Living is hard. My tremors are getting worse and make everything difficult. Quite frankly, the only thing keeping me going these days, is the birds in the park.

There's a flock of about sixteen geese that apparently are wintering down with the ducks, and they all gather around me for feeding in the morning. It's an important meal for them, and has become important to me. It's called purpose, sadly.

Just in case anyone was wondering, I don't have any romantic relationships going on. I have a couple of young lady friends, and I'm old enough to be their grandfather.

I don't understand the connections, but I value them greatly. It is so nice to have smart young women as friends, willing to take time out of their schedules to spend time with OldManJim.

Elizabeth said something offhand, that she respects my history and knowledge, or something to that effect. I get that, I do have both.

Her dad has Parkinsons and it's affecting him pretty bad. He was a school teacher for decades around here, and my neighbor Daniel has high regards for the man, taught his boys!

Just thought I would clarify things...


I made a decision a couple weeks after I moved into my house, that I wasn't going to consume our terrible tap water, or make ice with it. I was totally spoiled by the well water from our home at the base of the snow covered Grand Tetons in Idaho.

So I started a routine with the little tobacco store up the road, where I would say hi and slip two dollar bills and a quarter on the counter, even if they had a customer there, and go outside and get a bag of ice. The ice only costs $2.14 so I've been supplementing their register for the last four years.

Today I did the routine, but the ice machine on the side of their building was empty. So I walked back in and told them. They were going to issue a cash register refund and I said no, I'll just grab a bag in the next couple of days.

Norma said no and grabbed some empty bags and went back to their in-store ice machine. Meanwhile I chatted with Chris about this law requiring ID to be presented and scanned, for beer and tobacco purchases. He said it was mandated to sell Marlboro products, which means a database is established containing every beer and tobacco purchase you make. God I'm glad I quit beer and cigarettes decades ago, no ID needed for vodka!

Norma showed up with two bags of ice and a big smile. I guess that day I bought her a catfish meal from the fire station, was not forgotten! I have established a presence in the neighborhood, after four years, and it has value...


I mentioned the Haight/Ashbury over breakfast conversation this morning, I then had to clarify it as the intersection of two San Francisco streets, during the Summer Of Love, in 1967.

I was there and it was amazing. English style fish and chips, wrapped up in a newspaper, then heading out into Golden Gate Park. I like to throw out this reference because it sounds like I was one of the cool characters that made up that cool scene, but I was not.

Someone gave me some pure Meth, uncut, before it became a hit in the world. I was up for three days, psychotic towards the end, waiting to die on the grass in the middle of the Park!

That's when my brother found me, got me out of there, and checked me into the psychiatric ward of Napa State Hospital. Yes, I was in a nut house for two weeks.

I feel very guilty that I was not able to rescue my brother from a locked down nursing home for the mentally disturbed, in Modesto, CA. He is now gone, rest in peace Dana...


Madeline joined me for duck feeding this morning, they liked her. Auntie shot some video from a distance with my Sony zoom lens. Then we fed ourselves at the Park restaurant buffet.

It's great to have nice company in your life, if just for brief moments. My vibrations were raging this morning, and a large breakfast with the girls is just what I needed.

So how are you going to spend the rest of the Winter, old man jim?

Well, last Summer I patched float tubes, this Winter I'll just be the quack cocaine dealer down at the duck dock.

It would be great to put new leaf springs and tires on Jill, and spend Christmas with Shelby up in D.C. Haven't seen this grand-daughter since last Christmas, on a cruise boat in the middle of the Caribbean.

It's only 750 miles and twelve hours, I used to be able to pull that down in a day. Like on that jaunt I made across the country to see Riley in Seattle, two summers ago. I wore Jill's ass off on that trip.

I'm not tied down, Piper is saddly gone and I'm not in a relationship, unless you count my husband Daniel, who is currently hanging out with his wife. Bitch!

There are some things stopping me, like uninsperation, brain abuse, soul searching, fear that if something goes south, can I handle it?

Meanwhile, maybe I can get my ducks to frantically eat Quack out of Madeline's hand tomorrow. That would be nice.

Here's how I see it going down. Liz and Maddie meet me at number seven, tomorrow morning between 0800 and 0815, and follow me to the dock. It's important that we arrive together, because they know my truck.

Maddie and I will sit on the curb, by the dock, side by side, and feed them from seperate bags of Quack. Hopefully Liz can grab video.

I walked Veterans Park this morning, first time in a while, and wondered if I have one more run to Prime in me? I hate to say it, but I may have passed my prime.

I just need a controlled steady path forward. Feed my ducks, and maybe those ladies will contact me about dog walking.

With the trees barren, structures across Shoal Creek come into view. This thing looks like a giant hanger on stilts for a big boat, or maybe it's a large tree house, with people living in it. You never know, here in the South.

