I have no patience with poor restaurant service. There have been four instances here that have pissed me off to the point that I will never return.

The first was a popular Mexican place that I don't even remember the name of now. When I was seated, I was handed a bowl of chips and a menu. I decided quickly what I wanted, then I sat there for ten minutes. The place wasn't busy, and a couple came and were seated in a booth across from me. When a waitress came up and took their order, I stormed out of there!

Next up was the new place in town, Hinie's Barbecue. I had their pulled pork sandwich, and it was a lame amount of pork in a bun, and over priced. I bitched about it on FB and the owner replied that it was a new guy cooking and he didn't know how much pork to put on there. I've never been back.

I have had an occasional breakfast at the place in the Square, and it's not bad. Unfortunately, when I go in, there are always a couple of big tables with a bunch of good old boys sharing loudly. Daniel says I should join in, hell no. The other day I went in, and again sat for about ten minutes while the two waitresses catered to those tables, and once again stormed out!

Finally, Arby's. They have a decent deluxe fish sandwich that I like, but when I went there yesterday, there was nobody at the counter. I'm watching the drive up window being serviced, Door Dash orders being filled, and I'm standing there like an idiot, waiting for someone to come to the counter and take my order. After five minutes, I said "Fuck this!" loudly, and stormed out the door.

I'm running out of places to eat around here, because I hold a grudge when it comes to bad service, or poor food quality!

My neighbor Daniel is a maintenance man for the many K thru 12 schools here in Lawrence county. The other day while on a break, he had his phone open reading my blog.

He had Emma's picture up full screen as his boss walked by, and the boss said What's this?, and Daniel had to scramble, explaining it was his neighbors grand-daughter, from his blog!

Wow, this is very sad! Apparently, some male teachers here are accused of inappropriate attention to their senior female students!

Folks here are pissed off about this, and rightly so! We drove by a school board meeting yesterday at the Lawrenceburg HS, and there were four cops on the scene, expecting something.

To counter that, Daniel and I concurred what a great community we live in.

Everyone is friendly and willing to help their neighbors out, crime is low, and it's just a great laid back Southern Tennessee town to live in.

But these male teachers need to keep their dick in their pants! And if this shit is confirmed, get the fuck out of town!

I've been thinking about my buddy Richard, from that last post. One day we were hanging out at a bar in Reno (I don't add the NV suffix, because there is only one).

He told me he was engaged to be married. I was happy for him and we drank.

On the eve of his wedding he got very drunk, and went driving. He crashed his vehicle big time, and fortunately didn't hurt anyone, except himself.

I hooked up with him later, and he was in a full body cast. If you have never seen someone in that position, consider yourself blessed. He was lucky to be alive.

I asked him what happened and he responded with the saddest thing anyone has ever said to me. He said he was under endowed and was afraid his wife to be, would find him unacceptable.

OMG. This meant that they had never had sex, and he felt he was going to disappoint her big time. How fucking sad is that!

So he gets totally drunk on his pre-wedding night, and ruins his life. I don't know if the marriage ever happened, probably not.

That was the last time I saw him, as life moved on...


I was chatting with my neighbor this morning about lessons learned and how they influence our lives. I was not close to my step dad, but I received a couple of object lessons from the man.

One day, I was hanging out in our town of forty houses on the side of a Sierra Nevada mountain, outside of Reno, called Floriston. My seven year old buddy Richard talked me into stealing something from Nana's store, a little place that sold basic supplies and the only store there.

I don't remember what it was, probably candy, and Nana caught us. She summoned our parents, and a severe punishment was handed to both of us. We were banned from the store for a year! As that year went by, I was reminded every day that stealing has consequences, and it formed my integrity on that matter.

As the years progressed, we moved all over California, finally landing in Paradise, CA. Yea, the same town that was burned down from the Camp Fire in 2018. I was still friends with Richard and he was living in Reno.

One day we came up with a scheme to buy a bunch of alcohol at a discount store in Reno, and bring it back to Paradise to sell it to my underage friends, at a markup.

In the dead of night, we rolled into town on Neal Rd and decided to pull off into the bushes to sleep until morning. Unfortunately, I fell asleep with my foot on the brake...

A local sheriffs deputy spotted the lights in the bushes, and lit us up. He demanded we open the trunk and found all of the booze, at which point he had us load it all up into his vehicle, and then he split.

