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From The Back Porch . . . Thinking . . .

Sometimes it is hard to believe the pace of modern technology. Keeping up with the advancements, for an Old Guy, is more wonderment than understanding. I see these young people working on their mobile phones and just shake my head. Texting is beyond me. I cannot make my thumbs or fingers move that fast and still retain the ability to think and reason.

I see children five to eight years old working on cellphones and Wi-Fi tablets in the most remarkable OldGuyAtCoroner-1Bways. When I was at that age, I played with sticks, rocks and rubber balls. It was a different age where we talked to each other, played sports in our own user friendly neighborhood, wrote letters to pen pals, and television didn’t need parental controls.

I cannot conceive of what my Great Grand Sons and Great Grand Daughter will be able to do in the near future. I just get a brain lock trying to anticipate the technology that is just around the corner.

Yes, l am an Old Guy and pretty much a non-trainable entity, set in my own ways, harbinger of countless bad habits, and not tempted by bright lights, or shiny bobbles. I do have a new Wi-Fi tablet which I noticed has some type of voice recognition program. It is probably the same one my friend at the diner uses all the time. Often I hear him direct the computer to do or look up something.

The Old Guy & Porch Time ...

The Old Guy & Porch Time …

I haven’t done anything with the peculiar program since I do not wish to inevitably argue with some type of electronic nightmare. I believe I will let the great storm of electronic progress march on by me without any hindrance what-so-ever. Well, unless it marches by giving me an earful. And well, unless it interferes with my porch swinging time which I am highly protected of …

Old school . . . it ain’t so bad at times . . .



Next Week … Something Interesting or something current …

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© John E Moss and Geezer94/Old Guy Photography, 2014. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly  prohibited.


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Bone Tired …

I have been out of my wheelchair for over four months now, though I still carry it in the trunk of the car. Today  I feel like I really do need it again. I am bone tired. I have been getting by for short distances with only my bent wood throwing cane. That would be the one I use to keep the squirrels off the bird feeders and discourage cats from coming into the yard. Anyway, I can get into the diner, grocery, or department store and hop onto a handy electric cart and shop all afternoon.

Mr. Kurt is a talented, and generous personage and I am fortunate to call him Friend …

When one of the premier photographers/photojournalist of the great Pacific Northwest, Mr. Kurt Clark, came to visit I was able to climb down in a hole with him and take photographs of a waterfall just down the road from the house. I walked and climbed down and then out of that hole like no bodies business. Yeah … Mr. Kurt generously helped me in several places getting out of the hole, but I did better than I had anticipated.

I did pay for the experience. Two days later, I was flat on the floor or in the bed for about sixteen straight hours with terrible nerve pain in my feet and legs. Even my nerve pain pills, designed to help in such circumstances, did little to ease my suffering. Was it worth it … you better believe it. Mr. Kurt is a talented, and generous personage and I am fortunate to call him Friend.

Down In The Hole Falls

Down In The Hole Falls

When my Sweetheart had her heart attack at two-thirty in the morning, I was back in the wheelchair in order to navigate the long distances of the hospital. There was no way I could walk through a parking garage, the main lobby of the hospital, and then down a two hundred fifty foot corridor to her room. The distance to her room wasn’t an educated guess … on the wall every ten feet was a sign with the distance you had just walked. The physical therapy people logged in the walking distances of their patients.

And …  the screaming has diminished to a comfortable level when I drive …

I am still out of my wheelchair, fortunately, despite the hospital week. I have recovered fully from the vicious inner ear infection that struck me during the three weeks before my Sweetheart had her heart troubles. No longer do I get dizzy headed and fall down a lot. And …  the screaming has diminished to a comfortable level when I drive. I’m about ready to start up the Snapper and get after the back forty which the critters, large and small, have begun to think of as a protective sanctuary.

I have also received new glasses which seem to help with my ability to focus my eyes. The few photographs I have taken setting up the camera for specialty shots for the new project have been right where I wanted them.

Unfortunately, the Fall and Winter seasons just may put my new project on hold. With the winters we have here, outside, “Winter aliveness” may be an elusive creature. I just may have to find another project that centers around a lot of warm places. Yep … that sounds like a sound well thought out plan.