But I know what it is, it's the shell of a big beautiful home on the creek, that got wiped out in the '91 flood. Elizabeth and her mom were telling me about that night, they were stranded at the church, couldn't get home.

Anytime I give out my address to a local entity, they all have a story about folks they knew, that lived on my little street before the flood.

I finally climbed on the scale today, been putting it off, and came in at 172, before Thanksgiving dinner. I was kinda shocked, my Base weight is 160 and when I'm fit, not drinking and active, I can get down to 150, the Prime number.

The last time I reached Prime was in Driggs Idaho six years ago when I turned seventy. Quit drinking for almost a year, obsessed with my diet and exercise, you could see my abbs!

I've hovered around the mid one fifties a couple of times since I've been here, just nowhere near Prime, and now I'm twelve pounds over Base.

I keep having wild thoughts about taking advantage of my triple-vax status with passport, and hanging out in Cancun for a week. But I'm twelve pounds over base!

And I'm moving slow, stupid little things bumping up against memory loss. I'm not fit enough for a Mexican resort right now, besides, who would feed my ducks?

Had a great Thanksgiving dinner this evening with Elizabeth and her family in the basement of a church. Food was delicious, and the company friendly and fun. I haven't done one in years, it was good.

I sat next to Madeline's karate sensei, a fascinating guy, energetic, takes his role as a teacher seriously, and sharp as a tack.

I loved Elizabeth's mom, she is a sweety and we had good conversation.

Daniel has been trying to buy this gun from his stepdad for years, and Carl finally just gave it to him. It's a 44mag Smith and Wesson stainless steel revolver, with a four inch barrel.

He said these were banned by the local cops, just too big and bad. You don't want a bullet going clean through someone and then through two or three people behind them.

Daniel said the gun is about thirty years old. We'll take it to the range someday.

Happy Thanksgiving!

It's a nice afternoon, door is wide open, and Daniel just left. The name Paul came into my mind, then I raised my eyes upwards and had a chat with my long gone stepdad Paul.

He blew an opportunity to do well in the role of stepfather. In the end, I knew he regretted it.

One sunny afternoon, late seventies, I got a call from him, said he would like me to come over and get my mom stoned. Shocked, I said sure. I was living in the Oakland California hills, and they were in the suburbs. I was there in fifteen.

We sat at the kitchen table, Paul had a breathing thing pushing air down his lungs, and he could mix shit with it. I then introduced my mom to a bong pipe, filled with some fine homegrown out of Carmel Valley. I was commuting down there, and knew the growers.

My real dad was a Texas boy that fought in WW2 as a sailor. Married my Mom at the end of it, created my brother and I, then split back to Texas.

As Paul injected vodka into his contraption, and my Mom and I got stoned, I asked them where they first met, I didn't know!

It was a bar in Southern California, Mom was freshly divorced with two sons, and Paul saw an instant family to add to his truck driving ambitions. Mom saw a savior.

It was amazing to hear them tell this story, in such a liberated state!

Unfortunately, it was too late for Paul and me. I had already been raised by this man as his stepchild, it was what it was.

In the end, it was the first and last time I ever got stoned with my mom, and probably the last time I ever saw Paul again...


I consume a lot of live media on my big screen and I've taught my original pre-release Amazon Echo how to control it. I hate listening to commercials and then having to scramble for the remotes mute button, so I just say "Computer, Mute Roku", and she does. When content comes back on, I talk to Alexa.

But I digress, I want to talk about local news personalities. I'm often up at 0400, and the four local Nashville news outlets are my first look at the world.

Most of the TV people grate on me, for one reason or another, so I decided to announce my favorite Nashville news anchor. Nikki Burdine, morning anchor for WKRN News 2, Nashville.

My eyes always hit the screen when she speaks. I am met with her amazing blue eyes, freckles scattered across her cheeks, with a down home country accent, that lands gentle on my soul.

This lady is the real deal. She lives in Nashville with her husband and baby, she's written a childrens book, has a podcast, and a great website.

My favorite lineup would be Nikki and Mary Mays, the cute little blond who did the weekend channel 2 morning weather, who is now retired as of Nov 1.

So there it was, and then I lost the thought. Happens all the time, lately.

Amazing ideas flowing from my brain, trying to make it into words here, before they're lost, forever.

Just made my old geezers cocktail, I call it the vodkalax.

I write Posts sometimes, that I think are brilliant, then blush and remove them as fast as I can. I've been blogging since the nineties and that's always been the case. Sometimes you get too real, and you need to back off.

Suddenly everyone here is my cousin, better not make any babies with them.

Having Thanksgiving dinner with Liz and Maddie in the basement of a church, shortly. I have not enjoyed a turkey meal with friends, in a couple of years, and looking forward to it.

Christmas, on the other hand... I spent the last one in the middle of the Caribbean with Shelby and Andy, had a fine time, and didn't sing a single carol all through the cruise.