He knew my step dad Paul, who was working at a local gas station, and the next day he pulled in and asked him if he wanted the booze, and Paul said hell no.

The cop kept everything, never reported it, and never wrote us up. We were out a bunch of money, and I realized that a life of crime was not up my alley! Lessons learned...


I rarely write about politics, because it's so polarizing. I'm on the Right and I'm sure a bunch of my blog readers and friends are not, and I respect that!

But this should not stop me from expressing my opinion on the matter. So here you go:

I think Donald Trump should succeed the GOP nomination to Ron DeSantis, in return for a special position within the administration responsible for securing the border and restoring energy independence. Pick Kristi Noem or Nikki Haley for VP.

The bickering would stop, the party would solidify, and we would have a strong VP, along with the woman's vote.

Then promise to fire all of these Biden appointees that are destroying our country, on day one.

Put all of the political bullshit and the inflated egos aside, win this election, and make America really great again!

I remember a few days I spent with my grand-father as a teenager, my only father figure, in a motel somewhere in California.

He was a sign painter, working a job and brought me along because he loved me. The place had a pool, the weather was hot, and I spent my days hanging out there.

As my skin cleared up from the sun, we watched boxing from the room. I saw Mohamed Ali kick ass, and later I met him face to face at Merritt College in Oakland, CA. About that...

Thank you grandpa! You were the male figure in my life, and I am so grateful!

My backyard is beginning to recover from the winter frost. The dead leaves are dropping from the trees, and the big rhododendron, despite being pretty beat up, is sprouting new leaves and buds.

My daughter Becky, has created some amazing people. Here is one I have never met, her name is Emma, and maybe I will meet her someday...


We have a new family of groundhogs in the back yard. Daniel pointed them out to me from his kitchen window the other day, it looks like mom and dad and three or four siblings.

This afternoon I walked down to their hole and planted some of Piper's remaining cat treats at the edge, then I hid behind a tree with my Sony and the zoom lens, and waited.

I got a shot with mom and a couple babies, I think it was worth the wait!

I guess this is my claim to fame, as I fade into the sunset. I created the very first graphics program for the IBM PC! Ahead of Microsoft and all of the other big players: 4-Point Graphics.

I bought the first IBM PC to hit the Computerland store in Oakland, CA, along with a color monitor, and a development system called Compiled Basic, in the very early eighties, for around $6,000 in cash out the door.

I then shut down my IBM System 38 consulting career at $65 an hour, and never looked back.

Here was this amazing personal computer created by IBM, running an OS from Microsoft, and I had the new personal computer world at my fingertips.

So I wrote a graphics program, and it opened up a new career that lasted for a decade. I was a programming star, creating programs that made the world stage. I developed a reputation and coding cred, and formed two companies, Bridgeway Publishing and Hamilton Graphics.

I was an amazing computer programmer back in the seventies and eighties. As I look back, I have no idea where that gift came from, but it was a great ride!

It's been a beautiful day here in southern Tennessee, clear skies, temps around eighty. I drove up to check on my ducks around noon, before walking the path at Veterans Park. I haven't fed them in a while and I was excited to see them at the dock.

I had my window down as I pulled up, doing my quack quack call, and usually they would come running. They didn't budge, so I walked down to them with my bag of quack, and asked what's up?

They had no interest in getting fed, and as I looked around, I saw wild bird feed on the ground, the same stuff I buy at Tractor Supply. Someone has taken over the feeding, and I wonder if they have read my blog, or watched my videos!

It wasn't quack cocaine, there was no cracked corn in the mix, but definitely the same bird feed.

Whatever, I guess I'm off the hook. I can save my bird feed for the birds (and the squirrels) here at the house...


I've been thinking about this Sad and Lonely concept, that apparently I am under. First off, am I Sad? That would imply being depressed, and sometimes I am, but most times I'm not.

I love life, very glad to be here, hope it sticks around! I'm sad that I've made many bad decisions over my lifetime, but what the fuck can I do about that now, so I am over that. Sadness no longer dominates my life.

Am I lonely? Duhh! I spend most of my day without any human contact, much less have a partner to share the moments with. But I have come to accept that.

And there are benefits to living alone! You only argue with yourself! You can fart in bed, loudly, let it rip! Life is about you, and nobody else.

