tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-88185191991091962002024-03-15T07:36:46.584-04:00Maxminimus“Style anthropology can explicate a lot of otherwise tricky issues, in some cultures probably more than others. Sort of Like Water For Chocolate, only Weejuns...” LPCADGhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16612897500610475937noreply@blogger.comBlogger583125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8818519199109196200.post-3758837466385113242023-01-03T18:22:00.000-05:002023-01-03T18:22:20.349-05:00Yoga<div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0o-3GkWH8wrmT6e07kkBzem2YGzuMZfM-O6JLbYyA5Btqx9mmHEJFUeq9T0o8tr32Bcnl4v2JUZWnScbqPDQiUxw4jz-8dP_nd5RPkd_c45kOq1jUHhD2rUvz0a7B7joX5Wk7zK8BO8kUDbZZXPMEJgWKbjYIjwlehaR2T5Frr5e7raCyz2Yot_Y_Mw/s1334/IMG_4282.PNG" style="display: block; padding: 1em 0px; text-align: center;"> <img alt="" border="0" data-original-height="1334" data-original-width="750" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0o-3GkWH8wrmT6e07kkBzem2YGzuMZfM-O6JLbYyA5Btqx9mmHEJFUeq9T0o8tr32Bcnl4v2JUZWnScbqPDQiUxw4jz-8dP_nd5RPkd_c45kOq1jUHhD2rUvz0a7B7joX5Wk7zK8BO8kUDbZZXPMEJgWKbjYIjwlehaR2T5Frr5e7raCyz2Yot_Y_Mw/w360-h640/IMG_4282.PNG" width="360" /></a><div style="text-align: center;"><p class="MsoNormal" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; line-height: 16.5pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="background-color: #660000;"><span style="color: white;"><span style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; border: 1pt none windowtext; font-size: 14pt; padding: 0in;">I honestly didn’t
know whether I could even remember the password for this blog. I haven’t
visited here since I reposted that story about my father a couple of years ago.
Like those who routinely read my drivel all those years ago, I’ve lived a big
pile of life since the heady days of “look at the latest sartorial sh_t I
bought this week—and hey—here’s what Lily and I are up to!” </span><span style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; border: 1pt none windowtext; font-size: 14pt; padding: 0in;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; line-height: 16.5pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="background-color: #660000;"><span style="color: white;"><span style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; border: 1pt none windowtext; font-size: 14pt; padding: 0in;"><o:p> </o:p></span><span style="font-size: 14pt;">Covid ended my
every other week plane rides to various contiguous 48 locations. I haven’t
retired and frankly, am unable to do so anytime soon. And I hardly wear any of
those clothes these days. Covid ended my travel but began my yoga journey.
Spine surgery in 2018 ended my four decades of running and yoga has become my
thing. Yoga is transforming me—in good ways. Yesterday was my 430</span><sup>th</sup><span style="font-size: 14pt;">
hot yoga practice in 18 months. Almost every day.</span></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; line-height: 16.5pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="background-color: #660000;"><span style="color: white;"><span style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; border: 1pt none windowtext; font-size: 14pt; padding: 0in;"><o:p> </o:p></span><span style="font-size: 14pt;">Onward.</span></span></span></p><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div></div></div>ADGhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16612897500610475937noreply@blogger.com4Alexandria, VA, USA38.8048355 -77.04692149.6256884189073979 -112.2031714 67.9839825810926 -41.8906714tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8818519199109196200.post-28664398104916029712020-06-21T12:39:00.000-04:002020-06-21T15:38:45.040-04:00Father's Day 2020<br />
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<span style="font-family: "century gothic" , sans-serif;">It's amazing how time flies. I wrote this story almost ten years ago and my goodness what a decade it has been for me since. My little daughter LFG who ultimately became as much of a focus here as topics sartorial will be twenty years old next week. She has two years of college with a 4.0 GPA behind her now. And I cannot adequately express what a privilege it is to be her father </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "century gothic" , sans-serif;">She's taking me to dinner this evening and I'm doubly excited. Happy to be with her and also giddy to be--socially distanced and all other appropriate measures complied--out again with small, responsible groups of humanity. I moved back to Alexandria after being in Bethesda for six years and the world immediately went into lock down. Stir crazy is an understatement.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "century gothic" , sans-serif;">But what about clothes? I've not spent in the last five years what I used to spend every six months on clothes at my zenith. I still love all things sartorial. That hasn't changed. </span><span style="font-family: "century gothic" , sans-serif;">I just don't need anything. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "century gothic" , sans-serif;">Kudos to all you fathers who continue to make your kids a top priority. There's nothing more important.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "century gothic" , sans-serif;">Onward.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "century gothic" , sans-serif;">ADG II</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "century gothic" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 20.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Trad Dad…My Father<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "century gothic" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">By Dustin Grainger<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "century gothic" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">September 2010</span><span style="font-family: "century gothic" , sans-serif; font-size: 12pt;"> </span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEge6vxbRDWw3LNXYMNbghAkUZmLbelyDQO37Hvz32gPc7ZR_igGIpiWtgbGITgSjJAc9IOXCyunwForS71B_4TQdXgC-9yADAaJ1uHA0syo0B0KpgMyzEUIS23FEzvnHkgo96YGtM2PcQRU/s1600/Main.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="379" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEge6vxbRDWw3LNXYMNbghAkUZmLbelyDQO37Hvz32gPc7ZR_igGIpiWtgbGITgSjJAc9IOXCyunwForS71B_4TQdXgC-9yADAaJ1uHA0syo0B0KpgMyzEUIS23FEzvnHkgo96YGtM2PcQRU/s640/Main.jpg" width="378" /></a></div>
The original of this poorly shot photo
is about the size of those pictures that my daughter and I take in the amusement
park photo-booths at the beach. My hunch is that a similar booth is exactly where
this one was taken. Probably in a bus station en route to Fort Jackson in
Columbia, South Carolina. An acne faced kid from the farm, doing his best to be
a man. After all, men get drafted. Men go to Fort Jackson for Basic Training.
And from what I’ve been told, my dad was anything but pleased to be drafted at
the tail end of a war. Fort Sill Oklahoma was as far as my dad got after Basic
Training. He loved the drinking, dice and cards part of his patriotic duty but
was fairly ambivalent about the rest. He stayed crazy about two of those three
for the remainder of his short life. I’m not sure why the dice trailed off.<o:p></o:p><br />
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<span style="font-family: "century gothic" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>I’ve stared at this photo for hours
over the years. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Wondering how a kid in
his late teens—a tobacco farm kid from Horry County South Carolina—ever found
the inspiration for such a cool outfit. An assemblage of texture, geometry and tone.
I wonder what the colors were like. I’m taken by many things in this photograph
and left speculating about many more. I’m like that. I have the gift or curse
of an incredibly active mind. But what I mostly speculate about is the genesis
of this kid’s style. The inspirational sources of his kit…his contrivance…his
rig. My father was a clothes fanatic.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "century gothic" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;"> Alan Flusser and I
discussed it several years ago and Alan was sweetly but confidently dismissive.
Almost assigning my question to the silly category. <i>“Movies and
magazines…shop windows and men from the professions, fathers and uncles. That’s
where men got sartorial inspiration.”</i> Certainly makes sense. Ralph
Lauren tells stories about shop windows and the Big Screen as sources of inputs
to his pediatric noggin…antecedents for his sense of style expression. Alan’s
dismissive answer was grounded in the obvious. He grew up in a fairly affluent
New York City suburb and watched his father don sartorially rich contrivances
head to toe every day.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "century gothic" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;"> Alan mentions his father a couple of
times in his books and his characterization of his dad’s style sensibilities
always resonated with me. He dedicated his first book, <u>Making the Man</u> to
his father.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: "century gothic" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“To my father, whose esoteric
wardrobe first whetted my appetite for French lisle, hand-clocked socks,
striped English suspenders and garters, Brooks Brothers button down shirts and
alligator tassel loafers, and whose memory is never far from mind when in my
travels I happen upon some exquisite legacy from his time, an item crafted by
artists and altogether elegant.”</span></i><span style="font-family: "century gothic" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;"> <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "century gothic" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Alan again calls
upon the memory of his father in his 1985 sartorial treatise <u>Clothes
and the Man</u>.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: "century gothic" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“I received my first lessons on how
to dress from my father, for whom the possibilities of dressing well elicited
considerable interest and enjoyment. He was in the real estate business and he
used the way he dressed to project a successful image. Many mornings I’d watch
him go through his daily ritual of dressing for work. The shirt, the tie, the
suit, the shoes were all carefully selected so that he looked and felt his
best. I believed it was normal to take that much care in deciding how one
should look, to put such thought into the appropriateness of the clothes he wore.
I didn’t realize then that my father was in a small minority of men, holdovers
from a previous era who not only appreciated the feel and look of fine clothing
but respected the rules and taste of decorum.”</span></i><span style="font-family: "century gothic" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "century gothic" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>I’ll never satisfactorily reconcile
the sources of my father’s sartorial knack. The tobacco farms of Horry County
require a bit more than a trip on the ferry or through the tunnel to be in New
York City and amidst a Stork Club and 21-esque reservoir of ape-worthy
sartorial subjects. I do know a few things. And what I know doesn’t quell my
curiosity, it rouses it. My farmer grandfather was an unwavering stalwart of
the agrarian New Deal Democracy. Never did I see him in overalls but never did
I see him in anything other than a Hart Schaffner and Marx navy blue serge suit
for church. Or khakis, a blue button-down shirt…short sleeves in the
summer-long in the winter, a windbreaker or barn jacket, and a Stetson or Dobbs
hat for weekdays on the farm. His everyday hats, straw or felt, were
subordinated from their original role as Sunday go-to-church hats. Rest assured
that my father got none of the panache captured in that photo-booth snapshot
from his own father.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "century gothic" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>But what about books, magazines and
movies? My grandparents were simple people who lived a provincial Southern farm
life and wanted for nothing and that’s a good thing because they didn’t have
much. Perhaps a bit of my dad’s sartorial traction was gained as a toddler. My
grandmother made his clothes when he was little and I’ve been told that he always
wore a hat. Bare headed John F. Kennedy did nothing to assuage his hat affinity
in later years. I never saw my dad dressed without a hat—ever. My sister and I
still revel in our reminiscences of summers on our grandparent’s farm. Do a
quick inventory on every sound one makes when singing Old MacDonald Had a Farm
and you’ve pretty much populated the farm of my father’s youth. We loved
visiting the farm as much as my father hated it growing up.<span style="mso-no-proof: yes;"> </span>My grandmother told me numerous times about my
father’s insistence that he would never come back to the farm once he left. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "century gothic" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>He was fastidious and loathed the
grit and gum associated with what at that time, was a crop whose economic
margins were stronger than anything else you could put in the ground—tobacco.
And his loathing didn’t come from my grandfather working him and his brother
like dogs. My grandfather was a softie and my dad took every liberty to skirt
any form of callus creating, fingernail soiling farm work. My dad didn’t do
squat that he didn’t want to do.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "century gothic" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>I’ll allow an occasional movie in my
speculation about my dad’s style inspiration but that’s about it. I’d bet that
the magazines and books that I saw in my grandparents’ home were similar to what
was there when my dad was growing up. Readers Digest, Progressive Farmer, local
newspapers, The Bible and maybe another one-off publication from time to time
but that’s about it. This was not an intellectually curious household.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuRXsHdvvpP1bsXbsMmwTHERDZdDakcs8xm0hkS2QeKIhE15eNCWDIwguNBanK-5HR262bCRnRfrvxGrQ1cg1bTAKKw5zCFppGeI6JsGwXNKd16AbodWL7RahOn4Woj8FWtguIpDYNZEOq/s1600/2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="361" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuRXsHdvvpP1bsXbsMmwTHERDZdDakcs8xm0hkS2QeKIhE15eNCWDIwguNBanK-5HR262bCRnRfrvxGrQ1cg1bTAKKw5zCFppGeI6JsGwXNKd16AbodWL7RahOn4Woj8FWtguIpDYNZEOq/s400/2.jpg" width="225" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "century gothic" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>So who knows? My father died when I
was sixteen. Timing is everything and at sixteen I wasn’t exactly amidst long,
twisty turny <i>“tell me about your childhood; dad” </i>interactions
with my old man. There are a remaining few who could probably add a piece or
two to the mosaic but it’s not worth the effort for me to sort it out with
them. I rarely see them and the collateral subjects about my father that I’d
have to endure are just too much for me.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "century gothic" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;"> My father had
auburn hair and blue eyes. When I watch the newly discovered by me, Mad Men
series, I see my dad in all those guys. I was a child of the Mad Men
generation. I think watching the first season of Mad Men was the motivation I
needed to finally write something about my father. When I recollect my father’s
business interests in tandem with his sartorial bearing I come up with Don
Draper meets Tony Soprano. Suffice it to say that my father had interests in
businesses that involved lots of <i>cash transactions.</i><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "century gothic" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">My dad was selling
real estate and tending bar on the weekends at the Elks Club when he met my
mom. Here’s the bartender on casual Saturday I suppose. I’ve speculated about
my genetic predisposition for clothes horsiness and I’d wear this fuzzy diced
shirt of dad’s in a heartbeat.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "century gothic" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Here’s my father
and his best buddy </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "century gothic" , sans-serif; font-size: 12pt;">Russell Blackmon at Ocean Drive beach many years before I
was even thought of. Russell was our small town hero. Life Guard, dirt track
racer and fellow bon vivant with my daddy. And this photo sums up my father’s
affinity for the beach. Bathing trunks clad Russell is fully engaged in solar
fun. My father is not. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "century gothic" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "century gothic" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">He’s there for one reason only…because my mother wanted
to be there. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-family: "century gothic" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Another photo shows the girls
sitting on beach towels in those Betty Draper bathing suits. My father hated
the beach. That’s why he’s still dressed…in a cotton lisle knit-shirt and
probably Bermuda shorts of some sort. Weejuns…maybe. </span><span style="font-family: "century gothic" , sans-serif; font-size: 12pt;">High and tight
haircut, trad glasses and understated leather watch strap. That was my dad.</span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjP3swsp1gyCct6X2UX-3yx8CmxNYdvqSsJnXxNCWHOOWSEmxHc5sXyzOToriGsdhciA271Yf4ra_b6dhsGz5lhUOfPaoUFLAM_6TZ1DC0SrHo9A3mBSR4qcufCnxrmGB_Gg8cR6VOm6p1G/s1600/7.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="408" data-original-width="434" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjP3swsp1gyCct6X2UX-3yx8CmxNYdvqSsJnXxNCWHOOWSEmxHc5sXyzOToriGsdhciA271Yf4ra_b6dhsGz5lhUOfPaoUFLAM_6TZ1DC0SrHo9A3mBSR4qcufCnxrmGB_Gg8cR6VOm6p1G/s320/7.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "century gothic" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "century gothic" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Russell lived for a
couple of decades after my dad died. His wife, one of the gals
sitting on the beach while dad and Russell strolled, still lives around the
corner from my mom. She does smocking on little girl’s dresses. She did this
one for my daughter, Lily.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg04No5A40BO_VD4R1k7wkumpU0sEPfuX_W-LLfCXyPUSb4n8LjUe1lJjANZb3s0watk1KhkWVd8oNne0Tsbnd0sHef0OD-DydC_XzwFeYPPk1U7wQpiuspq_jILmjfyi2r2gCtJIbq3scu/s1600/9.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="333" data-original-width="500" height="133" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg04No5A40BO_VD4R1k7wkumpU0sEPfuX_W-LLfCXyPUSb4n8LjUe1lJjANZb3s0watk1KhkWVd8oNne0Tsbnd0sHef0OD-DydC_XzwFeYPPk1U7wQpiuspq_jILmjfyi2r2gCtJIbq3scu/s200/9.jpg" width="200" /></a><span style="font-family: "century gothic" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">My earliest
memories of my dad involve these heavy wingtip shoes, whiskey and an ottoman.
He’d come home from work and plop down in a club chair with at least one
cocktail already under his belt. My older sister and I would climb up on him
hug him like little people are want to do to their parents. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "century gothic" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-family: "century gothic" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">He was very affectionate
and really loved us no doubt...but we had a job to do. He’d direct us down to
the ottoman for our nightly task of unlacing his wingtips and at least for me,
having that shoe drop on the floor upon release. That shoe seemed heavier than
me and the wax laces—I can remember my little fingers trying to unleash that
heavy ass shoe…untying that waxy rope of a shoelace. I’m not certain I could
tie my own shoes at that age.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "century gothic" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-family: "century gothic" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>I remember my dad in two outfits…either
pajamas or a suit. The man did not recreate…he couldn’t. He was either working
or playing cards or doing whatever. He’d install us at the beach, load my
mother up with cash and he’d split. The man was absolutely one dimensional…all
business and of course, in an era where if you kept everyone at home well-heeled
and you hired others to do everything else, all was considered good. My father
was nocturnal and the man could be found in one of about four places in our
town of twenty thousand people. Cards and cocktails were his currency.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrEnU9W8ELrqDOwh85EerCBmDlEjeKb71hvU7HnDgLLscDc5NWEkabMXjWiFZ_0ad2560kcoD4-jt6DXMIY3FL0xAUEmmLnnp0nM-3oKd-3dzlajGd4dhYw60DhcojjMkVIm_jdAvcI1DI/s1600/10.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="475" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrEnU9W8ELrqDOwh85EerCBmDlEjeKb71hvU7HnDgLLscDc5NWEkabMXjWiFZ_0ad2560kcoD4-jt6DXMIY3FL0xAUEmmLnnp0nM-3oKd-3dzlajGd4dhYw60DhcojjMkVIm_jdAvcI1DI/s400/10.jpg" width="296" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "century gothic" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Here’s a grainy old
photograph of me and my dad. I’m clutching a ball in one hand and a dollar bill
in the other.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My dad’s ever present
cigarette’s been switched to his left hand as he tentatively dangles a fish.
One thing’s for certain, some of the farm help caught the fish on behalf of my
dad, for me. My dad didn’t get dirty and he damned sure didn’t get fishy. Straw
hat, cigarette and for a moment—a fish.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "century gothic" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "century gothic" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">My father died on a
Sunday. Sixteen year old boys, who have their driver’s licenses for daytime
driving and an MG Midget in which to do so, are generally disengaged from their
parents. My father had been ill, dramatically so but he’d made a turn and was
to be discharged the previous Wednesday. I spoke to him on the phone that
Wednesday morning. He asked me if my MG was running ok…I’d just had the clutch
repaired…again. I told him that it was indeed and I hurried off the phone.
Surely I had to be somewhere and besides, they were bringing him home that
afternoon and I’d see him then. I never spoke to him again. As a matter of
fact, he never spoke to anyone again.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "century gothic" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "century gothic" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>I didn’t really miss my dad for the next
fifteen years. Or at least I didn’t think I did. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was blessed with some mechanism that
shielded me from the loss I suppose. I navigated the teen years reasonably and
my twenties were go-go great. And then I woke up one day when I was thirty
years old and I missed my old man. I missed having the conversations that other
grown men and women had with their fathers. There were a few instances where
other adults, my peers, spoke of their fathers and it gut-punched me. One guy
said the simplest but most admirable thing about his dad. He had seen the
world, his father hadn’t. He’d gained gobs of graduate education. His dad had
none. But about his father he said, <i>“I could just sit and talk with my
father all day. He is the greatest person I know.”</i> I think I was sick
with jealousy for a week. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "century gothic" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "century gothic" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;"> My father never saw me do anything, never attended
anything, and never once threw me a ball. Another friend said about her
recently deceased father… <i>“I became a PharmD. because my father was a
PharmD. He was a brilliant, brilliant man and I’d live the rest of my life
under a bridge just to have another day with him.”</i></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<i><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqao8UmNVGbMOzqX0MEsAtk9z0Ba0EqKI3XxSXR3QIGjVSC49PedE_lRCLl9mSYPjbabX-x6wKZ9Xq5Y-UO83W0KwOEOhHK5n9UwZNbatRWQv2FonMkMoUSf63SYe7UpAXCuFzaU9EIuK8/s1600/11.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="467" data-original-width="335" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqao8UmNVGbMOzqX0MEsAtk9z0Ba0EqKI3XxSXR3QIGjVSC49PedE_lRCLl9mSYPjbabX-x6wKZ9Xq5Y-UO83W0KwOEOhHK5n9UwZNbatRWQv2FonMkMoUSf63SYe7UpAXCuFzaU9EIuK8/s400/11.jpg" width="286" /></a></i></div>
<o:p></o:p><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-family: "century gothic" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>And my best buddy John and his
retired Navy diesel sub officer, CIA operative dad can sit on the porch
drinking bourbon in fellowship for an hour…without saying a word. But they are
engaged with each other. My buddy Michael remembers his dad buying him his
first adult sized suit at Paul Stuart… <i>“My dad bought all his suits at
Paul Stuart. My first grown up suit came from Paul Stuart- a 2-button
navy Southwick. When I think of my dad I think of those suits with
the smell of Aramis cologne in them. Weird how that brings me back. After
my dad died in '88 - I never really shopped there much.” <o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-family: "century gothic" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">I’d give my left
arm to have something other than vague, unhappy memories of my dad.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-family: "century gothic" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">So dad here are a
few things that I’d like to update you on. I call my daughter Monkey...the same
thing you called me. She’s named for mom and she’s the prettiest of all your
grandchildren. You’d love her so much and I bet she could get your heavy ass
wingtip shoes off without much trouble. And she’s funnier than I ever was. I
know that you loved us but what I’m trying to do with your granddaughter is
love her differently. I want her as an adult, to say the same things about me
that my friends said about their fathers. And I want to be around to hear her
say it. That’s why I drink slightly less booze than you did.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5-P2AXaGfjLWgugZbbGbmKqJYJv-yz9PKOfxinGtCKZhCtMbmx1dWZyJ-1dPY_tJS06waCEYESmQ-tBQrVVSPchO7PP4TL6_HxoFx1mqpX1-Dzgn3Nb_naDITj3MEd0GMZ4JphhS3FNSY/s1600/12.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="192" data-original-width="163" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5-P2AXaGfjLWgugZbbGbmKqJYJv-yz9PKOfxinGtCKZhCtMbmx1dWZyJ-1dPY_tJS06waCEYESmQ-tBQrVVSPchO7PP4TL6_HxoFx1mqpX1-Dzgn3Nb_naDITj3MEd0GMZ4JphhS3FNSY/s400/12.jpg" width="339" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "century gothic" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Mom quit smoking. Something you
never did. But it took a mild heart attack twenty years ago to do the trick. By
the way, they cost about ten bucks a pack now. I can just hear you say
something about ten bucks <i>“being the current cost of pleasure”</i> or
whatever. And there’s a show called Mad Men. It’s about smoking and drinking.