This one, not sure, maybe get my daughter out here.

And I just got an invite to Farmer Katy's home for Thanksgiving Dinner next year! Wow, can you imagine that experience, where everything is grown and raised on their farm. Thank you Katy.

I shared my Discovery post with my summer boss Ricky, and he said his granny was a Williams. It then struck me, actually it's been floating around my old brain all morning, that I may have skin in the game here!

How ironic that I would end up in the town where my great-great-great-grandmother was born. She also lived to be two years older than I am now. I am blown away...

What if she was born along Shoal Creek, in the exact spot I'm sitting now. The way fate works, it wouldn't surprise me a bit.

I just discovered that my 3rd great-grandmother on my moms side, Elizabeth M Greenhaw, was born on this day in 1835, and died on Aug 4, 1914. She lived to be 78.

The lineage goes thru my mom, on her dad's side, my grandfather, who was the most powerful adult figure in my life, and currently my guardian angel.

Guess where she was born. Right here in Lawrenceburg Tennessee, 187 years ago, sixteen years after the city was founded. Wow...

She was buried under her married name of Williams at the Layton Cemetery in Yellville, Arkansas.

Her husband, my 3rd great-grandfather, was Joseph Nevil Williams, a confederate soldier in Company B of Stirman's (1st) Arkansas Cavalry.

And here's me in our Idaho kitchen sporting my new Tilly Hat.

I just bought the domain name "". It will be a space where one person every evening, for a couple of hours, can text with me directly, and talk about anything.

If I help them along their journey, they can drop a tip into my PayPal, which is currently at zero.

The sad truth is, I have lost the ability to make it happen. A few years ago I would have been all over this thing, but not now.

I mourn the loss of my computer programming skills, they used to define me. Now I'm just glad I can keep this blog together, and vibrant!

If I could find my bad habits On/Off switch, I would flip it to Off. But I truly don't know where it is anymore.

I loved that switch, flipped it Off a few times here in the South, got healthy and fit! Then you lose it for a while, the switch turns back On, and the cycle of life continues.

I have arrived at a point of acceptance about myself, and how I interact with everything else, and I'm really glad to be alive!

I love life, I love people, I love sharing my story, and I don't hate or feel badly about anyone! Thank you for reading.

I have only a few friends in this area, two of which were formed from working at Crockett Shoals Tubing. Three summers ago, Crissinda was the manager and Elizabeth was her assistant. Crissinda and I have formed a nice friendship since then, which her husband and kids allow me to share.

Elizabeth was the manager this summer, and I was reminded of her kindness and sharp wit, that I enjoyed a couple summer's back. She's also Madeline's favorite aunt, so that ranks high in my book.

Getting together with these ladies, evolves around food. I had that great catfish dinner with Elizabeth, her sister, and Maddie, and a soul food lunch with Crissinda, a while back.

This Thanksgiving, for the first time in a long time, I'm getting out of the house and spending it with Elizabeth and her people. I asked if I could bring anything, she replied "to go containers". And she has agreed to meet me for brunch in the Park next Sunday, finally, some company for that event!

Thank you ladies for being my friend! And yea, this 76 year old ex-hippy is hard to deal with sometimes, but you both have recognized that I am smart, and have a good heart.

btw: Daniel just told me that homminy is rotten corn, combined with lymestone and hardwood tree ashes. The slaves here in the South, along with the white poor, were forced to pick up that corn, and make a meal of it.

He also said a mess is a measureing unit of things in the South, like polk salad, the amount necessary to feed a family of four or five.

Polk Salad Annie:

Products we buy in the store are shrinking by volume, count and weight, while costing way more from a couple of years ago. Don't know why I felt obliged to write that, as if you didn't know.

My great $400 rent has also had two $50 raises in that time. Gas? NetFlix? Prime 2 day shipping turning into 7 or more? nuff said!

Yet some things don't cost nuttin, like this cool Titans blanket that a Secret Santa left for me last night. At least that's what I thought until Daniel told me he brought it over, after seeing me sitting in my chair with the super heavy goose down jacket on, that I brought from the mountains of Idaho.

The blanket is now slung over my chair and feels nice. Meanwhile I'm still in full insulation mode, with the gas heater off, just trying to keep my bill down.

Don't know if this a gift or not, find out later. Probably. Daniel knows he gets the chairs, and everything on them, when I die from hypothermia, real soon now...


Another day feeding my buddies, then feeding myself to the Sunday buffet at Crockett's Mill in David Crockett State Park. Bacon and sausage, three eggs over easy, home style potatoes, grits, biscuits and two types of gravy, plus hot peeled apples.

The food was great and the apples were warm and spicy, must be a Southern thing. My servers name was Katy, really down home, pretty and nice. I mentioned Farmer Katy and she said she had twenty acres herself, and after making fun of her kids for using TikTok, she can't go to the site anymore!