Next Week … Something Interesting or something current …

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I Was Standing There … And Something Slipped …

I am a diner person. No doubt about it. Fast-food places really don’t entice me though I do occasionally use a drive-up window to get a grab-and-run. So … it was unusual that I found myself standing in the lobby of one of the establishments. Since I was unable to read the drive-up menu, I had gone inside where my luck, and menu reading ability proved no better. Fortunately, an advertisement handout helped me place my order.

I was standing there … and something slipped …

Old Guys and I would surmise a few Older Ladies,  have something slip all the time. Mostly  it is only a small annoyance that can be attended to without a problem. But, there are times when the slips will be … say … worse come to worse … the infamous dreaded sudden noticeable slip that loudly screams “Go to the RESTROOM RIGHT NOW!” Nope … you cannot postpone, ignore or tarry when this slip announces itself. The results of such a foolishness will be catastrophic and bring to light several new degrees of public shame and utter humiliation.

This was small slip I first wrote off as a nuisance until it happened again, right about the time when the teenager called my number for pickup. A quick check of my waist was reassuring. I had not suffered a debilitating suspender failure. That had happened once before on an elevated train station platform while trying to take an early morning photograph of a speeding train. It was sink or swim; take the photograph, hold up your trousers, take the photograph, hold up your trousers. Unfortunately, the photograph wasn’t worth the embarrassment. There I was with a speeding commuter train racing by …  standing out and up there for the whole world and rush hour traffic to see … with my trousers resting comfortably down around my ankles.

Three steps to the counter and there was no debate or doubt to my predicament.

This is how I found myself wearing my special Bud Abbott and Lou Costello “Who’s On First” black and white boxer shorts …

The Old Guy Shortly After The Slip Incident ...

The Old Guy Shortly After The Slip Incident …

Due to the fact that I hadn’t been able to do a wash because my Sweetheart had been in the hospital for a week, I had to dig deep into the underwear drawer to find something clean to wear. This is how I found myself wearing my special Bud Abbott and Lou Costello “Who’s On First” black and white boxer shorts. Granted … they were sort of an eyesore, and second hand, but to their credit they were roomy and exceptionally comfortable. I liked wearing them.

Unfortunately, additional washing had proved to be hard on the elastic waist band. For a few weeks, they had given subtle hints of eventual failure. It was a kind of “wear at your own risk” warning. But they were really comfortable. Several times it comes to mind, I had pulled them almost up to just below my armpits so they wouldn’t bunch up at my waist.

As I shuffled away from the counter with my order, I realized the weak elastic waist band of my old faithfuls had failed and the whole house of cards had slipped down from my waist, down my rear end and proceeded South. The only saving providence was the fact that the crotch of my trousers had kept them from resting around my ankles.

Each trouser leg was bloused out and gave the appearance that I was shoplifting large quantities of the restaurants napkins and condiments . . .

It felt weird. I looked down and my favorite Bud Abbott and Lou Costello “Who’s On First” black and white boxer shorts were bunched up just above my knees. Each trouser leg was bloused out and gave the appearance that I was shoplifting large quantities of the restaurants napkins and condiments. I was horrified … and social convention says when in the public domain … you don’t put your hands down your trousers and fumble around for anything no matter how innocent your intent. It looks bad and like you are itching, scratching, picking at your rear end or much, much worse.

In my minds eye I could see small children weeping and clinging to their mother’s breast, hiding their eyes from the horror. Mothers would be appalled by the sight of me and would point their fingers in my direction and curse in angry tones filled with disgust. Nothing of the likes was desirable from my end … so I Frankensteined my way out the doorway and made my way out to the car.

In the cramped confines of the front seat I tried to pull up my former wonderfully comfortable undershorts. I twisted and turned, tugged and pulled with little progress to show for my efforts. A cramp in my ribcage didn’t help. Nearly or at least close to being finished, I noticed the pickup truck parked next to me contained an older woman sitting in the passenger seat. She had been watching the whole questionable incident. Fortunately, she didn’t say a word, call the authorities or strike me violently with a rolled up newspaper.

