Midwestern widower now needs to move somewhere with better sight lines.

“You don’t appreciate how good you have it when you’re young,” observed recently widowered Dayton Cummings. “You live across target rich environments like multi-level apartment buildings.”

“During college it was the best,” reminisced Cummings, “I lived across the street from a sorority house and they did not understand the concept of curtains. That was great!” Cummings wiped away a tear.

Then Cummings got married and moved to the suburbs, where single family homes separated by yards and bushes destroyed any good opportunities. “Sometimes, when the sun was at a perfect angle, there was a retired librarian across the street who had an exercycle in her basement she’d ride in something tight. Times were tough, you take what you can get.”

Cummings’ wife died of breast cancer after a long fight. “She was a trooper. She wouldn’t ask for anything while I grabbed my binoculars to go for neighborhood walks. Sometimes I’d come back hours later and she’d have passed out in the hallway while I guess trying to get herself some food or something.”

Cummings has been trying to sell his house for a couple of years now, with no takers. “Maybe I should take down my telescope pointing at the neighbors’ bedroom before people visit. I could like point it to the stars or something pathetic like that instead.”