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.
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
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
Sunday has bubbled up into the latest reality. It’s the 3rd of December, 2023. Mists follow the green conifers of the southern mountains. Our sky did have a small amoeba of blue sky fluctuating above us. It was 50 F with the announced idea that 66 F is our potential high. Right now, rain is hovering in the area, and clouds that look like a turbulent gray sea have buried the blue sky. That’s life in Ashlandia, where the weather can change in a Pacific northwest minute and we can experience several seasons in one day.
My first December event was okay last night. Got my haircut so I look like I can fit in with any military unit that requires short hair. Fit in well with Guanajuato Nights 2023, last night’s annual event. It was the fourth we’ve attended, impelled by friends involved with the Amigo Club behind the event almost as much by the money raised for scholarships and interest in Ashland’s sister city, Guanajuato, Mexico. Excellent Mexican foods were on the menu, starting with hors d’oeuvres of empanadas, tiny tortilla spoons filled with guacamole with lime and cilantro, and ending with flan with a chocolate base flan. Unfortunately, dinner was slow in coming out and our food, like many, arrived late at the table.
Feeling a little weary and thoughtful this morning, I deliberately sought out some music from Playing for Change. Founded in 2002 to pursue a mission to connect the world through music, the music project features musicians from around the world.
Using the money raised, the Playing for Change Foundation builds art and music schools for children.
Anyway, my search for today’s theme music finally brought me to a original song called “Playing for Change” written by Sara Bareilles. Hope you find it worthy as today’s theme music.
Be strong, stay positive, and keep leaning forward. Coffee has been ingested; time for another cup, I think.
Hey, sunshine has broken through the gray, though there is no blue. Think I’ll schedule a walk for later. Here’s the music. Cheers
Friday, October 20, 2023, has risen. Or has it descended? Maybe neither; maybe it’s just there because the calendar said next time Earth completed its spin, this will be the day, the result of eons of evolution of people thinking about time and how to best track it in a coordinated, organized manner.
Today’s weather in Ashlandia, where the streams are low and the mountains are high-ish, looks like yesterday’s weather on paper. Same numbers. Greater quantity of thin white clouds have stolen into our picturesque blue sky fall theme.
The planet’s trajectory and axis have changed things, though. Weirdly, 80 F at this time of year doesn’t feel as hot as 80 F in spring and summer.
The sun rises further to south. Trees and mountains limit the early morning and late afternoon sunshine reaching my house. That reduced direct sunlight keeps it feeling cooler, even though the thermoment says otherwise.
The sun’s angles affect our house in other ways. The night cools faster and deeper. The house doesn’t warm as much during the day. Our interior temperature drifts along at 68 at night to 72 in the day, all temperaturs Fahrenheit. That was true yesterday despite reaching 82 at our house outside and 53 F last night. Not complaining, just noting it all. It is in fact, extremely pleasant and relaxing. Weather like this is one selling points for us to remain in Ashlandia, buy a house, and spread roots.
An interesting time was had in our house yesterday. My wife went to have lunch with a friend and then see Taylor Swift’s concert movie, The Eras Tour. She left at 2:00 PM. I came home from writing at the coffee shop at 2:40. A note was on my desk: “Strong smell of gas in the laundry.”
Natural gas heats our house. We also have a gas dryer, stove fireplace, and hot water heater. She and I both worry about gas leaks. It’s our nature, but when I a child, several homes in the area where I grew up exploded after gas leaks went undetected and untreated.
I went into the laundry. Yep, I agreed with her; I smelled gas.
So, I did all the things I’d been taught. Shut off the gas at the meter. Turned off circuit breakers so nothing could spark. Opened all the doors and several windows to air the house. Then I took my cell phone outside, along with a book. I called the gas company and reported the situation and sat on a chair on the porch and read and waited.
Nice day for such a thing if you need to endure, I thought, enjoying warm sunshine and a cool breeze.
The tech arrived about forty-five minutes later. He went through the house with an expensive gizmo which looked like a huge old cell phone, checking the gas levels, first with the gas turned off, then with the gas turned on. Nothing, he reported. “I don’t smell any, either.”
All clear, then. He left. I turned everything back on and set the clocks. End of emergency, though not end of worry. What did we smell?
I’d ask the tech for his ideas. He basically shrugged. Naturally, I checked the laundry for smells later. Nothing last night, nothing this morning. But it’s the kind of event that plague my mind, because nothing was essentially resolved.
For today’s music, I have Jimi Hendrix playing “Voodoo Child (Slight Return)” in the morning mental music stream (Trademark uncertain). The Neurons started playing it when I was out walking yesterday in a mountain’s shadow. It was very natural. I mean, the song starts, “Well, I’m standing next to a mountain.” Making a transition from standing next to a mountain and walking next to one and back was very easy.
Stay pos, be strong, and make the best of what you can with your day and what the situation provides. I’m off for coffee. Here’s the music. BTW, look at this stage and crowd. So different from many rock star concerts being put on this year, wouldn’t you say? Crank that up to eleven.
Michael Seidel, writer 