Sometimes we say things that in retrospect may sound either incomplete or downright foolish. That little pot that holds our thought processes just overfills and overflows like amens in a tent revival.

Afterward we might often say, “Yes, I’m being a bit facetious.”

Well, a person may be facetious but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t have some meat in his soup.

Take Jim Casey of Erie, Pa., for example. He thinks the city of Erie should require all homes to be built with front porches.

His reasoning is that today’s society has withdrawn inside their homes to watch television and play video games and simply have failed to be neighborly.

He thinks that houses with front porches not only look nicer, but they have the socially redeeming value of encouraging neighbors to interact.

Casey’s monumental flaw in his thought process here would be a point of constitutionality. That voice would come screaming onto the scene like Deputy Barney Fife having just observed a U-turn on the Main Street of Mayberry.

A man’s house is his castle. And whether there should be a dock extending into his moat is perceived as his choice.

To sum up Casey’s concept and to apply a somewhat hackneyed expression, “that dog won’t hunt.” Still, though, Casey has brought us good food for thought.

I recall in my youth the family all sitting out on the front porch on summer nights discussing a broad array of subjects ranging from the success of the pulpit committee to speculation on when the bridge would get fixed. Now I’m not saying that families talking with each other is a lost art, but I think sometimes it’s a can of paint that has been misplaced.

Of course the front porch wasn’t just an aesthetic device in my childhood. It was functional, too. A lot of butterbeans and purple hull peas got shelled in the cool of the night on that front porch.

But when it comes right down to it, I prefer a back porch.

A back porch doesn’t necessarily address Casey’s point of sitting out in the rocker and waving to people strolling down the street. But a back porch certainly has its unique qualities. You can do things off the back porch that you can’t do off the front porch — like spitting your tobacco juice. Not only that, you can sit on the back porch at night in your underwear and pick your guitar, providing your hedge has been kept up.

In contrast, people might think you were a cup of rice short of a purloo if they saw you casting your new spinning rod out into the front yard. But in the backyard, it’s just you and God. And He doesn’t gossip.

There has been no federally funded study in this regard, but I believe a person can think better sitting on the porch. And on the back porch, you can even think out loud.

Add a swing or a rocking chair to all of this and you can get more therapy and do more soul searching than can be found in a whole library of those self-help books. Call it “Bubba yoga” or just plain old “letting it all hang out,” one can find peace and solace there. Out on the porch you just have more room to wonder about stuff. And if you overload on deep thought, it can dissipate into the night air rather than jamming up on the ceiling.

Of course all of this is in direct proportion to one’s inclination to take advantage of it. One must seek out this blessing. It’s not going to force itself on you.

Simply put, you can lead a person to a porch, but you can’t make him rock.

Dwain Walden is editor/publisher of The Moultrie Observer. You can call him at 985-4545, ext. 214. E-mail: dwain.walden@gaflnews.com.