I’m at a loss to understand how I’m someone’s enemy because I’m a liberal. I support civil rights. I want gay men and women to be able to live their lives, be married, and be happy. I want women to have the right to choose their medical care.

Last week the Los Angeles Times and the Washington Post refused to endorse a candidate from either party because the editorial boards wanted to endorse the candidate of the Democrats and the tech billionaire owners said, no.

I’ve always wondered when I read the saying, Make America Great Again. When was again? What time period, what point in our history was the zenith to which we should return or bring back?

They say it never pays to stand up, because most people would prefer you sit down and shut up. And the Japanese have a saying that the nail that sticks out gets hammered down, because they really like conformity.

I voted yesterday. Then I spent most of the day in a funk.

Spent the day yesterday helping friends provide music, sound, and food to a gathering of women at the Hotel Giles in Comfort, Texas.

I’m in the mood to say something pithy, but nothing pithy comes to mind. I’m facing one of those barren words deserts that occasionally plague writers.

On a chill morning like today, I enjoy standing outside, feeling the air on my skin, drinking my coffee and looking at the gray clouds attempting to fill the sky. It gives me hope that winter might be on the way.

The other day, my brother and I played a round of golf at a course we favor. As usual, being a twosome, they paired us with another twosome. Usually, this makes for a sometimes gruesome day of golf as you have to play with someone you’d usually ignore.

As a writer, I’ve always thought, as Hemingway said, “A writer’s job is to tell the truth.” But the truth these days is harder and harder to find because more and more it seems mostly to lie in the eye of the beholder.

I’d love to wake up in the morning, go outside, and see frost on the ground. I need some fall weather. A sweater. A jacket. Something that says the days of high heat are gone.

I watched the comet last night. Tsuchinshan-ATLAS. It was in the western sky, just after sunset. It will be there for at least another ten days.

I remember when CNN debuted. I thought it would never work. Most news is boring. Boy was I wrong. It worked, because in addition to covering the news, they talked about it.

 I am going to a friends 80^th birthday party today. I’m in charge of the music. It’s a playlist he and I began putting together back in the 80s when the medium of choice was cassette tapes, and I was planning a Mardi Gras party.

Milton made landfall as a category three hurricane yesterday, the second to hit Florida in about two weeks. Luckily, Milton continued on out to sea and will give the east coast a break. Meanwhile, I had a nice talk with a friend about climate change.

It was 1970 or maybe 71. Fresh out of the Navy, newly married, I was attending the University of Houston on the GI Bill. I was majoring in literature for no other reason than I’d always wanted to go to college and study it. Literature. Books.

Talk about changes. The other day I watched the season finale of a series I like on Netflix, The Umbrella Academy. The only person I know with whom I can talk about it is my daughter.

The gullible, the malicious, the uninformed have always been with us. Like viruses or bacteria, they lived among us.

Here we are. The first day of another era in the history of my blog I write each day in the morning light, or dark depending on the time of the year. I should probably give it more thought, take more time, but this is what I’ve done for the last ten years.

Unsettled. That’s the best way to describe my recent feelings. About life, about writing, about everything. I’m unsure when it started. Maybe it was when I looked at my readership analytics and saw the size of my audience. Small. Tiny even.