You’d relate.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-family: "century gothic" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>And I heard you call me a <i>“little
fucker”</i> when you had to come home from the office and take me to buy
new shoes. I was six. I know you weren’t frustrated with me per se but I
realized it wasn’t a compliment when you said...<i>“he’s the toughest little
fucker on shoes I’ve ever seen.”</i> It’s ok dad. I now have an ass-load
of shoes and the clothes horse in you would want a pair of each for yourself. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "century gothic" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-family: "century gothic" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>And yes. I was the one who threw the
brick that hit your’54 Corvette. I didn’t mean to but you can bet that I wasn’t
gonna ‘fess up. <i>“Little fucker”</i> would have been a
complimentary warm up compared to what I would have had coming after you caught
me.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "century gothic" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-family: "century gothic" , sans-serif; font-size: 12pt;"> I’ve made and lost more money than
you but that’s ok too. I’m still here to make more and I’ve learned something
you never did. It isn’t as important to me as it was to you. I’d rather forgo a
billable day to make certain that your granddaughter sees me on the front row of
whatever event it happens to be. Because that event, at that moment, represents
a memory making opportunity for me and your granddaughter…both your Monkeys.</span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: "century gothic" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">So
Dad…Onward…In your shadow.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "century gothic" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 11.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br clear="all" style="mso-special-character: line-break; page-break-before: always;" />
</span></b>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "century gothic" , "sans-serif";">Reader Comments<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpFirst" style="line-height: 150%; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;">
<!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="font-family: "symbol"; mso-bidi-font-family: Symbol; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold; mso-fareast-font-family: Symbol;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">·<span style="font: 7.0pt "Times New Roman";">
</span></span></span><!--[endif]--><span style="font-family: "century gothic" , "sans-serif";">What
an amazing and heartfelt story. I lost my dad when I was 19 and I identify with
a lot of what you wrote.<a href="https://www.blogger.com/null" name="c3812177882245119783"></a><b><o:p></o:p></b></span></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpFirst" style="line-height: 150%; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;">
<span style="font-family: "century gothic" , "sans-serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 150%; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;">
<a href="https://www.blogger.com/null" name="c7610813140519645566"></a><!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="font-family: "symbol"; mso-bidi-font-family: Symbol; mso-fareast-font-family: Symbol;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">·<span style="font: 7.0pt "Times New Roman";">
</span></span></span><!--[endif]--><span style="font-family: "century gothic" , "sans-serif";">Thank
you so much for this story, and may God bless you. My dad suffered a heart
attack and two strokes two years ago. He's still around but not who he used to
be, and this story reminds me to value each moment because you never know when
things will change.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 150%; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;">
<span style="font-family: "century gothic" , "sans-serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 150%; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;">
<!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="font-family: "symbol"; mso-bidi-font-family: Symbol; mso-fareast-font-family: Symbol;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">·<span style="font: 7.0pt "Times New Roman";">
</span></span></span><!--[endif]--><span style="font-family: "century gothic" , "sans-serif";">Great
story. I mean it. Really touching, and heartfelt, and focused. Excellent and
thoughtful writing.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 150%; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;">
<span style="font-family: "century gothic" , "sans-serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 150%; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;">
<!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="font-family: "symbol"; mso-bidi-font-family: Symbol; mso-fareast-font-family: Symbol;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">·<span style="font: 7.0pt "Times New Roman";">
</span></span></span><!--[endif]--><span style="font-family: "century gothic" , "sans-serif";">A
wonderful story. You made me ask myself again, why do we compete with our
Fathers? My father had the same experiences as yours did. Went to Fort Bragg,
hated being a tobacco farmer, and never wanted to come back. My father is still
with me thankfully. I had to read this through twice. Are you sure we are not
related? Busy working dad, mom that pampered us, and, in my case, one really
sweet 1976 MG Midget, sunburst gold.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 150%; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;">
<span style="font-family: "century gothic" , "sans-serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 150%; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;">
<!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="font-family: "symbol"; mso-bidi-font-family: Symbol; mso-fareast-font-family: Symbol;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">·<span style="font: 7.0pt "Times New Roman";">
</span></span></span><!--[endif]--><span style="font-family: "century gothic" , "sans-serif";">I've
never commented on a story before but this is the best I've ever read. Simply
beautiful, thank you.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 150%; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;">
<span style="font-family: "century gothic" , "sans-serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 150%; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;">
<!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="font-family: "symbol"; mso-bidi-font-family: Symbol; mso-fareast-font-family: Symbol;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">·<span style="font: 7.0pt "Times New Roman";">
</span></span></span><!--[endif]--><span style="font-family: "century gothic" , "sans-serif";">Your
lovely story brought tears to my eyes. My last conversation with my dad was
also on the phone. He'd encouraged me not to cancel a long-planned trip as his
cancer was beaten; he was just going to do a round of proactive chemo. We'd
seen the Paris apartment he lived in as a teen in the '30's, and were headed to
Italy. "Go straight to Florence. It's one of my favorite cities in the
world." A week later, for no real reason, I cut the trip short and headed
home. Got here just in time to kiss him goodbye for the last time. (And that is
my "There is a God" moment.) Thanks for sharing and reminding me how
much I still love my dad.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "century gothic" , "sans-serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 150%; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;">
<!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="font-family: "symbol"; mso-bidi-font-family: Symbol; mso-fareast-font-family: Symbol;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">·<span style="font: 7.0pt "Times New Roman";">
</span></span></span><!--[endif]--><span style="font-family: "century gothic" , "sans-serif";">Just
lovely... I lost my dad three years ago, and still regret not learning all from
him that I could have.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 150%; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;">
<span style="font-family: "century gothic" , "sans-serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 150%; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;">
<!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="font-family: "symbol"; mso-bidi-font-family: Symbol; mso-fareast-font-family: Symbol;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">·<span style="font: 7.0pt "Times New Roman";">
</span></span></span><!--[endif]--><span style="font-family: "century gothic" , "sans-serif";">You
hit the nail on the head when you wrote what you would give just to have a
conversation with a lost parent. That really resonated. I better call my living
parent soon.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 150%; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;">
<span style="font-family: "century gothic" , "sans-serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 150%; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;">
<a href="https://www.blogger.com/null" name="c2339977535328554419"></a><!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="font-family: "symbol"; mso-bidi-font-family: Symbol; mso-fareast-font-family: Symbol;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">·<span style="font: 7.0pt "Times New Roman";">
</span></span></span><!--[endif]--><span style="font-family: "century gothic" , "sans-serif";">Young
man, you need to start charging admission for masterpieces like this. I'd pay
the ask just to get a look at that palimpsest double portrait you put together,
very powerful.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 150%; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;">
<span style="font-family: "century gothic" , "sans-serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 150%; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;">
<!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="font-family: "symbol"; mso-bidi-font-family: Symbol; mso-fareast-font-family: Symbol;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">·<span style="font: 7.0pt "Times New Roman";">
</span></span></span><!--[endif]--><span style="font-family: "century gothic" , "sans-serif";">I'm
crying at work over this. Beautifully written.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 150%; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;">
<span style="font-family: "century gothic" , "sans-serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 150%; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;">
<!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="font-family: "symbol"; mso-bidi-font-family: Symbol; mso-fareast-font-family: Symbol;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">·<span style="font: 7.0pt "Times New Roman";">
</span></span></span><!--[endif]--><span style="font-family: "century gothic" , "sans-serif";">Tears
in my eyes. Held out until the last couple sentences, damn you. We spent
yesterday with my father. At one point we were talking about calendars, and he
told us about how the English and European calendars used to be 10 days apart.
It's always like that with him, the retired professor. We said, "Dad, it's
amazing how you know all these things." I'm making a mental note of trying
to hear more of the things my dad knows that no one else does. Very few
people that I read online write as well as you do. Very few. And some of the
people that I read in print fall short too.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 150%; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;">
<span style="font-family: "century gothic" , "sans-serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 150%; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;">
<!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="font-family: "symbol"; mso-bidi-font-family: Symbol; mso-fareast-font-family: Symbol;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">·<span style="font: 7.0pt "Times New Roman";">
</span></span></span><!--[endif]--><span style="font-family: "century gothic" , "sans-serif";">This
was tough to read. Can only imagine the struggle to write it. Filled with so
much "if-only". Beautiful piece.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 150%; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;">
<span style="font-family: "century gothic" , "sans-serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 150%; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;">
<!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="font-family: "symbol"; mso-bidi-font-family: Symbol; mso-fareast-font-family: Symbol;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">·<span style="font: 7.0pt "Times New Roman";">
</span></span></span><!--[endif]--><span style="font-family: "century gothic" , "sans-serif";">The
one saving grace would seem to be your determination to be the best dad you
know how to be--with little or no guidance to draw from. Your little golden
hair...a lucky monkey.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 150%; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;">
<span style="font-family: "century gothic" , "sans-serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 150%; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;">
<a href="https://www.blogger.com/null" name="c7599728591317521311"></a><!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="font-family: "symbol"; mso-bidi-font-family: Symbol; mso-fareast-font-family: Symbol;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">·<span style="font: 7.0pt "Times New Roman";">
</span></span></span><!--[endif]--><span style="font-family: "century gothic" , "sans-serif";">I'm
sad that your Dad never got the pleasure of knowing the Dad and man you grew up
to be.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 150%; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;">
<span style="font-family: "century gothic" , "sans-serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 150%; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;">
<!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="font-family: "symbol"; mso-bidi-font-family: Symbol; mso-fareast-font-family: Symbol;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">·<span style="font: 7.0pt "Times New Roman";">
</span></span></span><!--[endif]--><span style="font-family: "century gothic" , "sans-serif";">Outstanding
and powerful. This story bored deep into the collective soul of all of us
men...as evidenced by the comments above. I am inspired<a href="https://www.blogger.com/null" name="c8575767486880585369"></a>. <a href="https://www.blogger.com/null" name="c4786322274186887391"></a><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 150%; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;">
<span style="font-family: "century gothic" , "sans-serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 150%; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;">
<!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="font-family: "symbol"; mso-bidi-font-family: Symbol; mso-fareast-font-family: Symbol;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">·<span style="font: 7.0pt "Times New Roman";">
</span></span></span><!--[endif]--><span style="font-family: "century gothic" , "sans-serif";">I'm
so glad I read this at home. I had to take three breaks to wipe my eyes. I lost
my step-father in 1998. I was blessed to be there for his last breath with the
priest, mother and my sister's surrounding him. I will remember those moments
vividly for as long as I live. It was like heaven brushed up against us as he
drifted peacefully home. Thank you for opening your heart and putting it all
out there. You remind me how lucky I am to still have my Daddy. Your daughter is
blessed to have y<a href="https://www.blogger.com/null" name="c1191522218283881272"></a>ou.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 150%; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;">
<span style="font-family: "century gothic" , "sans-serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 150%; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;">
<!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="font-family: "symbol"; mso-bidi-font-family: Symbol; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold; mso-fareast-font-family: Symbol;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">·<span style="font: 7.0pt "Times New Roman";">
</span></span></span><!--[endif]--><span style="font-family: "century gothic" , "sans-serif";">I'm
lucky my father is still alive - I'm lucky he is not far away - but only in the
past few years did I realize how lucky I was to have spent so much time with my
father and that he went out of his way to make himself available for me, and to
be a part of so many memories -shenanigans and fun times. <b><o:p></o:p></b></span></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 150%; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;">
<span style="font-family: "century gothic" , "sans-serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 150%; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;">
<!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="font-family: "symbol"; mso-bidi-font-family: Symbol; mso-fareast-font-family: Symbol;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">·<span style="font: 7.0pt "Times New Roman";">
</span></span></span><!--[endif]--><span style="font-family: "century gothic" , "sans-serif";">There
are few people writing for pleasure, not money, that are as good as you - this
cements my thesis. <a href="https://www.blogger.com/null" name="c1695188815632894771"></a><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 150%; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;">
<span style="font-family: "century gothic" , "sans-serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 150%; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;">
<!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="font-family: "symbol"; mso-bidi-font-family: Symbol; mso-fareast-font-family: Symbol;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">·<span style="font: 7.0pt "Times New Roman";">
</span></span></span><!--[endif]--><span style="font-family: "century gothic" , "sans-serif";">Astonishingly,
achingly bittersweet and lovely. Whenever you do decide that traveling here,
there, and everywhere to do the job you love becomes too much for you, your
"real" career is self-evident, dear sir. You write. Because you have
to, you want to, and you DO. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You remind
me through your word choices, and your amazing attitude, that we all can be
better than what we may have thought. Looking forward, but not afraid to look
in the rear view mirror, either. Bravo.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 150%; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;">
<span style="font-family: "century gothic" , "sans-serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 150%; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;">
<a href="https://www.blogger.com/null" name="c5516913988738005996"></a><!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="font-family: "symbol"; mso-bidi-font-family: Symbol; mso-fareast-font-family: Symbol;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">·<span style="font: 7.0pt "Times New Roman";">
</span></span></span><!--[endif]--><span style="font-family: "century gothic" , "sans-serif";">I'm
obviously late coming to this but I add my praise for your prose. My old man is
still around and we get along better now than we ever have; 'twas not always
thus & this story, like all good writing, allows one to recognize what has
passed and bear witness to the present. Thanks for the great story.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 150%; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;">
<span style="font-family: "century gothic" , "sans-serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 150%; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;">
<!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="font-family: "symbol"; mso-bidi-font-family: Symbol; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold; mso-fareast-font-family: Symbol;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">·<span style="font: 7.0pt "Times New Roman";">
</span></span></span><!--[endif]--><span style="font-family: "century gothic" , "sans-serif";">The
people who really love us are never gone. They live on in our hearts. I was one
of those people who could talk to my father for hours on end about every
subject under the sun. But I lost my mother at 21 two months before my wedding
when she was my best friend in the world. So I have experienced both sides of
the best relationship you can have with a parent only one got cut short. Like
you, I feel that stab of pain and jealousy listening to those my age talk of
outings, trips, and just plain rap sessions with their still living parents.
Still and all I'm happy for the time I did have with each for there are those
that haven't known either. Thanks for a great story. <b><o:p></o:p></b></span></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 150%; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;">
<span style="font-family: "century gothic" , "sans-serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 150%; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;">
<!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="font-family: "symbol"; mso-bidi-font-family: Symbol; mso-fareast-font-family: Symbol;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">·<span style="font: 7.0pt "Times New Roman";">
</span></span></span><!--[endif]--><span style="font-family: "century gothic" , "sans-serif";">That
is such a lovely tribute to your dad. I was 24 when my daddy died and I long to
have 'adult' conversations with him. I am sure my life would be much different
now if I had his thoughtful advice to guide me.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 150%; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;">
<span style="font-family: "century gothic" , "sans-serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 150%; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;">
<!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="font-family: "symbol"; mso-bidi-font-family: Symbol; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold; mso-fareast-font-family: Symbol;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">·<span style="font: 7.0pt "Times New Roman";">
</span></span></span><!--[endif]--><span style="font-family: "century gothic" , "sans-serif";">What
struck me about this recollection of your father was how your upbringing has
influenced your goals as a parent. Based on your words above you are indeed on
the right track, lucky daughter of yours.<b><o:p></o:p></b></span></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 150%; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;">
<span style="font-family: "century gothic" , "sans-serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 150%; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;">
<!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="font-family: "symbol"; mso-bidi-font-family: Symbol; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold; mso-fareast-font-family: Symbol;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">·<span style="font: 7.0pt "Times New Roman";">
</span></span></span><!--[endif]--><span style="font-family: "century gothic" , "sans-serif";">You
amaze me...and inspire me. I've thought for some time about writing a story
about my daddy...he passed away the summer before my sophomore year in college.
He didn't smoke or drink or run around (although I must admit that one or two
things have made me wonder about the running around part over the years), but I
can't watch an episode of Mad Men without thinking of him every time. <b><o:p></o:p></b></span></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpLast" style="line-height: 150%; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;">
<!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="font-family: "symbol"; mso-bidi-font-family: Symbol; mso-fareast-font-family: Symbol;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">·<span style="font: 7.0pt "Times New Roman";"> </span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpLast" style="line-height: 150%; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;">
<span style="font-family: "century gothic" , sans-serif; text-indent: -0.25in;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpLast" style="line-height: 150%; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;">
<span style="text-indent: -0.25in;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;"> </span></span><span style="font-family: "century gothic" , sans-serif; text-indent: -0.25in;">Quite
some time has gone by since I first read this story. I typed out a comment at
the time but could not send it. I saved this as a "favorite"
piece...I have a treasured stash of gorgeous writings that I never tire of
referring back to. Aside from the topic setting my heart on fire, your writing
is some of the most luminous I have been fortunate to discover. I can only say
that my experience with my own father was only slightly similar to yours...I
lived with him and my mother until I could escape to college in 1971 at age
18...then she left him and he wandered away...my last contact with him was the
summer of 1983...I don't know if he is still alive. Although I was his
firstborn, I was never "daddy's little girl"...but oh, how I wanted
to be.</span></div>
<br />ADGhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16612897500610475937noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8818519199109196200.post-81291669865420748922018-08-31T18:42:00.000-04:002018-08-31T18:55:30.916-04:00Alan Flusser on Richard Merkin<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyic3JiOGRi20-bfGimYxc8CjV3F48o4SswNphgTUWtTn37C3-goGghwpvNmZwLdCaUrcq5EPtIdzjwiiPt8RlPf7HvUiPapMWLvUXrTDH_hCbNvWIC5BSAoxHaRhN5LMq-bBrtufL0mzA/s1600/IMG_1674.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1575" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyic3JiOGRi20-bfGimYxc8CjV3F48o4SswNphgTUWtTn37C3-goGghwpvNmZwLdCaUrcq5EPtIdzjwiiPt8RlPf7HvUiPapMWLvUXrTDH_hCbNvWIC5BSAoxHaRhN5LMq-bBrtufL0mzA/s640/IMG_1674.jpg" width="628" /></a></div>
My Richard Merkin self portrait hangs above me as I cobble together this little update. I sent <a href="http://www.carriehaddadgallery.com/index.cfm?method=Artist.ArtistDetail&ArtistID=885163ED-115B-5562-AAB7AA77CA1A5261">Carrie Haddad</a> payments on it for about six months before it rolled in to Casa Minimus. It's one of my treasures.<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdrTnLgdNQv333wBWNl2MADUXx3Lg5P84GP72-uWzX1aTD7PyecR8wGJcuQu5krgTsjhcPIr4JvQqhYvpx1jwZK4Wuoho9oQnEC3D4pi1GRJ7CBbl9mSLh35lSXVx0qHE5bH_M_HIXxWLa/s1600/Merkin%252BPiece-2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="700" data-original-width="500" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdrTnLgdNQv333wBWNl2MADUXx3Lg5P84GP72-uWzX1aTD7PyecR8wGJcuQu5krgTsjhcPIr4JvQqhYvpx1jwZK4Wuoho9oQnEC3D4pi1GRJ7CBbl9mSLh35lSXVx0qHE5bH_M_HIXxWLa/s640/Merkin%252BPiece-2.jpg" width="456" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This Merkin portrait of Alan hangs in Flusser's Gotham office.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div>
And of course his great friend Alan Flusser has original Merkin artwork preening in various strategic locations in his shop and office. </div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpyknoIliakGO3ix_EIaiElpy9APk6hWJTbDrjk2_L7QVTl_k-A3baYkq4hD7Z073sPOhWEfmrXsgQTGsZgovEAPWMxOzzcSQ6GduroiMGXjphKRnX4YeJJpzeGDQssKihEL0YF2MZQwCZ/s1600/merkin.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="480" data-original-width="640" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpyknoIliakGO3ix_EIaiElpy9APk6hWJTbDrjk2_L7QVTl_k-A3baYkq4hD7Z073sPOhWEfmrXsgQTGsZgovEAPWMxOzzcSQ6GduroiMGXjphKRnX4YeJJpzeGDQssKihEL0YF2MZQwCZ/s400/merkin.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<div>
I loved Merkin and am pleased to have been one of his lucky correspondents and telephone pals. I got to know him a bit too late I'm afraid. We never had that face-to-face fellowship that I so crave when I encounter special people. </div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgScMPQX7ginjubUpFS4GKn1ljQv_hEufTVK6XRANRw567C0Ka7YrXJEdGHmpAxVbDQCjiuKzLAQI9jMu9l2prtzY0yM8-lGJQrqcv91S1xQi_1IkH8CVjQvh5mNzt20qijyUWvhRcOquIh/s1600/flusser+merkin.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="295" data-original-width="840" height="224" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgScMPQX7ginjubUpFS4GKn1ljQv_hEufTVK6XRANRw567C0Ka7YrXJEdGHmpAxVbDQCjiuKzLAQI9jMu9l2prtzY0yM8-lGJQrqcv91S1xQi_1IkH8CVjQvh5mNzt20qijyUWvhRcOquIh/s640/flusser+merkin.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<a href="http://maxminimus.blogspot.com/search/label/Richard%20Merkin">I wrote about Merkin </a>from time to time but I couldn't be happier that Alan Flusser has now shared a story about his friendship with Richard. I'll offer you the first paragraph but then you must go over to <a href="https://alanflusser.com/press-media-content/richard-merkin">Alan's Musings page</a> and read its entirety. Here you go...</div>
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<i style="font-family: brandon-grotesque; letter-spacing: 0.15px;">"Late in one afternoon in the fall of 1974 I was strolling up Madison Avenue when I spied a rather impressively dressed figure making his way towards me. Drawing closer, we both paused as to take each other in. I remember blurting out somewhat quizzically: “Richard Merkin?" To which he responded: “Alan Flusser?” As if divinely arranged, our first encounter took place at the most sublime yet ironic of addresses, 346 Madison Avenue -- smack dab in front of Brooks Brothers...." </i></div>
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<span style="font-family: brandon-grotesque;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.15px;"><i><br /></i></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: brandon-grotesque; letter-spacing: 0.15px;">Onward.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: brandon-grotesque; letter-spacing: 0.15px;">ADG-Two</span></div>
ADGhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16612897500610475937noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8818519199109196200.post-40967624420865483322018-08-28T20:28:00.000-04:002018-08-31T18:54:34.637-04:00College<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEV_RhC5y5w-bBM4r8yrwMkn9FjCTnztMh21J_BhhVMePyLl7B1oPiUVKdo4rDrioqcjs8K9qiGUh2DdpVW0XtaLflx9dL4ulZZN1BOQITJzPes6t465r0GfUi19sKgSJWCjFNm7kjODjr/s1600/lilymask+%25282%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEV_RhC5y5w-bBM4r8yrwMkn9FjCTnztMh21J_BhhVMePyLl7B1oPiUVKdo4rDrioqcjs8K9qiGUh2DdpVW0XtaLflx9dL4ulZZN1BOQITJzPes6t465r0GfUi19sKgSJWCjFNm7kjODjr/s320/lilymask+%25282%2529.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">She was nine years old when I wrote my first story. And I just spent some time reading through my earliest tales as well as the reader comments. I reveled in those times and I turned out stories with equal joy. More about LFG than the clothes. It’s an understatement for me to say that the last nine years have flown by. They have. At warp speed. Maybe that’s why my writing kinda trailed off.<br /><br />It has and continues to be the zenith of my existence—being LFG’s father. I’ve always said that I’m not looking for any parenting accolades. I’ve just wanted to be present and conduct myself in a manner so that LFG will say that “my dad was always there for me when I needed him”.</span><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4lhWaWjbeqDX5T4gXdTVnjvmDjCFMw4Vyk4qhrotH0MY7ZVmA2RnJDk5G2X7fg9SNuey9EjbDYi0fNMxFCxJCpjicY9AMjVtVJGx3MGA3_Do2nvJEj92AE2sR8W8aKS1YQEeERrMNR2mX/s1600/Lilytrumpet.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="background-color: #783f04; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="color: white;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="480" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4lhWaWjbeqDX5T4gXdTVnjvmDjCFMw4Vyk4qhrotH0MY7ZVmA2RnJDk5G2X7fg9SNuey9EjbDYi0fNMxFCxJCpjicY9AMjVtVJGx3MGA3_Do2nvJEj92AE2sR8W8aKS1YQEeERrMNR2mX/s320/Lilytrumpet.jpg" width="240" /></span></a></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">And I sure hope that she remembers our antics and silly fun as much as I do. We had a blast. At least I think we did.</span><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCTg8IxGOrpgQ8bteX5kc4IUd8c3k6oPu_wkIAqr0vKtKbdiO6nKvwjxrwpf63wcTHEWHL6OpHShAhxKin1nIeeYKQHuZGdNF-RosdxglNHSCNIztbs6z8GEAwGU-sGleMokK-hJ4Sitm_/s1600/LilySoccer1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="background-color: #783f04; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="color: white;"><img border="0" data-original-height="480" data-original-width="640" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCTg8IxGOrpgQ8bteX5kc4IUd8c3k6oPu_wkIAqr0vKtKbdiO6nKvwjxrwpf63wcTHEWHL6OpHShAhxKin1nIeeYKQHuZGdNF-RosdxglNHSCNIztbs6z8GEAwGU-sGleMokK-hJ4Sitm_/s320/LilySoccer1.jpg" width="320" /></span></a></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">She’s not really Southern. I am. Her mother is. Sure she had summer jaunts to the Carolinas to see my mamma but Lily is a mid-Atlantic gal, if not a borderline Yankee. Bethesda will do that to the tender ones.<br /><br />Yet when it came time to visit colleges my gal wouldn’t even glance at anything north of D.C. She applied to six schools—all of them south of the Mason-Dixon and every one of them accepted her. She’s been in Charleston for two weeks now and I’ve barely been able to get five minutes with her on the phone.</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">It’s been sorority rush and roommates and classes and everything else that goes with one’s freshman year. And I love her honesty and authenticity. She called home after a couple of rush functions to say that she would no longer be interested in her mother’s sorority. Something about the sisters being empty vessels and wearing excessive jewelry. She found a better fit elsewhere. My gal isn’t very pink and green and I couldn’t be happier.</span><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuJVtoTwaO9w63YOThunAbv22-WkOGOJNT_QJZa-VReg7hKvvuL2jF6IPz57flGffLaVJWh4xcx73Auh42P3QgJf4vHq67LXZL-Zus7859ebUCmbDXCFHHjwV56DAb9plfJOXP4g6HF4im/s1600/IMG_1659.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="background-color: #783f04; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="color: white;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1117" data-original-width="750" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuJVtoTwaO9w63YOThunAbv22-WkOGOJNT_QJZa-VReg7hKvvuL2jF6IPz57flGffLaVJWh4xcx73Auh42P3QgJf4vHq67LXZL-Zus7859ebUCmbDXCFHHjwV56DAb9plfJOXP4g6HF4im/s320/IMG_1659.jpg" width="214" /></span></a></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">So here’s to college. And strong, confident women. And to my hope that I’ve done ok as a daddy so far.<br /><br />Onward.<br /><br /> ADG-the-Two</span><br />ADGhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16612897500610475937noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8818519199109196200.post-57084810332008976082018-07-10T09:08:00.000-04:002018-07-10T09:08:08.509-04:00Britches Bespoke D.C. This Week …Don’t Miss It!<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMfyO2p20JWavr0Vy68ld1N4mdUox0yrOo5j0PVlDT6t_ephSGukMn5f76kxaAKYps4eXSuZWExbwX-uomlXBsslLSzQyYfrUQGyVbfah6FCL-6jxLVyY4CNhGSOG8Z8-b2xwSpl45s19X/s1600/9.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="88" data-original-width="202" height="86" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMfyO2p20JWavr0Vy68ld1N4mdUox0yrOo5j0PVlDT6t_ephSGukMn5f76kxaAKYps4eXSuZWExbwX-uomlXBsslLSzQyYfrUQGyVbfah6FCL-6jxLVyY4CNhGSOG8Z8-b2xwSpl45s19X/s200/9.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Century Gothic","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><o:p> </o:p></span><span style="font-family: "Century Gothic", sans-serif; font-size: 12pt;">I recently shared
the great news about Britches Bespoke, the Mark Rykken—Rick Hindin tasty
collaboration. Well I’m happy to report that the Britches Bespoke inaugural trunk
show in New York was an outstanding success. I’ll sprinkle in a bit of photo
evidence from New York amidst this, my D.C. announcement.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfrcAjkm5pv3YjQy2otVHX4ZYPo4L2XdLE8juwOHaRZ9iTryPns-nQDeQ7HevMWRSA2u2k0384PCrsGFwaR2kYB2hj2D4PrppnRCb5NtUJ2jl98eFqYzRR61JvUD4gNDxntg4UsJ6AKCWN/s1600/20180628_201601.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfrcAjkm5pv3YjQy2otVHX4ZYPo4L2XdLE8juwOHaRZ9iTryPns-nQDeQ7HevMWRSA2u2k0384PCrsGFwaR2kYB2hj2D4PrppnRCb5NtUJ2jl98eFqYzRR61JvUD4gNDxntg4UsJ6AKCWN/s640/20180628_201601.jpg" width="476" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Century Gothic","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">The Britches
Bespoke team will be duplicating their tasty purveyance this week here in D.C.
