Tag: sisters

Saturday’s Theme Music

Ashland, Oregon — Saturday, February 21, 2026. 40 F, the wind is beating the trees up. Sunshine intermittently brightens the world but someone spilled a can of mottle gray paint over the sky. Today’s high will be in the low fifties.

Great night of sleep, a few remembered dreams. My nose and nasal passages are about 90% clear today. Light, unproductive cough. Mucus discharge was thick and green, the first like that. Energy levels and focus are way up. It’s day 11 of my upper respiratory infection.

My mornings now include an hour catching up on text messages about Mom. She’s in assisted living, plans to stay there until the end of February, and then return to her home. We’re against that last, and so is everyone else in the world. But the system says, let her do as she chooses because she’s an adult. Our reasoning doesn’t sway her. I put out energy that she’ll change her mind, be happy, and stay where she’s at. At the same time, I respect all the changes she’s been enduring. That’s tough on anyone.

I’ve also been in conversations with others and know our problems with our aging parent is not that rare. We, as a society, need to figure out a better plan moving forward. This is not sustainable, and I want to spare others this sort of mess.

With all that’s going on — writing, politics, Mom — well, life — The Neurons have introduced “Roll with the Changes” into the morning mental music stream. REO Speedwagon released it back in the late 1970s, and I always enjoy its high energy. I think it’s perfect for shifting gears from recovering from sickness, dealing with Mom, and coping with the Trump cycles. In a way, I hope it presages a future where more SCOTUS decisions go against Trump and more people announce their disapproval of him and/or his policies. I also hope it foretells more names coming from the Epstein files and some justice for the people who abused others, and those who were abused. The Europeans are leading the way in this, so let’s hope that the truth emerges from across the ocean, as our government seems too eager to predict the guilty and damn the innocent.

Friends have invited us over to play games at their place with another couple, so I’ll be socializing. Going to go the whole nine yards — shower, shave, dress. LOL. I can imagine people responding, “Well, I hope so.”

My hope for you and me and us is that we all get a little more than the recommended daily minimum of grace and peace in our lives today, maybe enough to fertilize some optimism for where we’re going and who we are as a people and a nation. For now, I have coffee.

Cheers

2

Friday’s Theme Music

Ashland, Oregon — Friday, February 20, 2026.

Dry, but cold — wintry — is how to describe today. Dropped down to 25 during the night but it’s now 45 F with a thin and thick clouds stewing in a pale blue sky. 45 is the day’s expected high.

First, I’m freaking ecstatic by the Supreme Court ruling striking down Trump’s tariffs. Now we wait to see if he attempts an edn around or ignores the ruling. I expect him to fully trash the ruling without expressing any real knowledge about it; the ruling goes against him so he will swear vengeance.

Now, too, he may be required to repay all those tariffs already collected. Trump will stall and lie on that, as he stalls so many times when he declares something is great, solved, or over, whether it’s things like the Epstein files, the wars he’s ended, or his healthcare plan.

Predictably, Trump also blamed recent bad economic news on the partial government shutdown. He also blamed that on Democrats, even though he’s in the White House and the GOP control Congress.

Of course he’s blaming Democrats. His deepest base will accept that because of their information channels. Indicators are, though, more people are turning away from Trump and his lies and policies.

Not surprising, either, that Trump seems to be preparing to go to war against Iran, position more war machines in that region. He probably thinks it’ll distract us from the Epstein files, the worsening affordability situation, and his growing unpopularity. Remember, this is a man who considers himself a unifier and ‘the peace president’.

I hoped to return to writing at the coffee shop today but decided I’m not well enough. Although much better, I have a sometimes hoarse, hacking cough, and breathing through my nose challenges me. Regretfully, I’ll holding off going there although I will — again — try to write at home. Meanwhile, my to-be-written list grows with new novel concepts. It’s starting to become as large as my to-be-read list.

Over on Mom’s Saga…

Per plans and agreements made between Mom, the social worker, and the assisted living facility, Mom was transported over to her new residence. Per their instructions to her, they requested payment. She said, no.

We the children are not surprised. We speculated Mom had a long game in mind. Agree to be moved from the hospital to the nursing home. Then refuse to pay. In her mind, she would then have to go back to her house. But for her to be taken there, she has to be released to a family member. We are all united that we will not pick her up.

We love our mother. We want her safe and happy. But she insists that she can live alone and care for herself. It’s been proven that she can’t. She won’t accept it.

