

Science fiction, fantasy, mystery and what-not
Don’t know exactly where I was but I was younger – middle-aged.
In a building, I could look out windows and see a large body of pale blue water. I seemed to be in a white building, like a lab.
A man was treating another man. I could hear the conversation but really see them. The man treating the other was saying, “I’m injecting him with this.” There was more blah blah which I couldn’t follow.
I kept getting distracted, turning around, looking to see what else was going on, looking out the window. Sunny out there. Inviting.
The man said, “What I’m doing will replace his bones.”
I saw him now, tall, black receding hair, thick black beard, white lab coat. Oh, I realized. He’s injecting the other man with something that will replace his bones with steel. The ‘something’ seemed like a thick green fluid. Well, that could be useful, I thought. If they’re in the military, for example.
Then I realized I was the one being injected. Oh, they’re turning my bones into steel with this fluid. How does it work? How long does it take?
“Not long,” the man replied, as if I’d asked the questions. “We’re almost done.”
Dream end
Ashland, southern Oregon — Monday, May 4, 2026.
It’s cloudy this morning but it’s not a solid mass. Sunshine washes through to warm us. It’s 55 F but we expect a high in the mid to upper 70s, and thunderstorms. We experienced a high of 80 yesterday before thunderstorms cooled us in the mid-afternoon hours.
Trump’s thin ego and weak position has been on display all weekend, beginning on Friday night. Heather Cox Richardson summarized Trump’s frenzied Friday night texts in her May 3, 2026, edition of “Letters from An American”.
Trump also makes the fake claim that Democrats destroyed the US after the 2020 elections. History shows otherwise. BTW, gas was a lot cheaper back in President Biden’s days, wasn’t it?
Trump was promising to release the Epstein files, and still hasn’t released them all.
And we also weren’t at war.
Your Trump Quotes of the Day:

Hope is my theme today, though. Last night, I watched a documentary on Netflix about the making of the song, “We Are the World”. The documentary came out two years ago. Here is the Wikipedia summary of the song:
“We Are the World” is a charity single recorded by the supergroup USA for Africa in 1985. It was written by Michael Jackson and Lionel Richie and produced by Quincy Jones for the album We Are the World to raise money for the 1983–1985 famine in Ethiopia. With sales in excess of 20 million physical copies, it is the eighth-best-selling single of all time.
Documentary trailer:
It’s the hopeful nature of the endeavor that made me decide to play the song today. The song was made at a time when there was a lot of hand-wringing as people asked, “We can we do?” It reminds me of now, as so many watch Trump stagger through the world, destroying the nation, peace, and the environment. Come together, focus, and work against him and his reactionary, destructive policies.
The documentary was full of some fascinating moments. Diana Ross took her music to Daryl Hall and asked him to sign it for her because she was his biggest fan. Watching those singers cope with the notes, wording, and situation fired my amazement about how capable and accomplished they are. They were also often star struck by the others in the room.
One of the most hilarious pieces came from an anecdote related Stevie Wonder and Ray Charles talking together. Both are blind. Ray commented that he needed the restroom. Stevie said, “Oh, I’ll show you where it is.” Stevie then led Ray away, leading someone to crack, “The blind are really leading the blind here.”
Hope you have a great day. I’m off to do Food & Friends deliveries with my wife.
Cheers
My wife and I were in this big indoor shopping area. Had a tidy flea market vibe to it. She worked for someone, managing several different venues. I was helping by collecting cash and paying out.
We came to the day’s end. I was due to turn in the cash and had a huge amount. But I realized that the business cash and my personal cash had become mixed together. I needed to separate it.
To do that, I started going around, looking for a private place to count the money and organize it. The first place I tried, the wind was blowing, threatening to blow the money out of my hands.
Finding a church like building, I went in there. But people watching me knew me and started calling out jokes, disrupting my concentration.
Going off, I found another, small, dark room, but people I knew were also in there.
Exasperated, I left and ran into my wife. She was anxious to finish the day and wanted to know what was going on with the money. I explained the situation and reassured her, I’d get it done soon.
She and I then headed back to the main shop. As I reached there, I found that I’d folded my money with a note, and it was intact, embedded in the larger wad of cash. Problem solved.
With that done, I decided I’d help clean up. I went around with a spray and rag, vigorously wiping things down. My wife’s boss, the owner, a white woman with brown hair, came over and said, “It’s good to see you.” Going on to thank me for my help, she said, “You need to take care of your L energy.”
“What’s that?” I asked.
Pointing to a space on top of my head, she repeated, “Your L energy is right here.”
She got distracted and I moved away.