If you are within a thousand miles of The Sofitel, then you need to roll in on
the Britches Boys this week and witness the sartorial splendor. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2mChily7ZzwlLMp-01Sn1pA2LmLZ_IveJsXvvqatzumYvkDviai0tl-f8X8QF8z697BYMSTAQawCFi_3NwUkxxqS0sAWy-YDr2JQwHhhSfJ4OqmnHlRlJcYF2oi8x2o6sCG_wFj41wQY3/s1600/20180628_095402.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="1600" height="614" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2mChily7ZzwlLMp-01Sn1pA2LmLZ_IveJsXvvqatzumYvkDviai0tl-f8X8QF8z697BYMSTAQawCFi_3NwUkxxqS0sAWy-YDr2JQwHhhSfJ4OqmnHlRlJcYF2oi8x2o6sCG_wFj41wQY3/s640/20180628_095402.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Century Gothic", sans-serif; font-size: 12pt;">And you absolutely don’t
need an appointment. However if you want some focused time with Mark Rykken for
a bespoke measure-up, then call him at 201-707-3000 or email him at
rykken.mark@gmail .com.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Century Gothic", sans-serif; font-size: x-large; text-align: center; text-indent: 0.5in;"> AND
IT’S NOT JUST BESPOKE!</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQnJVg9Wf3EipeByn5ewnWs2gBjXUw_tDb2yzGgWh5uV_J5Di1_BoA2MoGGeUCeBplgWm-oxRhfaWy3o1TggzLzBHJwvfSCxbERDmxOX7Szse7JFAB-9_gBuhuufBuzfUsjnoY2xM7ZcLd/s1600/20180628_095537.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1362" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQnJVg9Wf3EipeByn5ewnWs2gBjXUw_tDb2yzGgWh5uV_J5Di1_BoA2MoGGeUCeBplgWm-oxRhfaWy3o1TggzLzBHJwvfSCxbERDmxOX7Szse7JFAB-9_gBuhuufBuzfUsjnoY2xM7ZcLd/s640/20180628_095537.jpg" width="544" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Century Gothic", sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">Let me be crystal
clear about the Britches Bespoke offerings. </span><span style="font-family: "Century Gothic", sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; text-indent: 0.5in;"> </span><span style="font-family: "Century Gothic", sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">If you’ve ever been reluctant to stop by such
bespoke soirees for fear of two piece suiting four-thousand dollar starting
price points I get it. Why go and gander at things you can’t have, right?</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-rQoWglZup-Yi5N3JtyWW7aZGXgHTHr5wiw9NxCVPPyf8vFhwMeddyOgHc0IEDl-C4GyZA-GQ3_SU6DDPIGS0mxwfpRNSOKYd6VRGGKXrRPhr4WZaQsHApczF_DemP2yZF8R_OhtW_I-M/s1600/20180628_095533.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="591" data-original-width="1600" height="147" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-rQoWglZup-Yi5N3JtyWW7aZGXgHTHr5wiw9NxCVPPyf8vFhwMeddyOgHc0IEDl-C4GyZA-GQ3_SU6DDPIGS0mxwfpRNSOKYd6VRGGKXrRPhr4WZaQsHApczF_DemP2yZF8R_OhtW_I-M/s400/20180628_095533.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Century Gothic", sans-serif; font-size: 12pt;">The Britches
Bespoke experience is designed to be different. Surely you can still bespeak a
four thousand dollar camel hair overcoat with Mark. I did. Years ago before I
went bankrupt and LFG had the audacity to want a college education.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgN5-wLtlZWRFPk-Gpcy5KFb0myli9i2gATEn1s22a944y8P23bb8iOncMZ0Qxqil5FVdh-rjVBKGTQTFLmUl6-amzQHFzhUvrAkNuRBnFFSR64gvFWl8A1YfDtan35l6gtnNBo7DWqEkgM/s1600/20180628_201705.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgN5-wLtlZWRFPk-Gpcy5KFb0myli9i2gATEn1s22a944y8P23bb8iOncMZ0Qxqil5FVdh-rjVBKGTQTFLmUl6-amzQHFzhUvrAkNuRBnFFSR64gvFWl8A1YfDtan35l6gtnNBo7DWqEkgM/s640/20180628_201705.jpg" width="480" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Century Gothic", sans-serif; font-size: 12pt;">But there’s plenty
of tasty offerings with MSRP stickers that won’t blanch you or your wallet. </span><span style="font-family: "Century Gothic", sans-serif; font-size: 12pt;"> </span><span style="font-family: "Century Gothic", sans-serif; font-size: 12pt;">And if you want clothing in lieu of outerwear
or sportswear, the Britches Made-to-Measure clothing line starts at price
points friendly for the masses yet still preening the fuzzy-diced “this was
made just for me” bells and whistles.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFVXw78JBPN26uzEKYna9ovQ5VHfyaCh4TEMs6ppeCvCMeBlLJn4-Rxb8A3Mdbs_qaCj_Hp7AV4_jQJulghxYCPNjiRAqwiTV-NAmgUwuOY0Nw2-tYVqUmhtQGeshyphenhyphenhqXuoCfIh5ZBDJDC/s1600/20180628_095450.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1461" data-original-width="1600" height="584" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFVXw78JBPN26uzEKYna9ovQ5VHfyaCh4TEMs6ppeCvCMeBlLJn4-Rxb8A3Mdbs_qaCj_Hp7AV4_jQJulghxYCPNjiRAqwiTV-NAmgUwuOY0Nw2-tYVqUmhtQGeshyphenhyphenhqXuoCfIh5ZBDJDC/s640/20180628_095450.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Century Gothic", sans-serif; font-size: 12pt;">The boys will be in
a sartorially swathed Sofitel suite at 806 15</span><sup style="font-family: "Century Gothic", sans-serif;">th</sup><span style="font-family: "Century Gothic", sans-serif; font-size: 12pt;"> Street N.W. </span><span style="font-family: "Century Gothic", sans-serif; font-size: 12pt;"> </span><span style="font-family: "Century Gothic", sans-serif; font-size: 12pt;">This Wednesday the 11</span><sup style="font-family: "Century Gothic", sans-serif;">th</sup><span style="font-family: "Century Gothic", sans-serif; font-size: 12pt;">, Thursday
the 12</span><sup style="font-family: "Century Gothic", sans-serif;">th</sup><span style="font-family: "Century Gothic", sans-serif; font-size: 12pt;">, and until 12:00 noon on Friday the 13</span><sup style="font-family: "Century Gothic", sans-serif;">th</sup><span style="font-family: "Century Gothic", sans-serif; font-size: 12pt;">. Don’t
wait until Friday to go.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggnuuNSbCW0mYP7oF4YjrQQJPNFYaHXsA5jhd2y-ta1SiA0an2rjMJP0e7jfBGD03V_YhxyLbNGrGDGENRIw1y4uFVBfMG3gJBLdkxg-dcz0jgqTHMJqDEpMboca166jzvJMa5gt2_ya_O/s1600/20180628_201545.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggnuuNSbCW0mYP7oF4YjrQQJPNFYaHXsA5jhd2y-ta1SiA0an2rjMJP0e7jfBGD03V_YhxyLbNGrGDGENRIw1y4uFVBfMG3gJBLdkxg-dcz0jgqTHMJqDEpMboca166jzvJMa5gt2_ya_O/s400/20180628_201545.jpg" width="300" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Century Gothic", sans-serif; font-size: 12pt;">And I can’t imagine
why in the world you’d want to see me but if you’d like to have a coffee and
let me spew Britches Bespoke superlatives at you in person, come by on Friday
morning and have a coffee with me. I’ll show you the Britches Bespoke quilted
jacket that I’m having Hindin and Rykken cook up for little old ADG.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOKBPzwnHDWzTGXQcQBQzLqQ7HFQMnpNn9uRbbaTtzR-VNsXY1TZKYMdwmC1g2UE5VcRZHfTqNUVOYHcH8PEqZGfZzGjbR7httn_4Z-uePPUNFY13VFWghzRosNX4HNU-R8SGjjW0QwreA/s1600/20180628_095457.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="803" data-original-width="1600" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOKBPzwnHDWzTGXQcQBQzLqQ7HFQMnpNn9uRbbaTtzR-VNsXY1TZKYMdwmC1g2UE5VcRZHfTqNUVOYHcH8PEqZGfZzGjbR7httn_4Z-uePPUNFY13VFWghzRosNX4HNU-R8SGjjW0QwreA/s640/20180628_095457.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Century Gothic", sans-serif; font-size: 12pt;">I hope that the
summer weather in your part of the world has been as sublime as ours these last
few days. I found the mother lode of raw peanuts yesterday and have been
boiling them my a_s off. I’ll have some waiting for you at the Sofitel if you
want a little nibble of my favorite southern white trash staple. Shut up.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Century Gothic","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Century Gothic","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Onward.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Century Gothic","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">ADG<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />ADGhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16612897500610475937noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8818519199109196200.post-83320364459911394232018-06-18T11:47:00.000-04:002018-06-18T13:26:19.154-04:00Britches Bespoke…Clothing for Life<br />
<h3 style="text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3HdgE8fnB5c4W5mQNNUuZUrhRTT8qPO0oDZdZ-B-4Av8kE2zyqCFa7uePXPNdFcrbvRR_90Ctg1Vy4EtbvOpcTq2eRXBbsHwje3394gWCMr9RUeQ8j2wKTotsCC2NO9loo5J2RInBfqGj/s1600/9.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="88" data-original-width="202" height="86" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3HdgE8fnB5c4W5mQNNUuZUrhRTT8qPO0oDZdZ-B-4Av8kE2zyqCFa7uePXPNdFcrbvRR_90Ctg1Vy4EtbvOpcTq2eRXBbsHwje3394gWCMr9RUeQ8j2wKTotsCC2NO9loo5J2RInBfqGj/s200/9.jpg" width="200" /></a></h3>
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<span style="font-family: "century gothic" , "sans-serif";"><br /></span></div>
<h2 style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "century gothic" , "sans-serif";">There’s
something tasty on the horizon and it’s about damn time!</span></h2>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEho-VNNZVWMZQ-AE0DeqB3hcREOLvoCbKk3aXVh6yUguHLLCzdCYBYZYtdixeJAQtU6NNWerfTyyFyd8-pXwiYM2eSZe75_uQmI6Oe3-Y5ShJAYnNfcemXBKBzK2naq3GhQdrwot40U54SA/s1600/img5715_1200xx3264-1841-0-0.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="646" data-original-width="619" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEho-VNNZVWMZQ-AE0DeqB3hcREOLvoCbKk3aXVh6yUguHLLCzdCYBYZYtdixeJAQtU6NNWerfTyyFyd8-pXwiYM2eSZe75_uQmI6Oe3-Y5ShJAYnNfcemXBKBzK2naq3GhQdrwot40U54SA/s320/img5715_1200xx3264-1841-0-0.jpg" width="306" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "century gothic" , sans-serif;">One
of the highlights of 2018 for me so far—other than the </span><i style="font-family: "Century Gothic", sans-serif;">got my life back</i><span style="font-family: "century gothic" , sans-serif;"> spine surgery—is my new acquaintance with Rick
Hindin. </span><span style="font-family: "century gothic" , sans-serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: "century gothic" , sans-serif;">Rick is the co-creator of the
inimitable Britches of Georgetowne and he’s as creative and thoughtful and wise
as ever. I just want to hang out with him.</span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgY7k8WBSqlzuov17HEtNnS0DJU6admHh1E002W2MD8JgXbH1ofyCCWVxbtMob4mz3-cQasCPWWTCizVeSIUYWlHRMx3Dlpp6zHNk7qwsZtwKrB4cPHAiJPaFhnDb9QmEMfgMMKwLKqJdPX/s1600/Nailhead+002.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1195" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgY7k8WBSqlzuov17HEtNnS0DJU6admHh1E002W2MD8JgXbH1ofyCCWVxbtMob4mz3-cQasCPWWTCizVeSIUYWlHRMx3Dlpp6zHNk7qwsZtwKrB4cPHAiJPaFhnDb9QmEMfgMMKwLKqJdPX/s320/Nailhead+002.JPG" width="238" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "century gothic" , sans-serif;">And
you’ve probably </span><a href="https://maxminimus.blogspot.com/2012/06/trad-ivy-tuesday-when-ralph-came-to.html" style="font-family: "Century Gothic", sans-serif;">read my tale</a><span style="font-family: "century gothic" , sans-serif;"> about Britches of Georgetowne and Ralph’s monochromatic
visit one evening. It’s probably my favorite Mark Rykken story. Britches will
always rank high in the pantheon of sartorial light houses—leastways for the
development of my fuzzy tendencies. I have two white pinpoint oxford dress shirts remaining from my Britches trove. The Astaire model. Longish point collar, ultimately pinnable with my stick thru silver collar pin. The shirts posses patina and the collars sport battle scars of countless joust throughs as I anchored the collar and heightened the visual interest of the tie knot. Shut up.</span></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7y1dGv_R662c6IfKzE3pc_cG-4Un7ZpwxsVr8dT6Zqvxq1YNO7_V8DO99ctZ7AmAYflNy1N87KfajhN_izAElZHXUWIach2523JFEppwgE6O5fhLJAmy-B_RYgU7IdHkigb5xoxwGJkig/s1600/6.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="543" data-original-width="364" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7y1dGv_R662c6IfKzE3pc_cG-4Un7ZpwxsVr8dT6Zqvxq1YNO7_V8DO99ctZ7AmAYflNy1N87KfajhN_izAElZHXUWIach2523JFEppwgE6O5fhLJAmy-B_RYgU7IdHkigb5xoxwGJkig/s640/6.jpg" width="427" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><h3>
<span style="font-size: small;">Britches Bespoke Donegal Country Tweed</span></h3>
</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "century gothic" , sans-serif;">Rick
retrieved the Britches of Georgetowne brand some time ago and has incubated a
really cool new version of Britches. And yes, I’m avoiding the </span><i style="font-family: "Century Gothic", sans-serif;">reincarnation </i><span style="font-family: "century gothic" , sans-serif;">cliché. One of the things
that I like about Rick is his wariness of too much sentiment. Certainly he’s
bringing Britches of Georgetowne insight and panache to the evolving Britches
iteration. But really it’s more about the future.</span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxD1g7G6nM9Dhf6CFZpq3MTroT3v7yh0czKhbVjMe8zZNWOtZ5ik4xZacbgJ7QckxV2qL2K0tk6d42G3qXb6th89C-hoI0NGGc_qcUE0BPcV50iZs_T64mo7OxCT4kizxkw8-dWub4GFdX/s1600/tumblr_nkz2i52dlP1sdnn4ro1_500.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="351" data-original-width="229" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxD1g7G6nM9Dhf6CFZpq3MTroT3v7yh0czKhbVjMe8zZNWOtZ5ik4xZacbgJ7QckxV2qL2K0tk6d42G3qXb6th89C-hoI0NGGc_qcUE0BPcV50iZs_T64mo7OxCT4kizxkw8-dWub4GFdX/s400/tumblr_nkz2i52dlP1sdnn4ro1_500.jpg" width="260" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "century gothic" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Then
there’s my brother Rykken. Mark’s been swathing me for over twenty-five years—both
in clothing and friendship. And now the Flusser protégé late of Paul Stuart is back
with Hindin and his Britches roots.</span></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnBJkSPPNptA7SR0sBheXwGONEQasJw44srYSZkkluqT6Qp8ZLfy6T0kGlJmqztMgBQ_bQw-k1KcLHWqk2qpW8qCLFA7DDSL-vvG4dNgAzDZGV_lmoGmFl6hpp6L1-7pGXurqy_mz1c19_/s1600/7+%25282%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="431" data-original-width="912" height="299" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnBJkSPPNptA7SR0sBheXwGONEQasJw44srYSZkkluqT6Qp8ZLfy6T0kGlJmqztMgBQ_bQw-k1KcLHWqk2qpW8qCLFA7DDSL-vvG4dNgAzDZGV_lmoGmFl6hpp6L1-7pGXurqy_mz1c19_/s640/7+%25282%2529.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><h3>
<span style="font-size: small;">Britches Bespoke Inaugural Gray Flannel Tastiness</span></h3>
</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://www.britchesbespoke.com/" style="font-family: "Century Gothic", sans-serif;">BritchesBespoke</a><span style="font-family: "century gothic" , sans-serif;"> is the Hindin-Rykken first chapter in the contemporary iteration of
Britches. There’s more to come over time but Britches Bespoke is the
foundational first step.</span></span></div>
<h2 style="text-align: center;">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "century gothic" , "sans-serif";"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This ain’t just a Rebranded Rykken Reboot!</span></b></h2>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBLLn5HndR6yVcRE_PYedTJEznih07hyphenhyphenVZ5OrIXvvYDCsl1h7L3Ifvy0heIob9OAtrfzb-RZCq5P2uK4jewuWJ6QLvnW02VNvyY23QEBBs6d1Jo2w3801NXyrtBasnwMXdBuInKFEZp0h6/s1600/IMG_0683.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="822" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBLLn5HndR6yVcRE_PYedTJEznih07hyphenhyphenVZ5OrIXvvYDCsl1h7L3Ifvy0heIob9OAtrfzb-RZCq5P2uK4jewuWJ6QLvnW02VNvyY23QEBBs6d1Jo2w3801NXyrtBasnwMXdBuInKFEZp0h6/s640/IMG_0683.JPG" width="328" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "century gothic" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Ok,
so Rykken’s doing custom again. Mark’s stalwart D.C. and N.Y.C. customers will
surely be pleased to know. Wherever Mark’s been plying his skills and wares
over the last decade frankly made no difference. The taste level was always high and the bells, whistles, and for me; the fuzzy-dice options never disappointed. It's a safe bet that the same will hold true for Britches Bespoke. </span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisT_HuxWjZ1swjgBahb5dBTLsbAyC7COkjlJV9rlruejq1XJdDRbjEk-htMeeh6xJ601Iwa9yQ_xBCZpRVOkfNoaizj6ZNOIBevoO38RStIBhycVqxQ3ONguDvbI016fWJYeZtJkaCGl3H/s1600/photo+5+%25282%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="677" data-original-width="334" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisT_HuxWjZ1swjgBahb5dBTLsbAyC7COkjlJV9rlruejq1XJdDRbjEk-htMeeh6xJ601Iwa9yQ_xBCZpRVOkfNoaizj6ZNOIBevoO38RStIBhycVqxQ3ONguDvbI016fWJYeZtJkaCGl3H/s400/photo+5+%25282%2529.jpg" width="196" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "century gothic" , sans-serif;">Customers have always been assured of
getting the highest level of Mark’s talent regardless of the label inside
the jacket. I know this firsthand because my closet attests it. And the goods last forever, assuming that you don't double in size. I've been wearing the suit in the above photo for twenty-three years. <o:p></o:p></span><span style="font-family: "century gothic" , sans-serif;">My closet rack is brimming with suits and jackets that don’t see nearly the wear as they did in years past. Don’t get me going about the slumming of America.</span></span></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEho4Ozqf69FZeQAb28WEpUn29ov3xryyZCHUf0B7PUTlt5HtH7fiA0QEH6JmmJ_Ef6hcgMhUjHTRlguTzi0S9RiSXNitX8eTKmgEHvZe0leYN2UNetK4Qr8oLMy-R5E-KduHzVJyFSwuYug/s1600/2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="614" data-original-width="618" height="634" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEho4Ozqf69FZeQAb28WEpUn29ov3xryyZCHUf0B7PUTlt5HtH7fiA0QEH6JmmJ_Ef6hcgMhUjHTRlguTzi0S9RiSXNitX8eTKmgEHvZe0leYN2UNetK4Qr8oLMy-R5E-KduHzVJyFSwuYug/s640/2.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><h3>