It’s all hard words to write. Those are simple summaries of very long conversations between the five siblings.

This was why we pursued the 302 process. The county reversed it. They brought this on. We reiterated that to them today. Maybe they will learn.

It’s exhausting. Mom texts grandchildren at night. They text their mothers. The mothers — my sisters — alert the rest of us on group texts.

Sis has been magnificent, working on our behalf, working on Mom’s behalf.

That’s where it all stands today, Friday, Feb. 20th.

Here’s Arcade Fire with “Keep the Car Running”. It so ideally slots into my mood. I think Les Neurons made a terrific music choice. Essentially, it’s an Orwellian tale of a person having a recurring dream of being trapped in a city that keeps changing.

Lyrics h/t to Genius.com

Every night my dream’s the same
Same old city with a different name
Men are coming to take me away
I don’t know why, but I know I can’t stay

[Verse 2]
There’s a weight that’s pressing down
Late at night you can hear the sound
Even the noise you make when you sleep
Can’t swim across a river so deep

Hope you have a day blessed with peace and grace, with a few fun things tossed in. Cheers

2

Thursday’s Theme Music

Ashland, Oregon — Thursday, February 19, 2026.

More snow was falling and an inch accumulated. 35 degrees F, sunshine emerged, the snow stopped, and today’s accumulation melted off the streets. We still have several inches in the yard but the roads are clear. Today’s high will be 41 among expectations that more snow flurries are due.

My cold is so much better today. I slept terrific, straight through about five and a half hours. Didn’t get up to pee, blow my nose or take meds, or read a text, stacking small victories.

As I reflected on my cold, I thought about how long it was lasting and remembered reading about a virulent strain going around the region.

I began exploring my cold as a vehicle for reacting to life. Some with the cold would rush to the medical facilities for help. Others would take no protections and keep working either because they financially needed to or they wanted others to catch the cold so we could develop ‘herd immunity’.

A faction might use the cold as a launching pad to campaign against our modern diets and processed foods. Others might see the cold as proof that our society is over-vaccinated. I think a sector would call it a warning to get closer to mother nature, and another group would decree that the cold and its spread is due to modern stress weakening our systems and high population densities.

In truth, I suspect the cold and its spread has some truth in all of these things. Our modern life feels like it makes everything monolithic when there are so many nuances and variables involved.

Mom’s saga continues in Pittsburgh, PA. Sis sent out alarming emails at 4 AM eastern time about her anger at Mom and how she wasn’t going to do this and that. The tone worried me. Sis is Mom’s primary engine at this point and if she quit on behalf of Mom, team Mom would be seriously depleted.

But that rant seemed to help her because this morning, she was more methodical and very calm, checking out assistance living places, talking to the social worker, etc. I let out a huge sigh of relief.

Riding some dream energy. The Neurons noticed and fed the morning mental music stream with The War on Drugs and “Red Eyes” from 2013. Its vibe suits my mood.

Lyrics h/t to Genius.com

[Verse 1]
Come and see
Where I witness everything
On my knees
You beat it down to get to my soul
Against my will
Anyone could tell us you’re coming
Baby don’t mind
Leave it on the line, leave it hanging on a rail

[Verse 2]
Come and ride away
It’s easier to stick to the old
Surrounded by the night
Surrounded by the night, and you don’t give in
But you abuse my faith
Losing every time but I don’t know where
You’re on my side again
So ride the heat wherever it goes
I’ll be the one to care, woo!

Hope you have some strong, positive energy today and it takes you to good places. Until later. Cheers

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Tuesday’s Theme Music

Ashland, Oregon — Monday, February 17, 2026.

Our first snowfall of the season has arrived. 32 F, about 3 inches have accumulated in my area. Heavier accumulations are expected in the mountains, but much more is needed. We depend on the snowbanks for our summer water.

It’s a pretty scene out there. At this temperature and elevation, heavy, fat flakes fall without stop. We’re expected to warm up to 41 today and the snow is forecast to become rain. Temperatures tonight are projected to drop into the upper twenties, and more snow is possible.

Speaking for himself, Papi offered a disdainful sniff and found a place inside to groom.

I had my best night sleep in days last, and my mind moves through concerns. My cold is winding down, as expected for day 6. Only one nostril is blocked, no sinus pressure is felt, and the violent sneezes that left my abdomen sore have subsided.

My wife asked yesterday, “Which is worse, cold pain or your oral surgery pain?”

Oh, easy, the cold by far. I feel next to nothing from the oral surgery. The surgical team did a good job. I still have stitches, but they’ll fall out on their own.

