Tag: walking

Woundsday’s Theme Music

Mood: Reinvigorated

It’s Woundsday, December 4, 2024. The stagnant air seemed to have shifted a little, as the chill has abated. Although Ashlandia is claimed to be foggy, my perch’s view was fog free. Sunshine enriched blue skies took the vision field from end to end. Now, 11 AM, my personal weather sys says it’s 46 F outside. Alexa claimed it’ll be 67 F today but I don’t trust it. Other forecasts say 57 F today, which seems reasonable.

It’s Woundsday because I’ve been busy this morning licking my wound. Eww. Gross. Figuratively licking my wounds. The wound is the surgery site to repair my ankle. Much better today, thanks. Now I’m practicing my walk, trying to rid myself of my limp, regain some grace, and speed up my stride.

We’ve been following several news stories. One is that another Trump nominee has withdrawn. I’m not celebrating as I’m sure he’ll find a horrid replacement. My wife then regaled me with a few Buzzfeed anecdotes about people realizing what their support of Trump means to what goes on in their world. Trump nominees are surprising them. Examples include a business women who was planning equipment purchases being taught what the tariffs will do. Then there are parents with a child in Headstart just learning that Trump intends to shut down Headstart and now wonder what will happen to their child. In other words, they’re gettin’ woke by their vote.

Also following a story in Pennsylvania about a woman who fell into a sinkhole while looking for her cat in Tuesday morning’s cold, dark hours. I’m from that area and have family still living in the region, so it’s one of those six degrees of separation things. I hope they find her alive and well but I’m sadly doubtful at this point.

Today’s music in the morning mental music stream (Trademark okay) is “Feelin’ Alright”. I posted this song back in 2016. I wrote then: “I’d only recently learned that Dave Mason wrote this song. I knew that Traffic had performed it, but in my heart, this song always belonged to Joe Cocker. Whichever group or performer does it, the song always lifts me up. I loved it when he sang it in concert.” Still standing with that declaration. It’s my song for Woundsday because I’m going to have beers with my friends tonight. It’s our usual Wednesday setup. I haven’t attended for seven weeks. Haven’t had a beer in that period, too. I did have wine and rum with mulled cider on T-Day, though. Beyond that, I’m walking well and experiencing minimal discomfort and pain.

I woke from a dream this morning and remembered open lines from a Dylan Thomas poem.

Do not go gentle into that good night,
Old age should burn and rave at close of day;
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

The dream had been about reinventing myself and reinventing the world, so I can understand the connection with the poem. It’s one of my top five poems.

Hope you have a superb Wednesday, and the days beyond today are also superb as we count down the last of 2024. Coffee and I have rekindled our relationship once again. We’re good to the last drop. Here’s the music. Cheers

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Tuesday’s Political Thoughts

There’s a gruff guy whose house I regularly pass. About my age, he sometimes nods but never speaks as he works on his yard, house, or car. If he was a novel stereotype, he’d be a bitter former Marine who saw combat and carries wounds. Just from the way he eyed me as I passed by on my walks, I guessed he was a Trump supporter or leaned that way.

I always remind myself that I can’t judge people by how they look. Appearances deceive. Someone glancing at me, with my American flag pin on my ever-present hat, might think of me as a Trump supporter. Sad that in our polarized age, waving the flag has become associated with our political system’s right wing.

Yesterday, a Harris-Walz sign appeared in his yard. He was doing something over by his outdoor spigot and glanced up. Walking by, I nodded hello, and then added, “I like your sign. I hope Harris wins.”

He replied, “So do I. I’ve donated money to her, and I’ll keep donating to keep that orange asshole out of the White House.”

Go Harris. Vote blue.

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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.”

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Wednesday’s Wandering Thoughts

I watch people cross the street and they’re indifferent. All ages and genders. Car coming? So? Hit me or stop. Your call, their actions proclaim.

Yeah, and I’ve been in those days, walking and thinking, I don’t care. Hit me. I’m fine with that today. I think most of us have been at that nadir.

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Thursday’s Theme Music

Mood: satisbeached

We’re passing through another day. Today is Thursday, August 22, 2024.

I’m still on the Oregon Coast on vacation. The weather continues favoring us with sunshine, chill temperatures, and clear air. Some friendly clouds pass by with a wave. Right now it’s 60 F, just two degrees from an anticipated high of 62 F. The tide is coming in, so I’ll be going out for a walk along the water.