<span style="font-size: small;">Britches Bespoke Outerwear Tastiness</span> </h3>
</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<span style="font-family: "century gothic" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">So
even if you aren’t in the market for a suit or sport jacket, don’t miss the
upcoming Britches Bespoke trunk shows. Why? Because the Rykken-Hindin magic
only begins with custom clothing. I'm all-in if for no other reason than bespoking a quilted toggle-closure winter coat in my never available midgety a_s size.</span></span></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEa_S5i8g4CzgM74-280FXYQJGb6n7tka_L7EM0J9wo0-x4WfN_HS9LymzZWV0Bp4_HwDANGXMbWzAw-aEwv6oTYmEamcIgojl9Mua3580Mmn5cWtUvyHPDaljTsOMn3qxJnXAEWhtwjtK/s1600/hindin.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="512" data-original-width="911" height="356" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEa_S5i8g4CzgM74-280FXYQJGb6n7tka_L7EM0J9wo0-x4WfN_HS9LymzZWV0Bp4_HwDANGXMbWzAw-aEwv6oTYmEamcIgojl9Mua3580Mmn5cWtUvyHPDaljTsOMn3qxJnXAEWhtwjtK/s640/hindin.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><h3>
<span style="font-size: small;">The Britches Bespoke and Special Order Shoddings...Solely Worth a Visit</span></h3>
</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<span style="font-family: "century gothic" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">I've spent enough dough with George Cleverley et al and they're not likely to get another dime. And it isn't an understatement for me to say that the Rykken-Hindin footwear lineup means you'll never have to wait on your London cobbler to roll back into the States for your next fitting. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "century gothic" , "sans-serif";"><br /></span></div>
<h2 style="text-align: center;">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "century gothic" , "sans-serif";">It’s the other Britches
Bespoke offerings that have me most excited.</span></b></h2>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifyVk7uaXW0VwRvQrZ9s2jVvmpsIL7RHbIQYDBC7t_gkeh6Jr_iED-ekia6kn-tLcILN0FVMhNowCaDkVHIXL6SGoCs_oXwozvRz680C994AhKWEC5qOw_PPn4NoelYub8FCcSztBp-J2Z/s1600/5.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="549" data-original-width="380" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifyVk7uaXW0VwRvQrZ9s2jVvmpsIL7RHbIQYDBC7t_gkeh6Jr_iED-ekia6kn-tLcILN0FVMhNowCaDkVHIXL6SGoCs_oXwozvRz680C994AhKWEC5qOw_PPn4NoelYub8FCcSztBp-J2Z/s640/5.jpg" width="440" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><h3>
<span style="font-size: small;">Donegal and Quilted...Indeed</span></h3>
</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "century gothic" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">What's different is that Rick and Mark are offering tasty outerwear, belts, sportswear,
bespoke shoes and other goodies that will make Britches Bespoke and their inaugural
trunk shows attractive to everyone. </span></span></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmGd7J3tVE9YJsNYEJv-1b8XA86jXKl3fKkyvlKUt8NRcSoaEkbBq-Z9h67bGFNNzIUJmAJavkNtoxSC7BOjrErethrpe6QgqmhrTKs5nGteJDq7ZBKBHAv62nQgJPNh4cwEHWm2ou9ZsT/s1600/mmm.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="466" data-original-width="289" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmGd7J3tVE9YJsNYEJv-1b8XA86jXKl3fKkyvlKUt8NRcSoaEkbBq-Z9h67bGFNNzIUJmAJavkNtoxSC7BOjrErethrpe6QgqmhrTKs5nGteJDq7ZBKBHAv62nQgJPNh4cwEHWm2ou9ZsT/s400/mmm.jpg" width="247" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><h3>
<span style="font-size: small;">Knee Level Tweediness</span></h3>
</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDfNB537ds2Bwtn5W6ouPK2eQOiGyWO5HS_27MUxnWYXuEVMD2K6z5lUsBw2xAK2KBv8beKe7Bi-ME9t9c-VkzKmA7cEnUyvPwco8UzoXgAYCu64CjBpT_3ajGW8XNXGOUNBiXSyzNYM15/s1600/kkk.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="466" data-original-width="250" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDfNB537ds2Bwtn5W6ouPK2eQOiGyWO5HS_27MUxnWYXuEVMD2K6z5lUsBw2xAK2KBv8beKe7Bi-ME9t9c-VkzKmA7cEnUyvPwco8UzoXgAYCu64CjBpT_3ajGW8XNXGOUNBiXSyzNYM15/s400/kkk.jpg" width="213" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><h3>
<span style="font-size: small;">Pop Your Collar in Yellow or Not</span></h3>
</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "century gothic" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "century gothic" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "century gothic" , sans-serif;">When was the last time you saw a knee length car coat that was this tasty? Hell, the tasty meter ain't robust enough to even measure the fuzziness of this </span><a href="https://www.britchesbespoke.com/outerwear" style="font-family: "Century Gothic", sans-serif;">Britches Bespoke concoction.</a></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTOygaBKNUWtSMT2IFZPfpN_x8xVnfQwISe4txG707tDHHUkS5g275x2Qu8Alcqh7PjYfYF1cn556z4tb2oC8SQjREX7EoKaxf_d_CbropDL2vxxQYTB-Icg9MiX8JXE8vYkuNUnnc37ek/s1600/4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="500" data-original-width="368" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTOygaBKNUWtSMT2IFZPfpN_x8xVnfQwISe4txG707tDHHUkS5g275x2Qu8Alcqh7PjYfYF1cn556z4tb2oC8SQjREX7EoKaxf_d_CbropDL2vxxQYTB-Icg9MiX8JXE8vYkuNUnnc37ek/s640/4.jpg" width="470" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><h3>
<span style="font-size: small;">Outerwear Your Way...Customize it until your fuzzy heart's content!</span></h3>
</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "century gothic" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">So you need to come and see it for
yourself. The promises are big but so are the tasty deliverables!</span></span></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgR2RCw2XEvk4csrU8VwhplguBUffz6ti-j4ymma8MCrzWo1-9RdksFEge4dIWykPjlhMcaiuvLuVsNf_64tOUl2FLFOtgFFcymDpeKElEdRN-9dY7EuXbVOAmodRgEUYQzgD9OWtT3-Owr/s1600/1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="564" data-original-width="838" height="215" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgR2RCw2XEvk4csrU8VwhplguBUffz6ti-j4ymma8MCrzWo1-9RdksFEge4dIWykPjlhMcaiuvLuVsNf_64tOUl2FLFOtgFFcymDpeKElEdRN-9dY7EuXbVOAmodRgEUYQzgD9OWtT3-Owr/s320/1.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><h3>
<span style="font-size: small;">Regimentals Bold and Beautiful</span></h3>
</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "century gothic" , "sans-serif";"><br /></span></b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><b><span style="font-size: large;">New York</span></b></b></div>
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: large;"><o:p></o:p></span></b><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "century gothic" , "sans-serif";"><span style="font-size: large;">June
27<sup>th</sup> -29<sup>th</sup> 9:00am-6:00pm<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "century gothic" , "sans-serif";"><span style="font-size: large;">The Royalton
Hotel <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "century gothic" , "sans-serif";"><span style="font-size: large;">44
West 44<sup>th</sup> Street<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "century gothic" , "sans-serif";"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "century gothic" , "sans-serif";"><span style="font-size: large;">Washington D.C.<o:p></o:p></span></span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "century gothic" , "sans-serif";"><span style="font-size: large;">July
11<sup>th</sup>-13<sup>th</sup> 9:00am-6:00pm<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "century gothic" , "sans-serif";"><span style="font-size: large;">Sofitel
<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "century gothic" , "sans-serif";"><span style="font-size: large;">806
15<sup>th</sup> Street N.W.</span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "century gothic" , "sans-serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "century gothic" , "sans-serif";">Reach
out to Mark and let him know you are coming. </span><a href="mailto:Rykken.mark@gmail.com" style="font-family: "Century Gothic", sans-serif;">Rykken.mark@gmail.com</a> <span style="font-family: "century gothic" , sans-serif;">I’ll be there and you should too.</span></span></div>
<br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "century gothic" , "sans-serif";"><o:p><span style="font-size: large;">Onward,</span></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "century gothic" , "sans-serif";"><o:p><span style="font-size: large;">ADG, II</span></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<br />ADGhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16612897500610475937noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8818519199109196200.post-49499564226456588372018-05-15T14:22:00.000-04:002018-05-15T14:22:29.088-04:00He Wrote Me Back...R.I.P. Tom Wolfe<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcMe9xeVAFIe6ezosmHXAchwQpMoziHGhYe5T2bWED3fl9Y6QpXDJvLq6oGfcDQPoeCuY0TQR7Ai1A4tggFdUhQgzo8lFQqoFi5WHCa1KpWPh1WK0ZBmFSiTWOCQmuxKiI7Jd4bBekCAPf/s1600/tom+wolfe3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="480" data-original-width="315" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcMe9xeVAFIe6ezosmHXAchwQpMoziHGhYe5T2bWED3fl9Y6QpXDJvLq6oGfcDQPoeCuY0TQR7Ai1A4tggFdUhQgzo8lFQqoFi5WHCa1KpWPh1WK0ZBmFSiTWOCQmuxKiI7Jd4bBekCAPf/s400/tom+wolfe3.jpg" width="262" /></a></div>
I'd just missed him at Alan Flusser's atelier one afternoon. And a few years before that I fingered one of his white jackets on a hangar at Vincent Nicolosi's flourescently intimidating workshop.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEge4XW8V4OJhpQJ7tmk-m8ptEupnIF-OQkIWIH8RdZVhSp7Gt_WIB8NTaPuEfNPW5ivXk78FYLd8c0RJo_7T0wRV5sKKUvnB_eZhwaGNqVPmtTaikqtWm1YkM1KcChIvh0U4DtUyYYBT7di/s1600/wolfeFinal.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1232" data-original-width="906" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEge4XW8V4OJhpQJ7tmk-m8ptEupnIF-OQkIWIH8RdZVhSp7Gt_WIB8NTaPuEfNPW5ivXk78FYLd8c0RJo_7T0wRV5sKKUvnB_eZhwaGNqVPmtTaikqtWm1YkM1KcChIvh0U4DtUyYYBT7di/s640/wolfeFinal.jpg" width="470" /></a></div>
I wrote him a letter many years ago. And he wrote me back. If the house was on fire, my Wolfe letter would be one of the first things I'd grab.<br />
<br />
His radioactive lexicon suited the hell out of me and I absolutely loved what his words made my imagination do. He'd almost put my mind's eye out sometimes.<br />
<br />
And he was Southern. And reviled by Norman Mailer.<br />
<br />
R.I.P. Tom Wolfe<br />
ADGhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16612897500610475937noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8818519199109196200.post-38279707135094442242017-11-26T19:54:00.000-05:002017-11-26T19:54:42.047-05:00 Flannel, the Alamo, and Hickory Hill Part One<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Cambria, serif;">It’s flannel
time again. And nobody wore them as well as Fred Astaire.</span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVqZdl6vZef3CptdIV03xOlcc5clm5Zwf-2fR7xzf0pwsSAAuIt0t-nyFZBSscOK8PVCcnyNIxQ3GCGs5esLBdw-m7pqc1jfix_gkSGDi162kQyFJiYBveM3yGE8YzpuBmfRgdlRpFdrqi/s1600/Fred-Astaire-grey-flannel-pants.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="603" data-original-width="433" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVqZdl6vZef3CptdIV03xOlcc5clm5Zwf-2fR7xzf0pwsSAAuIt0t-nyFZBSscOK8PVCcnyNIxQ3GCGs5esLBdw-m7pqc1jfix_gkSGDi162kQyFJiYBveM3yGE8YzpuBmfRgdlRpFdrqi/s400/Fred-Astaire-grey-flannel-pants.jpg" width="286" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Cambria, serif;">I offer this erudite sartorial nugget as testimony to the fact that this blog
used to be about clothes and to a great degree, about my now seventeen year old daughter. But for now we've gotta discuss scale and proxemics.</span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Cambria, serif;">I should’ve
never laid eyes on the damn Alamo. Never.</span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg57bO_Xd3l8XTsnkqBD0fvZ3KjL3zBvqgm6Tr5qXQh934kU04pfRzJOzI0Fz4E3D6ehyphenhyphenYUjIS7baUJTEpfUKO2RSlu8lhMcG78xwDPTOX4IHeB8lLSoEXALIJhCWzLJGB1EmCfOJWz3gYW/s1600/art-dawn-alamo.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="457" data-original-width="800" height="227" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg57bO_Xd3l8XTsnkqBD0fvZ3KjL3zBvqgm6Tr5qXQh934kU04pfRzJOzI0Fz4E3D6ehyphenhyphenYUjIS7baUJTEpfUKO2RSlu8lhMcG78xwDPTOX4IHeB8lLSoEXALIJhCWzLJGB1EmCfOJWz3gYW/s400/art-dawn-alamo.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">Any trip I
took to San Antonio should have excluded swinging by and taking a look at the
fortress where my Walt Disney wrought heroes drew their last collective breath.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpd-W7R_rNIcnO88IMORFsHvCljGOJDhC6EL9dERwueGxsYdCFWlNHrQUVRLF99IEOdsXmoLcKmk_f-OW65lzlEUK5yHsDm8f36cC_5Vcklapi0wLeocwZqkR-uTlrTilMVFcgnfXp2LZZ/s1600/s-l300.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="300" data-original-width="218" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpd-W7R_rNIcnO88IMORFsHvCljGOJDhC6EL9dERwueGxsYdCFWlNHrQUVRLF99IEOdsXmoLcKmk_f-OW65lzlEUK5yHsDm8f36cC_5Vcklapi0wLeocwZqkR-uTlrTilMVFcgnfXp2LZZ/s200/s-l300.jpg" width="145" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">The gift of
my imagination had for the previous thirty years conjured an Alamo of epic size
and proportion. A fortress. A crucible of such sublime intents. Ideas and
actions grounded in the thirst for independence and freedom and choice and
liberation. Leastways that’s what uncle Walt taught me. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFWocvNo1l-gn8G53jBDNWOdWMF35MmSwq6NY00hhQjDHupVg27BjQs1piXUQuTu7tjkpm21oI_tmU5L7K_RmGaGF6hiqlwaF5xgn3laJKZUJ1mR-Y1QeFCzfJv5p2PNwzAkpvojs3GDAV/s1600/Marx-Walt-Disneys-Davy-Crockett-At-The-Alamo.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFWocvNo1l-gn8G53jBDNWOdWMF35MmSwq6NY00hhQjDHupVg27BjQs1piXUQuTu7tjkpm21oI_tmU5L7K_RmGaGF6hiqlwaF5xgn3laJKZUJ1mR-Y1QeFCzfJv5p2PNwzAkpvojs3GDAV/s320/Marx-Walt-Disneys-Davy-Crockett-At-The-Alamo.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Cambria, serif;">My
imaginative child’s eye view of this place had the walls at surely one hundred
feet tall. </span><span style="font-family: Cambria, serif;">At least. And I knew a thing or two about the Alamo and the battle sine I acted it out with my official Davy Crockett Alamo set a hundred damn times.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrwvCDLWVTaA35h7hp4t1YJZ-Hde4bwCVpdrXyPG8voQz9umkjt1Q4-1zZWb7NJ4xLW5QAgzzVJkxRhZzV3AHWMEFJEwEhuvbZlRhRU5_T3A7xF1yLsJ2nkNvg5QW9I5ObHLN0TAlaxBCI/s1600/dc3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="480" data-original-width="720" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrwvCDLWVTaA35h7hp4t1YJZ-Hde4bwCVpdrXyPG8voQz9umkjt1Q4-1zZWb7NJ4xLW5QAgzzVJkxRhZzV3AHWMEFJEwEhuvbZlRhRU5_T3A7xF1yLsJ2nkNvg5QW9I5ObHLN0TAlaxBCI/s320/dc3.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">But when I
rounded the corner, my heart sank. Its façade belied my childhood
Disney-esque contrivances. Walt’s version of the fort and the story were somewhat,
shall we say...elaborated. I recalled that it took the Mexican soldiers at least
a half-hour to make it all the way up to the tips of their makeshift ladders only
to be knocked back down by the courageous defenders. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhweU0LZv8TAQjuKTRoDu5WEkEAyoDnL_rp4n6eunHmKTX4z8FKLe5iEUPotREDRD2t6ZAPXvrlvukH_m5P4WB7qWhbtGmDL5dqv5HyspctQFRWx-3sspJCfLEnVPSaWEhFGVCeaui0IFlc/s1600/2211865279_e6ff170995_o.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1064" data-original-width="1600" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhweU0LZv8TAQjuKTRoDu5WEkEAyoDnL_rp4n6eunHmKTX4z8FKLe5iEUPotREDRD2t6ZAPXvrlvukH_m5P4WB7qWhbtGmDL5dqv5HyspctQFRWx-3sspJCfLEnVPSaWEhFGVCeaui0IFlc/s320/2211865279_e6ff170995_o.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-family: Cambria, serif;">The fascia
of what I saw was about the size of a 7-11 convenience store frontage. Hell,
Turner’s Open Air Market in Florence, S.C., my childhood headquarters for
procuring teeth rotting goodies was more of a fortress than this thing.</span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5JvPku9uUOhIl2eZzV5Hwk5LMbVI_1bf7gZSdOh1L7Qv19vQc9v6buxvG5w7jiSfZrYxoSxSwjk7hPL5hyphenhyphen_hWQXanZxkLHQ6vo6WvM1uJgfGNAE8LRQIsYIGKcxE92EYSP-WESd_40Ten/s1600/120608566_5130ff532f_z.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="426" data-original-width="640" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5JvPku9uUOhIl2eZzV5Hwk5LMbVI_1bf7gZSdOh1L7Qv19vQc9v6buxvG5w7jiSfZrYxoSxSwjk7hPL5hyphenhyphen_hWQXanZxkLHQ6vo6WvM1uJgfGNAE8LRQIsYIGKcxE92EYSP-WESd_40Ten/s320/120608566_5130ff532f_z.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-family: Cambria, serif;">This
couldn’t possibly be the place where twenty-six year old South Carolinian
Colonel William Barret Travis bravely died for the cause of Texas independence.
Ditto for David Bowie’s great-great-great granddaddy Jim, Davy Crockett, and
gaggle of other multi-state cohorts-in-arms. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">And please.
