In the Kitchen

Found fresh Dover sole on sale today.

Probably my favorite seafood choice these days.

And relatively inexpensive when compared to salmon, halibut, etc ...

I did think it a travesty and serious sin that they had it next to the tilapia in the seafood case of the store.

As a dep sea fisherman friend of mine once said:

"Friends don't let friends eat tilapia."

I closely supervised the placing of fish on the scale to ensure there was no substitution of the lesser seafood.

I definitely prefer fried over baked but I'm mediocre at flipping it and keeping it intact.

I quit trying long ago to keep the filets together.

So, it always morphs into scrambled Dover Sole which is perfectly ok with me. 

A little paprika and parsley flakes sprinkled on while it cooks and I'm good to go.

I doubt that my finished product would receive complimentary feedback but I'm feeling contented tonight.

'South Falls' at Silver Falls Park, Oregon. About a half hour away. It's an exhilarating experience to walk behind it and emerge misted and sprayed by the flow of water.

Photo is from a visit in April 2009. Certainly not the last time I was there.  

Until Tonight ....

Sitting on a bench this evening, listening to the end of the day.

Taking in the declining sun and a gentle breeze.

Reading about the final months of someone I didn't know but knew of. 

I had learned several years ago about her illness. 

I tried to reach out a few times and received understandable silence.

I attempted for a while to be attentive to what was going on in her world.

She seemed to be doing well though I suspected otherwise.

But eventually, I had forgotten about her. 

Until tonight ..... 

I read that she had passed away ..... last year it was.

Tonight, I read about her passion for life while facing its end.

About a soul that couldn't be kept down.

And wondered what those last days must have been like.

How do you hold onto hope in your moments alone?

I went to her social media page and there's not even a mention of her passing.

The posts just end ...... which feels so sad.

Maybe that's how she wanted it. 

Only the people closest to her to know. 

The sun dropped out of view. The breeze faded. 

The fishers off in the distance, called it a day. 

I walked away from that bench but have been thinking of her all evening.  

This bench is up on a hill at the Catholic Abbey in Mt. Angel, Oregon. One of the more peaceful places I know of. From here you can look down at the Willamette Valley. Or walk across the courtyard and on clear days you can view Mt. Hood and Mt. St. Helens.

Photo is from June 2019.

Notes on Nothing

One thing about being a music collector .... Occasionally you get reminded of something.

You go to play it .... and after five or ten minutes of searching, can't find it!! 

But it's certainly not where I remember it being.

But then, I'm old and my once (self) acclaimed elephant-like memory is possibly in decline and faulty.

I could have filed it anywhere as it could be imagined fitting in with a number of genres.

Or not filed it at all. Left it to the wilds of miscellaneous and random. 

Which means it could be in the dishwasher. Or under a pillow.

And now I'm left wondering if the guy that installed the new window in that room, pocketed it?

No Sad Goodbyes

A co-worker is retiring next week.

I told her that I'm not coming to work that day because I've grown to hate goodbyes.

I've seen too many people turn and walk away.

I don't do goodbyes well .... ever since 8th grade, Catholic school graduation.

They've always done damage to my soul.

I doubt that I'll know when it's my last day. 

I'll simply wake up some morning (hopefully) and decide to stay home.  

Or be halfway there in my car and pull a sudden U-turn and go to breakfast instead.

Seems like that could be an ending to a movie.

From October 2017. I love things that keep track of the time. Especially those devices that have hands and a look from another era.

Notes To Usher in the Apocalypse

 Notes on this and that. Needed therapy after watching all nine innings of another lifeless Yankees loss.

• I guess I don't need to ride the exercise bike tonight. Sweated up a storm just picking up around the house. 
• Speaking of a lifeless Yankee loss .... How many frustrating occasions during the past three or four seasons, have I vowed that I've watched my last game? (Seems like two or three dozen.) And then the next day I'm back for more punishment.
• My go-to moment of daily pleasure has become the home-for-the-evening, removal of shoes and socks.
• These days, the only time that I exhibit the long-absent quickness and physical histrionics of youth is when I wander into a spider web.
• I was excited about the upcoming half-century anniversary (which actually would have been yesterday) of my beginning date at work, hinting at appreciation in the form of a watch or vinyl record store gift certificate, and then my boss pointed out the errors of my mathematical calculations. So today was 49 years plus one day. 
• The dilemma of collecting vinyl records .... I watch all these YouTube and Instagram 'vinyl community' videos and end up envious of everyone else and their collections. 
• It's been ten months since I've had a coca-cola and while I'm constantly craving one, I'm finding it not all that difficult to abstain. 