I was stuffed from that one plate, and didn't go for seconds. I could have ordered another stack of everything, if I wanted to. This is a different type of buffet, you don't walk the line, it's brought to you. $16.41 out the door, plus a nice tip for Katy.

Here's a short clip of the morning:

As I drove towards my house this morning, coming back from the Park, I spotted a large duffel bag on the side of the road. There was nobody coming either direction, so I stopped to look inside.

What if it was Cartel drug money? Big bound stacks of $10K each inside. Hey, I'm an informed guy, I watch NetFlix and Prime, there's probably going to be a tracker on it, and they're on their way now.

Then, as I approached the bag, the ethical issues start blasting through my mind. Should I call the cops? Hell no, I respect them, but... Take the duffel bag to my place? Ahh, no and no! Drive it to a secluded spot and move the cash into my truck and then toss the bag with it's tracker into the creek? Ok, maybe! But wait, that's littering.

I unzipped the bag and was greeted with someones clothes and belongings. Kinda had homeless written all over it. I zipped it back up, drove off, and a while later it was gone.

I've helped several people out since I've lived here in the South. On three occasions it involved me bringing a homeless person back to my home, letting them shower and put on clean clothes, if they had any. Then feed them and offer either my floor with a memory foam bed, or my truck with the bed, to crash on. Gena stayed a couple of days, and was a success story, I still hope. Glad I still have a photo of her...

Breathe. Let go. And remind yourself that this very moment is the only one you know you have for sure. – Oprah

I have an idea for a new device. It's a small unit, about the size of a silver dollar, that installs magnetically to anything with a metallic interior, and is used to cook food.

It's heat resistant to levels above the standard. It's got a 3D camera that constantly scans the food, using AI to identify each item, and determine the internal temperature.

This data is then streamed through the walls of the oven to the tablet, or phone, sitting up on your counter. An app is running that shows the 3D contents of the oven, with pop-up floating buttons that show the exact internal temperature, and minutes until done.

Simple, the unit lives inside the oven and is turned on and off from the app. I call it the Hamilton at the Beach Food Analyzer.

I'm working on a new poem/song:

 • Living my life, one drink at a time, wondering down the ride.

 • Waiting for death, I'm so much past, and always asking why?

 • I need love, someone to be mine, and be by my side.

 • But I know I will be, alone and abashed, and just die...

My friend Skoge just commented saying "Boy, is that depressing!" and my response is, it's a country song about a sad old man, looking for love that he strongly believes he will never have again, accepting it, and ready for whatever comes next!

Some more:

 • Still I'm a goin, living life to the max, glad to be alive!

Yesterday on the drive North, I went through the drive thru at a Burger King along I-24, and bought a Big Fish sandwich. I pulled ahead to a parking spot, ate it, then walked into the place to use the bathroom to clean up, then on down the road.

Within a minute of leaving, I got a text, supposedly from Burger King, wanting me to click a link with a bunch of funky characters in it, for some rewards. Here you go:

I really don't think Burger King hacked my phone for it's number, but it happened, so somebody did. Somebody near the Burger King, who could associate my particular visit there, with the cell phone sitting in the passenger seat of my truck!

And then text me a link, which I knew was bullshit. Unfortunately, a lot of folks would just see "Burger King Reward" right after leaving the place, and then click the fucking link. Suddenly they are screwed!

The more I think about it, our cell phones must be broadcasting our number, and the hackers have learned how to capture that number, and associate it with a geolocation! This is serious folks!

I had a pretty good buzz going on as I left my motel room in the afternoon for the bar & grill, trying to figure out a way to cross a busy four lane highway, with no pedestrian crossings.

As I walked along the sidewalk, a white car came out of a shopping area to my left and I saw a nice looking lady in her fifties. I pointed at her and she stopped, to my surprise, and rolled down her passenger side window.

I walked over to her and asked if she would drive me across the highway to the bar. She said "I can't do that, you're a stranger!" and I quickly told her that I lived in Lawrenceburg, TN, I was staying at the Motel 6, and that I was a good guy.

To which she replied, "Ok, get in". As we're heading to the highway she turned to me, smiled, and said "I can't believe I'm doing this", and I told her that I was very grateful. She then asked me if I was a Trump supporter and I said "yes ma'am".

We arrived at the bar, fist bumped, and said goodby. In hindsight, I should have offered to buy her a drink.

The bar was fun and as I was leaving, and dreading the trip back in the dark over that highway, a big burly guy offered to walk me across the road. The last thing I remember was my hand on his shoulder, walking in the middle of the highway, and he says "Come on Jim, walk faster!