Most days these days, I get up at 0300. I make my hot lemon water, catch up on the news, TicTok for a while, and then go back to bed. I then sleep until 0700 because I can. I'm not lonely during that time.

As the day rolls on, my only decision is when I'm going to head to the path and go walking. It usually occurs around noon, depending on the weather.

Daniel rolls in from his school maintenance job in the afternoon, and often comes over, so I have a little human contact, even if he is a crazy son of a bitch.

So, the bottom line is, am I sad and lonely? No!

My grand-daughter Shelby is a beautiful amazing woman, with a penchant for military men. One year on a road trip to Southern CA, I visited her at the Camp Pendleton Marine base, where she was living with her Marine snipper husband.

To get into the Base I had to present my drivers license to a nice young lady in a guard shack. Shelby told me later that my ID had been subjected to a top level security clearance scan, and if I had the slightest shit going on, I wouldn't have gotten through.

The guy was young, hot, and a snipper. She told me later over lunch off base that they were getting a divorce.

Later, she dated the Blue Angel that tragically died here in a La Vergne, TN crash.

She has now been in a relationship with Andy, a Navy Commander, for some time now. I got to know Andy over our Christmas Cruise to the Caribbean a while back, and I like him. He could have captained our cruise boat in an emergency.

Andy was assigned to the Pentagon recently and they relocated to DC, from their home in Pensacola. Now he's heading to Italy, and Shelby is heading back to Florida. She want's kids and a family, Andy wants a career.

So now she's going to put all of her stuff into a U-Haul, hook her vehicle on the back, and head South. She turned thirty one this year, at the top of her game, and I just have to wonder, what's next!

My amazing grand-daughter Shelby and I, have been entertaining becoming roommates at a house on the beach as she moves back to Florida this Summer. I bailed today.

I look around my little house and realize that this is where I've landed, I accept it, and I will die here. My remaining possessions are embedded in this place, the rent is $500 a month, and I can go anywhere I want, whenever I want to. This is my base.

We had a great chat today, and I get that she want's to help her sad and lonely old grandfather out, because that's who she is. But I would be a burden to her in my condition, and I can't do that, because that's who I am.

So I'm staying put. I have offered my help with anything this Summer, she can swing through Lawrenceburg on any trip South from DC, layover and I'll show her around, and then jump in and head to Florida with her. I can also be a guest down there whenever I want, not a roommate.

I told her the sad and lonely thing is my job to correct, and since I'm retired, I need a job.

And the thought of my neighbor Daniel meeting Shelby, brings a smile to my face, he's a big fan!

I've been dying in this little house on the end of Lee Street for going on five years. I arrived here with high hopes for a new life with Steph's family.

Things were going great for a while, I fell in love with her grand-daughters and I thought I had a lot to offer the family.

I set the place up very cool, giant TV with surround sound in the living room, big central table, with expensive chairs from our place in Idaho.

And then one day I loaned Steph's grandson Dillan a hundred bucks and got him a job at the tubing company. The family took offense at how I handled his failure to show up the next day, and it was over. Steph didn't have my back, and that was over.

Now I look around me and wonder, what the fuck have I done? I'm too old to be making mistakes like this. In my younger days I could rebound, recover and move on. Now I walk around here like the old man I am while trying to decide what I would want to keep, if anything, if I got the fuck out of Tennessee.

I've had some great adventures away from this house, which I cherish, but I could have had them from anywhere.

There was a point in our leaving Idaho, where I could have gone to any place. I was thinking the warmth of Arizona, but I just couldn't pull it off for some reason. As our garage sale loomed, and Steph was getting ready to be with her grandkids here, she finally said to me You need to make up your mind what you're going to do!

At that point I said, I'm going to Tennessee with you. As I look around this lonely little house, crammed with bullshit that needs to be downsized, I accept the fact that I made a mistake.

I've made a few life choices that were great, like moving to the Seattle area to be with Riley. I've also made some bad ones, and I'm coming to grips with the fact, that this was one of them.

I see people all around me here, that have maintained their life partner, and their home, until they die. God I'm so envious that it never happened for me! But, I take full responsibility for everything...


There once was a slave named Nathan Green, also known as Uncle Nearest. He worked at the Dan Call Farm whiskey distillery in Lynchburg, Tennessee, more than 150 years ago, along with Jasper “Jack” Daniel.

