face has that old person, mean, angry look going. He’s glaring at the world like he’s trying to hear what they’re saying and can’t.
Worse, though, are those late night texts — from Mom and Trump.
Mom reached out at 2 AM to ask me if we’re safe from the fires. She pinged me again a few minutes later to ask, “Why don’t you answer?”
I don’t see these texts until I get up a few hours later. Then reply, sorry, missed your texts, was asleep, we’re fine. And I thank her for her concerns.
My sister later reports that Mom texted her in the middle of the night, asking what did Gina do with all the clothes Mom left behind in her house.
I worry, why is Mom up in the middle of the night texting?
Trump worries me in the same way. He spends a lot of nocturnal hours texting. Then he’s shown ready to fall asleep in his chair at meetings during the day.
Trump’s texts are worse than Mom’s texts. Mom shows a belated handle on what’s going on and often shows concern for others.
Trump texted an AI generated vision of himself as Elvis Presley. What an absolutely strange thing to do, I think as I see this. Who in their right mind pretends to be someone else like that?
Let’s pause to think about it: Trump is posting an image of himself as a popular pop culture star. One who died in 1977, almost fifty years ago. What is going on in that troubled head that he entertains these thoughts?
I then think of Trump’s MAGAts. They say that he speaks for them.
Are they out there generating AI images of themselves as others? Are some of them projecting themselves as young Johnny Cash or dead young athletes and actors?
I received other texts and messages from people worrying about us and the fires. As the fires grow in the Pacific Northwest and more are evacuated, the news shifts toward the top of the news cycles.
We’re fine, I reply to all, knock on wood. No, it’s been a remarkably ‘cooler’ summer, with us rarely challenging 100 F. Wildfire threats have been far away. The smoke has only been mild and hasn’t lasted too long — knock on wood. Hope to hell I’m not jinxing us by mentioning it.
No, our thing remains the drought. Winter supplies are down to the low 40s. We’re conserving. Vegetation is browning, which would be nice if these were pie crusts baking in the oven instead of grassy fields and mountain meadows.
Between nature’s growing extreme trends and aging, there’s a sense that something is going to get you. Trump, acting crazy, arming ICE and mobilizing them in cities, fostering more war, using violence as a mallet to try to fix things, only makes that feel worse. Especially as his main concerns are promoting himself as a young Elvis Presley, affixing his name to buildings, and destroying our heritage and cultural norms.
No surprise then, with The Neurons’ music choice for the morning mental music stream. “One Way or Another” is a 1979 Blondie song. Deborah Harry was being stalked but wrote the song with some humor injected into it.
Sample Lyrics:
One way or another, I’m gonna find ya I’m gonna get ya, get ya, get ya, get ya One way or another, I’m gonna win ya I’m gonna get ya, get ya, get ya, get ya
One way or another, I’m gonna see ya I’m gonna meet ya, meet ya, meet ya, meet ya One day, maybe next week, I’m gonna meet ya I’m gonna meet ya, I’ll meet ya
Catchy. Easy to sing along with, good hard beat with a fast tempo made it a popular and memorable song. Makes perfect sense for today, with the threats being raised by nature and Trump.
Hope your day is threatfree, and that you enjoy carefree moments of pleasure and happiness with people you’re fond of, in places which you enjoy.
I was at the front door, staring at the corner to my right. My wife joined me.
We stared together. “The big spider is gone,” I said.
She and I looked around to see if the big spider was just outside of its usual location. “I don’t see her,” I announced. “You?”
“Maybe he went somewhere else,” my wife replied.
The big spider is a ‘daddy longlegs’. I always thought it was a female because it was large spider. Spiders need to carry eggs so the larger ones tend to be female.
My wife disagreed. “I read that some large daddy longlegs are males.”
Windows flank our front door. The big spider had been in the right window for months, a sentry against insect invaders. I’d watch her web become larger and larger. Some days, I came in and she was actively adding threads. I couldn’t figure out the design, though. Made no sense to me at all.
We didn’t mind the spider’s presence or its web. Never bothered us, so we didn’t bother her. Papi never gave her a glance. Although he’s gone to chase down the laser’s red dot, he’s rarely interested in bugs, insects, or spiders.
This is a huge contrast to Quinn. Quinn used to go after anything that moved on the floor or wall, swatting and swatting with his little black paw. The thing is, Quinn was a coward. If the critter turned and headed his way, Quinn freaked out, backpedaling and scrambling to get away, trying to bat the thing as he did. I never saw Quinn ever ‘get’ anything, but any blueberries that found the floor were whacked across the room repeatedly until it disappeared under some appliance.
We checked the web for a few more days but the web remained empty. I asked our other resident spiders if they knew what had happened to her. None ever spoke up.
I guess it was just meant to end.
And we never named her. She was always just the big spider.
Fog struck. The wind’s been strong the entire visit. Today, it felt like it shifted into a higher gear, cutting through our clothing with an icy edge. 52 F in the morning, the day’s high would be 58 F, but the wind would make it feel much colder.