That  about did it for me. I sat semi-defeated for a moment with her eyes bearing down at me.  With practiced efficiency, I started the car and backed out into the parking lot. It mattered little that the front of my favorite Bud Abbott and Lou Costello “Who’s On First” black and white boxer shorts were pulled up high on my stomach and the back of them was still riding noticeably below my rear-end.

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Guest Blogger … Cousin Gene … 2nd Edition

My Sweetheart had another heart attack this week. She had a heart-cath Tuesday and received her third heart stint. Twice, her condition was touch and go … It will be a while before I will be publishing original content of my own.

Cousin Gene returns for his 2nd Edition. Now, I have a better understanding why he enjoys sitting out on my front porch, weather permitting. jem

Today is Friday, the 10th day of October, 2014

My Front Porch

My porch is located in front of my house, but is not like other porches. It is not above ground level, but, instead, it is at ground level (no stepping up or down required). I have a wooden bench toward one end, that can sit two adults comfortably, or three if packed in like sardines. I have a table of sorts at either end, so that I will always have a place for my precious fluid of life, Mountain Dew. Behind the bench, on the porch, on the house, is a double window. I call it “my window to the world.”

At the other end of the porch, I have a water hose reel, for those times I need to drag out the hose. You never know when you might need a drink of water, wash the ole pickum-up truck, water the weeds, take a bath, put out a fire, or spray some bratty neighbor kid! Right handy to have, it is.



People have kidded me for years about sitting on the bench on the porch so much. They say I will die and my skeleton will still be sitting there, with a can of “Dew” to quench my bony thirst. (Told you that Mountain Dew would do me in.) Numerous people have sat on the bench on the porch with me at various times. Men, women, girls, boys, teenagers, tweens, kids, very young kids, a baby or two, and a few dogs.  Nobody famous, not yet anyway! I returned home from a trip one Saturday evening and found two guys on the bench on the porch waiting for me. (Not mafia types, fortunately.)

Friends, neighbors, strangers are all welcome. One of my favorite songs is called “I’d Rather Live By The Side Of The Road,” by Mac Wiseman. Bluegrass gospel music. Look it up and listen sometime.  While on my porch, I have always waved at or spoken to people when they pass, whether they are walking, driving, or whatever. They usually respond in kind. A female relative who was visiting me one day noticed that I waved at a few people when they passed. As we prepared to go out, she asked me how much I paid those people to come by, so she could see me waving at them! (The nerve of that young lady, to think that I would do something like that!)

Once there were four females talking on the porch when I came out to join them. I was immediately told to leave, since it was “women’s talk”. (Kicked off my on porch!!! Oh, the pain! The pain!) There have been many, many sessions of retired old men sitting there, shooting the breeze! Many sessions of people of various ages shooting the bull, also.

Two of my female neighbors yell at each other when one sees the other on the bench on the porch with me. You see, they both consider me their man!!! Ahh, to be fought over!!! (But the nagging, the constant nagging!) Once, I received a lecture from one of those females when she saw me with yet a third female neighbor on the bench on the porch.

One time, I was sitting on the bench on the porch alone, but was talking to my neighbor, who was sitting at his dining room window. (Duplexes are real close together.) He was invisible from the outside due to the tall evergreens in front of the window. Another neighbor from across the street came home. When she exited her car, she asked me if I was talking to myself. I replied that I was talking to my neighbor. Of course, the neighbor chose that moment to be as quiet as a mouse. This made me look and sound a little crazier than normal, since I was unable to convince my across-the-street neighbor that I was talking to someone.

Neighborhood kids (me first, me first!) have eaten pizza and ice cream and cookies and other foods on the porch. I have eaten countless meals there myself. I especially like to eat breakfast on the bench on the porch. Weather permitting, of course. I read the paper while eating, as well as wave at neighbors as they go to work. (They are jealous!) This must all be accomplished before our solar system’s only star tops the trees that are east of my house. When it becomes completely unobstructed by the trees, the solar system’s only star SHINES down unmercifully on my front porch. So I must abandon it until the shade returns and the concrete has cooled down some. Shade all afternoon and evening, though.  Perfect!!