Accepting the Facts

I walk around town and see people ..... 20-somethings, 30-somethings, 40 and 50-somethings ..... and I automatically go to my default reaction of thinking I am part of their demographic.

Still young and part of the crowd.

Then I receive the instant internal error message that .... "No, no you're not."

No matter how badly I wish that I still was, I'm not!!

And it's funny how quickly all this passing time transpired. 

It's like I was just going along with life, then blinked, and here I am, a senior citizen.

The past seems so recent and like I should be able to pick up where I left off.

But no!!!

And I ruminate endlessly about all this.

I won't bring it up in person but if you do, it will be a struggle to get me to stop talking.

If you were to go through this journal, you'd likely find it to be the overriding theme.

I have moments where I'm fine ..... and moments where I truly struggle with it.

And I wonder if others my age go through the same mind games?

Or if they have accepted the facts more gracefully and gently?

Foggy morning from March of 2023. 

Fog always reminds me of a specific memory from my teenage years. A cold and foggy late autumn afternoon with a light drizzle falling, in the backyard of the house I grew up in, picking up fallen walnuts. 

There are random moments from my life that have always stayed with me. Nothing life changing, exciting or fantastic about many of them. Just feelings and images from a moment that have been burned into my memory. Never fading away. Always returning.

Going Through It

A co-worker has been dealing with cancer and treatments.

He just returned after several days in the hospital.

And he's going in tomorrow for a biopsy on a new possible tumor. 

I've been around him for almost three years now. He opened up a little the other day.

About what he's been going through he said: "It sucks."

It looks like it's taken a toll on him. Like each step is a struggle.

He rides a Harley ..... when he was feeling better.

Big and burly but very soft spoken. 

He doesn't get involved in the petty bickering of others. 

He minds his own business from what I've observed. 

I'm hoping that he gets some good news. 

Edit on 7/24 to add ..... 

Today I found out that he's also going through dialysis treatments and they are looking at his heart as well.

Seems like too much going on at once to have much hope.

But he sounded excited about attending a family reunion this weekend at the coast. 

Thank You For Your Efforts

I just read that Peter Courtney, the longtime president of the Oregon senate passed away.

I met him sometime in the mid or latter part of the 1990's while recruiting parents to coach summer youth basketball.

He stepped forward. I was amazed that he found the time.

My first impressions were that he was loud, brash, arrogant, obnoxious ......

..... I didn't like him!!

It wasn't long though before I realized how much he cared and how passionate he was about anything he became involved with. 

That behind all that bluster was someone trying to do the right thing.

I ended up admiring him greatly.

I've crossed paths with him in the grocery store a few times since.

I always thought it was funny, a powerful politician pushing his shopping cart through the aisles.

That he didn't have a personal assistant or intern doing it for him.

He must have rarely made it through without someone recognizing and stopping him to present whatever was on their mind.

I'm thinking he was always happy to listen.

And I doubt that he ever held back his own thoughts.

This bridge, connecting two city parks, was named in honor of Peter Courtney for his longtime efforts in the community. 

Thunder and Rain

Well, the aforementioned distant thunder moved much closer.

One loud clap sounding like it was directly overhead. 

Knocking out the power for a few seconds. 

(And apparently for longer in various spots around town.)

Followed by the rain.

Rain in July .... a rare occurrence. 

Then a Sunday morning walk among the roses. 

Then while driving home one of those great moments .... A song on the radio. The Jazz station.

The radio DJ: "That was Pat Metheny."

Myself thinking: "Hey!! I have lots of Metheny."

DJ: "From his Watercolors album ..... the song; Oasis."

Myself: "Hey!! I have that on vinyl." 

Hoop Dreams #2478

Had a dream last night ..... the kind I remember long after awakening.

And historically accurate too.

Well other than the fact that I'm 25-30 years older now.

Reffing youth basketball and during breaks in the action, shooting jump shots beyond the 3-point line.

Thinking back, not the most professional of actions taken while hoping for integrity and credibility for a referee.

But attempting to wow the spectators. 

Not that the basketball always went in the hoop. But I had my moments.

It was a 60/40 proposition for me. Or maybe closer to 40/60 or even 30/70 if truth be spoken here.

But confidence is important and occasionally jump shooters get on a roll. 

And in this dream, I was red hot.

Typically, my hoop dreams tend to go in the opposite direction.

Where there's a great deal of effort but I can't make a thing. 

Which some of my trash talking old hoop buddies will tell you is the real reality.

Smoke filled sky during the summer of 2020 wildfires. Photo taken just down the road from where I live.  

Late Night Thunder

I don't know if it awakened me but up at 3:00am, listening to the rumblings of thunder in the distance. 

