Yesteryear
One year ago today: June 29, 2025, WIP
Five years ago today: June 29, 2021, by the thousands.
Nine years ago today: June 29, 2017, WIP
Random years ago today: June 29, xxxx, WIP
If you are reading this, I am on the road to Franklin, TN. Via Gainesville, Valdosta, Macon, and if the mood hits me, through to Montgomery to get on Hwy 65, a slightly more scenic and sane route. This trip will be incomplete before I start. I require a document I cannot find. It is in my black travel case—but were is the case. I tore my place apart this afternoon, so I know where it is not. I probably left a 6:00AM this morning, the good news is I found that clasp with the $35 worth of postage stamps that went missing last year. That helps. Sorry if there are not pics, maybe later. The millennial/GenX heroes have two identical type of USB-C cables. On that transfers data, and the power cable that just sits there.

You’ll have to return later for the ever-popular trip details. It’s the turnoff at Tipton I’ve never been west of. Gas is $3.89 per gallon, so we’ll need at least 102 gallons for this [journey], which may have to be repeated within 60 days. But by August I’ll be over the scrunch. I contacted Tonio in Valdosta, but no reply yet. I put his box in the Hundy just in case, or maybe catch him on the way back.
Arrived in Franklin just after dark, settled in and headed up the road to the Pond, an old club north of downtown. Had one hell of a time finding the new place (it is an apartment, not a condo this time) and the numbering scheme was shacked out. Imagine a town where instead of the houses having orderly numbers, house 101 is on street 1 but house 109 is on street nine. Somebody in Tennessee needs sharpening up with a tire iron.
The trip was the un today, and quite a time it was. I got away 90 minutes late, but traffic was nice and the day was perfect. I have Valdosta just before noon and met up with Tonio in no time. He’s got a major mower, shown here, and was on duty. The object here was to hand him the tool box from last year. I had just got my laser and knew not much about box joinery. This was a utility box, made from what was at hand—not meant to be pretty, meant to be used.

To just north of Valdosta, it was all familiar territory, so no surprises, except no traffic really. I decided to finally take the secondary over to Montgomery. The mystery city, because it has no tall buildings and cannot be seem from the surrounding roadways. This turned into my treat of the year, what a wonderful scenic drive, around 200 miles. Just north off Tipton, there’s a junction toward Albany. I’ve passed through there before, but always north-south. West Georgia and East Alabama is like a storybook. I longed for my motorcycle the whole time.
This is a business trip, I stopped only for gas, which I saw as low as $3.21. Hold on, I stopped for some road grub at the Valdosta Wal*mart, a stop I now know from automobile breakdown days. Westbound from central Georgia is though rolling hills, heavy forest like in the movies. I rolled down the windows for an hour. Two-lane most of the way, but I was alone, approaching Eufaula (population 12,882) from the southeast. Through a tunnel of trees. I will remember this trip forever.
Running two hours late, I didn’t stop even for coffee, not at Eufaula is an easy place to find any. The connected road to I-65 is another lost corridor well worth the drive. More forest, rolling hills, and the odd farm clearing. Just make sure you have GPS to get past Albany sideways on the map or you will get lost. What a jumble of junctions. Meanwhile, the day got broiling hot, it just be another summer heat wave. But my A/C is top-tier and I listened to anti-Trump radio (NPR) a few times. It fakes because my aerial is still broken off.
I glanced down the main street of Eufaula to where that babe I once met worked, the one who wanted to show me where the library was when she got off work. The building was vacant and for rent.
As I passed Montgomery, I slowed down and drove the freeway via “Traffic Jam Birmingham” and past the Decatur ramp. Slower after realizing I was 15 degrees further west and would arrive in sunlight. This route adds less than 30 miles to the whole trip and has a lot more countryside. But just as may jerks on the road, the latest crop with no highway savvy.
Picture of the day.
Monument, Custer’s Last Stand.
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Arriving in Franklin, this is an unfamiliar part of town, but there is good news in a moment. But at the turn off, I startled a deer on the roadway, yes it froze. I hit the brakes and did a slider through the gravel, yes, a few inches from rolling the car. But it was all instinct that rattled me good for an hour. Welcome to Tennessee. Next, it took 40 minutes to find the apartment. First of all, it looks like townhouses and even people who live there could not tell me where building 9 was located.
The Reb is out of town, but aw, she left me coffee and Carnation, she knows me well. The photo guy was awake and looking out the patio for the view, what do I see? The old Pond, it is a pub known for always having entertainment. You get that in the Nashville environs. It’s in a shopping center almost within walking distance, if I could still walk distances, I mean. So we piled in his Cadillac and got there around 10:00PM. Yep, Karaoke, so I put my name on the list. Turns out the photo guy has never seen my act.
