I was standing on my little porch watching campers across the creek thru the glasses, when a familiar white truck stopped out in front. It was my ex-boss and friend, Ricky Fleeman. He and his daughter Rachel have run the creek tubing company I've worked at across three different Summers.

Ricky and I met out on my sidewalk, and he had someone waiting behind in another truck. These are the guys that put together my landlords new trailer space down on his property by the creek.

They were here to turn things on for Steve, the guy that owns my place and many others around here, whose moving in shortly while his new house is built. He's got a barbecue pit down there, maybe I'll get another invite or two this Summer.

It sounds like Ricky's got a bunch of projects coming up, but Crockett Shoals Tubing Company won't be one of them. They're trying to sell it, but shutting it down for good if they can't. It was a great tourist attraction for this town and it was my pleasure to work with them over five years.

This is my 2,137th Post since I started OldManJim more than five years ago.

I'm finally, slowly, accepting that this is where I was meant to land.

You can think about how a decision here, a mistake there, has dictated your current landing, and maybe you resent where you're at?

I say accept every bit of it, own it, be thankful for what you have. Give when you can, accept when you need it.

I'm grateful to have my life long best friend as company,

On this nice day.

He was telling me how he lost his left arm, but since he can't walk, it doesn't matter.

Here Teddy is when we both were young, and he still had his arm. We were hanging out with my grandmother and older brother.

I had a couple packages of Feel The Burn Crushed Red Peppers that came with Daniels pizza the other night.

I'm making my world famous Tuna and Egg Sliders this afternoon, and after tossing the eggs into the mix, I added a package.

After mixing everything, it wasn't quite there so I added the other package and mixed again.

I love it! A perfect kick, and now it's time to make some sliders.

Great sliders, I thought about Salsa on top, but not needed, they had The Burn.

I've known my son Riley's grandmother for longer than he's been alive. Her name is Sharon, his redheaded mothers redheaded mom, and I still consider her a friend. We saw each other a couple years back and I've talked to her on the phone once since I've been here.

She's up in her late nineties, still going strong and I just want to share with the world, this photo with her great grand-daughters. Love you Sharon.

I love this shot, wise old lady sharing knowledge, smart young mind getting it!

I don't remember buying three fourths of the stuff I own. Like the two small binoculars sitting behind my big TV, that I rarely use.

I have a friend that likes to grab one as he walks through my door and then sits in the other big chair checking out Veterans Park from the open door. I gave him the smaller Bushnell's the other day.

I've decided to have a yard sale this Summer. Take all of the shit in this house that I never use, and lay it out on the grass. Why keep anything that you're never going to use again?

I need to get my life down to a lean and mean state. It's my responsibility to dwindling family on both sides of the country, to make my transition to the other side as painless as possible.

I'd actually prefer it if neither my son Riley or grand-daughter Shelby came here. They're both insanely busy, and the thought of disrupting their lives to wade through my stuff, while getting me converted to ashes, doesn't make sense.

I'll check out if their is an outfit that performs this service, empties the house out, and puts my ashes into a couple of containers. Now if I can pull that off, a Riley/Shelby quick visit to town would be OK.

If anyone did show up, Daniel could hold a little gathering next door, where the few people left in my life can talk about what a wonderful successful guy I used to be, and how I died a worthless old fool here in the South.

Riley and Shelby can put my ashes in opposite oceans, and this chapter is closed.

I've been watching these TicTok reunion videos, where people cry and embrace after years apart. I would totally lose it if my sister or any of her kids knocked on my door.

I'm totally out of touch with this side of my family. My sister brought Steph and I into Idaho and gave us a beautiful log home to live in, which we did for twelve years. We bonded with her kids and their families and now I don't know a single name of any of her grandkids.

Getting a knock and a hug from Steph would be nice, and explain why she disappeared.

It would be amazing to have any of my fourteen grandkids knock on my door, many of which I've never met. I'm working on a Summer reunion but who knows...

If some old friend or lover tracked me down, wow, but that's not going to happen.

I'm an old man living in a small house on a deadend street in the deep South, Nashville above me, hugging the Alabama line.

Honest, honorable, and helpful is my motto. I would love to connect with anyone from my life, drop by and knock!

My neighbor Daniel and I had a fun time last night. He said he was hungry so I brought up DoorDash, slid my laptop over to him, and told him to order whatever he wanted, on me.

So he ordered from Pizza Hut a 14" Meat Lover's Pizza, Hand Tossed, Classic Marinara, Regular Cheese, Pepperoni, Italian Sausage, Slow Roasted Ham, Applewood Smoked Bacon, Beef, Seasoned Pork. This thing cost twenty two bucks, thirty two after DoorDash.

I thought he was going to order a burger, with fries or something! That's alright, I did say whatever and he's bought me a lot of stuff over the years.

He offered me a slice, and the truth is, I hate pizza, ever since my young daughter and I wandered through a pizza joint in Berkeley, CA grabbing leftover slices off tables, to survive. I've avoided it since, for 55 years, as long as Daniel has been alive.

I hadn't eaten all day, hadn't planned on it, but I just spent $32 on this thing, I was a little messed up :-), so I ate a slice. That's the last thing I remember, and I regret it now.

Here it is noon on Saturday and I haven't eaten, I guess I'm fasting while colon cleaning, and the only thing sitting in my gut is a slice of Meat Lover's Pizza!

Something good happened to my old truck today. I needed to run to the liquor store this morning, so I started her up.

She's been going through issues, 250k on her, and I've poured a bunch of my dwindling stash into bringing her back.

My mechanic Thomas has done a lot, rebuilt the Weber carb, new head gasket, there's new plugs and wires, and she should be running great, except she's not been. Hard to start, takes a long time to warm up before I hit the highway, and rumbles for five seconds when I shut her off.

Today, none of those things happened. It's like she pushed a turd that was clogging her up out her tail pipe. Started in an instant, and purred. I let her warm up for a minute, then roared up the hill to the store. She's running trucking great!

Maybe I need a roadtrip.

Nobody knows why I'm so messed up. The truth is, there's only a few people left in my life, that care.

And I won't say why, until someone looks me in the eyes and asks. This isn't blogable.

In the meantime, Skoge sent me an email about her friend that moved to Tahiti. She and her partner Grant were involved in the music business, back in the day. Here it is:

Lopes, He lives on one particular island. One night after a Jimmy B. Show, Grant and his girlfriend went to dinner on Broadway, SF. There was a bottle of champagne on the table in a bucket of ice. Jimmy walked in and sat down at their table, for no reason at all. “This is the table I want to sit at.” Since Grant was a sailor, too, he told Jimmy to go to this one particular island in Tahiti. Jimmy did go, met Bobby, a Polynesian who was Grant’s friend from the Haight-Ashbury (Bobby Holcomb if you go to YouTube). Bobby sang the Polynesian verse. And “One Particular Island “ became a song. Thought you might enjoy this story. The song was written on that island and that’s where our friend Gary lives. He married the daughter of the watermelon man, Poiama. Divorced now, but Tahiti is his home. You would love Tahiti. The food is French and the people are beautiful. The beaches are white, the water is crystal blue. Much better than Mexico, and the Paul Gaugain museum is interesting. Across the bay, a ferry ride, is Moorea. That’s where there is a Fruit Juice factory and they sell fruit liquor. It is delicious. Did you know that Tahitian pineapples are different than Hawaiian pineapples? They have less acid and are 2x sweeter. Sent from my iPad