I woke up in my room the next morning, and all my stuff was intact. Another adventure on the books. I came up to Illinois thru Nashville yesterday and the freeways sucked, so on the return I headed South to Paris, TN and then down thru a bunch of great little Tennessee towns, to home. Then I loaded up a big bag of quack cocaine and went to the Park. The ducks were ravenous.

...and a correction to yesterday's post, they were not nose to nose when they met.

I really love my 1988 Mazda B2200, with a canopy and a bed in the back. Her name is Jill and she is one of the best things I have ever bought, thank you son.

She transported me to great adventures from the home in Idaho, across all of the States in the West. I would take the summers off from my bus driving job, and just drive.

Now she's been treating me to the East. I keep her in top condition and she rewards me with reliability. Currently has around 256,000 miles on her, stripped the emission controls off, replaced with a Weber carb and a header.

She's also been in a garage or under a canopy since I've had her, so her exterior is holding up well.

Why have I assigned her the gender specific name of Jill? When I drove it into Idaho it had no name and no gender, until I parked it out in our back forty, nose to nose with my big black seventies era lifted Chevy Silverado, named Jack.

This post was created at a Motel 6 in Metropolis, IL, using my phones wifi. Peace...


I need to get out of my head and out of the house, so I'm heading to Metropolis, Illinois tomorrow. It's 210 miles away, a four hour drive. The home of Superman!

I'll be staying at the Motel 6 with a quick stop at the Thrive dispensary for some legal weed. And it's right across the street from the Super City Bar & Grill, so I can get housed, stoned, fed and buzzed, without moving my truck until the morning. It's also right next to a Huddle House for breakfast.

It's the ideal one day vacation spot! I can also feed my ducks before I head North.

Farmer Katy came into my awareness, from TikTok. She has a great presence there, a local farmer here in Lawrenceburg, and she caught my eye.

Katy moved here from Michigan a few years back with her husband, and her mom and dad. They bought 140 acres of land, and began farming it. They market free range eggs, honey, and grass fed beef and lamb.

I contacted her a while back and she invited me to the farm. She was very gracious, gave me a tour, introduced me to her family, and sold me some amazing eggs.

Here are her links:

 • TikTok

 • Website

 • Instagram

I tracked down my grandfathers grave. It's in the Sacramento Memorial Lawn Cemetery, in Sacramento, CA. He was a World War One veteran and his burial flag hangs on my wall here.

The last time I saw him he was dropping me off on a Sacramento freeway onramp, to hitchhike to Arizona for a professional baseball tryout. The last thing I said to him was Pray For Me, then he went home, mowed his lawn, and died in his kitchen from a heart attack. I never made that tryout, but I made his funeral.

If I ever get to that neck of the woods again, I will pay him a visit.

On a local note, Farmer Katy's cows arrived and she shared them with me, and I will share them with you. They're called Pineywoods, a breed that almost went extinct.

It's a very cold day here in the South, and I couldn't find my ducks in their usual spot this morning. So I did a slow roll along the shore with my window down, calling for them. They know my voice and suddenly I heard a quack, I recognized it as Whitey, and I called them some more.

Then they appeared from their hunker down spot along the shoreline, quacking like crazy. They had a great breakfast, they need this food as the temps drop.

Goose wasn't there. The whole big flock of geese was gone yesterday because they knew the freeze was coming, but Goose must have flown off on his own today. I'm very fond of that bird, hope he's ok...

Update: He's still here, fed him this morning! (11/15)

I am so alone. I fed my ducks this morning and have spent the rest of the day watching movies on my big TV.

Daniel came by and fed me homemade corn bread with pork and beans, then he left. I am grateful for his friendship, but I need more.

I'm lonely, I miss the companionship of a partner. I write, because I cannot speak. I share my life on my blog because I seek feedback and validation, or rejection, and for the most part, receive neither.

So what to do? I suppose I could take a road trip, somewhere, but the weather is turning cold and sleeping in my truck doesn't sound fun.

Elizabeth has invited me to Thanksgiving, so I need to be here, to enjoy that wonderful invite. It's been a few years since I have experienced that.

So there you go, my life, thanks for reading...


I was driving the back roads this morning to feed my ducks, and as I came down that little hill which connects to the highway, my old tires met ice and I almost slid into high speed traffic.

It got me to thinking about that funeral procession I saw yesterday. That's not happening in my afterlife. I should probably go see that local outfit offering a $900 cremation package, and prepay for one.

Then what, I have an official Will, but who knows who could make my funeral and gather up the few remaining things in my life. I guess I haven't played my cards very well.

I respect those that can generate a hundred car procession, they were probably well loved in the community, married once with a huge family, and downright good people. Well deserving of a great send off.

I am old, I have no idea if I have any major shit going down inside my body, because I don't ask. I could drop dead tomorrow, or live to be a hundred.

So, I'm glad to still be alive, I take pleasure in whatever I can, and I feel sorry for the few family and friends I have, left to clean up the mess when I pass.