Dan sold the farm to Jack, and Nathan stayed on and taught him how to make great whiskey. Nearest Green was the first known black master distiller of Tennessee whiskey.

Together, they introduced the sugar maple charcoal filter process, and made whiskey that today is known worldwide as, Jack Daniels.

I'm not a whiskey guy, but I have drank Jack Daniels. Right now I'm working on trying to drink nothing, but it was good.

Just thought I would share a little Tennessee history, pretty dapper looking ex-slave:

After catching up with the News and Weather on TV in the morning, I shut it down and start watching TicTok on my Samsung Galaxy tablet. It looks great full screen, it's addictive, and I have a weakness for addictive shit.

I have a firm rule that I don't click on any buttons or watch live feeds, which turns the platform into a frustrating one. The TicTok game is to gain followers and clicks, and everybody plays it.

A lot of the content is copyrighted material, and I don't know where they get it. Much of it is short movie clips, strategically cut up into Parts, hopping to get you to click through to watch the next one.

They don't tell you the name of the movie, heaven forbid you bail from their content and find the full movie on NetFlix or Prime. So you watch a two minute clip, find it intriguing, and then it stops and repeats. It's really becoming frustrating and every day I consider dumping the app, but like I said, addicted.

Sometimes I can figure out the name of the movie, with a little detective work. Then I jump into NetFlix, and it's never available, but you can usually rent it on Prime, for $3.99. What if Amazon is behind a diabolical conspiracy to flood TicTok with clips, just to get you to pay for the full movie?

TV has it's own game when it comes to News. I call it the Coming Up racket, where just before a long commercial break, they pimp you with what's on the other side, hoping it will interest you, and keep you from changing the channel! I usually just press the mute button if I choose to stay there.

I have one more totally unrelated rant. In the movies I like to watch, with government agencies pursuing bad guys, or men reading the News, the guys all where suits! I haven't owned, or worn, a suit in over forty years. I actually knew how to tie a tie once, now I just shake my head and wonder why?

I saw on TV our Governor Bill Lee dressed in construction clothes today, along with his wife who has just got her Cancer into remission, physically working on a house that had been damaged in a recent flood. Bill stood behind his wife, giving her the microphone, since she's leading the project. They looked great, and they're good down home Tennessee people!

Update: Elizabeth told me I can often find the name of a movie on TicTok, by checking the comments (or use IMDB.com if I recognize an actor). I found a chart, explains a lot, and Shelby also told me how. Guess I'll keep the app!

The very first grandchild that I ever met, was Chris. He was born in the Bay Area and was in my life a lot as an infant. He was a year older than Riley and we all spent some great years together.

A few years later I learned about two new grandkids being raised by their grandmother Shelly down in Oakdale, CA. So, I drove down to meet them.

The memories are blurred because I'm old, but I remember Johnny and Shelby being embraced and loved by their grandmother. The most vivid memory was a dinner on that trip at Shelly's house.

Shelby was throwing a little fit, traumatized by the insecurities that brought her and her brother to live there. But Shelly calmed her down, and dinner was fine.

Shelly raised Shelby and Johnny, and has since passed. I would say she was the most important person in Shelby's life.

A few years later, Riley and I drove down there and he and Shelby connected. We had a memorable visit, and a bond was forever formed.

We're still on track for a Florida visit this summer.

Shelby and I have been texting this afternoon about her childhood. She's like me, we remember great times, but not everything is in focus, except the love!

I kept this photo framed on the desk near my bed, for the twelve years Steph and I lived in Idaho. It was the first thing I saw as I rolled out of bed in the morning, and the last thing I saw as I went to sleep.

I've had a good couple of days. Friday I just hunkered down, bit the bullet, and didn't drink. It was a rough night, didn't sleep well.

Saturday I managed to get a one mile lap in over at Veterans Park. That was probably the slowest one I've done over the years, as the Parkinsons, and lack of exercise, have taken a toll on my legs. I also managed to walk the creek later, I'm getting back into the routine, and I'm hopeful.

I haven't been over to the walking path since last Fall, and it was great. Next step, working out, and hitting the gym.

I had abs three years ago, living right here. Sure would love to get them back!.

I told Daniel he should get his Harley out and go riding with his boys this weekend. He told me he has to work on Ice Houses. I said, just tell them no and go riding, he rolled his eyes and said no.

