Sunda’s Theme Music

Another Sunda has come upon us, and it’s landed on 3/9/2025. We set our clocks ahead today in most of the continental U.S., part of our human struggle to make the best use of time and light and be productive. Arguments abound about the productivity of changing time and I’m not going there. It’s 48 F in Ashland, mostly sunny. A soft zephyr hisses around trees. Thin clouds skirt the area and sunshine peeks through, giving us a springy winter pastiche.

I don’t know why one song dominates the morning mental music stream. The Neurons have shuffled a 1983 Michael Jackson song in. “Human Nature” is a soft pop ballad written by Steve Porcaro…originally Porcaro had success with a band called “Toto” that he helped found. Meanwhile, he played keyboards or synthesizers on Michael Jackson songs. The Toto song, “Rosanna”, was said to be based on Porcaro’s girlfriend for a while, Rosanna Arquette, which was denied and then acknowledged. Porcaro played on so many albums with other artists in the late 1970s through the 1980s, if you listened to pop and rock during that period, you were exposed time and again.

Michael Jackson, of course, was the King of Pop for a long reign. This song was from the Thriller album, which was the #1 album for 37 weeks. “Human Nature” was one of seven hit songs from the album, with all of those songs reaching the top 10. The biggest hits from that album would be “Billie Jean”, “Beat It”, and “Thriller”. With all of those songs on that album, the album became the best-selling album of all time, selling over 70 million copies. Staggering.

Meanwhile, “Human Nature” was written originally by Steve Porcaro. Quincy Jones was producing Thriller. He heard a demo of “Human Nature” and liked the sound but he had the lyrics re-written by John Bettis, a songwriter who wrote over 1600 songs for pop and country music performers. His songs and music was often featured in hit films of that era, like Cocktail, Say Anything, Vision Quest, Curly Sue, and a whole chunk more. What a business it all is.

The chorus of “Human Nature” is well-known:

If they say why (why?), why (why?)
Tell them that it’s human nature
Why (why?), why (why?), does he do me that way?
If they say why (why?), why (why?)
Tell them that it’s human nature
Why (why?), why (why?), does he do me that way?

h/t to AZLyrics.com

That phrase, “tell them that it’s human nature,” is often used to explain the unexplainable about people’s actions.

Coffee has overtaken me again. Hope you have a most excellent Sunda to repurpose an old phrase. Here we go. Cheers

March 9, 2025 2

Sunda’s Wandering Thoughts

I watched a woman enter the coffee shop. She’s familiar to me as a semi-regular. Like me, in her late sixties, I think, she walks with direct, no-nonsense style. Her hair is short but neat, and her clothing matches that no-nonsense, low maintenance image. I wonder if that’s how she is — no nonsense, direct, practical. Or is this a facade? Does she walk like that because that’s how she wants to be, and not how she is?

Fun to imagine such a character like that. Reminds me of friends I’ve had. Intelligent and capable in one arena, they were disasters in other areas of their life. Yet others were methodical, practical, and organized in all facets of life.

Memory of a co-worker’s comment to me once springs up: “Your level of organization must drive your wife nuts.” They said that while I was organizing software packages.

No, my wife has never commented on it. But when I put something away, I can tell you exactly where it is. Which, as I think about it, is exactly like both Mom and Dad.

March 2, 2025 2

December 14, 2024 0

Thursday’s Wandering Thoughts

I witnessed a coffee house conversation that threatened to escalate into violence.

It was a mildly busy day as people gathered and socialized with pleasant autumn weather outside. Many were bent over phones, laptops, or notebooks.

One table hosted an octet of chatting women not far from me. Their age hovered around my own, which is to say sixty to seventy-five years young. They were mostly laughing and talking about books. Somehow their conversation rolled into the important question everyone wants to know, “How much paste should you put on your toothbrush?”

I haven’t read any books on the subject, and I didn’t study it in school, but I agreed with one brunette woman. She said, “Oh, I read that you just need a dab. Especially with an electric toothbrush.”

“No, no, no,” a red-haired woman erupted. “That is wrong. You need to cover the bristles from end to end with paste.”

Coffee shop conversations dropped off a cliff. Focus went to the table of women.

Other women at the table started disagreeing with paste woman. You’d think they were assaulting her grand toddler from her reaction. Voice rising into a screech, she declared, “No! No!” It was like she was channeling Khruschev addressing the United Nations. “The paste must be on all of the bristles! Anything else is wrong!”

I expected a duel to erupt. Pistols at twenty feet on the sunlit sidewalk outside.

Maybe she’d had too much caffeine. Maybe she didn’t have enough. The other women, wide-eyed with alarm, were backing down fast, trying to placate the redhead before she whipped out a sword to defend her toothpaste position.

Thank God they weren’t discussing politics.

October 24, 2024 1

October 19, 2024 0

Tuesday’s Wandering Thoughts

It was a weird juxtaposition.

I parked in the coffee shop’s lot. A silver SUV battle scar from its travels had the front passenger door open. I glanced that way. It seemed like the SUV was someone’s home. A woman was in the seat, her foot sticking out the open door, as she painted her toenails pink.

I thought of multiple things associated with painting nails. To feel and look attractive. Or maybe to fit in. To seem normal to others. You know, norms, values, mores, judgements. Or carrying forward from the past, trying to remain that person they were.

Then again, I could be all wrong. Might be that they’re not living in their car. They could just be a traveler, pausing to get coffee, taking advantage of a break in their schedule to do their nails.

It’s the kind of scene that inspires questions and thinking about our life and society.

October 8, 2024 0

Friday’s Political Thoughts

Walking along Ashlandia’s Hunters Park, I encountered two middle-aged women. As I nodded hello and passed them, I swung back to one. “Hey, I like your shirt.”

Her shirt said, “Kamala Harris for President” in an interesting rainbow offering on black.

“Thanks.” She widely grinned. “I bought it online.”

“Do you remember the site? My wife is interested in buying another Harris shirt.”

The woman pulled out her phone. “Here, I can tell you. Yes, Teepublic.com.”

“Cool, thanks. Have a good one.”

“Go, Kamala,” her companion shouted with a big grin and strong fist bump.

I returned both. “Go, Kamala.”

September 27, 2024 2

Wednesday’s Wandering Thoughts

It’s a recurring theme for me. I see old people and wonder what they were like when they were young, and I look at young people and wonder, what will they be like when they’re old.

Like her, in the floppy sun hat, green pants, and multiple pastels scarves, short grey blonde hair and wire-rimmed round gold glasses. When did she become that person?

Or take her for example, the blonde early tweener with blue hair and fringe bangs, dressed all in black, with a long-sleeved shirt and tight shorts, white crew socks, and white canvas shoes. She’s a gregarious presence in her small knot of companions. What will she be like in the future?

Weird thing: thirty-five customers by my count in the coffee shop. Four of us are male. Two of the men are working on computers. It looks like the women are all socializing.

Contemplating the dynamics and speculating about people is an attractive way of engaging my mind as I sip coffee and the muse comes to write.

September 18, 2024 0

Tuesday’s Wandering Thoughts

A young middle-aged woman is at a table with a middle middle-aged man. That’s how they appear to be experienced but amateur eye. Both are attractive. She’s in light grey yoga pants and he’s in khaki hiking shorts. He’s tall, with graying curly hair, while her brunette hair sweeps away from her face and lightly lands on her shoulders. The two are so average white people of the Pacific Northwest. I notice them in the same way as I note others in the coffee shop.

But then, what makes her memorable, after they disposed of their coffee cups at the busing station, she methodically moves through the coffee shop, straightening up the chairs. He goes over and stands by the door, waiting for her to finish. She joins him and they depart, leaving the tidy tables and chairs behind.