I think it's about time I said it, I'm enjoying living in the South. I was a West Coast boy for decades, moved a little bit East to Idaho, and then suddenly planted myself in the Deep South more than four years ago.

I have seen a lot of it. Several great road trips have exposed me to the Southern States, and I've loved everything I've seen.

But sometimes it's the little things that amaze me. Back West when someone is walking out of a door in front of you, the door swings closed. Here, and I think it's due to respect for the elderly, they stop and hold the door open for you, before they exit.

Today I saw a funeral procession coming down the busy four lane highway 43, and that road came to a stop! Everyone pulled to the side of the road in respect, even traffic in the opposite direction. Tears welled up in my eyes at this tradition.

I'm an agnostic, but I respect these god fearing, church going people. There is something amazing about the friendliness and spirit of good will among them all.

And then there is the food, and the traditions that have grown from poverty. It is unlike anything I've experienced from the pretentious West. Down home real cooking, and they don't eat escargot here...


It looked like our little Veterans Parade might get rained out today, but the sky cleared, and the parade went on.

So I mosied up there with my Sony and the Zoom lens, and grabbed some shots. It was a typical small southern town parade, but it felt good, and if you weren't able to make it, you're welcome to view the pictures by clicking the photo below.

I learned to read when I was a young kid living in a small town called Floriston. It was about thirty houses splattered against a mountain side, just into California from Reno NV, along I-40.

It was a major stop for the railroad in the 1800's, with a 52 room hotel and right next to a large ice facility, where the trains could load up.

The town was built in 1899 by the Floriston Pulp and Paper Company to house employees. It was the second largest paper mill in the world at the time.

When the mill shut down, it turned into a ghost town. In 1947 a lawyer from San Francisco bought the place, and incorporated it.

Why we moved there in the early fifties when I was about six, only my step dad knows, and he is now long gone.

I lived there for several years with my older brother and younger sister. We walked at least a half mile every day, across two major railroad tracks, up to I-40 to catch a school bus into Truckee, thirty miles away.

Reading became my passion. As I encountered new words, I would look them up in a dictionary I somehow had. I learned the difference between then and than.

It didn't serve me well as I landed a major programming contract many years later, where I made a written presentation to a company and the President said I had the contract, but there are two p's in shipping, Jim.

That would be Interocean Steamship, a major shipping company in San Francisco, where I created two major computer applications, over seven years.

I suppose I could stop here with this post, but that would leave so much unsaid about Floriston.

These were my brothers and my formative years, under a strict step dad, and they ended up defining us. I survived, somehow, Dana did not.

Our bedroom was a dark basement with two small beds. Our mom was wonderful and kept our spirits somewhat alive, and occasionally my grandfather would show up and take us to the drivein in Reno.

In Dana's later years, unknown to me, he ended up homeless on the streets of Sacramento, CA, out of his mind. One day he took a leak behind a building and the cops charged him with indecent exposure and he ended up in jail as a registered sex offender. They put him in a mental institution, and eventually a locked down nursing home in Modesto, where I saw him last. He died early this year.

Me, hell, I was one fucked up kid as I reached my teenage years. We were long gone from Floriston but I was a mess. My IQ was very high, but I didn't know what to do with it, and I lacked the skills and guidance to do anything right.

Thus evolved the crazy journey that led me here. It is what it is, and I finally consider myself a good man...


My grand-daughter Shelby,

is selling her Jeep Wrangler. It's a 2012 with 93k miles, asking 18k. In great shape! She's living in DC, but she could use a road trip, within reason. :-)

If interested, email me: This email address is being protected from spambots. You need JavaScript enabled to view it.

I'm really enjoying my Air Fryer. I elevated it off the counter yesterday, using bricks from the old demolished building downtown, along with Pipers treat storage container that I kept next to my desk. It's great for storing the ovens accessories.

This morning I made my breakfast sandwich using two egg rings, with a slice of bread right next to them. Cooked on air-fry mode, flipping the bread when ready, and it all came out great. Katy's eggs topped with Newman's Own medium salsa, and Sweet Baby Ray's hot sauce.

Cleanup was easy. I didn't use any cooking oil spray, and that's fine, just tossed the foil.

I think the Powerball Lottery is rigged. They know the numbers of every ticket sold, stored on their big computers. That's why they can announce that a winning ticket was sold at a particular store in a particular state.

So, armed with all that info, they "draw" numbers that don't match up fully with any of them. This allows the jackpot to rise into the billions, which brings out folks that would normally not play, and they rake in huge profits.

They will allow a few million dollar winners to keep people excited, but that's chump change.

When I checked the numbers in the morning for the most recent drawing, the site said there was a delay in the process. Apparently one State had an issue with reporting, so they had to pause everything to get back on track.