Before some of you historical fact-queer nitpickers pile on and school me about
how the original Alamo is long gone. And what’s left denies the true majesty of
the formerly intact Mission—I get it. I know the facts and I don’t care. Even
if it still had that unbroken wraparound enclosurated trellis of a wall; it
would still under deliver. Shut. Up.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYYNPG9-6iFqJBOobPhnHAQprXY3vBwA7AEsaUUt5DFVVBaDLaDnXVCdQMMPsnYBNbPhHJ0h-w-qyGJUA-x_mEzB1Y2zDIoxdT6l-Js_mb13r6VdnMr3YkpPD_heFQQh3RRFbCgJelRgRm/s1600/washington-DC-monuments.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="521" data-original-width="800" height="208" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYYNPG9-6iFqJBOobPhnHAQprXY3vBwA7AEsaUUt5DFVVBaDLaDnXVCdQMMPsnYBNbPhHJ0h-w-qyGJUA-x_mEzB1Y2zDIoxdT6l-Js_mb13r6VdnMr3YkpPD_heFQQh3RRFbCgJelRgRm/s320/washington-DC-monuments.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">That gut
level crest fall didn’t happen to me when I first saw all of the monuments here
in D.C. Each one of them delivered. They all complemented my illusions of them
created courtesy of elementary school textbooks and other visual testimonies to
their majesty. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Cambria, serif;">Same thing with the Statue of Liberty. My Lady Liberty experience could have had the same disappointing outcome as my Alamo meltdown but it didn't. I’d seen those photos of the yet to be assembled statue while its component parts remained in France and it looked crazy big.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJyB6dv4BDmFUWzSHiIltZRD36VHGXwsnJZ8zahvxxT9EIHBPfhUp20BGEEYk_zHVtMaZVjOJVvS1qy18qD-INrLuFzmk-QKMEemd-V6UkHLlf-umOx0XZFn8fZgkUjUAT4B93lwc1Q8RK/s1600/f3d68ffac435143329c6edd43caa00e8.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="379" data-original-width="300" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJyB6dv4BDmFUWzSHiIltZRD36VHGXwsnJZ8zahvxxT9EIHBPfhUp20BGEEYk_zHVtMaZVjOJVvS1qy18qD-INrLuFzmk-QKMEemd-V6UkHLlf-umOx0XZFn8fZgkUjUAT4B93lwc1Q8RK/s320/f3d68ffac435143329c6edd43caa00e8.jpg" width="253" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: Cambria, serif;">Photographers in the States also captured the size and scale of the unattached torch and the separated head. Guys standing beside these unassembled components offered proof of just how big that damn thing was gonna be when she was all put together. She did not disappoint when I finally saw her in situ.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwjgZV-v3mNw8x5JWVW5Tv52AJTpRnFRwdtkQkeXidEbfUNeIWIiRcqX-13ZaRGk3DUiqqvnAf4ugT4g98S2gnB9VVOzxinzW9YZdfwTwDONa0c5XLRtRkndOODNa_KCZC6YHWA3yHIOMG/s1600/statue-of-liberty-madpark.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="697" data-original-width="685" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwjgZV-v3mNw8x5JWVW5Tv52AJTpRnFRwdtkQkeXidEbfUNeIWIiRcqX-13ZaRGk3DUiqqvnAf4ugT4g98S2gnB9VVOzxinzW9YZdfwTwDONa0c5XLRtRkndOODNa_KCZC6YHWA3yHIOMG/s320/statue-of-liberty-madpark.jpg" width="314" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Cambria, serif;">I know that this story makes no sense just yet and you'll just have to hang in with me. Bottom line
is that the source of my Alamo disillusionment rests solely between my ears. My
outsized imagination has always conjured majesty—even when there ain’t none. And
I’ll finish telling you this story sometime soon. Hopefully.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">Onward.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
ADGhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16612897500610475937noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8818519199109196200.post-76758493023600027042017-11-14T11:19:00.000-05:002017-11-14T11:19:05.662-05:00Pleasures<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left; text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Cambria, serif; font-size: 12pt; text-indent: 0in;">Well there is Marrakesh and all
of the associated sentient triggers there. Sounds, textures, and colors in the
souks. Those great kilim and other colorful textiles house slippers that seem
like just the right things when you are there—only to get them home and declare
“now where the hell will I ever wear these things again”. And the smells…some
not so good and most others really great.</span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "Cambria","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;"><br /></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "Cambria","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">But there was also Skeets
Barbecue near Darlington South Carolina. Their sweet tea that after my being
gone from the South for over twenty-five years throws me into a diabetic swirl
after one glass. But the vinegar based barbecue cuts that filmy sugar right out
of your mouth. Nice.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "Cambria","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;"><br /></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "Cambria","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">Then of course there’s boiled
peanuts and my mother’s homemade sourdough bread fresh out of the oven. Hot.
With my aunt Kat’s plum preserves comingled with melted butter. And there was Tant’s
in Birmingham Alabama and cocktails and red meat at Rule’s on Maiden Lane in
London—preferably in the room upstairs—the private one where Bertie, Prince of
Wales entertained his paramour Lily Langtry. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "Cambria","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;"><br /></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "Cambria","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">A Kir Royale or a French 75 in
Paris after traipsing through Musee Carnivalet. And dinner at Le Grand Colbert is
appealing again, too. Now since the booth that Jack Nicholson and Dianne Keaton
occupied during the filming of Something’s Gotta Give has been requested over
the last decade by a thousand tourists and thus thankfully the crowds have
moderated. Roast chicken there but also chicken from a roadside stand on a
dodgy side street in San Juan—eaten without utensils and washed down with a cold
beer. All while standing. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "Cambria","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;"><br /></span></div>
<br />
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "Cambria","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">Maybe I’ll wear my funny house
slippers…maybe a different one on each foot. Then I’ll be like a Marrakesh
bazaar. You won’t know what to look at first.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
ADGhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16612897500610475937noreply@blogger.com19tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8818519199109196200.post-48657765628852537932016-07-22T10:24:00.000-04:002018-08-29T08:49:16.577-04:00Ok...A Text Reply from This Morning<div class="MsoPlainText">
Thx. for tapping in. Ok is relative, right?<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoPlainText">
So I'm not ok. By my definition. But it's good because
I'm present and in the moment and dialed-in to what I deem not ok. <o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoPlainText">
And there's a woman here. Still sleeping. So the monastic
silence and palpable loneliness of being here by myself is gone. <o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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I'm not lonely right now. Even though the house is monastically silent
as she sleeps. <o:p></o:p></div>
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Because of the knowing. <o:p></o:p></div>
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Because knowing that she's here creates a different
kind of silence. It's the peaceful and nourishing kind. <o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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The kind that allows me not to fear being alone with my
thoughts. <o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoPlainText">
The woman is sixteen. And she's learning to drive a stick
shift. Fearfully. But that's ok because I'm right beside her.</div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoPlainText">
She has curly hair and a suntan. And she starts her second summer at The Joffrey dance camp in New York next week.</div>
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<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoPlainText">
We got rotisserie chicken and black beans and rice and
cucumber salad last night. From the Peruvian couple who mind their little place
ten hours a day, six days a week. They always seem more than ok.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoPlainText">
And we ate it together sitting on the floor. In her room.
Binge watching old Grey's Anatomy episodes. <o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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So the eight minutes that I've taken to write this
text has led me to see that I am. Ok. <o:p></o:p></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjy16G9Zlc7F9ey93n2wJ__HCInVgLEHC2RUxgjpkmF14Fgh5lKtz-yYOFb84D5kG0dtPsUYBjgmq3XoFeW03cJJr3oWHpcOjik8GdOFkkLcDxsmxi5UfXf2wgwjUsKo_9LkXfPp2d0h4Jc/s1600/lily.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjy16G9Zlc7F9ey93n2wJ__HCInVgLEHC2RUxgjpkmF14Fgh5lKtz-yYOFb84D5kG0dtPsUYBjgmq3XoFeW03cJJr3oWHpcOjik8GdOFkkLcDxsmxi5UfXf2wgwjUsKo_9LkXfPp2d0h4Jc/s640/lily.jpeg" width="480" /></a></div>
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Ok. <o:p></o:p></div>
ADGhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16612897500610475937noreply@blogger.com16tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8818519199109196200.post-66637433107663619922016-01-29T14:47:00.000-05:002016-01-29T14:47:46.170-05:00Florence, S.C.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQpg4AGUU6sTzDqWez7vC-3gSsZCTGWlR1YzvjJV54ZX5YQeVr90M0KkiFtLs2otP4WK0Achy36YHcA-Awb6LKEW7F7RLRQReuDIgGoWIMXS5kaS7GeEyw1mzi6wkQ90pPcOLMVfxqvHW4/s1600/s-l1600.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQpg4AGUU6sTzDqWez7vC-3gSsZCTGWlR1YzvjJV54ZX5YQeVr90M0KkiFtLs2otP4WK0Achy36YHcA-Awb6LKEW7F7RLRQReuDIgGoWIMXS5kaS7GeEyw1mzi6wkQ90pPcOLMVfxqvHW4/s640/s-l1600.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">From an email
that I wrote this morning.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<br />
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<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">"I worked at
Singleton’s Men’s Shop after school and summers for years. The J&J lunch
counter, Roney’s, and the Sky View were my go-to spots for teenage and college
years food consumption—when I wasn’t back at my mama’s getting clothes washed
and country cooking. Reindeer Lane, the Christmas Parade down Evan’s Street,
The Fair and hotdogs at the Civitan or Optimist food booths out there, the
Southern 500 parade in Darlington, meeting “Goober” at the Florence airport and
getting Bobby Richardson’s—the Yankee’s 2nd baseman from Sumter—autograph one
Sunday when he spoke at College Park Church. And hearing my mom and aunt Kat say they weren’t going to
wash their necks for a week after Marshall Dillon—James Arness hugged their
necks when he was the 500 Parade Marshall one year. Getting dragged to “town”
(Gladstone’s/Furchgots) with my mom and aunts because there was nobody to watch
over me on Saturday when I wanted to play. I thought I was going to die at five
years old—having to “behave myself” while they tried on dresses ALL DAY. But
then I’d get a dollar to spend a Woolworth’s or Kress and all would be ok
again. Phil Nofal’s for cowboy boots once a year—when school started. Santa
Claus was at Sears every year. This is
my Florence."<o:p></o:p></span></div>
ADGhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16612897500610475937noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8818519199109196200.post-49115194278314167882016-01-23T01:00:00.000-05:002016-01-23T01:00:09.187-05:002016<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Happy New Year everyone. I've never been keen on making New Year's resolutions and nothing has changed in that regard. But I am going to try and post something here on my blog at least once per week in 2016. Why? Because I miss my blog. I miss writing stories that begin with a pair of socks and somehow traverses my childhood, cars, b.b. guns and cocktails before concluding. My dashboard has been so cluttered with life stuff and my focus has been so compromised over the last year-and-half that there's not been the energy for randomanalia and impertinabula over here.<br />
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And of course, there's tumblr--the MSG of blogging. I can't prove it but I do think that tumblr poaches some of my juju that would otherwise be directed here. Plus it's just easy and mindless, like MSG. F.Scott Fitzgerald used to poach his novel caliber drafts and ideas and sell them to magazines as short stories when he was pressed for cash. Some argue that he might a had another novel in him had he not stolen from his own cash register of material. With that said, the main was still one hell of a conjugator.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhf4kZPST5i25BWN2ATlAYR0vFH1eB8PlRaTJIVSZFVj7sToSdY3aKPVrXuotKv9wrr-CnkfF2OYvJLDqAv52s9kK7zkUfrj-n_IMLwPl-ry4mnPFW4607ScHTmxc6BgQ5OhvPk-WBcSja1/s1600/Boca+020+%25282%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhf4kZPST5i25BWN2ATlAYR0vFH1eB8PlRaTJIVSZFVj7sToSdY3aKPVrXuotKv9wrr-CnkfF2OYvJLDqAv52s9kK7zkUfrj-n_IMLwPl-ry4mnPFW4607ScHTmxc6BgQ5OhvPk-WBcSja1/s640/Boca+020+%25282%2529.jpg" width="480" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
But I do have things that I want to write about. Things like LFG and my missing Piggly Wiggly t-shirts. We had several versions of the iconic pig and they're currently AWOL. Damn.</div>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
And I am going to write about my buddy and surrogate father, "PoPo Baker" who landed on Omaha beach on D-Day plus one. </div>
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And I've got at least two stories about Chelsea and my boy Jimmy Whistler whose infamous White House (the hansom is stopped in front of it) was the talk of Tite street and then some.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3tWOJnMbbwzlkTDbZYQWhSZmOW79WebyDQCW07nkQejqRBs0lyqV_ngvdmt6WSUFuLhWx7qKf61xFiKlAM0_bLYzsvzk7PzlnB3a0s1ag27ldde4SmyUyYO_5pLLLv-OEBZxz7oqo8Hq1/s1600/small_oils_1_20141204_1143786482.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3tWOJnMbbwzlkTDbZYQWhSZmOW79WebyDQCW07nkQejqRBs0lyqV_ngvdmt6WSUFuLhWx7qKf61xFiKlAM0_bLYzsvzk7PzlnB3a0s1ag27ldde4SmyUyYO_5pLLLv-OEBZxz7oqo8Hq1/s320/small_oils_1_20141204_1143786482.jpg" width="296" /></a></div>
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And then there's a story about small paintings. Like this one by a young whippersnapper originally from Northern California who made his way to London and Paris and the tutelage of Whistler. He died at age 37 from blood poisoning after being accidentally stuck by a hat pin at a dance. I kid you not. Damn I love sleuthing and uncovering the proverbial back story.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOe-eNhDlIVzDctuStolrnp_1FtMnqC11Y0NH9Xxxhugns4oGgN380DmLwy83lRTpIzAJsfH2EDFT3_ZR50ZO38xTntfytswsthDzNJax8ZN7SW-PsWFZiqg11d8B175TZQ_hvBhl7zVSH/s1600/old+law.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="204" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOe-eNhDlIVzDctuStolrnp_1FtMnqC11Y0NH9Xxxhugns4oGgN380DmLwy83lRTpIzAJsfH2EDFT3_ZR50ZO38xTntfytswsthDzNJax8ZN7SW-PsWFZiqg11d8B175TZQ_hvBhl7zVSH/s640/old+law.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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And our boy over at The Old Law is about to be the daddy of a little girl.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMXVAiAnrLlblhJSBHvCqW6lCfl7vCJ0W65miipHy-lNFsHciel-329vrFYFkwGYHiUj_VH0XFvpYND274-3JALOqTpvVjL0eq3v_lmbKiIUU7bVYbcUn2KDrqY0N3sJDKeVel0qSGRsas/s1600/51vm4spIX8L._SX322_BO1%252C204%252C203%252C200_.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMXVAiAnrLlblhJSBHvCqW6lCfl7vCJ0W65miipHy-lNFsHciel-329vrFYFkwGYHiUj_VH0XFvpYND274-3JALOqTpvVjL0eq3v_lmbKiIUU7bVYbcUn2KDrqY0N3sJDKeVel0qSGRsas/s640/51vm4spIX8L._SX322_BO1%252C204%252C203%252C200_.jpg" width="414" /></a></div>
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And I declared on tumblr that I had no additional advice for him after Tommy Tevlin et al showered him with great wisdom. But then I remembered Meg Meeker's book. It's a must read.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgy2vyUYDq3J9ZDRwUVgqxTBoJCeCvjkXYt3E5VBhN7NX2SJSFgboLcoOHIIzPc-o-4V5A4TM4NAzl-XOl6lcHeVC1SfGtDm1iNRkne0sKT0bkexIwo7WWBxESWPHGmF47OVVNiyOy_IQly/s1600/s-l1600.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="404" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgy2vyUYDq3J9ZDRwUVgqxTBoJCeCvjkXYt3E5VBhN7NX2SJSFgboLcoOHIIzPc-o-4V5A4TM4NAzl-XOl6lcHeVC1SfGtDm1iNRkne0sKT0bkexIwo7WWBxESWPHGmF47OVVNiyOy_IQly/s640/s-l1600.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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West Evans street in my hometown. I never wrote a proper story about the haberdashery that spawned my sartorial addiction. I was busting to write it not long after my mother died. The fact that Toad and I stood in the entryway of this hallowed spot one night was a key motivator. And by the way, where the hell IS Toad?</div>
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Ok. So sit tight and let's see if my once a week commitment is sustainable.</div>
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<br /></div>
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Onward.</div>
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ADG II</div>
ADGhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16612897500610475937noreply@blogger.com15tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8818519199109196200.post-79681662076831294422016-01-21T09:04:00.000-05:002016-01-21T09:24:27.700-05:00A Boutonniere in One’s Lapel<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgg4jQL5b6nlp9HaENdgrKHYSqOxsFDrDuvVzY0pwqVyfatRCtSX35jUE5men0J0CP9h4Bz_3t2AadRAv0zCL-IDtyRucnEqsw3GcBhFFCVKZ-VA03BEbr-d_AYkud-vPfhJe4GN2f-qiB/s1600/300h.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgg4jQL5b6nlp9HaENdgrKHYSqOxsFDrDuvVzY0pwqVyfatRCtSX35jUE5men0J0CP9h4Bz_3t2AadRAv0zCL-IDtyRucnEqsw3GcBhFFCVKZ-VA03BEbr-d_AYkud-vPfhJe4GN2f-qiB/s640/300h.jpg" width="582" /></a></div>
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Fiorello. Or piccolo fiore. A
little flower. Two of my favorite writers and sartorialists had decided views
on such little adornments. George Frazier wore his with elegant restraint. And Frazier devotee Richard Merkin sported his with predictable Merkinessence. <o:p></o:p></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfvk8SO9M0_7H8nYQj77ventzYyrLULyz_tHpjHG_7X-2K-ccZFDjht8ovcJsCj-Pr-qJH8GfpTX2dcgAStyzAb5W-iRPpkofkZjGpxLJxOl_rkxVBCokXBlLMWpxlftACglHFaaFrmaJN/s1600/richardmerkin7.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfvk8SO9M0_7H8nYQj77ventzYyrLULyz_tHpjHG_7X-2K-ccZFDjht8ovcJsCj-Pr-qJH8GfpTX2dcgAStyzAb5W-iRPpkofkZjGpxLJxOl_rkxVBCokXBlLMWpxlftACglHFaaFrmaJN/s640/richardmerkin7.jpg" width="452" /></a></div>
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<span style="line-height: 115%;">It seems that sometimes Merkin
would comply with the tight-bud restraint characteristic of Frazier’s
boutonnieres.</span></div>
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<o:p></o:p></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1L9_8JdNVjpP4-j29QpDN9lZ9mcmcXyUT8r2gmy3U1wbOVmmjxeInwe4C2rjTQ2e9Y9oQhmCRwei3QzVHDQnlDDnU1im_hftC2-p-8F0jJCYVkaY0VBfuGwUhfQ0XGIy388wEYX0iRXcy/s1600/Richard_Merkin.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1L9_8JdNVjpP4-j29QpDN9lZ9mcmcXyUT8r2gmy3U1wbOVmmjxeInwe4C2rjTQ2e9Y9oQhmCRwei3QzVHDQnlDDnU1im_hftC2-p-8F0jJCYVkaY0VBfuGwUhfQ0XGIy388wEYX0iRXcy/s640/Richard_Merkin.jpg" width="490" /></a></div>
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<span style="line-height: 115%;">A less preening unfurledness rather
than a full-bloom Oscar Wildely bunting. Unfurledness. Yes. It’s now a word. </span></div>
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<o:p></o:p></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRtEyaJd3U-rj04IWVigfNxCj7NHNl2EwX9pB2E4UfyUPyRPfhpEz-E2Cr5BSP_otUrlvIzrrfRFODysw06uSRBGyfCI_5Qp5ns1VPTd0QdfRyRNzefnAtrFJd8qQylJKFVAo-EKYdgbzX/s1600/merkin-photo.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRtEyaJd3U-rj04IWVigfNxCj7NHNl2EwX9pB2E4UfyUPyRPfhpEz-E2Cr5BSP_otUrlvIzrrfRFODysw06uSRBGyfCI_5Qp5ns1VPTd0QdfRyRNzefnAtrFJd8qQylJKFVAo-EKYdgbzX/s400/merkin-photo.jpg" width="333" /></a></div>
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<span style="line-height: 115%;">But then in typical Merkin
foppishness there seems to be a full-blown, </span><b style="line-height: 115%;"><a href="http://www.urbandictionary.com/define.php?term=full+cleveland">Full Cleveland</a></b><span style="line-height: 115%;"> floral throwdown on
his lapel.</span></div>
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<o:p></o:p></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWCLGFu-sjMQbS1DeXDWld1hAeZUzjOI0HWI9knHnzw5nREVsNgQt9nE6jRvrTS6Z-L7ogdZ0vIl0oMcVxCzWy_-CKNgX_wbY21cXcENJyZYufQm1lS3EqvYe3SqkoPo_uROEDcHQWwem4/s1600/ekeko.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWCLGFu-sjMQbS1DeXDWld1hAeZUzjOI0HWI9knHnzw5nREVsNgQt9nE6jRvrTS6Z-L7ogdZ0vIl0oMcVxCzWy_-CKNgX_wbY21cXcENJyZYufQm1lS3EqvYe3SqkoPo_uROEDcHQWwem4/s640/ekeko.gif" width="470" /></a></div>
<span style="line-height: 115%;">Flower and pocket handkerchief in
tandem? I’m on the record as not being scared of making things as fuzzy as
possible. I’d have three vents and eleven functional button holes on my sleeves
if my bespokers would let me. Sh_t, just vote a straight ticket when you fill
out the order form. Check the top box and give me the whole enchilada on the
menu. I’m kind of the </span><a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ekeko" style="line-height: 115%;"><b>Ekeko</b></a><span style="line-height: 115%;"> of sartorial options. Just load my lucky ass up
with one of everything.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKw3g_bZWmxxPngCbNSPm3jjfSZsGx4SP4umxBjNDlikfOtzCGLCinOCrToCR9A6oZO8MdDt3UhAKDOYWirNrLhsN8hcUbEzJkrkZNGvbqbA4iViQ7hgjjM2ZblhIYymGMzFfGmaZ9_TnO/s1600/RichardMerkin_525.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKw3g_bZWmxxPngCbNSPm3jjfSZsGx4SP4umxBjNDlikfOtzCGLCinOCrToCR9A6oZO8MdDt3UhAKDOYWirNrLhsN8hcUbEzJkrkZNGvbqbA4iViQ7hgjjM2ZblhIYymGMzFfGmaZ9_TnO/s640/RichardMerkin_525.jpg" width="520" /></a></div>
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<span style="line-height: 115%;">Merkin spoke of the lesson that his
surrogate daddy Frazier tried to teach him about flowered lapels.</span></div>
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<o:p></o:p></div>
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<i>“George
Frazier was the most elegant man I’ve ever known, a columnist and journalist
who wrote for the Boston Globe. He didn’t have much clothing but everything he
had was impeccable. There was no room for any mistake. And it wasn’t self-conscious.