Later, as I finished cleaning and everyone else finished, the boss/owner made a little speech, thanking everyone for their work, calling out my wife in particular. Then she said to me, “And don’t forget to take care of your L energy.”
Dream end
A NYTimes headline scored my attention today:
Regular visitors to my blog know that my family have been dealing with my aging mother for years. She’d been living a good life; a fall on some stairs changed that trajectory.
Mom fortunately had a good partner, Frank, as she moved toward her 80s. His drawbacks including increasing deafness, blindness, and being five years older than Mom.
We could see what was coming: Mom would need more and more care. The care would become more and more expensive. Frank would be less and less able to help Mom.
I spoke with Mom about it over the years, advocating to get someone in to help her clean and help her take care of herself. I also kept suggesting that they move into smaller place, such as an assisted living facility or a ‘senior’ community.
Mom resisted most of the suggestions. She didn’t want to leave her house. That home represented her life. She bought it on her own, then got her GED and went to nursing school. Mom opened her home to her grandchildren, taking care of them while my sisters went to school or worked.
I eventually convinced Mom to accept someone coming in and cleaning a few times a week. I paid for it, which helped Mom accept the help. She was also willing let that person in because it was a neighbor and someone she knew.
The arrangement ended when the cleaner suffered cancer and could no longer work. Worse, Mom was falling more often. Her recovery arcs were longer. Each hospital episode left her with more challenges. Yet her will to live was undiminished.
Things took a drastic turn last year. Frank, her partner, fell down the stairs. Hospitalized, he went into a coma and died, 95 years old.
This was devastating for us on multiple fronts and forced Mom’s health from concern to crisis.
Mom tried living alone when Frank was in the hospital and everyone hoped he would recover. Falling, though, Mom couldn’t get up several times and slept on the floor. Cooking was a struggle, so she took shortcuts such as eating sardines with crackers for dinner. She grew thinner and weaker.
My sister took her in. Sis set up a nice space for Mom. Perhaps the biggest drawback was that it was located in my sister’s finished basement. It started out fine but soon devolved into a cold war between Mom and everyone living there. Mom has been vulnerable to UTIs, and we think that was part of the problem.
Mom ended up making suicidal comments. She ended up hospitalized and then in an assisted living place where she does not want to be.
All this is just foreshadowing to me. I’ll be 70 in a few months. My wife is a year younger. One sister is two years older, and another is two years younger. The other two sisters are 8 and 10 years younger than me.
The thing is, even as Mom needs help, all of us are also reaching that point. While I’ve been hospitalized and treated for several issues in the last five years, I’ve rebounded. The same can’t be said for my wife, my sisters, and their husbands.
We’re all facing the same issues that others face in this article: how do we help our parents when we’re crossing the threshold into needing help ourselves?
This is the Silver Tsunami, a term many do not like.
I’ve considered moving to be closer to my sisters and Mom. There are many legitimate excuses for why that hasn’t happened. While our southern Oregon home is ideal for us, the location is not any longer. Just under 1900 square feet, the house is single storied with two bathrooms, and three bedrooms. One bedroom is the home office. This is where we spend our most time, reading, exercising, watching television, on the computer.
The area, though, has been enduring droughts. With the droughts have come water shortages, wildfires, and smoke. As those hit, the local economy has suffered. As a result, Ashland is facing a financial crisis. Adding to that crisis is that two major employers, Southern Oregon University (SOU) and the town’s hospital, Assante Ashland Community Hospital, faced their own crises. Those crises forced them to drawdown in significant ways, with more on the way.
At this point, the future is not ideal. As the article points out, we’re not alone in our problems, both with our own health and aging, but also with helping our parents.
What’s troubling me as much as anything is how the GOP has responded. Trump has cut social services to the aging population. He instead wants to spend more money on the military. Equally troubling is that the GOP goes along with this.
There’s already a growing rural hospital crisis in the United States. With Trump in office, madly spending, the national debt has crossed the point where it is now larger than our Gross National Product.
Yet, Trump’s spending priorities are geared toward bailing out countries, starting wars or using the military as a stick to threaten other nations. These do nothing to help our nation’s aging citizens. Trump’s policies have instead resulted in higher prices across the spectrum, which makes everything worse for anyone living a marginalized life. Including people like Mom.
Projections show that it’ll probably get worse, with more citizens requiring healthcare and living assistance. Natural supply and demand for personnel, food, assistance, and medical care will further drive up costs.
It’s a terrible spiral. As wealth becomes more concentrated in the hands of billionaires who care mostly for themselves and their businesses, the rest of us will keep sliding further into debt and crisis.
Sadly, that is Trump’s America. As it now stands, it’s the future for far too many.
Some may say that I’m being fatalistic. I reply, I’m just reading the news and watching the trends.