Rain fell last night. Hearing it, I headed out onto the uncovered patio at a few minutes after midnight, letting it fall over me, breathing in the fresh air, solitude, and sound.

The Internet was mostly down yesterday. While others napped, I wrote or walked along the shore, breathing in the air, enjoying freedom, and thinking, sometimes writing in my head. It was about two miles in each direction. I rarely encountered another. When we did, simple nods and smiles were exchanged, acknowledging the other’s presence. The net returned in time for us to catch the DNC, watching and listening to it as we worked on a jigsaw puzzle.

I continue with the theme of a color in the song’s title today. The Neurons wavered between “Tequila Sunrise” and “Orange Crush” this morning. The 1988 R.E.M. song won my morning mental music stream (Trademark woke). Its energy today just felt right.

Be strong, remain positive, and Vote Blue. Not because I say so but because it’s better for more of us than the alterntive offered by the other party.

Coffee is playing with my body in a welcome way. Here’s the music. Cheers

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Monday’s Wandering Thoughts

Out for a break from writing, I was walking up Walker Street in front of SOU’s derelict houses. A doe just finished giving birth to a fawn in one of the yards. Hearing me, Mom turned attention my way, and then sniffed and licked her newborn. Standing, the tiny creature took a few tentative steps. Then Mom gave me another long look. I called out, “Be smart, stay safe, my friends.” Big ears coming my way, Mom and baby turned together and watched me continue my walk.

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Saturday’s Wandering Thoughts

I came around a corner on my walk today. Deep in thought, I was in moving fast and not paying much attention when a sudden noise and motion to my left froze me.

A deer was on the other side of a knee-high white picket fence. I’d apparently startled her. Then she’d startled me

She was about three feet away. We stayed still. Then I softly said, “Hey, good looking. How’s your Saturday going?”

Leaning forward, the doe sniffed in my direction. This lasted for about ten seconds in my guesstimate. Then, satisfied, I guess, she resumed eating and I moved on.

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Saturday’s Wandering Thoughts

I came across a plague in Ashlandia’s railroad district. The plaque identified the tree beside it as a slippery elm and announced that it had been the tree of the year.

The tree of the year is an annual tradition in our city. Stepping back, I admired its height and thick, expanding branches. Sunlight backlit them against blue sky.

I didn’t have a camera with me — yep, not even a phone — so I don’t have a photo of the plaque nor tree. I ran a search for a photo of it but nada emerged. I need to return to the scene with my phone, I guess.

Forty-seven years had passed since the tree had been honored. It still looked like it could be the tree of the year.

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Wednesday’s Wandering Thoughts

Despite claiming to be an optimist, I often rail against my fellow humans, politicians, the government, news media, and corporations about the way things are going. So I want to share some small positive moments.

I live in the small town of Ashland, Oregon. I’ve always enjoyed walking, including taking the steps instead of using elevators or escalators. It doesn’t always make me popular with my wife, but she grits her teeth and goes along with it.

This has nothing to do with steps, though. This is about drivers. While I’ve experienced several near misses each year while using crosswalks (and the number of near misses seem to be increasing), there are people who are the opposite. Example are shopping center and business exits. Because of line sights, drivers are forced to roll forward, covering sidewalks and crosswalks to see if it’s safe for them to proceed. This sometimes blocks my way as a pedestrian. I usually plan to wait or pass behind their cars, but this week, drivers are backing up to let me go by, putting down their windows, waving and calling out apologies.

I hope that it’s picked up by more drivers and starts trending upward across the country.

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Thursday’s Wandering Thoughts

I walked around Ashland’s Railroad District today, enjoying sunshine, and came across a new plaque. It described that the building behind it was a fire station. Built in 1908, it first had hand-pulled pumper wagons. A horse drawn wagon replaced it a year later. Then, in 1913, the town’s first motorized fire truck was purchased, and the Texaco gas pump at the curb was installed.

That all surprised me. I thought from its glass and metal front, gas pump, and single garage door, that it’d been an early gas station.

The plague went on to explain that besides those things, the station also had a jail.

What?

The jail’s original barred window remained on the building’s alley side.

I walked around and looked at it, confirming, yep, there are bars.

Walking on, I thought about the constance of change. Plaques like these were always fun to find and read, so more of our history is explained and understood. Now the historic building is an artsy consignment shop, as it’s been for over the last ten years.

Just fascinating.

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