It was at one with him. Every so often I would wear both a flower and a
handkerchief and George always chided me for it. He said it was disturbing to
have put the two things together. He was right. It’s just a spot of color that
accents the whole totality. And it shouldn’t be two spots.”<o:p></o:p></i></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_RA_UnvJRRcWe-ZIRqdMmcrprw0VnYN7LE18SV0XOr9pz3aiHymtX2LPvf7urVWDPbd8F1Gw9nF1MXon0D3YcBBxURcy_iSGCS0GGv9TbHIB9ZbXeVclANdm62eFIDJaohuKP-oGkYcaS/s1600/jj.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_RA_UnvJRRcWe-ZIRqdMmcrprw0VnYN7LE18SV0XOr9pz3aiHymtX2LPvf7urVWDPbd8F1Gw9nF1MXon0D3YcBBxURcy_iSGCS0GGv9TbHIB9ZbXeVclANdm62eFIDJaohuKP-oGkYcaS/s640/jj.jpg" width="425" /></a></div>
<span style="line-height: 115%;">I’ve never worn a boutonniere other
than when a funeral or nuptials called for it. I’m not sure why but it’s
certainly not because I’m worried about coming off as too foppy. 1985...with a toothpick in my hand. Musta just popped one of those gnarly wedding reception meatballs in my mouth.</span><br />
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<o:p></o:p></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyszHBGSKI0nK_8lCoi1zJpVk20RhVCGfnOv2G2SBY4Ss6PKxZCmTJRiJRcr7cz9EWM5nhF0mfmjKOBUHwpidSFcvkryOSo0wpT7cg_zUEGOh4RslSwVxm5IOT0zkN-Rof2bJS-Ta0-ng-/s1600/IMG_6720.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyszHBGSKI0nK_8lCoi1zJpVk20RhVCGfnOv2G2SBY4Ss6PKxZCmTJRiJRcr7cz9EWM5nhF0mfmjKOBUHwpidSFcvkryOSo0wpT7cg_zUEGOh4RslSwVxm5IOT0zkN-Rof2bJS-Ta0-ng-/s640/IMG_6720.JPG" width="590" /></a></div>
<span style="line-height: 115%;">Case in point regarding my </span><strike style="line-height: 115%;">fearlessness</strike><span style="line-height: 115%;"> poor judgement is the
unavoidable Thurston Howell the Turd affectation that’s de rigeur with wearing
an ascot has never worried me. The cinched security of having my neck dressed in
chilly weather trumps for me the unavoidable affectation. Shut up.</span><br />
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<o:p></o:p></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOkXTl0lUFyunV6KSNWtfON6BODsg7zxv-ODlUKekXxs2GZPyYkUPT_CF8mtSd2iNlm3QL_Gerpd8uLUMdaqVRp1hC9Q-y107tE84nQJ5c0ySK2Ehbur8IrIuYMBV4HesLv3ijwwOn5cQ0/s1600/IMG_6526+%25282%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOkXTl0lUFyunV6KSNWtfON6BODsg7zxv-ODlUKekXxs2GZPyYkUPT_CF8mtSd2iNlm3QL_Gerpd8uLUMdaqVRp1hC9Q-y107tE84nQJ5c0ySK2Ehbur8IrIuYMBV4HesLv3ijwwOn5cQ0/s640/IMG_6526+%25282%2529.jpg" width="628" /></a></div>
<span style="line-height: 115%;">Oh, but I did clip a remaining bit
of flora from a patio flower pot and slip it into my lapel a few months ago in
prep for a good friend’s life celebration. I also wore a pocket handkerchief in tandem and she would have approved. It’s the pink linen one that I
wore in my jacket when I drove newborn LFG home from Sibley Hospital.</span><br />
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<o:p></o:p></div>
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Maybe I’ve never worn a flower in
my lapel because they aren’t handy. Perhaps I would have developed a floral
habit if I’d passed a flowering plant every morning as I headed out the door
for work. Nowadays unless I’m seeing clients I don’t even have to get dressed. <o:p></o:p></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1oXzTuKgZiWNC90SCXIQ40xSdoV_BpoY2vrSKT2lgA8MNhA9kcCKLf2VSxiEUoKFg0LNiGOMSCgKV_xAg8uCz_BYL3ZYD22B_oZzmHwDa-UjlzYks2dtp8S4LnO7quseqm8gGP2fuZvsI/s1600/IMG_6698.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1oXzTuKgZiWNC90SCXIQ40xSdoV_BpoY2vrSKT2lgA8MNhA9kcCKLf2VSxiEUoKFg0LNiGOMSCgKV_xAg8uCz_BYL3ZYD22B_oZzmHwDa-UjlzYks2dtp8S4LnO7quseqm8gGP2fuZvsI/s640/IMG_6698.JPG" width="548" /></a></div>
<span style="line-height: 115%;">So what’s all this about
boutonnières? Recently a young lady
requested that I order one. That young lady was my daughter, LFG. My not so
little girl had her first real date. A fine young man asked her to a semi-formal dance
and as far as I can tell it was a sweet and chivalrous gesture.</span><br />
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<o:p></o:p></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5cUEugggYWV3zKBLn0R21F0OrSZ0qGAcybTwlda-3IE6C7dnSXdu7GOrDP1H9T_T20KkQU25Aau30jJzhgDVVIkc7rF2Z468uXPAAN_Y0kGuI2WK0xUMtzXWcGnM9U7dMJ7bcQKIGO57c/s1600/IMG_5035+%25282%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="318" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5cUEugggYWV3zKBLn0R21F0OrSZ0qGAcybTwlda-3IE6C7dnSXdu7GOrDP1H9T_T20KkQU25Aau30jJzhgDVVIkc7rF2Z468uXPAAN_Y0kGuI2WK0xUMtzXWcGnM9U7dMJ7bcQKIGO57c/s320/IMG_5035+%25282%2529.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<span style="line-height: 115%;">And she needed a flower. Here’s the text from LFG, asking if
I’d placed the flower order for her fella. Boutonniere ain’t real easy to spell
so I reckon </span><i style="line-height: 115%;">“bout thingy”</i><span style="line-height: 115%;"> is as good an effort as any.</span><br />
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<o:p></o:p></div>
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This is old news but I’ll repeat
it. I only have one child and she is the most important thing on this earth.
And to say that I’ve been in denial about the inevitability of things like growing up and going to high
school and getting learner’s permits and having crushes and getting her heart
broken and yes, going on dates; is a breathtaking understatement. <o:p></o:p></div>
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Denial aside for a moment…I’m so
impressed with this young man and how he went about asking my daughter to
accompany him to the dance. My LFG jumps in my car after school with a bouquet.
It seems that the gentleman gave LFG a dozen roses between classes and asked
her to be his date. He’s not my boy but I’m proud of him. <o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%;">
I was telling a guy who has five
daughters about LFG’s first date. And he
shared with me a technique regarding how to convey to a young man a father’s
sentiments on how he wants his daughter to be treated. <o:p></o:p></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXsCLXBfMox5xzPwSGxmf5A66mDSC3lgMG4kvQ8iOgv4hWwVplzuzC3_2xvb7DZ8ffCJtEjJ8PNNMPO4Y9pLX0ghmmhEwhmY_kGIpY0jnXEItZ31lHEAg9RuOIFd9oLgAqfolp7zjr4vsZ/s1600/IMG_6609+%25282%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="626" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXsCLXBfMox5xzPwSGxmf5A66mDSC3lgMG4kvQ8iOgv4hWwVplzuzC3_2xvb7DZ8ffCJtEjJ8PNNMPO4Y9pLX0ghmmhEwhmY_kGIpY0jnXEItZ31lHEAg9RuOIFd9oLgAqfolp7zjr4vsZ/s640/IMG_6609+%25282%2529.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
<span style="line-height: 115%;">So this is for you, mister
chivalrous man who has so impressed me by the way you asked my baby to be your
homecoming date. And if our paths cross in the future, my
challenge to you will be even more pertinent.</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%;">
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%;">
Whatever you do to my daughter, I’m
going to do to you. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%;">
Treat her with dignity and respect
and I’ll treat you with dignity and respect. Open doors for her, literally and
figuratively and I’ll open literal and figurative doors for you. Make her laugh
and I’ll make you laugh. Be kind to her always and I’ll always be kind to you.
Try to be patient and give her some slack even when you don’t want to or don’t
feel like it and I’ll offer you my patience and latitude. And have my daughter
home by eleven.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%;">
Onward. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%;">
ADG-2 <o:p></o:p></div>
ADGhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16612897500610475937noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8818519199109196200.post-25447452183049815392015-10-22T11:34:00.000-04:002015-10-22T11:34:37.334-04:00Sid Mashburn Washington D.C.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsDVqg3nPm5CkO3c8yuyEiSo6zPudX7xUoAJ-NbhhVIv6-lzbIur8gCt0zhyju19eILWDjFSxP-KWRhTqt5juXaq6O4IHdkahugMvs0hfMaomr2ZJJxNndbzNQRaL7J0k0VxW-q_jp3yKS/s1600/sid.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="408" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsDVqg3nPm5CkO3c8yuyEiSo6zPudX7xUoAJ-NbhhVIv6-lzbIur8gCt0zhyju19eILWDjFSxP-KWRhTqt5juXaq6O4IHdkahugMvs0hfMaomr2ZJJxNndbzNQRaL7J0k0VxW-q_jp3yKS/s640/sid.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
We've finally got a sartorial oasis in D.C. ! </div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjydXXcdngDdcdNIlB9jPXlpj_XtfOBZMwNDaKuW9lRj8VNH65bk-ZfMW0eF8DBZNk4EZNo6wHwOCAueCblDYVorKIWDwIhIJOQv8ugajJNXuH2UviDHuW5f8YYa05VnRJmNuo_y_7OF8pm/s1600/SM-DC+Shops+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="364" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjydXXcdngDdcdNIlB9jPXlpj_XtfOBZMwNDaKuW9lRj8VNH65bk-ZfMW0eF8DBZNk4EZNo6wHwOCAueCblDYVorKIWDwIhIJOQv8ugajJNXuH2UviDHuW5f8YYa05VnRJmNuo_y_7OF8pm/s640/SM-DC+Shops+2.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
I spent an hour in one-on-one fellowship with Sid Mashburn last Saturday at the new store. I'll be concocting a story soon but until then, get on over there and wallow in the tasty goods.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh55pG2k7yBIw-3b3kW7mh0SsyxKmlXdUQllzfRl6rvEDiPc-WLDatRpSWHg3p-EnvzIGVmvV_L7JI8e_ibs9f8BiGFME38tayBGdV_X54CJy7N2WxGsycrYwiscX5TEXn9o8Q1_xcEKzQS/s1600/FullSizeRender.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh55pG2k7yBIw-3b3kW7mh0SsyxKmlXdUQllzfRl6rvEDiPc-WLDatRpSWHg3p-EnvzIGVmvV_L7JI8e_ibs9f8BiGFME38tayBGdV_X54CJy7N2WxGsycrYwiscX5TEXn9o8Q1_xcEKzQS/s640/FullSizeRender.jpg" width="382" /></a></div>
And please ask for our man, Dexter Garner, IV. He's making friends and building a client base. Hard to believe there's been four Dexters.<br />
<br />
Onward.<br />
<br />
ADG-Only Two.ADGhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16612897500610475937noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8818519199109196200.post-77904741585680350662015-10-03T10:36:00.000-04:002015-10-03T17:25:16.002-04:00Part Two: Birmingham Alabama—In Alden Pebble Grain<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">It’s been so long since I
published my <a href="http://www.maxminimus.blogspot.com/2015/06/part-one-birmingham-alabamain-alden.html">Part One: Birmingham Alabama—In Alden Pebble</a> Grain that you might
want to go back and read it first.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0in;">
<b><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";"><br /></span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0in;">
<b><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">Part
Two: Birmingham Alabama—In Alden Pebble Grain<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMwkDf7dp0dgh4o9E74g2uXX_MNqZELr6yVb0ZBJ0zpC4gONe4f2XVK-aoUjdWBJMqfEbg5xFKselB8Y9o_V8dSRQ_RiYQDRWuPD_h6mXGpn6-e88TeuvkLu2bwXrsBtzQYeGSqm2cL2DT/s1600/IMG_9851.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMwkDf7dp0dgh4o9E74g2uXX_MNqZELr6yVb0ZBJ0zpC4gONe4f2XVK-aoUjdWBJMqfEbg5xFKselB8Y9o_V8dSRQ_RiYQDRWuPD_h6mXGpn6-e88TeuvkLu2bwXrsBtzQYeGSqm2cL2DT/s640/IMG_9851.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0in;">Then I rounded the corner…</span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1OFLg7cWZOnulTegW-NGQp91meAdAkk-XNrJFl2-n1XbWS6zfX_Xb8sAUKbg26PA8dpwY1ozlHYybmS9YzaOxIBLKdqWnnFy80pHOnMM-u4sTa_WmeXjwn5Jqt4WMvn_uiz2RxtjJY4vD/s1600/IMG_9823.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1OFLg7cWZOnulTegW-NGQp91meAdAkk-XNrJFl2-n1XbWS6zfX_Xb8sAUKbg26PA8dpwY1ozlHYybmS9YzaOxIBLKdqWnnFy80pHOnMM-u4sTa_WmeXjwn5Jqt4WMvn_uiz2RxtjJY4vD/s400/IMG_9823.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0in;">But before I begin this final round,
I want to offer this quote from TCD’s original email regarding Richards of
Mountain Brook…"Richards" took a high school freshman to his Dad's
world & instantly verified it was where you wanted to be even if it had not
occurred to you before".</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0in;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">“…instantly verified it was where
you wanted to be <i>even if it had not
occurred to you before…” </i>That’s a strong statement right there. Stronger
than new rope. Strong in some kind of teenage existentially ethereal, one
hundred percent cotton kinda way. Shut up. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdOIPrhs9-GaQhXfSx4upx3Ffwj08sJA5ZHghseLJ-9bBDMx9EHbdgoagIXAUXCNQPTIqIZRKaIWEWKkQJ6-koVqErxhm1ezjqL-HkSCxTAUxPdg-iYB3LpkK12_u8eajo4HgydaKckema/s1600/-981a53dcaca282a3.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdOIPrhs9-GaQhXfSx4upx3Ffwj08sJA5ZHghseLJ-9bBDMx9EHbdgoagIXAUXCNQPTIqIZRKaIWEWKkQJ6-koVqErxhm1ezjqL-HkSCxTAUxPdg-iYB3LpkK12_u8eajo4HgydaKckema/s640/-981a53dcaca282a3.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0in;">But TCD, in response to part-one
of this story emailed me and reminded me that any trip to Richards usually
included a stop off at the drug store that’s anchored this little mercantile
patch since 1928. AS TCD described this place, it occurred to me that <a href="http://www.al.com/entertainment/index.ssf/2012/02/the_year_of_alabama_food_gilch.html">Gilchrist Drug</a> is the J&J Drugs of my hometown. Butcept like everything in Florence
S.C. versus anywhere else ('cept maybe Tabor City N.C.), my hometown version
is a redneck-y, inelegant comparator.</span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1dvDWuhlbpw8WsjAoyDLsy7GHi7UYtnMA12hxNJtwtg0HXz0YTSrXO2wDdxVdn4ntdhw5ZtDnRK6X5gydoK0a1k3JskXDB_s35uWAB45VH7SMXRNO9LUa26JWpe1b0oVrCZ3EDd5zhA8W/s1600/NYC+034.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1dvDWuhlbpw8WsjAoyDLsy7GHi7UYtnMA12hxNJtwtg0HXz0YTSrXO2wDdxVdn4ntdhw5ZtDnRK6X5gydoK0a1k3JskXDB_s35uWAB45VH7SMXRNO9LUa26JWpe1b0oVrCZ3EDd5zhA8W/s640/NYC+034.JPG" width="401" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0in;">At least 30% of my caloric intake
was courtesy of the J&J lunch counter during my days working at the
haberdashery just opposite the J&J. I would go over to the J&J on some Saturday
mornings before we opened the store, still capable of blowing a DUI I’m certain.
Bill Tassios would patch me up with the same unguent, my Saturday morning <i>“rescue
usual”</i> of two ham biscuits and a cup of coffee. I’d grab some breath mints and
toss it all back before cinching up my four-in-hand and easing into my Saturday
mercantile duties. Unfortunately, the photo above reveals what the J&J storefront looks like these days. Alas.</span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEfYRsUGd8dtOi6Putd_UZ45nOnl5Vxm82DJRyFpHEjtyRn7qyCmgVCjeMnLuopsnICYNjdeqaYdsT71BH8fgKGrGBgzphtEp5SUONSK2Tv7N72yR4JOPq9WYWR6OTsLofQgABFg-MHJwC/s1600/0_0_4008_5158.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEfYRsUGd8dtOi6Putd_UZ45nOnl5Vxm82DJRyFpHEjtyRn7qyCmgVCjeMnLuopsnICYNjdeqaYdsT71BH8fgKGrGBgzphtEp5SUONSK2Tv7N72yR4JOPq9WYWR6OTsLofQgABFg-MHJwC/s400/0_0_4008_5158.jpg" width="380" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0in;">I’d say that for the first hour
or two my internal dialogue was really a flurry of foxhole prayers to Jesus.
<i>“Lord, if you’ll make this hangover go away I’ll never get smashed on a Friday
night again”. </i>But by eleven o’clock I’d be feeling better thanks to my J&J fix and on the phone to
my various cohorts, sorting out the Saturday night plan.</span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5RdDHjpaShVjHQYlqYY-Oup1AdL30xp67dOuZjBFa5HNuRTjSnv56yIImdE5igX0kBn3Cy5plI9EvERG_RpP6IbtvSXNiRdICFfqRp7Hy0zkK-Q-hX8uGDhNZ7ae4R_zwL25dQF6ybI09/s1600/-dbcf1aec61974db0.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="470" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5RdDHjpaShVjHQYlqYY-Oup1AdL30xp67dOuZjBFa5HNuRTjSnv56yIImdE5igX0kBn3Cy5plI9EvERG_RpP6IbtvSXNiRdICFfqRp7Hy0zkK-Q-hX8uGDhNZ7ae4R_zwL25dQF6ybI09/s640/-dbcf1aec61974db0.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0in;">Oops, I digressed again. So</span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0in;"> </span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0in;">TCD told me that for him, the Gilchrist
Pimiento Cheese (yes, you Yankees, Pimiento Cheese is capitalized. It’s a
Southern thang that I’m not going to take time to ‘splain to you because you’ll
never get it. Suffice it to say that the cheese and the assemblage of it on two
pieces of toasted bread is sacred.) sandwich and a fresh squeezed right then
and there glass of their limeade was his standing order.</span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0in;"> </span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4qnOCu3_aSN39WTIm8LB8BnXGuHTwcdk8KGHWiNeldWP6QqgFk2Zf_fjc25LlYeiyEN-YRYdccck9i_KY4uSai3gsS2UOjwnLYgwr9AnLezutFw2gO_wNUqYzHfShZZb_zD3QcmeVllKi/s1600/Gilchrist.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4qnOCu3_aSN39WTIm8LB8BnXGuHTwcdk8KGHWiNeldWP6QqgFk2Zf_fjc25LlYeiyEN-YRYdccck9i_KY4uSai3gsS2UOjwnLYgwr9AnLezutFw2gO_wNUqYzHfShZZb_zD3QcmeVllKi/s640/Gilchrist.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0in;">Here’s a quote from <a href="http://www.al.com/entertainment/index.ssf/2012/02/the_year_of_alabama_food_gilch.html">this article</a>
that best sums up why TCD made sure I understood the significance of the
Gilchrist anchor… </span><i style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0in;">“Walk into Gilchrist, and you’re likely to see tables of
teenagers and college kids, mothers and daughters, grandparents and
great-grandparents — most of whom have been coming here all of their lives. Old
snapshots of long-time customers fill a display case. “That’s the neatest thing
about this place, is seeing somebody in their 70s come in here and talk about
how they used to sit at that very same stool,” (current owner) Rosato says.
“They grow up here in this community, and they grow up going to Gilchrist.””</i></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiN6ZRunUwsme2VHB303ZgeTPmvaPxKjnt6zQbg8vA3d2T42EvjV0-RptorqyVYYomlpqjXUUvRQTa4xd6x4Y7BTqpp9nDJJXQp5FY1vPj9YugRQq4Ci2bwDdQjzu5Bl7BVo71LEM1-PEZM/s1600/Gilchrist-Pimiento-BLT.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiN6ZRunUwsme2VHB303ZgeTPmvaPxKjnt6zQbg8vA3d2T42EvjV0-RptorqyVYYomlpqjXUUvRQTa4xd6x4Y7BTqpp9nDJJXQp5FY1vPj9YugRQq4Ci2bwDdQjzu5Bl7BVo71LEM1-PEZM/s640/Gilchrist-Pimiento-BLT.jpg" width="586" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Photo from <a href="http://www.tasteofthesouthmagazine.com/9-places-go-now-villages-mountain-brook-al/">Taste of the South Magazine</a></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0in;">Typical of my A.D.D. impertinent
country a_s, I stood right beside this hallowed sanctum sanctorum of samiches
and such and didn’t have a clue of its existence. Otherwise, I’d a had a little
bite of something to complement the sartorial rarefied air that I’d just
finished breathing two doors down.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0in;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">So I’d finished my photo taking
reminiscent obligations to TCD and was headed back to the car. </span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZCIP_nLc5-TdCyU7kWKjleF9-Tg61KCDfTi5hvP6bcO2ZhE_BjaSNOd7xxD5y_bs_jZZdhxPVeNQVczV9rb-db8BjlzO6fnQ9e152qgx8dIHD_FIrmXi6pbCTXWNDIOUw0TAXvDWhXHFZ/s1600/harrison-limited-2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZCIP_nLc5-TdCyU7kWKjleF9-Tg61KCDfTi5hvP6bcO2ZhE_BjaSNOd7xxD5y_bs_jZZdhxPVeNQVczV9rb-db8BjlzO6fnQ9e152qgx8dIHD_FIrmXi6pbCTXWNDIOUw0TAXvDWhXHFZ/s640/harrison-limited-2.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0in;">Then I rounded the corner and</span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0in;"> noticed a little haberdashery called <a href="http://harrisonlimited.com/">Harrison Ltd.</a> My painfully
nostalgic self has long since resigned to the reality of TinTin’s <i>“Not as good as it once was, better than it
will be”</i> by-line. But every town used to
have a locally owned haberdashery and Harrison Ltd. is doing a damn fine job of
campaigning the Richard’s legacy.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOLcgaQQkSAPmzmMOSnBTVrkjeOmjSkVgzdO2ORD9xen_2cP-WGIMG03g8q9eQMh_-FQGUle8pfl9kTn3ZMvPvaPfx9Fc252DRD8Lz65o7RkLgcBiSqqSaC9uPZ712WO86g9OPU_Xv7Y0h/s1600/IMG_9831+%25282%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOLcgaQQkSAPmzmMOSnBTVrkjeOmjSkVgzdO2ORD9xen_2cP-WGIMG03g8q9eQMh_-FQGUle8pfl9kTn3ZMvPvaPfx9Fc252DRD8Lz65o7RkLgcBiSqqSaC9uPZ712WO86g9OPU_Xv7Y0h/s640/IMG_9831+%25282%2529.JPG" width="596" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0in;">A faint smell of leather hit me
when I walked in. Sort of a shoe repair shop olfactory déjà vu. The source was
a gaggle of Alden shoe boxes above my immediate right that let me know I wasn’t
in some kind of twee little attenuated J. Crew skinny jeans atelier. Shut up.</span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEid0nI5L8Losn4QNVnp3fabTIYTlylM9Y7DLzT3V7U8zGRr1StBnzNHKTMucKBqEhLkcvk8RZ4226asq95jErfjHGl7EWOMKcPpioitdzU5MAu48ke0tM0Sbl9V5ISpx4vVImPi85vUe52P/s1600/IMG_9829.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEid0nI5L8Losn4QNVnp3fabTIYTlylM9Y7DLzT3V7U8zGRr1StBnzNHKTMucKBqEhLkcvk8RZ4226asq95jErfjHGl7EWOMKcPpioitdzU5MAu48ke0tM0Sbl9V5ISpx4vVImPi85vUe52P/s640/IMG_9829.JPG" width="480" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0in;">While this little oasis is trad
out the as_; rest assured that Harrison Ltd. ain’t no maudlin throwback to a
time now irrelevant. There’s a little bit of Mashburn folded into a good bit of
your daddy’s favorite old-time tradberdashery.</span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDljdhRclnU0E2avy8QQ85kKb6xTZk_kWeNcPBZguunoC6K1wc1vsfqsZPc3ajIyOtySM5mRcoGxNVybO24lGHIyXzc787CwYBC7hB_uqjQfDUsZnbqE9SYKQuKZS44qem53dSXPPbhbp3/s1600/IMG_9842.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDljdhRclnU0E2avy8QQ85kKb6xTZk_kWeNcPBZguunoC6K1wc1vsfqsZPc3ajIyOtySM5mRcoGxNVybO24lGHIyXzc787CwYBC7hB_uqjQfDUsZnbqE9SYKQuKZS44qem53dSXPPbhbp3/s640/IMG_9842.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0in;">What Harrison Ltd. seems to do so
well is keep just enough of the immutable 3-Button patina spread ‘round ever so
lightly while offering fresh takes on it all. And I don’t know how to write
this in a way that you’ll understand what I’m trying to say but here goes…What
Harrison Ltd. does is something more nuanced than that worn-ass-out
hackneyed standard of <i>“we take the classics and reinterpret them”</i>. A monkey
could do that. Trust me; I </span><i style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0in;">was</i><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0in;"> a
monkey at one time. Shut up.</span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjl3wIcJkplJZSIgRfX7XvJI6wPXFRWGAk7OT0fmyOsFs6jRPOTLO1YJzHFJxDhVUC5ujxKyfULbY5pwZ-VJ_Q3g8kdOuWTrTRFZxiKj52AqQrgpU_9YZRiv9qiOM2yC0erWPjydme5G4iy/s1600/IMG_9835.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjl3wIcJkplJZSIgRfX7XvJI6wPXFRWGAk7OT0fmyOsFs6jRPOTLO1YJzHFJxDhVUC5ujxKyfULbY5pwZ-VJ_Q3g8kdOuWTrTRFZxiKj52AqQrgpU_9YZRiv9qiOM2yC0erWPjydme5G4iy/s640/IMG_9835.JPG" width="480" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0in;">So I’m standing there, doing
anything to keep from having to return from my errand running tasks and this
pebble grain thing gobsmacked me from the get-go. I ask for no sympathy when I
say that there’s never been a time in my life when I was less able to buy
anything nonessential. But I had some some cravings in this joint that warranted
the ultimate sale of a few caricatures and antique toy soldiers. </span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0in;">I think it came out of me before
I even knew that I’d asked it. And the answer was yes, my size in these pebble
graingers just happened to be on hand.</span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiw7yM7rE2zjwfZ8U_utbc9EFR5CeRwJP1Id4P99n-GDjFnOmqnD-GQQwvznIaUegCKSkpU-_ec6N3wXzsbug6LgciMC_MV1ay4gjXKZ2NCU-PLWJMURRpQlmvwWhcG2A_olPrjjmszb7BS/s1600/IMG_9832.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiw7yM7rE2zjwfZ8U_utbc9EFR5CeRwJP1Id4P99n-GDjFnOmqnD-GQQwvznIaUegCKSkpU-_ec6N3wXzsbug6LgciMC_MV1ay4gjXKZ2NCU-PLWJMURRpQlmvwWhcG2A_olPrjjmszb7BS/s640/IMG_9832.JPG" width="480" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0in;">I love my versatile penny loafers
but the Alden tassel mama is a step-up in the </span><i style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0in;">“if you could only have one shoe what would it be?”</i><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0in;"> pantheon. Yep.