The porch, with associated bench, has been used as a reading room, a puzzle solving room, a homework room, a computer room, a repair shop, a telephone booth, a music room (usually Bluegrass or Celtic), a bicycle shop, a clothes dryer, and other uses that escape me now.  Occasionally, a cat nap has occurred there, as well, even though the bench is a hard bed! Sometimes, the wild flowers that I plant in the spring grow so well in the flower bed in front of the porch that I can sit on the bench on the porch without being seen. Also, the porch has magically turned many gallons of water into sun tea. Add a little sugar, ummm good!

I have seen a lot of changes in my neighborhood since I first sat on the bench on the porch. Some good, some not so good. Some lives ended while others began. People moving in, others moving out. Kids growing up.  Ambulances drop by sometimes. Occasionally the law has had to pay a visit. One time there was a chimney fire. (That hook-and-ladder truck was longer than the street!) Some neighbors always waving, while others may not even look up. Even some not-so-neighborly feuds and divorces have occurred. But, through it all, here I am, still sitting on the bench on the porch. It is a wonderful place to relax and watch the world go by! I think I’ll have a Mountain Dew!


Guest Blogger … Cousin Gene …

Today is Thursday, the 2nd day of October, in the year of our Lord, 2014. I am the “guest” bloggist, since the Bloggist-N-Residence, Mr John Moss, is off today. (More off than usual.)

This blog is about a week in a town where I do not live. There was a lot of driving, not only to get there, but while I was there. There was some yard work. There were some repairs done. There was visiting, a lot of eating, and wonderful porch sitting.


Cousins Enjoying A Fall Day

I started out on a Saturday in September, early before sun-up for my trip. There in the seat next to me was a cooler of Mountain Dew, the wonderful beverage that sustains me (and will eventually do me in). I stopped for breakfast at a Hardee’s, in a town with my name in it. I enjoyed the Hardee’s sausage biscuit, with milk and OJ (not Simpson, either). And the drugs I take daily. Then I was off on the road again. About half way, I stop for fuel for my truck and a large chocolate milk shake at the Dairy Queen for me. That shake is deeee-licious! There rest of the trip was uneventful. Eventually, after about 11 hours and 30 minutes, I make it to my destination.

The River Birch tree in the front yard was in need of a trimming, even though the Bloggist-N-Residence usually trims it. With the assistance of my cousin and her husband, we were able to cut the tree back to a manageable size (for now) and hauled off a sizable load of tree limbs. Their car looked like a bush going down the road, if you happened to be behind them.

Another day, we attacked the bushes in front of the residence. They trimmed up nicely and another load of clippings was on its way to visit the tree limbs from the previous yard work day. (Next time, the back yard!)

The big repair job was the replacement of the very old hot water heater, which was no longer heating anything. It did manage to flip off the main breaker to the entire house. That was fun, all alone, in the dark, after dark, curtains drawn! Anyway the heater was replaced by a company with the same name as Maverick, and all is well now.

Three mornings were eat-out-breakfast days. And was it goooood!!!! Of course, one day was a long tour of the country side to see we were too early and had to return to the usual watering hole. It was still soooo gooood! The fried eggs and toast and pancakes and whatever they ate was wonderful. Can’t wait until next time!

Pie was called for on one day, which was ok, but we miss our special eating establishment, which closed a while back. The hot fudge sundaes were out of this world!

One day my cousin cooked spaghetti. It was great and is my usual request for her to cook me just one home cooked meal. Soup and grilled cheese sandwiches were the order one evening, cooked by both hosts. It is a good thing that I don’t visit all the time. My waist would be considerably larger!!

During all this time here, my favorite activity is the porch-sitting. Whether sitting in the swing or in a chair, it doesn’t matter because they both work well. Watching the grass grow (or the weeds), watching the blue jays snatch up peanuts, watching the traffic go by at various speeds and noise levels, watching the old man sleeping, watching the little bundle of energy called Gretchen run wild (within the leash constraints, that is). All that and more! It is fun to sit on a porch!

The day of my departure arrived, putting an end to all the fun. Get up early, load the truck, turn out the lights, off I go. Mountain Dew at my side, Hardee’s for breakfast in a couple of hours, and 300 mile up the road was a chocolate milkshake waiting for me!

My parting words, to any one who may care, are to find a porch and sit on it a while. It is well worth it.