My wife’s cold seemed to be gone by Sunday. I had it worse than her but for both it was an upper respiratory infection.

Mom’s situation has occupied me more than my health and weather. After her suicide attempt on Saturday, we had a mandatory stay put on her for evaluation. A psychiatrist reversed that yesterday and the hospital said she could be discharged.

It seemed like the hospital was falling short in several areas. Mom was supposed to be evaluated for 72 hours for mental health and physical issues. They also said they had to wait to see if her urine tested negative for infections, which was supposed to be four days. Their rushed timeline alarmed us.

Besides Mom’s health, we have questions over where she will live and how she’ll get care. Yesterday involved phone calls and texts, trying to sort information and get answers. Today we have more methodical movement.

Essentially, because no family members would pick Mom up, the hospital was forced to house her again. It’s a painful way to say it but that’s the truth.

Physical and occupational therapists evaluated her today. They recommend assisted living or a skilled nursing home for Mom. The social worker seemed remote and disengaged yesterday. Today, she provided recommendations and contacts for finding housing and assistance for Mom.

Venting a little, I foresaw this years ago and tried getting Mom into a better place but she, bolstered by Frank’s presence, didn’t want to address it. Now it’s a crisis. It could have gone so much better, but yes, I know, it’s an emotional issue for most of us. I worry that I’ll be like Mom if I have to make such decisions in my future.

I’m hopeful that with the focus on Mom, we’ll finally get her somewhere that can provide her with satisfactory arrangement. An agency has been contacted to work out the arrangements to see what Mom wants and needs, and review the financial part. It’s progress.

Dad’s wife reached out to me yesterday via text. He was writing Christmas cards when he suddenly became ill and died. The cards were never sent.

His wife told me that he loved doing the cards each year, which surprised me, and that his card to me and my wife was in the mail. I think it sweet of him and her extra effort moves me.

In other focus areas, I’m concerned with the different military buildups happening around the world. More war machines are being shifted to the Arctic area. Additional U.S. troops are in Africa in advisory and training capacities. History shows that such involvement can easily rise into armed conflicts.

It’s a great concern with Trump. When Americans — two military members and a translator — were killed by ISIS, Trump ordered attacks in December. Operation Hawkeye Strike against 70 ISIS targets in Syria was conducted in early days but the military campaign is still active.

Just as worrying, a second U.S. carrier group is being sent to that region. It seems like the world is moving from trying diplomatic channels to manage disagreements to using military force.

Finally, to complete the circle of concerns, got my auto insurance bill yesterday. Premiums jumped $50, adding to our general affordability worries.

Jumping onto the idea of circles, The Neurons ordered some Billy Preston. “Will It Go Round in Circles” from 1973 is playing in the morning mental music stream. I also enjoy the song’s musical intricacies, and the lyrics make me grin. Here’s my favorite part.

Lyrics

I’ve got a dance
I ain’t got no steps, no
I’m gonna let the music move me around
I’ve got a dance
I ain’t got no steps
I’m gonna let the music move me around

Yes, just let the music move me around.

Now I got my coffee. I had a cup yesterday, first since my surgery, but today, I’m drinking it hot out of the pot.

Hope your day finds a groove that takes you to a place where peace and grace join you and makes your life a little better.

Cheers

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Sunday’s Theme Music

Ashland — February 15, 2026. A gray Sunday, fog covered dawn’s fingers. 50 F outside, rain and 55 are expected today. Snow is supposed to be coming this week — 20% chance.

My cold is worse, and I felt sicker yet when I read of Trump’s ‘Valentine Day’ letter to his supporters. Part of it read, “It’s Valentine’s Day! I love you, and I was pretty sure you loved me back! Is everything okay? Roses are red, violets are blue. Do you still love Trump, as I love you? Before you read my letter – do you still love me and our great movement?”

Trump makes it about himself first and foremost. Second — money.

Family drama ensued last night. Sis went down to pick up Mom’s dishes, tidy, see if Mom needed anything. Hearing Mom on the phone, she stopped and listened. Mom was telling tales on sis and sis’s husband. Then Mom said she was going to kill herself.

Sis intervened. Turned out Mom was talking to daughter number 1, down in Georgia. Sis set up a conference call with me and the other sisters to talk about what should be done. I recommended calling 911. They didn’t like that. Looking up information, I suggested they call Resolve, an Allegheny County function set up for situations like this. After more conversation, that’s what sis agreed to do.