We checked out early, heading north just a few miles, to Newport. Here we’ll stay two more nights. A new hotel, a new view, but it’s the same ocean and Oregon coast.
Meanwhile, we stopped at our favorite coastal eatery, The Green Salmon. It’s all vegan there. After a satisfying breakfast — “Only Murders in the Building” omelet for me — we fought the wind walking on the 804 trail for ten minutes. Retreating from nature, we went north to Depoe Bay to see if any whales were hanging around. Short answer: no.
Retracing our steps, we went back down Highway 101 to Nye Beach. A bookstore popular with us, Nye Beach Book House, was no longer a business. We stopped at a bakery and shared a large frosted cinnamon roll, hot out of the oven. Then, on to our Newport hotel, Hallmark and checked in. Once we were settled in, my wife napped. I went for a walk on the beach, one mile in each direction, battered by the wind in both directions. As long as I didn’t look at the buildings overlooking the beach, I could pretend that I was an exploring, the first to walk on this stretch of land. As it was entirely empty, it was entirely believable.
Is it any wonder that The Neurons are playing “Against the Wind” in the morning mental music stream? Well, it started in the morning but it played all day. The 1980 song was a hit for Bob Seger, who wrote and performed it. It’s about looking back and thinking about the choices made. Besides the wind, being alone on that beach made this song a good companion piece because of that connection about reflecting on life.
As far as the news goes, we went without knowing anything until about an hour ago. We’re just starting to reconnect with the world again. I see that Trump’s war has now been going 82 days — longer than the four to five weeks that he once claimed.
I see that the Epstein files still aren’t released and the price of gas here is still high, as it does across the nation.
It seems like Trump is counting on his ballroom to distract us as part of Operation Epic LOOK — SQUIRREL! Trump is now babbling about the ballroom’s roof as a drone base and snipers’ nests. Not sure why he thinks either are needed as part of Washington D.C. Maybe he’s planning to stay there, hunker down after he’s removed from the Oval Office.
I hope your day was as satisfying for you as my day was for me.
Ashland, Oregon — Tuesday, March 3, 2026. Fog is drifting in from the west, slowly painting over the deep blue sky. Sunshine has us at 52 degrees F with a projected high of 61.
Papi has been in and out several times, like he’s expecting it to be warmer outside because it’s sunny but the chilly air keeps pushing him to return to warmth. He’s just executed the classic move of throwing himself down and rolling on his back while he was washing his face.
Relative quiet is drifting from the Mom front. I’ll take it but it’s one of those ‘waiting for the other shoe to drop’ quiets.
Quiet is not the word I’d use to describe the middle east as the joint US/Israel attack on Iran apparently encourage other regional nations to try to settle old scores. Afghanistan and Pakistan have border battles going on. US embassies have been attacked. Shipping — including a US oil tanker — have been attacked. Dubai’s airport has been hit.
Reverberations are spreading. Shipping has been diverted from the Strait of Hormuz and the average price of gas in the US jumped 11 cents overnight. The Dow, S&P 500, and NASDAQ all dropped.
Trump will dismiss growing worries about affordability as blithely as he dismissed military members’ deaths. I’m sure he’ll shrug and call it a sacrifice that has to be made. He’s not personally affected so he really doesn’t care, and it shows in his speech and behavior.
The war was supposed to be pre-emptive to stop Iran’s attacks on the US. I haven’t been able to find those incidents which Trump and Hegseth. I did find the chants from protestors about “Death to the United States”, but damage and deaths weren’t reported after those chants.
Seeing our rooms brimming with sunshine about half an hour ago, The Neurons fired up Cream and “The Sunshine of Your Love” but in the time I took to type this, fog has blotted out the sun and blue sky. The song is one of the major pieces of frenetic power rock which I grow up with as a teen. I went with a recording of a live rendition from the group’s farewell tour, just to see the young faces.
Hope your day carries you forward on positive energy and delivers good news and optimism. I’m off to the dentist for follow up, next phase of getting an implant.
Much of North America appears to be trapped in snow and ice. Ashland is dry and 45 F under a blue and white sky with a potential high of 55 F. It’s Wednesday, January 28, 2026. I keep hoping for some snow in the Cascade to build up the snowbank needed to carry us through summer and fall.
Several friends and family members are trapped in Winter Storm Fern’s aftermath. Meteorological forces have the cold air locked into place, so snow and ice will likely hang around for several long days. Power outages remain in eastern Texas, spreading east across several southern states, up into Tennessee. The death toll is 50 to 58 at this point. FEMA updates show that some hybrid hotshot crews are being deployed to help clear debris and set up generators where they can. Early days, yet.
Meanwhile, Donald Trump seems trapped himself. He’s put at statements that he’s trying to de-escalate confrontations and violence between ICE and the citizens of Minnesota. But Trump made comments that do the opposite on Truth Social.