Weejuns are kinda like the Canterbury Shop to the Alden tassel’s Richard’s of
Mountain Brook. And of course since I’ve never owned an Alden tassel loafer in
my life, I figured it was my time.</span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj54KizUman1VIH2Q_OXCeinVOkvQ9iBtSQ2tRZhkm9ftdBoNqkBzva-Ry1FSRO7FFfMcfU5h9IomsKRUjKJznc7HNSB7qYNhTgFCcgUy4GnjEPfYnx9lEErOJHLg-euN7z_UZCg-tZ7R36/s1600/horse-1_1024x1024.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj54KizUman1VIH2Q_OXCeinVOkvQ9iBtSQ2tRZhkm9ftdBoNqkBzva-Ry1FSRO7FFfMcfU5h9IomsKRUjKJznc7HNSB7qYNhTgFCcgUy4GnjEPfYnx9lEErOJHLg-euN7z_UZCg-tZ7R36/s640/horse-1_1024x1024.png" width="640" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0in;">Granted I shoulda paid the
freight for the shoes and cut outta there faster than a set of rims at a Puff
Daddy concert butcept I didn’t. They had some belts and of course since I’ve
never owned a belt, I figured it was my time. The <a href="http://maxminimus.blogspot.com/2010/04/bad-pussy.html">Wiley Brothers Hoof Pick</a>
contrivances and even my <a href="http://maxminimus.blogspot.com/2013/04/sid-mashburn.html">Sid Mashburn</a> oyster shell buckled belt seemed clunky
and ham fisted compared to this gem.</span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibSf70ywduvUlXLKHW50W6FDQ2dcHK8jM-YpcK-RX314wcaYT5HuV4ftyCIvMJLIGVyUxvJN3uKhi0tJoNndZc3Qzd6lK9Zvom_dCdhUVn49gujwmW36uGfOsGijXBK8sDg8BuWsbwpHLu/s1600/IMG_9843+%25282%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibSf70ywduvUlXLKHW50W6FDQ2dcHK8jM-YpcK-RX314wcaYT5HuV4ftyCIvMJLIGVyUxvJN3uKhi0tJoNndZc3Qzd6lK9Zvom_dCdhUVn49gujwmW36uGfOsGijXBK8sDg8BuWsbwpHLu/s640/IMG_9843+%25282%2529.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
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<a href="http://store.harrisonlimited.com/collections/accessories/products/horse-bit-cognac" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0in;">Matte alligator.</a><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0in;"> I’d never had
anything reptilian other than the shiny glazed stuff. So my first thought was
whether or not it was the real thing or one of those hydraulic ersatz </span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0in;"> </span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0in;">stamped-stomped cowhide models. <a href="http://maxminimus.blogspot.com/2011/06/first-car-first-girl.html">My first car, the MG Midget, </a>was
worth about five hundred and fifty bucks when I said goodbye to it. So the
indicator of reptilian authenticity was an MSRP that was perilously close to
the goodbye value of my Midget.</span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6MDz3s0c8YJnD7o-qFMJ0BKjz-p6bZZ-8GwFuf_Uqufs8U-7ysHgD4w4tw1MdhJsNsf4OaLzMMImF1UXrLVSM035kFSwYSsJhc9ub1AN47JHBBvqujuDukrAJP1VTxXXaNlwLzluPpssx/s1600/20111114-mcrib.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6MDz3s0c8YJnD7o-qFMJ0BKjz-p6bZZ-8GwFuf_Uqufs8U-7ysHgD4w4tw1MdhJsNsf4OaLzMMImF1UXrLVSM035kFSwYSsJhc9ub1AN47JHBBvqujuDukrAJP1VTxXXaNlwLzluPpssx/s640/20111114-mcrib.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<i style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">Fake
it till you make it </span></i><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0in;">is remains part of my oeuvre but I can’t abide fake gator grained leather. The gator grain
stamping process reminds me of what has to be the high-heat, hydraulic event
that creates the undulating rib impressions on a McRib. As a Southerner and
hogavore, I believe the McRib to be a multipronged insult to a pig. </span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLoyFAPFjT3TVZFPyHLNKrQk9_FtDWEPtw7ODwh4F3bKANmyIOZxY_p2c1JBWwKgt7GJ3m3r56fp73-O95p5RtAmgpCuoK4XVk3X7GKLbxTGcnml6Vk1I6zmEjy8PEGbN27j4IPGBf60oW/s1600/hut3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="263" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLoyFAPFjT3TVZFPyHLNKrQk9_FtDWEPtw7ODwh4F3bKANmyIOZxY_p2c1JBWwKgt7GJ3m3r56fp73-O95p5RtAmgpCuoK4XVk3X7GKLbxTGcnml6Vk1I6zmEjy8PEGbN27j4IPGBf60oW/s400/hut3.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0in;">Painted on
grill marks and rib impressions you are supposed to bite-through. Corrugated meat. Damn. We gnaw ribs
where I’m from. We don’t bite <u>through</u> them. Ok, so I had to sell more toy
soldiers.</span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg81vdM1QiFM4XedUoIXV8r0KAbbOT1oEsM_ykQIkjm413hV9fdj9_1TNbSWsM275aV2Qs4iuPV3vq7hi047jlVGhO38M6VW44EhWJWlF1LUJEESs4yXE5_nx4w9rimzQi3t5N9ysSq9neT/s1600/IMG_9837.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg81vdM1QiFM4XedUoIXV8r0KAbbOT1oEsM_ykQIkjm413hV9fdj9_1TNbSWsM275aV2Qs4iuPV3vq7hi047jlVGhO38M6VW44EhWJWlF1LUJEESs4yXE5_nx4w9rimzQi3t5N9ysSq9neT/s640/IMG_9837.JPG" width="480" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0in;">At this point I figured that a knit tie to round my visit wouldn’t hurt. Most knit ties are too skinny and
frail looking for me. But like everything else in this little oasis, I could
have taken one of everything. And of course since I've never owned a tie, I figured one of these knit babies should be my first.</span></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgtkF1mhOEBk2GLVFowmgjXwJQXxiYaxNMd1c4KQDCvNpmNId9Ra4zqZpAaJsjNTaCMJm1KBRztxzYhQ3iaH2fclJQWqJ_VyV0a3Fndiv7rPB55kHo5HcH3HrItUl1d0mlTKCjv9WC3dHr/s1600/harrison-post-header.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="238" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgtkF1mhOEBk2GLVFowmgjXwJQXxiYaxNMd1c4KQDCvNpmNId9Ra4zqZpAaJsjNTaCMJm1KBRztxzYhQ3iaH2fclJQWqJ_VyV0a3Fndiv7rPB55kHo5HcH3HrItUl1d0mlTKCjv9WC3dHr/s640/harrison-post-header.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.roberttalbott.com/blog/four/">Photo from Robert Talbott</a></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0in;">Scott Pyburn is the swizzle stick
that stirs this trad cocktail. And if I lived in Birmingham, he and I would
continue to visit and ideate on who could make me a pair of alligator tassel
loafers; one hundred percent faithful to the Alden classic on the Aberdeen
last.</span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsO3ucWFRtLBlTzLjEXoXRCyK33G6zaBEO-QKN106ercod2nhNNknvLny3eI_1ecFKF74dzEC3dE3kYbx6xsmVA7KZUrZP8qa6lzAR3dHnn8Dw0a0EBISZghNo8JXSe17A-QagtDzMzSbI/s1600/IMG_9853+%25282%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsO3ucWFRtLBlTzLjEXoXRCyK33G6zaBEO-QKN106ercod2nhNNknvLny3eI_1ecFKF74dzEC3dE3kYbx6xsmVA7KZUrZP8qa6lzAR3dHnn8Dw0a0EBISZghNo8JXSe17A-QagtDzMzSbI/s640/IMG_9853+%25282%2529.JPG" width="480" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0in;">Oh, and if you spend an amount equal to the value of your first car, Scott will give you a t-shirt and baseball cap. And since I've never...</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">Onward. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">ADG II<i><o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
ADGhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16612897500610475937noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8818519199109196200.post-32588914902539924162015-08-30T11:50:00.001-04:002015-09-02T05:42:24.377-04:00Bruce Boyer and True Style: The History and Principles of Classic Menswear<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; text-align: center; text-indent: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbT282kakFit8W1yaH0FS4FqonIYXlToT7FB8W3fWk1MKrho7h4ZrxpHFztOpvRnz_SPqKJBLqyYypBvvkHqQFPhXlZicM_TBw9NZsgEeiiFti4QCkEN3CaQQtuWJFe5nN9_IybuSabiBw/s1600/tumblr_m0h0o4eIMO1qbt7ls.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbT282kakFit8W1yaH0FS4FqonIYXlToT7FB8W3fWk1MKrho7h4ZrxpHFztOpvRnz_SPqKJBLqyYypBvvkHqQFPhXlZicM_TBw9NZsgEeiiFti4QCkEN3CaQQtuWJFe5nN9_IybuSabiBw/s400/tumblr_m0h0o4eIMO1qbt7ls.jpg" width="300" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">I love picture books.
But I think I love words even more than pictures and God knows I’m a visual guy.
My sartorial sensei’s volumes have always thrilled me and to this day I’ll pull
one of them off the shelf—any one of them—and grab a bolus dose of
Flusstaciousness. The fare’s quite rich and I never tire of the visual treats.
And let me not give Alan short shrift. <a href="http://www.alanflusser.com/">Daddy Flusser </a>is pretty damned skilled
with the written word too. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Oh, and shut up in advance about me heading a story about Boyer's new book with a photo of Alan's classic. Either read-on or get off of my blog. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgX0_XdozJ7Jqt09NHY6JEATxKLYauPEOMK7oQUYm5iKUW31lOJXUFcoeouDuBahSvkdSTmLBngVo1ScW74k1RhFC1b84wfTsiqtq5jxI0xtIcI938Gnv9I3HzJ3AkjiDFhEh3z6Z5fW4QY/s1600/417jx%252B%252BtRUL._SX317_BO1%252C204%252C203%252C200_.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgX0_XdozJ7Jqt09NHY6JEATxKLYauPEOMK7oQUYm5iKUW31lOJXUFcoeouDuBahSvkdSTmLBngVo1ScW74k1RhFC1b84wfTsiqtq5jxI0xtIcI938Gnv9I3HzJ3AkjiDFhEh3z6Z5fW4QY/s640/417jx%252B%252BtRUL._SX317_BO1%252C204%252C203%252C200_.jpg" width="408" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; text-indent: 0in;">I said long ago that I thought
<a href="http://www.thesartorialist.com/style-profiles/style-profile-g-bruce-boyer/">Bruce Boyer</a>’s book, </span><i style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; text-indent: 0in;">Elegance</i><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; text-indent: 0in;"> might
have been slightly thwarted by the sartorial picture books that appeared at about the same time. And it’s a damn shame. Let’s
admit it; photos are the MSG </span><i style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; text-indent: 0in;">(<a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Monosodium_glutamate">Monosodium glutamate</a>
for you South Carolinians. Oh hell, that didn’t clarify anything for the Sandlappers. Let me go at it another way. It’s the secret ingredient that makes
all of the slop on the country buffet trough taste like something, last longer
and look prettier. It's an enhancer and intensifier. Kind of a bullhorn for your country-ass taste buds.) </i><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; text-indent: 0in;"> </span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; text-indent: 0in;">of sensory
processing and we’ve been on an ever faster slide towards less reading and more
pictures. Do you people read? I wonder because if you are reading my scrivening,
you’re only a half-step away from the country buffet. Shut up.</span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuxSNHZKSpyTJcxmr2Yq-mEEqkTD6_9RrgsA-lwj6CMybWvANqtaMObxkmuZP_870XwmJCiB_zvkl2MWThFBv-sYAHzcWYzWoXpV0hOFRoKWquqs9qTXAGPMUMNFvEY02QI_vqhVG6gDPY/s1600/images.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuxSNHZKSpyTJcxmr2Yq-mEEqkTD6_9RrgsA-lwj6CMybWvANqtaMObxkmuZP_870XwmJCiB_zvkl2MWThFBv-sYAHzcWYzWoXpV0hOFRoKWquqs9qTXAGPMUMNFvEY02QI_vqhVG6gDPY/s640/images.jpg" width="425" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Used without permission but with thanks from Daddy Flusser's site.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; text-indent: 0in;">I’ll pull </span><i style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; text-indent: 0in;">Elegance</i><span style="text-indent: 0in;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"> off the shelf from time to time
for a different reason than when I feel the need to scratch my Flusser itch.
There are some writers whose grocery lists would be on my to-read roster simply
because of the way they write. Hitchens was one and Bruce Boyer is another. So
Boyer’s a winning combination for me: Stories sartorial, but also nicely strung
together. I swear I wish that I could write with the flourish of Flusser and
the stylish discipline of Boyer. Here’s what I’m talking about. From page 101 in Boyer's <i>Elegance</i>, on the subject of double-breasted suits. <i>"...this all sounds very Sherlock Holmes, but nonetheless and to move quickly to the </i></span><span style="line-height: 18.3999996185303px;"><i>denouement</i></span><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><i> of this classic tale of crime and detection, when the police finally tracked down and captured George Metesky, we was indeed wearing a double breasted suit."</i> Most of the young I-Gents, who by the way, love Bruce and Bruce them, would throw in the towel upon getting all tangled up in the word </span></span></span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 18.3999996185303px;"><i>denouement. </i>Not me. Hell,<i> </i></span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; text-indent: 0in;">I even save
all of G. The Bruce's emails because even his most casually dashed-off missives sing.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyig1V8FkSJGsGbUh0JLkYpJDHgcbhwZJUCkD8PRQPJTy_-_KRg71Zr3zvRJOhgQSTVUn9TwDBQTkTQULgqmTMmXxBmAs9Xn2giR6ER3xdrOyYwRL8qtS-9y8WYsNyUsZ1lu4-qLoctkzA/s1600/boyer.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyig1V8FkSJGsGbUh0JLkYpJDHgcbhwZJUCkD8PRQPJTy_-_KRg71Zr3zvRJOhgQSTVUn9TwDBQTkTQULgqmTMmXxBmAs9Xn2giR6ER3xdrOyYwRL8qtS-9y8WYsNyUsZ1lu4-qLoctkzA/s400/boyer.JPG" width="375" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; text-indent: 0in;">One of the highlights
of the past four years has been my growing acquaintance with Mister Boyer. </span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDOrYZaaQYqu9duhGp_W5I_qbBh1-fcubQvB3FV1V0_pQSakzRG5QYgx-OGNxVS5NgZF0rEWSXo_wRFJImwhtMGPr7DOqFh75TnBbOdiIfrPHXEFPvy1L-pi-QEQGVi3KsB0dVuhGM87ch/s1600/300h.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDOrYZaaQYqu9duhGp_W5I_qbBh1-fcubQvB3FV1V0_pQSakzRG5QYgx-OGNxVS5NgZF0rEWSXo_wRFJImwhtMGPr7DOqFh75TnBbOdiIfrPHXEFPvy1L-pi-QEQGVi3KsB0dVuhGM87ch/s640/300h.jpg" width="582" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; text-indent: 0in;">Mathew
Bruccoli in his forward to Charles Fountain’s biography of George Frazier wrote that there were </span><i style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; text-indent: 0in;">"various Georges, depending on the company and setting". </i><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; text-indent: 0in;">Well I’ve only discovered one
Bruce so far. He’s authentic and consistent as hell. Whether he’s speaking about
Miles Davis from the F.I.T. podium, at a book signing amidst admirers, debating
and dickering one-on-one with tailors and shoe makers about crucial details, or
sitting with you at lunch; he’s the same guy.</span></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPnjbIhGkLdI0ajzySAysVu8LWxmfTmnwRLzTiUbTituELWCbtXQWU0WfzdEUZPQ5mz-YhaiZRzagr2l6XdEMLi-blplhr2lxmX3ek_3wBoVvT_tRt7eGFBmlY92leZWGUd_oxkzKnbLD6/s1600/20725-CRF_5669-24d1a53c.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPnjbIhGkLdI0ajzySAysVu8LWxmfTmnwRLzTiUbTituELWCbtXQWU0WfzdEUZPQ5mz-YhaiZRzagr2l6XdEMLi-blplhr2lxmX3ek_3wBoVvT_tRt7eGFBmlY92leZWGUd_oxkzKnbLD6/s640/20725-CRF_5669-24d1a53c.jpeg" width="426" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 12.8000001907349px;">Used without permission but with thanks from <a href="http://www.lehighvalleystyle.com/February-2015/G-Bruce-Boyer/">Lehigh Valley Style </a></span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; text-indent: 0in;">Boyer offers no
pretense, no bluster, and zero swagger. He doesn’t need any of those protective
wrappers that the less confident are prone to rely upon. </span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; text-indent: 0in;"> </span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; text-indent: 0in;">The man knows who he is. Come to think of it,
the concept of swagger seems vulgar when correlated with Bruce. But don’t get
me wrong. The man is no pushover and like I’ve said before; nobody shit talks
Bruce Boyer.</span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjdfhVmougrj2yLSI3p9M-QaICZWWepZ013vYbKKaIsBdHMsurIVk-hWSe81VO8rZcXDVzp7vJ4PMMeNA17M8CpgU04-wvmwhz5U1VhOobppdRCCHGYMjMDc7JAc3ltGX0cKcWtT3xvhh3/s1600/Rose+Callahan.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjdfhVmougrj2yLSI3p9M-QaICZWWepZ013vYbKKaIsBdHMsurIVk-hWSe81VO8rZcXDVzp7vJ4PMMeNA17M8CpgU04-wvmwhz5U1VhOobppdRCCHGYMjMDc7JAc3ltGX0cKcWtT3xvhh3/s640/Rose+Callahan.jpg" width="426" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Thanks, Rose.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; text-indent: 0in;">Here’s a resolute Boyer
from a 2011 Wall Street Journal interview…</span><i style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; text-indent: 0in;">“It is both delusional and stupid to
think that clothes don't really matter and we should all wear whatever we want.
Most people don't take clothing seriously enough, but whether we should or not,
clothes do talk to us and we make decisions based on people's appearances”</i><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; text-indent: 0in;">. There's probably no better tribute to Boyer than what <a href="https://medschool.vanderbilt.edu/diversity/person/andr%C3%A9-l-churchwell-md">Dr. Andre Churchwell</a> would offer about the man. Andre, one of <u>the</u> best dressed mammals in the universe will essentially tell you that the greatest sartorial lessons he ever learned and the best bespoke clothing guidance he got came from GeeBruce. </span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-Z0sJAv1WCr0QGwsfm97PL3b8u9LdQTbi9h2ncoM3rURSr37iqk1gv0-7rnzDP4AMaNSHW29EWw_7GgZD_XiWjQZfGKBX2Ff4_HF9cKciav26EDSte9fHCRyDzLZWThCypZgO69oHrfvf/s1600/HotelBethlehem_gallery3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-Z0sJAv1WCr0QGwsfm97PL3b8u9LdQTbi9h2ncoM3rURSr37iqk1gv0-7rnzDP4AMaNSHW29EWw_7GgZD_XiWjQZfGKBX2Ff4_HF9cKciav26EDSte9fHCRyDzLZWThCypZgO69oHrfvf/s640/HotelBethlehem_gallery3.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; text-indent: 0in;">And he’s the same fella
back home in Bethlehem as he is in Gotham City. I met Bruce at the Hotel
Bethlehem for lunch back in the winter and his </span><i style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; text-indent: 0in;">“I’m in my office at home writing so don’t expect a dressed to the
nines lunch mate”</i><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; text-indent: 0in;"> sartorial ensemble intrigued me. He’s one of those guys
who could get dressed in the dark and still nail the hell out of it. Boyer was
sitting there in a cardigan sweater over one of his ever present neat-check
tattersall shirts. Just so.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">But it was the day's sneak
peek of his ascot that got me. I wish I'd taken a picture of it. I say peek "of" instead of "at" for a reason. And it wasn’t really an ascot per se as much as
it was a well-worn scarf, knotted loosely and set in a way that just the right
amount of it showed. And what really got me was the most harmonious color play
between the cardigan, the mini-tattersall, and the scarf. There was evidence of
these things having been paid attention to during assemblage but not too much.