Sis called and spoke with an intervention specialist who said they could send a team out. If they didn’t send a team, they recommended sis stay with Mom the night to keep tabs on her, which sis said that she couldn’t do.

Another sister, let’s call her #2, lives near Mom and sis. She called Mom. She texted us that Mom sounded loopy and claimed she’d taken pills, type and number unspecified. Sister #2 also said that Mom told her she’d left an envelope of money for her. Mom added, “My body would be there, but I won’t be.” Sis called 911.

At midnight Eastern time, sis told us the police and EMT arrived and took Mom to the hospital. Later, we heard the needed paperwork was signed and approved to begin the process of evaluating Mom. They’re looking for a geriatric bed in a psychiatric bed for further evaluation. Sis went into Mom’s room afterward and found a stash of used adult diapers stuffed between Mom’s pillows. That’s stunning — appalling. Mom was a clean freak. Those hidden dirty diapers are alien to everything Mom has ever been, ever done.

Now we’re trying to learn where things will go. Mom and sis agree, Mom is not returning to sis’s house. The family agrees that Mom, 90, hallucinating, a fall risk, should not be allowed to return home but the state and county might have the final word on that.

Today finds The Neurons playing “Sisters Are Doing It For Themselves” in my morning mental music stream. The 1985 hit song was written by Annie Lennox and Dave Stewart, and sung by Lennox and Aretha Franklin. The song’s presence has nothing to do with Mom’s current situation; I was just thinking of my sisters and the song began playing in my head.

Hope the day finds you healthy and happy, and that grace and peace drop by to alleviate your fears and anxieties.

Cheers

5

A Traveling Dream, and Other Snippets

Dreamed I was going to a camp. Just a small sort of outdated place, with low wood-framed buildings painted brown or dark red, with a flat, slanted roof. A woman I’d just met was going with me, along with her sister.

We arrived in a 1970s era dark Dodge Charger or Ford Torino. I was driving and it was night when we arrived. The sisters had no place to sleep. I told them they could share my bed or sleep in the car, or I could sleep in the car, but I didn’t really want to. They ended up sleeping with me, one on either side.

Later, we got up to go find food and ran into other people I casually knew. They had soup and bread. We asked where they got it and headed toward a little shack they indicated. It was a dark place with a low ceiling, where we discovered we needed to pay in marks. I didn’t have any marks so the sister paid a 1,000 marks for food for me.

We ate and then separated. I wandered, exploring, following winding dirt paths between the buildings and trees at this tiny resort. Night was falling and I didn’t have any marks, so I didn’t know what to do. I did have dollars but not a large amount.

It was dark. I went back to my car. Another car, very like it, was parked beside it. Both with nose in, the rear ends toward me. As I reached my car, I looked over to the other car and saw the sisters sitting in it. I wondered if they’d gotten into the wrong car by mistake.

Dream end.

This was one of three dreams remembered from last night, but the most coherent and lucid.

Can’t recall much of the other two dreams. They’re shifting, like almost there, not quite remembered or forgotten. The strongest of the two had me carrying baking tins. Something finished was in it but I don’t know what. Others were doing the same. Many of the others looked like me but were slightly different. When I offered my baking tin, I saw that their offering was fully risen and mine was flat. I went off, got another like magic, and it was full. I went to give it to someone else, but discovered it was flat again. All of this took place outside in bright sunshine on a calm day.

The main thing I remember from the third dream was that I was happy and laughing a lot. And younger, but an adult.

Ah, night work.

0

Dad

Reviewing life with Dad after he’s passed away.

Married while they were young, divorced while I was young, Mom seemed to give Dad a bum rap, something I didn’t appreciate until I was older and knew Mom and Dad better as adults.

Dad married three times. He sired seven children, two girls and five sons. Only two of his sons lived to adulthood.

One son tragically died in a car accident when he was just five years old. Dad was at his saddest and most silent then, and I was beside him at his son’s funeral.

I only lived with Dad twice: when I was very young until I was about five years old, and then again between the ages of fifteen and eighteen. I’d run away from home. Dad, in the Air Force and just returned to the U.S. from assignment in Germany, gave me a place to live. I was at his wedding with his second wife.

I’ve seen and visited him sporadically throughout the years. We talked on the phone more during the last few years, something that he actively pursued, trying to mend and improve our relationship.

Dad at 92, August of 2025.