Discovering the Pond does not serve Budweiser and only has Yuengling on draft (what’s become of America?), I went of High Life and did not recognize a single tune from the singers before me. That includes trios who got on stage with rehearsed material. So, and the photo guy has all this on video, I got to work. (The place was a third full, mostly people two generations behind me. I recognized a few personalities from Nashville, but did not say hello as a professional courtesy. )
What can I say? Actually, a lot, because I have the video, I brought down the house. It was stunning to see 15 years after I’ve performed without the lyrics, people still glued to the screen like it was their stage buddy. The stage was 60 feet away, so I saved energy and sang right beside the bar. At first, I had a couple old-lady sourpusses scowling at me, but once I had the entire back of the place singing, they came around.
It was truly a resounding applause, but I was tuckered. I move to leave and the DJ, bartender, and owner rushed over. Apparently I am now welcome there any time and have priority of sorts on that stage. They plied me with another ice cold beer and got me up singing next. Did it again, the whole room singing. I’m invited back, maybe I will. A ton of people introduced themselves to my assurances I would never remember. But not any of the personalities, it’s, um, a professional courtesy.
ADDENDUM
Going over the budget reveals while we are doing better than average, another Biden Administration puts everybody in the doghouse. This November could end the empire, with both sides planning a knockout blow. And if the Democrats try their old tricks, it means civil war or the equivalent. The budget that endured the best is the one here, at the cabin in Florida. It is based on the expenses of operating a household of one or two people.
As such, it includes gasoline, but not the cost of the vehicles. But even those limited categories of food and entertainment, allow for only $1,000 per month. This is why I mention categories that spill over as warning signs. My telecom costs have gone from $20 per month to $133. Gasoline from $66 to $156. Yet the only year in which my “household” income actually fell was 2025, due to a disastrous second half, and even then by just $150 (kudos to my financial resilience).
Now, these do not include investment or business income which has suffered badly for some time. Zero sales, zero gigs—and don’t underestimate gigs just because some items are not recorded. I once lived years on just my tips, but don’t want to be a Boomer accused of trying to turn back the clock. Note both sales and gigs are earned income (an accounting designation), and I drew the line on that. The Reb has not learned to manage financials, yet that is the only portion of the equation I would even bother to trust.
The diagram of this would look like a giant circle. I started off in the early 80s massively in student debt. I bought my cars with loans, paid rent, and relied on credit cards as emergency funding. I knew by 1990 there was no getting out of that in a lifetime without drastic measures. I took those measures, by the way. That includes no mortgage and thus no marriage and children, but as I would point out, even those people who had these things wound up no better than I. What good is an ex-wife, alimony, support, and children who don’t know them? But that is a different issue.
The facts are there, time to presume I’ll live another ten years. That the completion of the giant circle, back to the original starting point where you get rich by getting poor slower than everybody else. My projections show that with my traditional abilities to average 7% per year, a quarter-million is needed to move the needle. But a smaller investment of $50,000 would pay my groceries and gas.
I would point out that I do not directly withdraw investment money to pay such bills. Rather, equate the income to money I would have invested if I had not spent it on, say food. This may sound dumb to outsiders, but it works for me. If I did not have to buy food, there is a 100% chance I would invest that money, since I know it is a sunk cost either way. Shall we say, there are some who would not make it 100%. They know who they are. I got little use for them. They are usually troublemakers as well. Not big trouble, more the water-dripping-at-night variety.
My investments are further conditioned by political “bewareness”, a term you have not heard me use directly. You cannot protect your money from determined clutches, but you can take measures that give you at least some warning before they kick in your door. Like, for example, your big-mouth neighbor with nothing to hide? Watch his door, the government picks the easy fruit first. Ask Bernie. The end result is my curious attitude about privacy. Not secrecy, but privacy. Secrecy implies you have something to hide that is somebody else’s business. Privacy means none of their business.
This also discloses why I relate often back to my formative years. Simple, my upbringing was divided. It was capitalism for anybody who showed initiative, but communism for the lazy. Folks, I was on to today’s America long before the current strife. I had learned by age 8 a number of lessons, which lucky you, I will share at the level where they happened.
a) If you do not spend money as soon as you receive it, that is proof you never really needed the money, therefore you will receive no more.
b) If you invest, that asset becomes the first target of envy and greed. All the lazy see is the cash, never the value.
c) Showing aptitude is folly. Driving a nail could obligate to driving nails for everybody who, it seems, never become as good at it as you, ahem.
d) Do not volunteer for anything unless it extends you the right to exclude those who did not volunteer.
e) People would like nothing more than for you to fail so they can pick your bones clean.
f) Learn your personal limit to getting ahead. When it comes to money, the trick is to out-think Shylock without becoming one yourself.