The only one telling me what to do, is me. And I aint doing a good job of it.

It's a trip to be retired and single. You are totally responsible for every action you take, with nobody influencing nothin.

Tuesday and Sunday look identical, except some things are closed around town on Sunday, if I ever make it out of the house to be affected by that.

Every day my morning goal is to make my bed, eat breakfast, and wash my dishes. I accomplish that every day, and then my day turns into a downhill spiral, wishing I had someone to share it with, and lift it back up.

It sucks being an old miserable emotional drunk, with a sore arm that I continue to torment. I've had tears in my eyes all day over this Riley thing. Memories are precious, that's why I blog, to save them.

My boy Riley's biological father has been genetically established, thanks to some amazing detective work by his wife Jess.

His name is Jim Pruden, at least we have the same first name, and his last name was not Pruit as we thought. He died in 2016 and would have turned 75 in June. He has a great large family in LaPorte, Indiana that loved and respected him.

Jess has been working on this for years as a surprise for Riley. They did a DNA test back in 2018 but nothing with the name Pruit matched. This was the case for years but somehow she connected with Jim's sister Mary on Facebook with the last name Pruden, and offered to pay for a DNA test, Mary agreed but went half in.

Suddenly all the dots came together, and Riley's father had been found. They have since been in touch with the family and they're all very exited to meet them. They did meet with one of Jim's brothers and his wife when they were in Arizona, and made a great connection. (link) They shared photos of Jim and he looked like Riley's twin.

This is amazing! I'm very proud of Jess, I actually thought Riley would go through life with no father on his birth certificate. Now they're going to fix that, and they have a brand new family!

Update: I guess you could say that I was Riley's dad and Jim Pruden was his father. I actually held Riley in my arms before his mother did. He was delivered Cesarean, in a San Francisco hospital, and the nurse brought him out of the delivery room and handed him to me. His legs were bent back up towards his chest, thus the C-Section.

His legs straightened out just fine, and we have had a wonderful life together. Jim died not knowing he had a son, and that's sad, but I was more than happy to fill in!

I told Jess that Riley saved my life, he gave me a reason for being. She replied: Thank you, you mean the world to him and I know that without you he would not be the man he is today (he's also said you saved him & influenced him greatly)! In fact just about all his fond memories include you! You did something most men, especially back then, wouldn't do... You loved him (still do) unconditionally as your own!

I'm forcing my sore arm into action. I was sitting on my front porch today, in the sun at 73 degrees. Cocktail on my little table, looking up at the sky and the sun through my beautiful trees, begging God to give me some more power.

He rescued me from homelessness once, as I was driving down a Kent, WA back road, looking for a tree to crash into. The voice came from above and said "I'm giving you some power" and a bolt of energy entered my body from the top of my head, and I was reborn.

I went looking for that again, today. He didn't answer. I guess you only get one shot at Gods help in your life. I've had an amazing life from that moment.

I saw the specialist at the clinic today, and I have Rotator Cup Tendonitis, most definitely caused by sitting at this computer and blogging. My blood pressure is really high also.

I have to wait till May 5 to see my PCP to talk about blood pressure meds. I was also referred to our local physical therapy place, but my insurance doesn't cover the usual $10 copays for this service, they want $35 a visit and I'm being cheap, and foolish for skipping this. Hell, a bottle of vodka cost $23. Although, I ran out of smoke a while back, and have no plans to re-up. That's good!

Bottom line, I'm not doing good. It hurts like crazy to write this, so it will be my last post for a while. I would like to thank my family and friends for reading this crap for the last 4.5 years, you have put up with a lot. If I fail to see you again in person, I'm very sorry...


My right arm is going South on me. It really hurts up by my muscle, woke me up several times in the night. It makes me realize how many things I do with that arm, like typing and driving a stick shift. It should put a muzzle on stupid posts at least.

I spent the morning in the clinic, had a bunch of x-rays taken and two different steroid shots, one in each hip. Talking to the radiologist tomorrow. The shots have helped a bit.

Shutting down...

As the lady that did my shirtless x-ray helped my get my shirt back on, because I caould barely use my arm, I joked that I should bring her home with me. She said "Let me check with the boss, I could use a change"." Was she talking about her boss at the clinic, or a husband. I don't know, but the vibe changed.