Dad taught me to pee behind a bush. We lived in Arlington, Virginia in a rented house on a cul-de-sac at the top of a hill. Dad was in the Air Force; Mom was a telephone operator. Mom was working, and Dad, with the children, was locked out of the house. I announced that I needed to pee. Dad led me behind some bushes by the side of the house and told me to go. I was horrified but did it with his encouragement.

Mom came home just after I finished my business. I rushed out to her to inform her of my milestone. She was shocked and angry. Dad just laughed and laughed. He would’ve been in his mid-twenties.

I also give Dad credit for teaching me how to wrestle, how to catch and throw a ball, and how to ride a bike. He gave me his baseball gloves and bats when he came home on a visit and realized that I didn’t have either.

He also gave me his love of automobiles and encouraged me to think about problems and find my own solutions. Looking back, he was surprisingly patient and positive.

I don’t remember any Thanksgivings with Dad. We did share a few Christmases, and some July 4th celebrations. Most of those, though, were with Mom. He did take me on a fishing trip and gave me my first and only fishing rods.

Like many of us, Dad was a balance, a study in life, striving and trying, learning, and sometimes failing. But he always got back up and went on. I haven’t seen him much since he turned 85 seven years ago. I’ll miss him.

7

Thirstdaz Theme Music

Looked out the window and what did I see? Weak, uneven sunshine, blue sky patches, thick towels of scattered white clouds. I also saw the far-ish mountains with their thick evergreen coats. Sunshine and shadows spangled them in different verdant hues. Sunshine sneaks through the windows and darts away. It’s been a few weeks since I’ve been able to look across and see the tops of the trees on the top of this low mountain because of the weather, and I missed that scene. This is Thirstda, December 18, 2025.

Two friends lost family members this week. Both lost members were sisters and both passed after prolonged cancer struggles. So, a moment of thought for each of them. The holidays are stressful enough for people without the added weight of a family member passing. Although in one case at least, the family was relieved because they hated how their sister/mother/aunt/grandmother was suffering.

Thinking of sisters inspired The Neurons. I’ve been doing many text exchanges with my second-oldest ‘little sister’. She’s the one who volunteered her home and family to take care of Mom. Taking care of anyone is a challenge but Mom at 90 can be a test for your nerves and patience. The two are again at peace, and I hope that lasts. Of course, Mom is going through a chunk of stuff with her health, age, and the loss of her longtime live-in boyfriend, Frank. Frank was a giving and caring steward for her, and though his feet were small, those are big shoes to fill. Add to that, the natural stresses brought on by winter storms and the holiday season, and it gets to be a very heavy load.

So, the Neurons filled the morning mental music stream with Stevie Ray Vaughn and Double Trouble playing their cover of Hank Ballard’s song, “Look at Little Sister”. I have three younger sisters. I regularly text with them. All are mothers, two are grandmothers, two are tremendously fit, and two are very successful. All are a treasure to me. My fourth sister is the single sibling older than moi. She and I get along well but don’t exchange many texts. Still working, she’s engrossed with her children and grandchildren.

Coffee is treating my cells to some wake up energy. Hope peace and grace come out of their hole and don’t see their shadow.

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Sundaz Theme Music

Ah, Sunda. December 14, 2025. Was 29 F and sunny, with clouds. That was an hour ago. Now it’s 30 with dense fog. High of 50 something forecasted. We never reach those forecasted highs these days. At least, not in the last seven days. I know, it’s a small sample size.

The weather disparity reflects a greater wonder, how is what Trump has done affect our systems and abilities? How long will it take for that delta to become fully revealed. Conversely, does that delta even exist, or is this a product of my life in a news bubble? And if the bubble exists, how long will it take for us to address and fix it? Some will probably hastily explain, oh, AI can fix it all. But AI comes with its own problems and introduces more problems. So it goes, as it has since technology has begun advancing and displacing people and changing experiences and expectations.

It’s kicked off between Mom and sis again. Sis complains that Mom yells at her and complains all the time. So sis yells back. Mom complains that sis is always yelling at her. Meanwhile, my youngest sister won’t talk to Mom. Says Mom is always yelling at her and is tired of it. Oldest sister has been completely disengaged, and sister number three has, in sis’s words, checked out. All this dysfunction is deeply rooted in family history. It’s a sad culmination of a lot of ongoing anger and resentment. Of course, I checked out decades ago, after one of Mom’s husbands threatened me. Saw the future and abandoned everyone. I’m not proud of it but I was a child. I admit, it left me damaged, too. We’re all damaged.