Beautiful and intense in its power.

Hopefully not accompanied by dozens or more of lightning strikes.

There were warnings yesterday of the potential for such this evening and dangerous existing wildfire conditions.

There's already smoke in the sky as evidenced by the colors of last evenings sunset.

Those colors impressive to view but never something to wish for.

The memories are still fresh from a tense week ..... and one particular day a few summers ago. 

This is a photo from that summer of 2020 that a friend took while looking out her back door. I called it, 'Carlotta's View.' Wildfires approaching her home. Thankfully not reaching it.

Not That You Asked ....

I don't pretend to have any secrets of life, nor do I claim to be a sage voice of wisdom but if there is one piece of knowledge that I could pass along to someone much younger it would be to take care of and not overlook health matters while thinking you'll be young and indestructible forever, because it's most likely going to catch up with you when you're older. 

An afternoon in October, 2020. Driving along a rural road, never explored before. Adventures in hill country. 

Early Morning Musings

Had the sudden thought wash over me this morning .....

What if my parents had named me something other than Michael?

Would my life have been different? 

It's not something I recall ever pondering before, so I don't know where the thought came from.

Or why. 

I was just walking into work, minding my own business.

Hadn't said good morning to anyone yet.

Truth be told, I'm not much of a 'good morning' person anyway.

I need an hour of peace to work my way into civility. 

But I digress .....

Suddenly the question was just there.

What if I had been named Franklin? Or Sam?

Would I have encountered different people? Made different choices?

Been presented with different opportunities?

There are literally thousands of variables .... things that happened in my parents lives ..... or their parents, etc. .... the entire long lineage, that could have changed my existence and life. 

I've never wondered if the choice of a name was one.

My eyes are always drawn to the sky ..... and trees ..... and birds .....  and birds in trees. This was a November day in 2021. 

Juana

My ex-coworker friend (she's retired) .... I call her either, "My Juana" or "My ex-Juana" depending on circumstances or mood .... I didn't know her in high school days but her photo is there in the yearbook, sophomore class, but never to appear again in following publications.

Sidenote: How many 68-year-olds still have their high school yearbooks?  

Is it a common thing among senior citizens?

I'm terribly and painfully nostalgic so I'll never do away with mine. 

Anyway, I always tell my friend: "Gosh Juana, you were the 5th or 6th prettiest girl in the class."

And she always replies: "Oh yeah Mike, who was prettier?"

One time many years ago, she couldn't get her car to start.

She asked if I would give her a push so she could pop the clutch.

So I commence pushing .... and I'm pushing and pushing and straining and her car won't move.

And she's yelling at me: "Gosh Mike what's wrong with you? What kind of a man are you?"

And in that moment, I was starting to wonder.

And then: ...... "Ooopppps I forgot to release the brake."

So I eventually get her car rolling and she pops the clutch, and the engine starts and she speeds off leaving me standing there in a cloud of dust. 

Didn't even stop or slow down to say thank you or goodbye.

And these days we laugh about that and other shared comedic experiences in our past. 

She's three or four months older than me and I never let her forget it, always reminding her that she's "so much older."

She's the co-worker mentioned a couple journal entries ago who told another co-worker that we were married and that her husband would pay for the food she ordered. 

Our relationship has always been platonic ..... that doesn't deter me from giving her shit about her choices for romantic interests over the years ..... the "long haired motorcycle dude" and "el chapparo" or "shorty."

Liberation Day!!

Today .... the magic date!! Liberation day!!

My two months of yearly allergy hell ends!!

Historically speaking that is. 

But not a single sneeze today and only a weak sniffle or two. 

Whatever it is within the grass pollen family that sets me off, loses steam after July 14th.

For as long as I can remember ..... which is 62-ish years.

(The memories are a little hazy for the first six years of life.)

Someone told me once that occasionally a person outgrows it. 

I think they were lying .... or ill-informed.

But I have made it through the last two or three years with less use of OTC meds.

Less = None this season.

And less time spent on my back with wet towels over nearly swollen shut eyes.  

Not a single person asked me this season, what was wrong with my eyes.

I credit improved discipline ..... Keeping my hands away from my eyes.

Resisting the urge to attack that itch. The temptation eventually fades.

The sneezing fits still happened but I made efforts to stay calm .... don't thrash about and kick up more pollen.

At the high point this year, the first two weeks of June, a few days of rain moved in providing a brief respite. 

The pollen didn't return or rise up as potent as before the rain.

Maybe the following five days of 100-plus degree weather zapped its energy.  

Whatever it was, I'm grateful. 

My Process

Sometimes I read my attempts at poetry and think: "Wow!! That's almost decent."

Other times I think: "That's horrible. Keep trying."

I keep most things, little notes scattered around. Completed attempts (maybe) and single lines .... because you never know how it will feel in the future. If other ideas, thoughts and words will suddenly emerge or if it will become part of a different effort.

I find the process of creating images through words, to be very difficult.

I'm certainly not a natural. I fuss and fret.

Though I am passionate and borderline relentless about it.

I find freedom in not having to explain what I create.

I read somewhere that it's not important what anyone else thinks about your efforts ..... but just that you create something. Anything. 

That's what I'm trying to do.

I can't paint. I can't carry a tune. But I do have thousands of words and thoughts running through my head every day from memories, experiences or of just the present moment.

I feel the need to get it out. To tell someone!!

I love that I can be as abstract as I want to be. 

I'm always watching the sky. Few things catch and dominate my attention like the combination of the sun and clouds. And each image .... every second, is changing and unique. I'm fascinated by time and the thought that the instant I just captured, was here, is now gone and will never be seen or experienced again. 

Tale of Two Co-Workers

Co-worker #1, works a second job with her husband as the co-owner of a bento restaurant.

Co-worker #2, told co-worker #1 that I am her husband.

Apparently co-worker #1 believed that fabricated piece of information.

Co-worker #2, ordered food from co-worker #1's restaurant, who delivered it to work.

Co-worker #2 told co-worker #1 that: "My husband will pay you." 🤣

Such is my life these days.

Taken in September 2021 at Ankeny Wildlife Refuge. Just a twenty-minute drive down I-5 for me. A wide variety of birds can be seen there.

Socks and Stuff

I wonder sometimes, if there's a hidden stranger living with me?

Or a sloppier, alternate version of myself who comes and goes when I'm away?

It seems like I pick up my socks every day and toss them in the dirty laundry hamper.

Yet every day, there's five or six socks to pick up. 

Possibly more if I were to check under the coffee table. 

Or consider that some might be freshly cleaned socks dropped during the walk from dryer to bedroom.

I struggle with getting even.  

And as obsessive as I've become in this old age about hand washing or trimming random beard hairs that emerge in conflicting directions from the main mass, you'd think I'd be the same with socks. 

(The grammar checker says there should be a period and not a question mark at the end of that opening sentence but in my mind it's a huge question, maybe needing two or three question marks.)

Topics like this happen when one falls asleep on the couch at 7:00pm, awakes at 11:00pm and decides rather than going back to sleep, to stay up a while and make up for the lost evening hours.

Or when you think that the previous content might be a little too heavy for a mostly self-deprecating soul. 

Or when you are appreciating the cool of a late evening following a series of too many extremely hot days and evenings.

Lives In the Balance

Listening to a co-worker expound on the last five years of the company.

(Assuming he knows what he's talking about. I'm always a little skeptical.)

Where does he get his information?

But he's the loudest, brashest voice.

A lot of wheeling dealing, back room, shady going-ons.

I thought beforehand that I had an idea ..... but I really had no idea what was happening.

The end of one company and its takeover by another.

Big future plans. 

Then again, the same voice sounded as if the end was near just a few weeks ago.

Flashbacks ...... 

I mostly remember the emotions of the changeover. 

Fear, slight optimism, rumors, more fear ..... waiting for final decisions. 

Listening online to court proceedings unsure what was being said.

Happy to know I was coming back tomorrow .... but beyond that????

Lives in the balance. (A JB album/song title.)

A lot has happened since.

I try to replay the progression in my head and forget much.

Sometimes I get the chronological order of events wrong.

More total chaos than I ever care to experience again.

I shook my head often thinking: "No way!!" .... Then watched a way develop.

But I've never felt fully assured of the future.

Sunset from October, 2021. The flocks heading south. Geese I think. I don't care much for geese up close. Ugly birds in my estimation but they can sure fill up the sky and provide a noisy soundtrack during a colorful, western Oregon autumn evening. 

Hazy State of Mind

I don't know if I can explain or write on this adequately.

I have these frequent flashbacks to younger days, and they seem so vivid and recent .....

..... even the moments from fifty-plus years ago.

And there's this fog .... or hazy state of mind where it seems like I should be able to return. 

To live it again!!

And then, this sense of near desperation and sadness when I realize that experience is gone.

Like I already knew it but for a moment you allow your treasured memories to wander about your consciousness.

That's the saddest part of lost youth ..... not that you are much closer to the last days but that those moments you remember fondly could only be realized during those specific moments in time.

Never again!! Gone!!

And the memories are not nearly enough.

Do you know what I mean? 

Evening of a supermoon in July 2023. I always get so giddy with excitement beforehand. In a perfect world, there would be one supermoon per month with a guarantee of visibility in those moments of its rising. 

One More Day

Day four of our five-day preview of hell.

I heard one forecast of 108 degrees tomorrow.

I hope they weren't talking centigrade. 

It's supposed to cool off into the mid-90's after that. 

I was hoping for a little more drastic change. 

Like 108 to 65 in an hour of time. 

Like it played out two summers ago.

And with my luck that mid-90's cold front will be a day or two late moving in.

I think that I deserve better karma.

I usually say that I can't tell the difference between 80 and 108, that it's all just hot to me, but that 95 sounds darn heavenly at the moment.

These 100-plus days are usually reserved for late July and August.

At least the seasonal allergies have been under control.

I imagine seven or eight sneezes in a fifteen second period, in a 105-degree environment would leave me in a pure state of misery .... congested, struggling to breathe and dripping in sweat.

Mistaken Identity Again

So, I received an email notification from the Classmates site that my photo has been spotted in the class yearbook.

I get these about once a month and have always dismissed them.

Not too terribly interested in photos of moi.

Today, I decided to take a brief look at this forbidden (by me) and forgotten photo from antiquity.

It was a picture of the other guy who I shared a first and last name with.

The guy I once took a bullet for .... without thanks. 

As I recall .....

The VP called me into his office.

A relentless round of questioning ensued. 

Who was I? What was my history? What were my intentions with his daughter? Etc .... 

"Say what?" 

I denied everything. He didn't believe me.

I assume that he pondered physical torture to get me to talk.

Eventually he deducted that my first and last name was common and that maybe there was another.

There was!!!

Classmates also keeps informing me that people are interested in seeing a photo of me.

I maintain that: "No they're not!"

"In the Trees." From March 8th of 2020. Taken in the evening hours. Just a few days before everyone's world changed for a while with covid. I wonder if they knew or noticed?

News of the Day

It's funny how the news and loss of someone you never met can feel so personal.

A friend has passed away.

Jon seemed like a really nice guy.

We were members of the same online group for fans of Jackson Browne.

We shared music via snail mail.

When our favorite college basketball teams met, we exchanged a little friendly trash talk.

He was a huge Kansas Jayhawk fan, often posting photos he took at the games.

I discovered yesterday that he was a teacher and influenced many lives.

And that he was heartbroken a few months ago when his dog died.

A few days ago, he posted that he was about to have emergency heart surgery.

Three days later, someone posted that he passed away.

And I was shocked in that moment.

I keep thinking about it. 

R.I.P. Jon. 

No Cheese Please

When did the words, hamburger and the cheeseburger become synonymous? When did it become assumed that everyone that orders a hamburger desires cheese on it? Just about every specialty burger place and fast-food place is going to put cheese on your burger. You have beg, plead, tip extra and then remind them two or three times if you prefer the cheese left off. It's become a mortal sin and offense against society to order a burger without cheese. They react like you're a law-breaking radical ..... "No cheese? .... Really?" I've actually lied a time or two in response .... "Yeah, I'm allergic." And then it's still like they want to see a doctor's note. 

It's the tomato that ought to be standard and automatic for burgers. Asking for no tomato is what should be questioned and get the weird looks.

Early Musings For a New Month

Another month in a life has passed, the year being half over. If only it could all be slowed down. I tend to wonder each year, if I'll still be here the next?

I have this attempt at a poem that I've been working on for a while. I write a line maybe every five days. Sometimes I just replace one word with another. The meaning changes. I weigh the possible impact of each word. I'm not sure any longer what it's about or where it will end. I wonder if anyone will understand and answer by telling myself that, "it doesn't matter if they do." It's ok to be abstract. I think the one constant is intimacy. But what the hell do I know about that? Each time I think there's nothing else to be said, something rises up that calls for attention.

Today, my sister sent a photo of my mom. One I don't recall seeing before. It has me thinking about generations and time passing by. And how I wish we could have a few minutes together again. It's like yesterday at the family reunion. My sister orchestrated this game of family trivia. One of the questions was to name all ten siblings in my father's family. Two of the brothers passed away in their youth. A century has passed by since. I can visualize what I imagine as their childhood faces. The laughter of the moment in that trivia game has transitioned to feeling sad. It feels like I should have had a chance to meet these two uncles. And now I want to know more. I want to ask my dad about them. 

Mansions and The Halo Benders ..... I love it when I discover bands who have been around for a while but who are new to me, and it feels like my degree of coolness and hip factor are suddenly elevated beyond the accepted upper limits and boundaries that such things are measured by.