She had me present my ass to her later for steroid shots, and her eyes were probing mine, above the mask. wtf...

The odds of me hooking up with a woman now, are so long. I could still give a lady a fine time, maybe even a fine ride. But I am what I am, a seventy six year old man, with an arm that hurts, not so bad as the steroids kick in.

I've told this story before, feel like telling it again.

Riley and I started an Easter tradition in Kent, WA when he was around six. We kept it local to his apartment complex but expanded it miles outward when he was a teenager with a car.

I would get him an Easter gift and hide it somewhere out in the world. The gift started out as a big basket full of treats, and changed as he grew older.

Then, armed with posit notes and empty plastic egg shells, I would reverse engineer the location of his prize, to his front door.

The first note would specify the location of the prize. It actually becomes the last note. Then I would hide that egg, go to a new hiding spot and hide another egg, with directions back to the last one.

I would complete this process across about twenty hiding places, and set the last egg at his front door. Easter morning, when he came out, he would follow the notes to his gift.

I would hover around at a distance, making sure he was OK, and I was always there at the end.

We had many great Easters together, and hopefully today he's following his dad's directions, one more time, to that In-N-Out Burger joint in Laughlin, NV. as they finish up their Arizona trip.

Just got off the phone with Riley and Jess from her moms house, down the road from one of my favorite places: Bullhead City, AZ and Laughlin, NV.

It turns out, I was a couple weeks behind the loop when it came to the discovery adventure they were on. They had already confirmed that my sons biological father, was James Pruit (or Pruid) from La Porte, IN, using DNA test results.

JP's brother lived nearby in Arizona, and they all connected over lunch. No secrets anymore, Just answers.

btw: My son and his wife and daughter have been down in that eighty degree weather, to implant another embryo. Another beautiful grand-daughter is on the way, in nine months!

I never tell people that Riley is not my biological son. It's not relevant, and I have never mentioned this in any post across two blogs, across decades, until now with Answers.

I'm Riley's official dad and I will be until we determine who his real father is. I don't have an ounce of resentment towards this journey and I really want it to succeed!

I did the Ancestry.com DNA testing years ago, and my oldest grandson Chris popped up at the top of that list, so I know my daughter and all 14 grandkids and multiple great grand-children are related to me.

Riley is getting his DNA done soon, and they will see if he matches to any members of the family, that had their DNA tested. It would be wonderful to make this connection, to know his background and medical history, and discover a whole new family!

I'm pretty confident this will happen, can't wait!

My son Riley's mom arrived with him in Kent, WA, from Oakland when he was just a toddler, and signed up for services. I followed them both up there, because I had fallen in love with Riley and wanted to be his dad.

I was there through everything, schools from pre-kindergarten through high school, and then on to WyoTech down in Laramie. Every sporting event, every musical event, he was my boy.

One day, the welfare department wanted to go after Riley's biological father for back-payments. Since I was being his father, I was up first. They swabbed Riley's and mine cheeks, and determined that we were not related.

His mom was in a promiscuous state around his conception. No judgment here, hey, people fuck. The other guys involved were hit up in the Bay Area, and swabbed. Nobody...

So, who was Riley's biological father? There was really only one conclusion, the good looking mechanic named James Pruit, went by JP, hanging out with his mom's roommates, Mike and Michelle. He was the only one left, that never got swabbed.

Riley and Jess have jumped on this, determined that JP has died, and just had lunch with JP's brother and his wife, in Arizona.

My boy and his family have arrived at a place where answers can be found!

I mossied down to the St Joe Cafe in St Joseph today, to try out their hot bar. I went with the lunch plate, one meat (I had the lasagna), three sides and a bread, for 9 bucks and change.

I showed up right at 1100 as they opened it up, so everything was fresh. They also have an all you can eat option for $14, but I barely finished my lunch plate.

So what did I think? I give the atmosphere an A, the two ladies running the place chatted the whole time between themselves and customers, with great southern accents. I'll give the food a B-, tasty, but it seemed like every item had the same seasoning in it. Will I go back, probably not.

This is the Deep South, the Alabama state line is just down the road, so this place is as country as it gets. One old lady was telling the cafe ladies that her husband was born in St Joseph (pop 790), lived here all his life, and will stay here until the lord calls him home. Amen...