Meanwhile, an ICE agent attempted to enter the Ecuadorian consulate in Minneapolis. DHS denies this, but video evidence exists, contravening — again — DHS claims about what’s going on.
The Neurons chose the Allman Brothers Band’s cover of “Soulshine” for a residency in my morning mental music stream. It’s because, for me, things seem calmer and cooler than in previous days of 2026. I wait to see whether this is a false dawn or a signal of true change.
“Soulshine” by Warren Hayes works because of its message that it can get better.
I grew up thinking that I had it made Gonna make it on my own Life can take the strongest man Make him feel so alone Now sometimes I feel a cold wind Blowing through my aching bones I think back to what my daddy said He said, “Boy, there is darkness before the dawn”
I hope it becomes better for all of us, whether we’re in the United States as citizens, or people in other nations. The color, gender, political affiliation doesn’t matter in my thoughts. We need to work together to help one another remains my bottom line.
Best of luck today and every day. May peace and grace find, guide, and hold you. Cheers
Thirstda, January 8, 2026. Eight days into a new year, and I remain reflecting about weather patterns and national and international politics.
Looking at the weather, the advisory which has been shadowing our hours for several days warned, snow is coming.
Snow didn’t quite come to Ashland.It dusted surrounding mountains and firs like confectionery sugar. Down on the valley, chilly wet ground is visible. Temperatures roam from 35 F to 46 F.
The last temp, 46, comes from Southern Oregon University’s observations, and has struck me as accurate. That range, 35 to 46, highlights the impact of mountains and valleys. We’re in a valley’s neck, and SOU’s observations take place in a field down closer to the valley floor. So we see, it’s colder in the mountains than at lower elevations, re-affirmation of long-known temperature dynamics.
Now they’re telling us that the weather is going to warm. Ten-day forecasts are serving up highs in the sixties. Like any season, we’ll wait for the end before it can be judged. So far, worries about having needed snow deposits to carry us through the summer keep nudging up.
Reflecting on national politics, concern is now going up about the latest shooting and Trump administration’s response to it. ICE agents in Minneapolis shoot and killed a woman. Following a standard script, Kristi Noem claimed the agents were defending themselves.
Early video evidence and civilian statements completely undermine Noem’s claims. Now the FBI has declared that nobody is allowed to see any collected evidence.
Until that point, a familiar pattern was being followed, with local, state, and FBI investigating together and cooperating. The FBI announcement, coming without warning and contrary to previous investigations, causes worry that transparency needed to reassure citizens of impartial and fair consideration of evidence has been jeopardized.
On the one hand, the FBI’s approach is an old tactic used by repressive governments in the past to cover up crimes and manipulate results. We the People have witnessed multiple times when that happened in the last twenty years. Think Walter Scott of South Carolina, George Floyd of Minneapolis, the Franklin Park ICE shooting, to name some prominent examples.
Cover-ups of law enforcement was a concern before 2026 began. The Minneapolis ICE killing only heightens the distrust many have of the Trump administration and ICE.
Watching the weather and studying the news pulled The Neurons into an unsurprising direction. Eating my breakfast found them filling the morning mental music stream with “Watching the Detectives” by Elvis Costello from 1977. What a sense of humor The Neurons sometimes reveal.
Well, I hope that 2026 finds a turning point soon and begins arcing toward the freedom, justice, and equality which most of us prefer. In the meantime, I’ll sip coffee, keep watching, and wish you all a rendezvous with peace and grace soon. Cheers
Our Ashland weather lands today as drying but wet, leaning toward being warm. This is Sunda, January 4, 2026. We usually expect some threat of snow during this season and month.
The outside does look wintry bleak. White clouds and bare branches bracket splashes of blue sky. Sunshine spills in with weak authority. But temperatures of upper forties to low fifties today, with a high in the fifties being mentioned, is less winter and more spring. Local talk about snow steers conversations toward the lack. Snow in the mountains give us the summer meltwater to keep our land hydrated.
We remind ourselves, look at history. This is Ashland, southern Oregon. Weather spins like a roulette wheel. Wherever it stops is a surprise and doesn’t surprise. Snow can still be on its way.
A new year vibe still reverberates in me, but I look on at what hasn’t changed. While weather is unpredictable, politics remain too predictable. So do family tensions. Mom and sis still butt heads, forcing small matters into huge blow ups.
After all of that, The Neurons playfully flipped “New Year’s Day” into the morning mental music stream. The U2 song from 1983 is written as a love song but a few lines stood out for The Neurons:
Although nothing changes New Year’s Day, I remind myself, it’s not a nimble world. Emotions, relationships, and politics are forces which require time to shift. A calendar change alone doesn’t provide enough reason for change for many.
I am an optimistic person, though. I look for positive change and I’m ready to embrace it. Let’s hope peace and grace show up and pushes positive change through. Cheers
Always nice to read of humans being nice to nature. When so many things are going wrong in the world, it’s a spiritual lift to encounter people helping Pufflings find their way.
Michael Seidel, writer 