GEEZER OF THE MONTH.

You can find many an elder stud just killing time 'til fishing season. Some will read good books (note the titles on this guy's book shelf). Others will post ads to meet geezer girls.

OLE'S FISHING BOAT

THIS STORY HAS BEEN CIRCULATED ON THE INTERNET -- CAPTURED HERE TO SHARE: Ole won a fishing boat in a raffle drawing in a small upstate Minnesota town. He brought it home and Lena looks at him and says, "Vot da heck you gonna do vit dat. Dere ain't no water deep enough ta float a boat widin 50 miles uv here." Ole says, "I vun it and I'ma gonna keep it." Sven came over to visit several days later. He sees Lena and asks where Ole is. She says, "He's out dere in his fishin boat," pointing to the field behind the house. Sven heads out behind the house and sees his brother sitting in a fishing boat with a fishing rod in his hand down in the middle of a big field. He yells out to him, "Vot da heck are you doing out dere?" Ole replies, "I'ma fishin'. Vot da heck duz it look like I'ma doing?" Sven yells back, "It'sa people lika you that give people from Norvay a bad name; make everybody tink we are stoopid. If I cud svim, I'd come out dere and kick yor ass."

A Pelagic Geezer Tale

Yeah, I built a metal boat, a sailboat. Didn’t put an engine in it.  Me and another guy sailed it to Hawaii.  Liked it so well we stayed there a while.  Sat at anchor long enough that coral and other stuff grew thick as brush on the bottom of the boat.  When we attempted to sail out of the cove through the gap in the reef, the boat sailed so poorly that we were blown on top of the reef.  We sat there like a teeter-totter.  Being ingenious sorts, we both ran forward to the bow at the same time and the boat slid off the reef into deep water on the other side of the cove.  This scraped all the growees and coral leeches off the bottom and the boat sailed just fine after that.  Didn’t hurt the boat at all.

The Osprey and the Fishing License

The following geezer story from Powder Monkey Tales was selected to be performed at the Idaho Centennial Play, 1989, at Pocatello, Idaho:

One day I went down across the road here, perch fishing in the Pend O'Reille. I fished for a while and caught a few. Just down the river on the bank sat an osprey. One wing was hanging down. Looked like he was pretty weak. Must a flew into the telephone line or something, hurt himself.

So I took a couple fish down there, close as I could get. I tossed him one. He ate it. I tossed him another. He ate that one, too. I went back to where I was fishing, and he follered me. I gave him another fish when he got there. Oh, I fished a while longer and headed home. And he follered me again. When I got home it was starting to get a little dark. 'Bout time to go to roost anyway, so I took the osprey out to the shed and set him on the back of an old chair.

Went out in the morning, took him some more fish and a pan of water for a drink. He hung around here for a few days. I kept feeding him. Finally he got so he could fly. He'd fly around a little, and finally got used to flying again. Two or three days went by and he finally took off.
After that, about every few days he'd bring me some fish. Dropped 'em off on the porch. Kept that up. Brought me a mess of fish every two or three days.

One day the game warden caught him at it and said, “Wes, you’re gonna have to buy that osprey a fishing license.”

Excerpt from POWDER MONKEY TALES - A Portrait in Stories by Wesley Moore, alias Post Hole Augerson.

Available on Kindle for 99 cents.

ALL GEEZERS LOVE OLD PICKUP TRUCKS . . .

in fact, they think of old vehicles as investments and some old duffers can't have too many old cars and trucks around to work on -- someday.  If you're out driving around and see a small house surrounded by unmowed grass growing up around several old cars and trucks, so that it looks like a debris-recruitment program instead of a yard, you'll know you're in geezer country.  Actually repairing their vehicles may never happen, because the simplest task, one like fixing a leaky faucet, can take days and require an audience.  Such a project might include seeking the advice of every other old guy in the county, often over coffee.  And while many geezers do keep themselves constructively occupied, others don't do much of anything but talk -- about fixing one of those old trucks, or patching a leaky roof, or just maybe going to Alaska some day.  These are the ones who play horseshoes and get quite good at it, too, and only go to family reunions where they can play a game or two out back.  But I have digressed from the subject of geezers and old pickup trucks.  Sometimes they will give a favorite old pickup a pet name, like OLD BLUE or BETSY.  He might name his truck after a former sweetheart, one who never knew her status as his girlfriend.  I've known more than one Montana geezer who did not, like others do, install an engine block heaters in his truck.  Instead, on sub-zero days he will risk building a fire under under his truck to get it started.

JUST A GLIMPSE . . .

. . . will tell you, "Yep!  It's a geezer.

RECOGNIZING A GEEZER -- CONTINUED.

Geezers often wear baseball caps with sayings on them.  In fact, some of them treat their hats like pets.  Still others never remove their caps, which contributes to balding.  In addition to their caps, they favor protective coloration in clothing.  Plaid = geezer camo.  They shop at thrift stores a lot, and flea markets, yard sales, even Dumpsters, while their little dogs wait patiently behind the wheel in their trucks. 

The waist band of many a geezer's pants can be found below his stomach.  That is, just above his magic parts.  Still others wear their waist bands up under their armpits, occasionally with suspenders.  Either way, you go to check out his buns and there aren't any.

One geezer I spent a lot of time with wiped his hands on his socks during dinner, instead of using a napkin.  When I caught him I said, "Did I just see you wipe your hand on your sock?"  He replied, "Sure.  I've done it all my life, but usually I don't get caught."  He grabbed my hand and demonstrated by wiping my hand on my sock.  This felt surprisingly natural.