Wow, I've had an amazing life, and I love to write. My two blogs have captured not only every event as it happened, but my reflections on the past. Combined, they represent my history, they are who I am.

So, say I dropped dead tomorrow. My finances would go south and my blogs would die with me. All of that writing, about everything, the photos, would soon be gone, lost forever.

I guess that's the problem with living in the digital age. If you're important or famous, your stuff gets archived, otherwise it dies.

If I had access to my grandfathers life, would I want to explore it? Hell yea! As I have arrived here after seventy six years, I would love to experience every one of my relatives lives, as they lived it.

So here's the deal. It takes a couple hundred bucks every year to maintain my webspace (Ionos), and my photo sharing paid subscription site, Flickr.

If those digital bills don't get paid, I finally die. So, I hope someone sets up a gofundme, to cover this bill, and keeps me alive!

Also, think about documenting your life events, they need to be remembered!

I was around twenty, working at Harrah's up in Lake Tahoe as a busboy, when I met a girl. She was my age, a sizzling hot redhead, bussing tables along side me.

We were both bored and looking for adventure, so we quit our jobs and headed to the Pacific Ocean. We landed south of Carmel and Monterey, at the beach below Mal Paso Creek bridge. Clint Eastwood had his ranch at the head of the creek, and Bad Crossing was one of his trademarks.

It was totally accessible, we called it Secret Beach, and we spent two weeks there. Sleeping in the sand, bopping into Carmel for supplies when needed.

Over the decades that followed, I revisited that beach, and watched it become locked down. People built big beautiful homes on the rocks that surrounded it. They wanted to treat it as their private beach.

I remember the last visit, we managed to find the trail and hit the sand on a hot Summer day. After a few hours, two buff white guys came walking behind us, and entered the cave at the South end of the beach. That cave was there when the girl and I were, we explored it.

These guys acted really nervous, and I figure they stashed something back in there, spotted us on the beach from their ocean front window, and got paranoid. We split shortly after.

A couple of Summers ago, I was in the Belize area and hung out at the official and famous Secret Beach. I had a great time, but there was nothing secret about it, and there was no cave, and no girl...


I have come to accept, that I have no partner to share anything with. Like this run down to St Joseph for lunch tomorrow.

And given the current state of my old body, and my old vices, the chances of finding a partner are pretty much null and void at this point.

I've had a female partner in my life, maybe 65% of the time, since I reached adulthood.

So what do you do after accepting it? Embrace it! I can now be the crazy old man who says whatever he wants! No partner to appease, or worry about, or to love...


Daniel had lunch today at the St Joe Café, down in St Joseph, TN, just before the Alabama state line on Hwy 43. It's 16.44 miles away and takes 19 minutes to get there.

I've seen it on trips down to Florence, AL, always busy, but I never stopped in.

Daniel said he's always had great meals there, and considering he was born and raised here, that says a lot.

We tried calling to check on tomorrows menu, no answer, I'll call tomorrow. He says it's a daily buffet, changing up the meats and veggies. He's talking spaghetti and meatballs, chicken and dumplings, omg.

I actually didn't leave the house today. Watched Trump being perp-walked, and wrote three posts.

The weather should cooperate nicely for a mid-morning jaunt down to St Joseph tomorrow. Have a great buffet, maybe hit Muscle Shoals, change it up!

I've traveled a lot. Hawaii three or four times, many places in Mexico, Las Vegas a whole bunch, and Mardi Gras at least twice.

I've been to Hollywood, and through the Redwoods. I've driven millions of miles around this great country, and visited 80% of our States. I've had three Caribbean adventures, in my four plus years here in Tennessee.

My friend Skoge sent me links about Mexican Cartels controlling beach resorts, tourists dying. Scratch that option.

What I really want, is what I call Old Man Heaven for a couple of weeks. A local resort where I could dry out, take many daily steam rooms and hot tubs. Full body massages from young pretty ladies! Be served amazing healthy meals.

Slowly get back into shape, and be able to handle the next adventure. Two weeks is all I need.

Daniel and I were sitting in my place Sunday afternoon, and happened upon the NCAA Women's Basketball Championship. Daniel said I hate women's basketball, but I had the clicker and I was fine with tall fit women running across my screen in their underwear.