I researched it and discovered that State was California. The winning ticket showed up a few hours later in, wait for it, California.

Just sayin...


Where does OldManjim stand as the election unfolds tomorrow?

My ancestry in this country goes back to at least the 1500's, maybe more. Perhaps my relatives were slave owners, I don't know. I have apologized to the black girlfriends in my life, and we were good. My black male friends have always been the best.

I have had my children aborted, and as I look back on everything, I am so sorry, it never should have occurred, and I miss you.

For many years I had no political affiliation. Just brain dead, moving through life, like a lot of people now. Tomorrow is the day to get you're head out of your ass, and vote!

I think illegal immigrant women and children flowing into our country from an unsecured southern border is great! The human trafficking business needs victims, and this fills the void. It helps to protect our female joggers on the street from abduction.

I hate paying over three bucks a gallon for gas, damn, I remember when it was $.19 a gallon back in the sixties, and around two bucks under Trump.

I have seen the prices for everything double, in the last two years, thank you Brandon.

So, lets go vote!

So how am I voting? Flat out Red baby! I will go to my location tomorrow and vote R across every item on the ballot.

And I think Trump should step down, and give the nomination to Desantas. I love the guy, but he's too toxic, and we just need to win.

There you go, my opinion...


I was driving through the park today and spotted an old van, with a surfboard strapped to the roof, and the drivers door slung open. Of course I had to stop.

I approached the open door and there was an old guy sitting there. I said Hi, but he didn't hear me at first, realized he was hard of hearing, so I upped my volume.

I pointed to his roof and said surfboard? He said Yea, do you surf? I told him I have, and I sucked, and we started talking. He told me he was living in his van and just traveling around. He got out, with a cane, and we walked to the other side of the van and he showed me his living space.

I pointed to my truck and told him I have a bed in the back, and I love to travel. We made a connection, and had a great chat.

We talked about California, I told him I knew that great Santa Cruz surfboard maker from the seventies, been to his house, but neither one of us could remember his name.

I told him I've been to Belize a few times, but he blew my adventures out of the water. Back in the sixties he returned from Vietnam and traveled to Belize with a crazy ex-vet buddy. Took them a year and a half to get there, through Mexico, living in caves.

He currently works for Bryce Canyon Tours out of Utah in the Summer to build up his travel money, then visits friends and family during his travels.

I asked him how old he was, and I knew he was going to say 76. I asked him his name, and I knew he was going to say Jim. I knew I had met a kindred spirit.

I gave him my blog name but he said he's not into modern technology, and showed me his old little hand held something that he uses to stay in touch.

I thought about letting him park in front of my house for the night, to get to know him better, but he said he was on his way to Memphis, so we shook hands, and said goodbye. This was a cosmic connection.

Update: I just tracked down that seventies Santa Cruz surfboard maker. His name was Jack O’Neill and he had a great brand (still going strong) with a house out on the ocean. I don't remember how I knew his two beautiful daughters when I lived in Santa Cruz, but I do remember them taking me out to dad's house, and meeting him.

My goto mid-morning breakfast is a slice of toasted bread, mayo, cole slaw, two of Katy's free range eggs, topped with Sweet Baby Ray's Hot Sauce and Newman's Own Medium Salsa.

The cooking and toasting is done on the really old stove I have in my old house. It's a pain, and cleanup is a bitch. Daniel said I should get an air fryer counter top toaster oven, so I looked it up on Amazon, loved what I saw, and pushed the buy button. Be here tomorrow.

It was a Hamilton Beach product, and is the brand I always buy when I can, which sealed the deal. You know, two words dear to my heart: Hamilton and Beach!

Click the image to see the product on Amazon ↑.

I've been watching Manifest on NetFlix and the Black Box for the missing flight was prominent in the story. It brought back memories of my first job in the Pacific Northwest after moving there in the early nineties.

I wrote assembly code for that unit with a team of about twenty, up in Redmond, WA for the manufacturer, Sundstrand Data Controls. This is the cockpit voice and data recorder, that exists in all major airline planes.

I remember when I first saw the box, and chuckled because it was red. That was a challenging project and I get a kick out of knowing my code may still be riding around in the planes I sometimes fly in. Yea, there's a good chance they have rewritten the code base, but not many people these days know how to write ASM, and they may have kept it.

The ducks expect breakfast at 0930. Their little internal clocks don't understand the human bullshit known as Daylight Savings Time, so I guess I have to adjust my schedule and head up to the lake at 0830 for a while.

That flock of geese was there this morning, hanging out in the ducks feeding spot, while they were out in the water a bit offshore. I know they wanted to come in, but I guess the bigger geese intimidated them. Only got three to come on shore but as soon as the geese approached, they split.

I had one of those dreams last night, you know, the super realistic dream where you think you're there and living it.

