At the Goodwill

My wife and I are on the Oregon coast. We ate a wonderful fresh breakfast at the Fresh Harvest Cafe. Then we hit the local Goodwill.

My wife enjoys visiting Goodwill stores. She likes bargains and she likes re-using things. She did say today, “I’m not buying anything new. I’m death cleaning so whenever I see something I want, I just tell myself, ‘You’ll just have to throw it out.'” Books are the exceptions. We bought four, two for each of us.

Killing time, I wander the store and write a short story in my head. It’s about a future Goodwill. Dystopian situation. A guy ransacks an unused house. There’s a lot of them. Finding a cache of shot glasses, he brings them to the Goodwill. They give him a small bag of peanuts for them. He sits outside in the sunshine, savoring every nut as he eats them.

My sister texted me about her grandson’s birthday. He’s already fifteen, thoroughly discombobulating my brain, which still thinks of him as much younger. His mother is still a teenager in my thoughts. To see that he’s now a teenager is too much. I do the slow math; I was fifty-five when he was born. Time, you know?

Sis tells me that her grandson went to an Escape Room for his birthday. Muses gather in my head to conceptualize fiction about Escape Rooms.

Sis interrupts with a text abut Mom. She’s taken Mom to Urgent Care for another suspected UTI. Mom complains about dizziness as she Mom gets in and out of her wheelchair and the car.

Browsing Goodwill shelves, I see things which might be in my home. I go through an aisle of tools and imagine my tools in there.

I believe I have seen the future.

Leaving the building, I breath in fresh air and smile at the sunshine on my face.

May 19, 2026 0

May 12, 2026 0

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

May 5, 2026 0

April 29, 2026 0

April 19, 2026 1

The Comparison: Computer, Trump

It feels like my computer is starting to treat me like it’s Trump. It doesn’t tell me what’s going on or give me a reliable time window.

I’m accustomed to my computer telling me to do things but explaining why it’s doing things. They gave me options: do you want to update and shutdown, or shutdown without updating? Other options were also available.

Along those lines, the computer would inform me about how long it would take — three minutes, two minutes, six.

Yes, they were using computer time. This is not ordinary time. Comparable times are shopping time and waiting time.

“It’ll be just a minute,” I hear. “Maybe two.” Those minutes compound into ten. Fifteen.

Worse, though, are NFL minutes. Especially the last two minutes of a half or game. I did some research and the average final two minutes of an NFL game lasts ten to twenty minutes. Some estimates show that the final two minutes of a four-quarter NFL football game can consume about five to ten percent of the game’s total time, which is wild if you think about it.

The NFL does give us a ‘two-minute warning’. Unfortunately, they’re very terse about it. “This is the two-minute warning.” They should add, “The next two minutes can take anywhere from two and half minutes to eternity. Go use the restroom now, get something to eat and drink, and let your family know where you are.”

Computer time has now overtaken the NFL’s final time minutes as ‘the time that can’t be measured’. My computer doesn’t tell me many times now how long updates or searches will take. It leaves it vague: “This might take a few minutes.”

You think?

I was running a process to check for memory leaks the other night. Yes, on my computer, not for me.

Anyway, the computer warned me, “This might take a few minutes.”

Thirty minutes later, I was still waiting for an update.

And that’s like Trump. Time doesn’t mean anything when he makes promises or projections. Well, neither do facts, for the most part.

For example: Trump was asked when he would come up with his replacement for ACA. Two weeks, he told us, over five years ago.

When will the Iran war end? “When I feel it in my bones.”

Great.

Sounds just like my computer.

When will the search be finished?

“When I feel it in my hardware.”

Thank you for your attention to this matter!