We figured out pretty quickly that it was a Championship game, and got into it. I liked LSU, with star player Angel Reese, with the big eyelashes, and Daniel was going Iowa, with the best player in the game, Caitlin Clark.

LSU's Jasmine Carson (she was my favorite) with her orange afro, was netting sweet three pointers from the field and then reacting.

Finally, I'm in love with the LSU coach Kim Mulkey, what a badass tough lady that coaches from her heart!

The 102-85 victory by LSU was the most viewed NCAA women's basketball game on record, with 9.9 million viewers on ABC and ESPN2.

But, there is controversy. Iowa's star player Caitlin Clark fouled out, and sat on the bench for a good while. I've seen a lot of buzz out there about the referees leaning the advantage towards LSU. I watched a video showing each one of her fouls, and a couple were really trivial and probably shouldn't have happened. Could she have provided a 17 point difference, I really doubt it. LSU won.

But that's OK, Jill Biden has invited both teams to the White House!

I had a wonderful meal today, just one. It consisted of:

 • Kroger Rice Bitz Oven Toasted Rice Cereal.

 • Kroger Bite Size Shredded Wheat.

 • Almond Breeze Unsweetened Almond Milk.

 • Two handfuls of rinsed black berries, crushed in my hand.

 • A sliced banana.

Actually, my eating sucks lately. Had the rotgut buffet at The Square on Saturday morning, I didn't even go back for seconds.

I watched that movie about the rise of McDonalds, on Sunday, and it gave me a craving for fast food. So I drove into town. My first thought was a Hardies Stuffed Omelet Biscuit with a splash of gravy. The guy at the counter said it would take twenty minutes to get my food due to staff shortages.

It's Sunday in the South. The only other place open was, McDonalds.

As I walked in I was faced with a big blackboard showing worthless stuff, and a gaggle of young girls below it. Three or four, training one, which was the young lady asking me what I wanted.

I couldn't see any of their product, I was blinded by the big board, I said "What's good?" and it totally snapped her young trainee mind. She recommended some breakfast sandwich meal and I said fine, but as I was walking away, I turned and said "It has bacon?" I asked her if I could replace that with sausage.

So, she then walked away from the station, and had a conversation with the cooks. I set my plastic number down at a table, and worked on my condiments and a cup of water.

When I got back to my table, there was a tray with two sandwiches (I only paid for one), one with bacon on it, and one with sausage. And a triangle shaped potato thing.

I consider myself an honest and ethical man, and I don't take what's not coming to me. But I made an exception yesterday.

Actually, both of them sucked. They put a sweet flavoring in to emulate pancakes, or something.

McDonalds don't cut it for me no more.

Thinking deeply and wondering what if? If there is a more useless mental activity, I challenge you to present it!

Our current lives are the summation of every decision we have made from the time of birth. We have landed right here, right now, as a result of each decision, where moving your finger slightly, would be considered one.

Every breath is a moment, converted to a video clip and sent directly to long term brain storage. To then be blended together by RI (Real Intelligence) into the form of memory.

If humanity survives, memories can be saved at passing, to be viewed and enjoyed by friends and family.

Hmmm, let me think deeply about that...


James Tilton (June 1, 1745 - May 14,1822), was the first Surgeon General of the United States Army, June 11, 1813 - June 15, 1815. He was my uncle.

Jim was the brother of my great-great-great-grandfather Richard C Tilton. I discovered this today bopping around my family tree at FamilySearch.com

He's got his own Wikipedia page, and he has a great write-up at AMEDD. There is even a Tilton Society with a mansion and another great write-up about my uncle Jim.

The more I dig, the more impressed I am. Here's a quote: "Not only did Dr. Tilton save countless lives during the Revolutionary War, but he also shaped the future medical landscape in the United States".

I just had a great afternoon chatting with my friend Hudson, from the comfort of Daniels chair.

He brought his laptop in and hooked up, we tried to setup some FTP settings for his WinScp install, to no avail.

I really admire Hudson. He's sixteen, smart, has his act together, drug free, and has a goal.

He turns 17 in June, one more year of school, then he heads off for a degree at Purdue in Hardware and Software engineering.

I told him about Dillan, Stephs grandson, that grabbed a full ride out of Summertown High, with a scholarship.

We had that smart person to smart person chat that only smart persons can have.

We swapped stories, but mine were easier to conjure up, since I had sixty years on him...

Thanks Hudson!