I showed up in Vegas, on the Strip, with a bunch of friends on a tour bus. I've been to Vegas several times, so my brain had a lot to feed on.

Everybody spread out around a large Casino and I was the tech guy who moved around and helped everyone with their devices that they were hooking up to the casino system to gamble.

Like most dreams of this kind, things started falling apart quickly. At one point I'm wandering around with a bag of my dirty clothes and my devices, couldn't find my friends, and eventually lost everything.

So, I thought this must be a dream and I forced myself to wake up, but when I did I was in a small room with a bed, and when I walked outside I was still on the Strip. Now I was getting concerned...

I started doing stupid things (won't go into detail), challenging my reality. Things were going downhill quickly and I really thought this was my life, but I eventually forced myself to wake up, one more time, just in case.

When I did and I was in my bed, in a little house on a dead end street, in a small town in Southern Tennessee, with laundry to do.

I have always developed an attachment to my local pro football teams, wherever I lived. In the Bay Area it was the 49's and Raiders, in Seattle the Seahawks. I carried on the Hawks fandom when I moved to Idaho.

Now I live in Tennessee and I'm a Titans fan. They are currently first in the AFC South at 5 and 2. Our QB is down with an ankle injury but they won last week with a rookie replacement.

That's very cool, but the big story here is college football. I've never been into the college scene, but the University Of Tennessee in Knoxville is number one in the country after beating Alabama in a great game, which I watched.

They now face Georgia, number two, tomorrow. Tennessee is undefeated, averaging 40 plus points a game, and if they win, it will be amazing.

I will be watching that game on my big TV, and Daniel said he would be here. Anybody else want to drop by, you're welcome.

The poor goose at the park is a loner, an outcast from the flock, and he hangs out with the ducks because he's lonely I assume, and the ducks pick on him. The other day when they were in the middle of the lake, he was just standing on the shore by himself.

He's eaten out of my hand several times. Today a big flock of geese were there and they all came within 6 feet of me because they saw goose there eating.

I tossed them a bunch of my custom bird seed/cracked corn mix, which I have now named Quack Cocaine, and they went wacko! That corn is all it's cracked up to be.

I met up with Farmer Katy at Dunkin's Market this afternoon. She was dropping off a bunch of eggs for resale, but sold me a couple dozen from her car.

It was great to see her and I helped load up the vehicle with bulk pumpkins for the farm. The passenger seat and the whole rear seat were stacked with pumpkins, quite the sight!

btw: Here's her TikTok link: farmerkaty

And her sheep enjoying those pumpkins:

I decided to change up the ducks diet today and my farmer friend Katy suggested Performance Feed on 4th St. That's where she buys feed for her farm.

The owner John was great and he recommended cracked corn. I bought a 50lb bag of it for $10.

The ducks loved it! I'm going to mix the wild bird seed and corn together for upcoming breakfasts.

If you would have told me a year ago that Piper's feeding station would be full of bird seed, cracked corn and peanuts, I would have said you were nuts.

The trip from my house to the Park entrance takes five minutes along the back roads. There are no traffic lights and only four stop signs. It's a very relaxing ride and you're welcome aboard!

It also was a good day at the Park this morning. The ducks were in the middle of the lake and when I called for them they began quacking and hurried back onto the landing. And I finally got a shot of some of the wild turkeys. There's a herd of about twenty that lives there.

Yesterday was Halloween, and I screwed up. I had forty one dollar bills in an envelope that I was sure I was not dipping into for treats at the door, when neighbor Daniel came over mid-morning with the day off, and we started drinking.

It's what we do sometimes. Daniel was born and raised here in Lawrenceburg, and has lived here his entire life. Wow. He brought his 1985 Senior yearbook over and we started from the beginning photo, and he knew where and what 90% of those people were doing now. I find this truly amazing.

Then he finished up the trimmer job on the back of my head that I did earlier, then he rubbed my shoulders with his big strong hands. I know this sounds weird, sometimes he is like my wife, without the sex. He even bitches me out when I do stupid shit. And yes, he has a wife...

So I woke up this morning and checked my texts. There was one from Elizabeth saying she and Maddie were coming over to Trick or Treat. Oh shit! I saw that the dollar envelope was open and I freaked. I texted Daniel and the last thing he remembered was the two of them coming into my house.

So I missed my friend and her wonderful little niece. Oh, I was here, but I don't remember nothin. I have apologized profusely to them, and hopefully they understand. Jim can really tie one on.

She sent me a picture of their outfits, so sorry I missed them.

I was chatting with my friend Farmer Katy of Healing Homestead Farm about the ducks and she told me they were domesticated and dropped there two or three years ago. She can't get very close to them, and she's the real animal whisperer, so I guess I have gained their trust.

I recorded my drive through the park today with my new window mount, hope you enjoy! If you're a local and know the Park well, you can skip to the duck feeding end.

My friends on Halloween: