Tuesday’s Theme Music

Ashland, southern Oregon — Tuesday, May 26, 2026.

We’re mired in a gloomy late spring day. Dull sunshine seeps down through swollen rain clouds. 48 F now; 60 F later.

Despite this cool temperature and rain clouds, the drought is already browning the valley. A wildfire was fought and put out not too far away. The air this morning smells like the remains of a sodden bonfire.

Many of my Pittsburgh family members gathered at the youngest’s house for a BBQ. They also played Kornhole and shared social media photos of the gathering. All my sisters were there with their partners. Most of their children and grands, and their children’s partners. Some were missing, as there was a baseball tournament where they were playing. And other than my sister, the Georgia contingent was absent. Of course, Mom and Frank weren’t there in a long line of firsts we’ll encounter this year.

In Trump Iran War news, the US broke the ceasefire. That was okay, though, because it was the United States, which, under Trump, doesn’t follow the rules and norms. That generally leads to anger, reprisal, uncertainty, and confusion. We’ll see how it goes this time.

The Trump administration labeled these ‘self-defense’ strikes. Funny how self-defense is ‘needed’ when there’s a ceasefire on, and the war is over or almost over, and the US won, which are all things which Trump claimed.

The war is now into it 87th day.

The full Epstein files have not been released.

Prices are rising.

The Epstein ballroom funding is short of its need.

The Trump tariffs ruled illegal by the Roberts Court are being refunded to businesses. Consumers beginning to sue businesses to get their share of the tariff refunds.

I’m reading the novel, “James”, by Percival Everestt. James had a wonderful line:

“Religion is just a controlling tool they employ and adhere to when convenient.”

That summarizes my attitude toward not just religion, but how patriotism is invoked in the US — especially by Trump — and also how I see the Constitution now often being employed.

Of course, ‘they’ do it with team and family, as well: “We’re one team!” “We’re a family!”

True when it’s useful to be true.

Your Trump Quote of the Day:

Today’s music comes from a glance in the bathroom mirror. I laughed at my reflection. I look less like Mom or Dad than I used to, I thought, and sort of reflected on that. (No, I am not sorry for that phrase!)

Seeing an open door, The Neurons came in with “Mirror in the Bathroom” by English Beat in the morning mental music stream. It’s such a classic 1980s sound for me. Brings flashbacks and smiles.

Lyrics:

Mirror in the bathroom, please talk free
The door is locked, just you and me

I hope for the best for you, your family, home, and region. Stay strong.

Cheers

The Day

We hit the road at 10:10. Interstate 5 North. Good sunny travel weather, moderately heavy traffic.

A gas stop at Costco in Roseburg returned us to a full tank. Back onto I5 N for a few more miles, leaving it at Sutherlin, now going west through the mountains, to the coast. We entered Florence at 2 PM.

Neither of us had commented on the lack of RVs and travel trailers on the road. They’re usually good for slowing our progress to a snail’s stroll. The rule of the car is, don’t notice something good out loud, or you’ll jinx us.

Lunch was done at a Florence favorite, Traveler’s Cove. After a walk through town, we headed to our hotel. The Driftwood Shores Resort and Conference Center offers okay accommodations. We like it because you’re right on the Pacific Ocean and all the rooms face the beach. We were there for ocean, dude. It’s the waves.

I unpacked my clothes. Set up my toiletry. Arranged my shoes. Hung stuff up and put things into drawers. My wife sat and read her book while I was doing this. This is one of our major differences: I always unpack, like I’m living there. She leaves everything in her suitcase, pulling it out as needed.

We walked the beach, gritting our teeth against a stiff sea breeze. The sun was unblocked by anything, and the waves were strenuous, constantly pounding, noisy but soothing.

Back in the room, I opened a bottle of red wine, poured a glass and watched the waves until, finally, some piece of me whispered, “Let’s go see what’s happening on the Internet.”

So here I am, watching the waves, typing, reading, sipping wine.

The view from the room.

Mailing the Card

Mother’s Day is upon us in the US again.

It’s tougher for me this year. A year ago, Mom and Frank, her live-in partner, were residing together at Mom’s house. All of that has changed.

I bought Mom flowers on line a few days ago and scheduled their delivery. Bought her a card, wrote a note, and mailed it. Provided her with a gift card to help with her expenses.

I was thinking, though, how very difficult the time is for my younger sisters. They live not far from Mom. Mothers themselves, it used to be their practice to take Mom to a local restaurant for a Mother’s Day buffet brunch.

Mom loved those times out, raving to me about the food and how nice it was to be with her daughters and their families, to be out at a restaurant with everyone, to see other people.

Change is change. We all do what we can to mitigate its impact. Some things remain out of reach.

Sorry, don’t mean to be a downer. I know that I follow in the steps of many others who have walked this path. In the end, my family has many good memories of this holiday. There are others who never managed to find that level of joy and happiness.

Bottom line for myself: accept the blessings. Reflect on the past.

But let go.

I hope you can balance your memories and changes with the day. If you’re fortunate enough that you and your mom are together and can celebrate the day, I hope you build something wonderful to remember.

Cheers

Wednesday’s Theme Music – Far Away

Ashland, Oregon — Wednesday, March 25, 2026.

It’s a quietly rainy day out there. Clouds are cemented together against encroachments of sunshine and blue sky. Temperature isn’t bad, 51 F. 54 F is the prospective high.

Made an appointment with a urologist for a cystoscopy in May to figure out what caused the blood in my urine. It’s abated, far as I can tell but other tests show something growing in my bladder. They’re going to go in and see what that is.

I haven’t read much news this morning. A ‘something is about to happen’ vibe seems to be humming. Trump had threatened bombings which were against modern rules of war and gave a Monday PM deadline. Then, Monday morning, he reversed himself. That news changed financial markets. Traders made money by making moves just fifteen minutes before Trump made his announcement that he was holding off on further bombing.

What a coincidence.

I did read another comprehensive story about Epstein’s death.

I’m indulging in another day of reflections about Mom. We, her family, can’t just converse with her without it spiraling into deeply disturbing, frustrating patterns. She’s now saying the same thing about her primary assisted living contact that she said about my sister and about Frank. “She’s mean to me. She screams at me. I’m so unhappy here.”

It tears my sisters and I apart to see Mom be in this situation. We feel helpless and resigned.

I ended up with The Neurons playing “So Far Away” by Carole King in the morning mental music stream. Her songs with her singing them came out while I was in high school. Her album, Tapestry, resonated with so many young women in my life then. The songs were being heard everywhere.

I’m a rocker and leaned toward The Who and Pink Floyd as examples of my preferences back then. Yet her songs’ sensibilities and melodies worked.

The song arrived today because sis, who took Mom in, is really feeling it and reacting now. Venting a great deal. I can do very little except lend a shoulder because I’m so far away. And as I thought about it, Mom is far away in space and memory, far away from who she was. Going ‘home’ next time will be a very different place and experience.

Let me get off my pity pot. I hope your day and relationships surpass wonderful, it’s an excellent day of peace and grace for you.

Cheers

Wednesday’s Theme Music

Ashland, Oregon — Wednesday, March 11, 2026. 34 degrees F under blue skies latticed with thin, white clouds. Today’s high will climb into the fifties.

As part of a messy life stream, things continue on the Mom and news fronts.

The first new oil refinery in Texas in fifty years was announced. Trump is all over the money aspect, citing $300 billion dollars, which makes it really impressive in his mind. Two things struck me about the announcement.

Trump announced it as a “America First” thing but it’s funded by an Indian oil billionaire. Pretty good marketing hype.

Secondly, many headlines said that Trump announced the opening of a new oil refinery. Was it being opened or built? As I researched it, I couldn’t find basic answers to how long construction will take and when it will open.

I finally learned that it’s going to be built, with construction beginning later in 2026, and it’ll cost $4 billion to build. At this point, it’s a proposal. It won’t start operating until 2-3 years later. “America First” is the name of the company developing the refinery, a partnership with the Indian company, “Reliant Industries Limited”.

The hype around it reminds me of Cadillac’s Formula 1 effort. They put out a huge Super Bowl ad which including some of JFK’s speech about putting a man on the moon. They said, “The Mission Begins!” “We have liftoff!”

It annoyed me because I was struck that they acted like they on the cutting edge of something new and amazing, and not another new racing team in a series that’s been around for decades. What was more stunning was I later realized that Cadillac was using Ferrari engines for the first two years.

My sisters reminded me about a Mom fact which I never thought about. Mom always dressed nice. My older sister claims Mom had thirty pairs of high heels. But Mom often claimed poverty for us. We couldn’t afford to do things and often had to skimp. We did always have shelter and food, and Christmas presents were usually lavish. But my sisters all remember struggling to have clothes themselves.

Anyway, I responded to Mom last night as she reached out to me again. She was referencing texts which I didn’t have. I don’t know where the disconnect is. Her texts were about payments to the assisted living facility. I texted back, “What is your situation and what is your plan?”

She responded, “You finally answered. The situation is I’m in assisted living and I have a roommate so I think the pay is 4500 a month. I asked Lori yesterday what happens when I ran out of money and she said you have a house don’t you and yes but they’re not going to sell it until the spring and then I realize what she meant by they will put a lien against the house and when I die, the house is theirs if I would be here a long time which I don’t plan on being here a long time. So glad you answered me, Michael because just. because Sharon is through with me, Gina has been through with me for a long time. She had also told me that Lisa has always hated me so there’s nobody left Michael very upsetting to me that all my children hate me. But thank you for answering me tonight. See you later alligator.”

I sent that information on to my sisters so they’re aware of it.

I haven’t heard from Mom since, which isn’t surprising. In the last six months, she has a cycle of staying up late, texting into the night, and then sleeping through the day. She becomes angrier and meaner during those periods, more frantic. Then she grows lucid and nice, normal for a few days.

On to my normal day. The Neurons have placed “Schizophrenia” by Sonic Youth in the morning mental music stream. It’s an interesting song.

Sipping on some coffee, looking at the pale sky. I hope your day lives up to your best dreams for yourself.

Cheers

Ambush

The lens that I roll and find
In the dumping ground
Of my mind
Moving from cat
To food
Life and Mom
Conversations
Time

I search for a point
Feet on bridge
As Neurons
Sing
Telling me often
Let it be

Jamming with tunes
Coming up and in
I circle
Slipping on words
And sounds
Picking apart

Pieces of lint

Marker

The cracks show –

Spreading

He missed them

At first

Clocking them

Only after

Others

Commented.

He finds

Life emptying out

Contemplating

His time chasing

Time

Until time ran

Out of

Sight

Leaving him

With

All the time

Needed.

Giving him a

Smile –

Clues were

Forever

There

An unfelt

Hand

Pushing.

Mundaz Theme Music

Monday, January 19, 2026 has rolled into Ashland. 32 F at the house, Alexa and the net insist it’s 43. Stagnant air warnings remain, but the blue sky and sunshine offer hope for something better. Highs are expected to kiss 60 F, maybe inch over that.

Why then, am I down?

Something unidentified broke my sleep last night. Papi swears it wasn’t him. Nor do dreams seem like the cause. The three remembered dreams offer the typical blend of wonder, hope, and anxiety. Writing is going well. Maybe my hormones are causing something. Hormones can be sneaky, underhanded energy challenges.

I felt like Dad’s spirit visited me yesterday afternoon. Busy exercising, my mind was free. A sad thought that I couldn’t pick up the phone and call Dad passed through me. Then it was like Dad was suddenly there, grinning and laughing like he was fifty years younger, a startling few moments, to which I smiled.

Dad and I were both in the military for 20 years and enjoyed cars. We also enjoyed robust political discussions.

During my last conversation with him, he told me he disapproved of Trump’s policies and behavior. He also commented that his wife and her family were staunch Trump supporters. Living in Texas, he was surrounded by MAGA, and related that there was ‘no talking to them’. Those folks consistently maintained that Trump could do no wrong.

Frank, Mom’s significant other and Army veteran, scowled when talking about Trump. The man rarely cursed but when he did, it was often in conjunction with Trump.

I’m pleased both of them passed away and won’t need to endure watching Trump’s policies unfold.

The Neurons turned to Albert King and Stevie Ray Vaughn to help me climb out of this funk. “Born Under A Bad Sign” plays in the morning mental music stream. I wasn’t born under a bad sign but I feel like I woke up under one today. I’ll indulge in some blues music, sipping coffee, partake of some news and blog posts, and sort myself.

Hope your day starts under a good sign that things will go well for you, perhaps one with hints of peace and grace.

Blog at WordPress.com.

Up ↑