18 June 2021

Published June 16, 2021 by rochellewisoff

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The next photo is the PROMPT. Remember, all photos are property of the photographer, donated for use in Friday Fictioneers only. They shouldn’t be used for any other purpose without express permission. It is proper etiquette to give the contributor credit.

PHOTO PROMPT © Alicia Jamtaas


Genre: Historical Fiction
Word Count: 100


I came upon Noah and his crude cabin quite by accident while hiking in the Adirondacks back in 1938. Hospitable fella. Self-proclaimed mayor of Cold River City. Population: one.  

            “I left home as a youngster.” He puffed on his pipe. “I had my fill of American industrial slavery and highway carnage.”

            “Don’tcha miss people?” I asked.

            “Not much. I got my little garden. Fish in summer, venison in winter. An elegant sufficiency.”

            In 1967 I read in the newspaper of Noah John Rondeau’s passing at the age of eighty-four in a hospital room. Not exactly the sendoff he’d hoped for.


87 comments on “18 June 2021

  • As you say, not the send-off he’d hoped for. But while the ending may not have been up to much, I get the impression what came before it was entirely as he would have wished. I’ve always wondered, how do you pronounce Adirondacks?

    Liked by 1 person

    • Dear Sandra,

      Adi-RAWN-daks. (Actually you can hear it in my recording 😉 ) According to stories I read, he lived the last few years of his life on welfare. A sad ending. Thank you for reading and commenting. 😀




  • Yes, I like the ‘puffed on his pipe’ too. That just brings him to life. I can hear him talking…
    Not sure… Well, actually, really sure I wouldn’t like that life, but I so admire him for making the choice to live the way he wanted to. And another character to add to my list of Americans I didn’t know about. Thank you.

    Liked by 1 person

  • Very interesting. I know a few people who have chosen to live “off grid”, but in a little more comfort than this…. I think it would be hard today to be able to escape to our own private Walden like this, particularly for so many years.

    Liked by 1 person

    • Dear Josh,

      Randy did write a similar story, didn’t he? Although Noah died long before cell phones. Unless we’re talking about a different Randy. At any rate, thank you.

      Send those photos on! I’m always on the lookout for good ones.




  • Apparently, if I comment on my phone, it doesn’t show up on your blog. I hope it’s only yours because I’ve been using my phone a lot more lately.

    A famous hermit seems like an oxymoron. He sounds like he was also the ambassador and greeter for Cold River City. Very interesting character and story as always, Rochelle.

    Liked by 1 person

    • Dear Nobbin,

      I did find your first comment in my trash folder. Not very neighborly, is it? It does seem to have something to do with comments made on the phone. It happens all the time with Dale’s comments that she makes on her phone. There are a couple of people whose comments go straight to the trash…I don’t know if it’s a phone issue or what. I do check my spam and trash folders on a daily basis for this very reason. It is frustrating.
      Noah was the ambassador and mayor and the general population. Thank you.



      Liked by 1 person

  • Dear Rochelle,

    I was going to ask why he ended up in the hospital but then I decide I best click the link to make sure 😉 Smart of me. It takes a certain type of personality to choose to live completely alone. Well done!

    Shalom and lotsa long-lived love,


    Liked by 1 person

    • Dear Dale,

      There was so much about him that was difficult to squeeze into 100 words. (That’s why I add links. 😉 ) Such is life. While I like my solitude I don’t think I could go off the grid like he did. Thank you for your affirming comments as always. 😀

      Shalom and lotsa long-lived hugs,


      Liked by 1 person

    • Dear Lish,

      I don’t know. The pipe might give you some added character. 😉 There are days when being left totally alone sounds appealing, doesn’t it? I don’t think I could last long, though. Thank you.




  • Dear Rochelle,

    This true story has set me thinking about how many people there are who live in the middle of a city and are deeply lonely, while this one man chose to go off the grid and seemed not to suffer from one day of loneliness because it was what he’d chosen. Re his final hospitalisation, I guess the only thing we can be sure of in life is that we will eventually die, I can be very reclusive, but only in short bouts. It is important to me to have a warm bed and I would find it very hard to kill and gut my food before eating it.

    I like the photo prompt for this week but, realistically, I don’t think that I’d be able to fully engage in Friday Fictioneers this week. Have arrived back in blogland only today and have much catching up to do, after more than 2 months of absence.

    I’ve just been liaising with Dale. Are you up for a a girls’ chat on Sunday afternoon?

    All best wishes,
    Sarah 🙂


    • Dear Sarah,

      I’m afraid I wouldn’t be good at that kind of seclusion either. I’ll leave the hunting and gutting to Jan.
      I understand about being off the blogging grid. Some days I think it’s time to chuck FF but just can’t bring myself to do it.
      I do appreciate you swinging by to leave a comment.
      As for Sunday, if you mean afternoon Sussex time which would be 0800 Missouri time I could probably swing it. It’s Father’s Day here in the States so I do have to give Jan some attention. 😉



      Liked by 1 person

  • A bit like my great-uncle Robie who chose the backwoods over town for most of his adult life. Think he might have been the most contented, sane and serene of all my relatives.
    Thanks for sharing this gentleman’s story.

    Liked by 1 person

      • Unfortunately, I never met him! He was older than my grandfather by a few years. I only “heard” rumours of his lifestyle as a child. I learned that if I sat quite and still under my grandmother’s kitchen table while the adults played cards, I overhear all manner of interesting things — including the foibles and quirks of my father’s family.


  • Awesome man… kinda reminds me of my Papaw John. Very self reliant, Papaw was. One of the best “Shiners” in the region next to Memaw herself, that is. We always had plenty of venison to eat when we visited. Man, I haven’t thought about PapawJohn and Memaw since… well, many many years. Oddly, I can still smell his pipe smoke as I think about him. Corncob pipe, rocking chair on the corner of the porch, ugly mut dog curled beside him with chin on his foot. Ahhhhhhh… those were the days…. Sorry I missed this week. We lost power Friday and didn’t get it back until we came home Sunday. With no power, we went north to stay with family for the weekend.


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