Of course, it comes down to one of those, “What are you going to do?”, situations. We’ve seen this coming for years. Tried to plan to prevent it. Living with Frank, and with Frank helping her, Mom resisted and refused to cooperate. So we held our breath and went on. Now the worse that we feared is happening. I, of course, feel helpless. Most of my sisters seem angry. They have heavier and deeper damage from life with Mom.

Worse of all is how often this sort of situation and worse is replayed around the nation, around the world. We advance, and yet we’re stuck. We’re smart, and we’re stupid. We can see ahead but can do nothing.

All of this extends well beyond families, of course. We see the same kind of helplessness in business, education, the environment, animal and human rights, agriculture. Just adds to the tension and frustration for us that we see but can’t act.

Been reading of all the flood damage up in Washington and northwestern Oregon. The rain amounts and river levels hit historic highs. Messy and disastrous. Stories of dramatic rescues are interspersed with stories, videos and photos of mudslides, houses floating in rivers, huge waves battering the coast, bridges and roads collapsing. State of emergency declared in Washington. I’m surprised that Trump and FEMA approved requested emergency assistance. Let’s see if they deliver. Meanwhile, hope everyone affected can find safe places to endure and recover.

I wonder what fresh heaping will come with the next tomorrow. That triggers The Neurons. They play “Tomorrow Comes Today” by Gorillaz for me. I watch quite a bit of Brit and Irish TV, especially dramas, SF, and police procedurals, and believe I picked up the song from one of those. I often pursuing hearing more of a song when I hear parts of it on a television show or movie.

Coffee has come to rescue me for the moment. Hope peace and grace finds us all and gives us some respite from whatever is stymying and hurting us. Here we, into another day. Cheers

0

Mundaz Theme Music

Sunshine is making its way. Yesterday’s prevailing gray has been subdued. Temperatures from 46 to 57 degrees F, now and later. It’ll be cloudy. Rain could slip in. So could fog. We’ll see what we see for today, Munda, December 8, 2025. At least it has a less wintry feel to it. Yeah, I know how much I whine. Other places are digging out of snow, dealing with slush and ice. Here I sit, the prince on his cushion, upset about a pea.

Haven’t done this song in a while. “You May Be Right” is a fave for me. Like the words, their sentiments, the beat, and Billy Joel’s delivery. It’s a ripped from life sort of song. That’s what brought it here today. Mom and sisters are now in open war. One sister said she won’t have naught to do with Mom. Sis, the primary caretaker, said she will no longer speak to Mom or help her. Third sister said she is also not speaking to Mom because Mom is not listening and is shouting at everyone. Exhausting a thousand miles away plus.

Mom wants to return to ‘her house’. Her house has been cleaned out of food. Slowly stripped of stuff to make it saleable, an effort begun back in October. Sis and the others are saying, “Let her go if that’s what she wants.” I tried to make peace. Tried to explain how it didn’t work for Mom in October when Frank was hospitalized and it won’t work now. Sis and the others have moved past caring, they say. Mom has alienated everyone in the house. Sigh.

Tried to explain to Mom why it won’t work for her to return to her place. Mom’s response was, well, startling in its unmoored style. She told me that my sister had gotten to me. Went into something about how that was because she’d been in and out of a wheelchair back in October but now they’re keeping her in a wheelchair so her back and legs are week. Like, what? Mom finished, “I’m going to get out of here, one way or another.”

Frequently in the conversations and texts about the situation, I end up saying, “You may be right.” After observing me thinking it so often, The Neurons decided that I needed the song and cranked it up in the morning mental music stream. Although I often look for recordings of live performances, I enjoy the original video for this song, so here it is.

In reflection about Mom and sis, etc., I had doubts about that arrangement working. Mom is hardheaded; sis inherited that from her. Mom also have several other skills, like being overdramatic and the ability to push others’ buttons. Sis and Mom have history. Nonetheless, I was hopeful. This option was also the only one Mom agreed to. I think all concerned dreamed of a different outcome. Of course, we can’t say how much drug, pain, aging, stress, emotions, etc., is dictating this course. I’ve seen other families endure it with grit teeth and heavy sighs. Now it’s our family’s turn. I don’t have hopes for any sort of quick, easy, or happy outcomes. One of them is texting me right now so I must go see what the latest is.

Need I say, we all miss Frank for his patience, support, and endurance?

Hope peace and grace finds and holds you. I’ve had a couple slugs of coffee. Think I’ll have a few more. Here we go. Cheers

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