That’s Boyer. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBPzJGLT6O5jNdJCj-4Xs9SyHyKKUjSoXavgFufEF97IQ8rG0wrcE9QfsTLc3xqUgzharu_M1BVJZ1Ut-PksHSL6Tg-3TkAvu2lNGlZUEjAU54hrxWI2C7WgBcRwIqs2UDEWSlXZiae4Tl/s1600/CRF_6097-edit-274da39a.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBPzJGLT6O5jNdJCj-4Xs9SyHyKKUjSoXavgFufEF97IQ8rG0wrcE9QfsTLc3xqUgzharu_M1BVJZ1Ut-PksHSL6Tg-3TkAvu2lNGlZUEjAU54hrxWI2C7WgBcRwIqs2UDEWSlXZiae4Tl/s640/CRF_6097-edit-274da39a.jpeg" width="532" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 12.8000001907349px;">Used without permission but with thanks from </span><a href="http://www.lehighvalleystyle.com/February-2015/G-Bruce-Boyer/" style="font-size: 12.8000001907349px;">Lehigh Valley Style </a></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; text-indent: 0in;">You’ll also get the
same Boyer should he invite you into his home. His digs are as well appointed as his clothes...well, but not over-done. And since he’s not one to
brag I’ll do it for him. Bruce’s wife is
a stunner inside and out. She’s just as genuine as the Mister and to say that
Bruce married way above his pay grade is an understatement. Sorry, Bruce but it’s
true.</span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_yAE-DmOzfsxDMkB6ekn_d-RtQicm-rC71XR4DDH5Qo1yNa-sVTJdfvEy5vboBz2zsU_qpFsi3eDu5gatO4TJJWetv4CjmBeo-y5dzNQQ_5b4xZanyFMP9Dxr4i9s4Xu4r5T0zm0Fz_64/s1600/51V5WVzwH-L._SX329_BO1%252C204%252C203%252C200_.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_yAE-DmOzfsxDMkB6ekn_d-RtQicm-rC71XR4DDH5Qo1yNa-sVTJdfvEy5vboBz2zsU_qpFsi3eDu5gatO4TJJWetv4CjmBeo-y5dzNQQ_5b4xZanyFMP9Dxr4i9s4Xu4r5T0zm0Fz_64/s640/51V5WVzwH-L._SX329_BO1%252C204%252C203%252C200_.jpg" width="424" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; text-indent: 0in;">There’s lots of
middling schmatta stuff to read on the internet but when was the last time you
read really well written sartorial prose? I’m happy that Bruce is offering us an oasis of
tailored writing amidst all the run-on over-egged drivel like the sh_t you’re
reading right now. </span><i style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; text-indent: 0in;"><a href="http://www.amazon.com/True-Style-History-Principles-Menswear/dp/0465053998">True Style: The History and Principles of
Classic Menswear</a></i><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; text-indent: 0in;"><a href="http://www.amazon.com/True-Style-History-Principles-Menswear/dp/0465053998"> </a>is ready
and waiting for you at amazon.com or wherever else you pick up your books. And
like all the rest of my Boyer books, I’m looking forward to having the true
north, the voice of reason and well cadenced sartorial sensibility sign my copy
in a week or two.</span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">And finally, this from
G. The Bruce…<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisTbkWRaPIJ4ctm-pjjAwJV-peQauxgzXInuQH_ipPDTNTRVTp6QHJdbxBWfQzEiLTRQ7FLer3hrD-owXMhVAC7Mc5hqZePqdlERXfrM41rx_kYmfg1N-jxrprjg7P6uzvl_2gT7IA1qsA/s1600/sartorialist.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisTbkWRaPIJ4ctm-pjjAwJV-peQauxgzXInuQH_ipPDTNTRVTp6QHJdbxBWfQzEiLTRQ7FLer3hrD-owXMhVAC7Mc5hqZePqdlERXfrM41rx_kYmfg1N-jxrprjg7P6uzvl_2gT7IA1qsA/s640/sartorialist.jpg" width="426" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">From The Sartorialist</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<i style="text-indent: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">“My
dress is so conservative compared to some. You look at some of the guys in
there, they are ready for Mardi Gras.”</span></i><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; text-indent: 0in;"> When Bruce said this
during an interview for Lehigh Valley Style, I know he was talking about the
book <i>I am Dandy</i> but he was probably also
taking a shot at me.</span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiU395BDxmpJAEY5cfpRKW99s_pXUA_gmSKLqXgmoN_GABUxBv6vxEPFuBLEY3uae2qbiEooASttamppGcOoXwZ10f_W30tYaDuj-Nf6kaQTii3q7HrQ3o7BjYxxZS9m7NoU1liRoP-zzER/s1600/tumblr_m500qiBZpP1qlmxcoo1_1280.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="478" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiU395BDxmpJAEY5cfpRKW99s_pXUA_gmSKLqXgmoN_GABUxBv6vxEPFuBLEY3uae2qbiEooASttamppGcOoXwZ10f_W30tYaDuj-Nf6kaQTii3q7HrQ3o7BjYxxZS9m7NoU1liRoP-zzER/s640/tumblr_m500qiBZpP1qlmxcoo1_1280.png" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; text-indent: 0in;">Onward. To Boston this
week for a rare these days billable.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">ADG-2, Mister Mardi
Gras. “Throw me sumpin Mistah!”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
ADGhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16612897500610475937noreply@blogger.com16tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8818519199109196200.post-9740704798675798762015-06-22T09:08:00.000-04:002015-06-23T13:08:44.692-04:00Part Two: Birmingham Alabama—In Alden Pebble Grain<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0in;">
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">Well
to be honest I’m not quite ready for part two of my Alden Pebble Grain—Birmingham
story. And I promise there will be more about haberdashery-esque observations and less ramblings about Birmingham in the tumultuous civil
rights sixties. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">But
I’ve still got a little more of that stuff that I need to purge from my little
system. The Mountain Brook Club and the Country Club of Birmingham and what I’ll
call the Angst of the Mules must be addressed briefly in the next installment.
Stay tuned. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">What
I am ready to talk about is Father’s Day. My hope is that all of you fathers in
my sphere and all who comment on my blog and tumblr drivel—many of you who’ve
become great friends—had a stellar day yesterday. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; text-indent: 0in;">LFG
and her mother came over to CasaMinimusBethesda and we had a nice dinner. Outside.
Swathed in Deep Woods Off with DEET. And Miss Reilley, Lily’s Cavalier King
Charles Princess was here in full form. She is forbidden to have table scraps.
That’s code for </span><i style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; text-indent: 0in;">“ADG gave her wee bits of grilled NY Strip steak and a lot of
it."</i><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; text-indent: 0in;"> Yep.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; text-indent: 0in;">I’m
not sure I used my Father’s Day gift properly. LFG's mama was a hollerin' and suggesting that we call the fire department. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; text-indent: 0in;">And
let me tell you. All of you huggers who think that DEET is the devil, well you
must not have the high ass caliber skeeters that live here in my patch. These bad boys
bit thru my heavy starched linen shirt last night. I think it’s a combination of
the predictable skeeter insatiability and a special siren song pull of knowing that
my particular sweet meat awaits them. Otherwise, I just don’t think a skeeter would
risk damaging their fencing foil snouts trying to punch through my stiff linen
barrier. Shut the _____.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; text-indent: 0in;">LFG
and her mom. My baby is anything but a baby anymore.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; text-indent: 0in;">And
finally, the greatest gift that I could have received yesterday came from a
friend—blood brother caliber friend—who started out as a client of mine. Almost
bought tears to my eyes. Bill is navigating his journey with a level of grace and gratitude
that can be a lesson for us all. He has two elementary school age little girls
and an incredible wife. Bill and his wife are lovely inside and out because of the
energy of sweet kindness that illuminates from within. Bill’s wife has metastatic breast
cancer and is now declining further treatment. They are living moment by moment
in gratitude for...The Moment.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">The Moment. Folks, it’s really all we have. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; text-indent: 0in;">Onward.
With loving kindness. And wearing Hogg Howell GTH Kilim shoes. Just to piss off LFG's mom. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">ADG-II<o:p></o:p></span></div>
ADGhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16612897500610475937noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8818519199109196200.post-11176571934353033442015-06-18T10:00:00.000-04:002015-06-18T10:00:33.584-04:00Part One: Birmingham Alabama—In Alden Pebble Grain<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; text-indent: 0in;">South Carolina, my home
state.</span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; text-indent: 0in;"> </span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; text-indent: 0in;">Number forty-eight in SAT scores
and number two</span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; text-indent: 0in;"> </span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; text-indent: 0in;">in gonorrhea. We always
jokingly said “thank God for Mississippi” because it always seemed that we were
in a death roll headlock scrambling with them to either stay off of the top or
bottom of some damn list.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Arkansas—my friend
Dawson revels in forwarding me links to news reports about the always absurd
shenanigans that go on in South Carolina. She feels better about her native
Arkansas when she finds a little bit of embarrassing S.C. skinny to share. And
even she’ll admit that her hopes for Bill Clinton’s presidency offering
Arkansas a bit of polish were childish. Instead of a spiffed up image, Arkansas
<i>“got nothing but a schmear of tarted up
red lipstick”. </i>Her words, not mine.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; text-indent: 0in;">It seemed that a few
years ago there was something going on in my state every week. And this was
several years </span><i style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; text-indent: 0in;">after</i><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; text-indent: 0in;"> they finally got
the damned rebel flag off the top of the state house.</span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; text-indent: 0in;"> </span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; text-indent: 0in;">Everyone knows about our </span><a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mark_Sanford_disappearance_and_extramarital_affair" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; text-indent: 0in;">governor being MIA</a><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; text-indent: 0in;"> while supposedly taking a walkabout on the
Appalachian Trail.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; text-indent: 0in;">And an assistant state attorney general and former legislator, old enough to be an historical relic,
found </span><a href="http://www.wach.com/news/photos.aspx?id=370316#.VYK1Z_m6ftQ" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; text-indent: 0in;">drunk in his SUV</a><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; text-indent: 0in;"> with a teenage hoochie coochie merchant and an array of
sex toys and poppers throwed all about in rolling playpen. I got an urgent SCUD
email about both of these unfortunate events, annotated </span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; text-indent: 0in;"> </span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; text-indent: 0in;">of course by Dawson.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; text-indent: 0in;">And the one that Dawson
took particular relish in sending over was the video clip of a South Carolina beauty
pageant contestant speaking some kind of </span><a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kiiAiTijx8c" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; text-indent: 0in;">Pig Latin pidgin incoherency</a><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; text-indent: 0in;"> when
answering her finalist impromptu question during the Miss Teen USA pageant. Her
email simply said </span><i style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; text-indent: 0in;">“You must be proud”.</i></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; text-indent: 0in;">It ain’t always easy
being Southern. Oh, and before I go any further with this overwrought sub
Mason-Dixon workout, let me say that the rest of the contiguous forty-eight
ain’t any cleaner. It’s just that when we Southerners sin, we do it with
relish. Sweet pepper relish. And devilled eggs, and pimiento cheese, and sweet
tea and…shut up. </span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; text-indent: 0in;"> </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; text-indent: 0in;">I’ll never forget a
documentary I watched about the efforts to integrate the University of Mississippi.
They interviewed students who </span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; text-indent: 0in;"> </span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; text-indent: 0in;">were there
amidst the conflict. And one member of the 1962 SEC champions, </span><a href="http://sports.espn.go.com/espn/eticket/story?page=mississippi62" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; text-indent: 0in;">undefeated OleMiss football team</a><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; text-indent: 0in;"> from that year choked up during the interview. He confessed
to the journalist that he’d been trying to make peace with the legacy of his
beloved state for his entire life.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgn7cH7kSt2l6gJA_MaibWXzvrqgZ4sSaf5Tz-GUiWAlfV_k9msD-B5JFDg9y9AIo25YDdR-gH6XTd5mAtmfD_tf9ykEW27UCR05sSOYNaotMpNQ7GcHGkrg2jTG7JrDn-ckB4DyOFNAMRZ/s1600/etick_07_g_jeeps01_850.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="428" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgn7cH7kSt2l6gJA_MaibWXzvrqgZ4sSaf5Tz-GUiWAlfV_k9msD-B5JFDg9y9AIo25YDdR-gH6XTd5mAtmfD_tf9ykEW27UCR05sSOYNaotMpNQ7GcHGkrg2jTG7JrDn-ckB4DyOFNAMRZ/s640/etick_07_g_jeeps01_850.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; text-indent: 0in;">He was a big boy, and
one who seemed disinclined to show much emotion and certainly not while a
camera was rolling.</span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; text-indent: 0in;"> </span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; text-indent: 0in;">But you could tell
that he was still hurtin’. And he said to the journalist in halting utterances,
parsed to hold back his tears; something to the effect that </span><i style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; text-indent: 0in;">“I’ve been speaking to any and every one of
you who’ve ever contacted me over the years. And none of you get it right”.</i><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; text-indent: 0in;">
I don’t think the boy felt like anyone had ever really heard him and I think he
felt like none of this journalist’s predecessors had done anything to help
Mississippi heal.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVBbtK2xf6K6YYunOOnIb5jmFre3Nj6DMSEdjz5lBD9CzGw2T_n1q_cip5UHzl7uzUS5BLUDLFrgLUEduM2In2EJugbhgtnPX6GBifGwXlR9xin0lNiwLcl8iojTbdiFY2lFSQ7dzBqiLv/s1600/IMG_9850.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVBbtK2xf6K6YYunOOnIb5jmFre3Nj6DMSEdjz5lBD9CzGw2T_n1q_cip5UHzl7uzUS5BLUDLFrgLUEduM2In2EJugbhgtnPX6GBifGwXlR9xin0lNiwLcl8iojTbdiFY2lFSQ7dzBqiLv/s640/IMG_9850.JPG" width="480" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<o:p></o:p><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Oh sh_t, I’m five
hundred and fifty words in and I got side tracked. This was supposed to be
about Alabama and Alden Pebble Grain tassel loafers. Hang with me, crackers.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqe8lZJ73hMg-41282bY9Ir8dKuRU5cqp9ozji6JjMmERbk6VSPF4Wl2ZuPR46sWArxF8siXHgt46CBfPg2rGfiETYNyWtoi-Ys0DKMicx-SInYReTxPkkOrORkPhUA8DDQPr5dcu8dj9R/s1600/300px-Birmingham_campaign_dogs.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="450" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqe8lZJ73hMg-41282bY9Ir8dKuRU5cqp9ozji6JjMmERbk6VSPF4Wl2ZuPR46sWArxF8siXHgt46CBfPg2rGfiETYNyWtoi-Ys0DKMicx-SInYReTxPkkOrORkPhUA8DDQPr5dcu8dj9R/s640/300px-Birmingham_campaign_dogs.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; text-indent: 0in;">I’m not sure why
Alabama never entered my mind as I sought solace through finding at least one
other Southern state to benchmark my crazy ass Palmetto patch against. Surely
it hasn’t been easier to be from Alabama. Let me see here…</span><a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/?title=Birmingham_campaign" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; text-indent: 0in;">Bull Connor, firehoses and attack dogs</a><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; text-indent: 0in;">, church bombings and of course, Selma.</span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0xGBgWsU2cKFAEnBgc0OUYZHryBx3acbqzrb27jaocbcswm7ETep3sujOpL03AGVHGxRUd8PigMGmEratPlSKU8OERmG5-wGRyeiWSLoL_NMpPM7Rb2mHjvSCXTlrPMUxcGp1VgAvjXz8/s1600/1000509261001_2119569664001_Rosa-Parks-Legacy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0xGBgWsU2cKFAEnBgc0OUYZHryBx3acbqzrb27jaocbcswm7ETep3sujOpL03AGVHGxRUd8PigMGmEratPlSKU8OERmG5-wGRyeiWSLoL_NMpPM7Rb2mHjvSCXTlrPMUxcGp1VgAvjXz8/s640/1000509261001_2119569664001_Rosa-Parks-Legacy.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; text-indent: 0in;">One of my colleagues
when I was in the pharmaceutical industry revealed to me something one night.
And within his confession, I could tell that after all these years, he still didn’t
know how to wear it. He tugged at the too tight collar of it all while uttering
every word to me. He grew up in Montgomery and it was his municipal bus driving
uncle, his father’s brother, who ordered Rosa Parks to the back of the bus.</span></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtK3OYLSHf7l_X7XqWvMjGZVVM2XRmKeVcCkv9BrPegpROpqT-BKsazbWmRhNQfRlqrUfthKYOopSHpmWDOsTpooY93iCR7DYVWUMQBGrLo56FwMJI2JkZvwyVW6O_TGBtD98k__uvExx6/s1600/Alabama-Writers-Symposium.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="456" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtK3OYLSHf7l_X7XqWvMjGZVVM2XRmKeVcCkv9BrPegpROpqT-BKsazbWmRhNQfRlqrUfthKYOopSHpmWDOsTpooY93iCR7DYVWUMQBGrLo56FwMJI2JkZvwyVW6O_TGBtD98k__uvExx6/s640/Alabama-Writers-Symposium.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"Get your left hand off of my ass Mister President"</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; text-indent: 0in;">Thank God for Harper Lee,
Truman Capote, Zelda Fitzgerald, Helen Keller, Winston Groom and Bear Bryant is
all I got to say. Oops. I just realized that I threw a few crazies in this
thank God compensatory Alabama bandage.</span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNSC00_8pJVk-1R4SGeml1ZMeTDtJvnpTdKdRuKxaCcZO_2kJotSovpXsx47rR8o1jZDC_iyTu2D27DrQGSbURcCr8L8d4Izf4YhHtis4DzO9NElU8HAy69i_FScexBk97Ds0GJT9cP_Jw/s1600/IMG_3015+%25282%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNSC00_8pJVk-1R4SGeml1ZMeTDtJvnpTdKdRuKxaCcZO_2kJotSovpXsx47rR8o1jZDC_iyTu2D27DrQGSbURcCr8L8d4Izf4YhHtis4DzO9NElU8HAy69i_FScexBk97Ds0GJT9cP_Jw/s640/IMG_3015+%25282%2529.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; text-indent: 0in;">My sister married her
high school sweetheart the October after they graduated from college. Just like
she was supposed to. They moved to Birmingham and thus my association with the
Pittsburgh of the South began.</span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNjDs-ZPlTMKoSjaXU6FRI9SrL2UGcgVxD9vGPIFd9jXK5TBfT-gXFHVAFrXOybiNkmJ2eA5Erk_rQUR9E_KybARCN9Rg5EJfdRoO2Aw5Ed8hVktAC3ric_Q8qJUb-M8gFwujyKokpYgqk/s1600/079.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNjDs-ZPlTMKoSjaXU6FRI9SrL2UGcgVxD9vGPIFd9jXK5TBfT-gXFHVAFrXOybiNkmJ2eA5Erk_rQUR9E_KybARCN9Rg5EJfdRoO2Aw5Ed8hVktAC3ric_Q8qJUb-M8gFwujyKokpYgqk/s640/079.JPG" width="380" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; text-indent: 0in;">My brother-in-law was
my five year older brother. Not the older brother I never had. I had him. He
was my brother. He was the older brother who told me that if I wanted to be a
Knight of the Kappa Alpha Order like him, I had to do this, that and the other before
I ever hit the doors of college so to better my chances of getting in. I had to
pull my baggy Levis 501s up and cut my hair. And after I pulled my baggy jeans
up I was told to trade them in for some khakis. And I bought a pair of Weejuns
and remember thinking that if I didn’t get a KA bid, I had no clue what I’d do
with those shoes. </span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYe8l_3LizW1Z44ZQK6LuXbpuM6QqvbCXOQH0dEI0JqHWgexaZGRTAFqSp3Rk3FukmgvHovKBKf6eb5BIqoYlVgTwFBXBWmL4bfHDFnzOx2wLHm1hDhXMb3lY3evwCjJflj6zDfnTxPkHA/s1600/college.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYe8l_3LizW1Z44ZQK6LuXbpuM6QqvbCXOQH0dEI0JqHWgexaZGRTAFqSp3Rk3FukmgvHovKBKf6eb5BIqoYlVgTwFBXBWmL4bfHDFnzOx2wLHm1hDhXMb3lY3evwCjJflj6zDfnTxPkHA/s640/college.jpg" width="616" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; text-indent: 0in;">Mind you, I was still trying real hard to be a hippie—something
I never was really good at.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">I’m on the record as
saying that I’d a sold my mama to get a bid from the KA’s. And y’all know how
much I loved my mama. <i>(Let me clarify. He
wasn’t my <u>actual blood brother</u>. My characterization here is strictly
metaphorical. I just panicked at the realization that some of you Yankee asses
who read my caca might actually believe that we Southerners marry our siblings.
That’s an ugly stereotype. We draw the line after first cousins.) <o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><i><br /></i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">And so my two or three
times a year visits to Birmingham were always fun. Visits made more so by the
addition of young’uns—first a nephew and then a niece and another nephew after
that. But my brother-in-law used me like a tool while I was there and I loved
it. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8O9BooYKtwBAN1fdFsj_vtvRvg40jZ7q6OPVEYL8zfy2mmYgjLfgfjSgk7tkhRJxmVHQuxKActH87fel4H_MUWMWjLyzXQDoQK4v6rhY5duBFknl2dRAYZhTN7lWlpT6LYhdBsNUqrAhD/s1600/photo+%25282%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8O9BooYKtwBAN1fdFsj_vtvRvg40jZ7q6OPVEYL8zfy2mmYgjLfgfjSgk7tkhRJxmVHQuxKActH87fel4H_MUWMWjLyzXQDoQK4v6rhY5duBFknl2dRAYZhTN7lWlpT6LYhdBsNUqrAhD/s640/photo+%25282%2529.jpg" width="546" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; text-indent: 0in;">I was his excuse for
getting out of the house and going honky tonkin’. And he’d sorted out all of
the best ones…the nicer, more respectable places around Five Points as well as
the low-er brow ones sprinkled all over town. And God knows how back then I
loved</span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; text-indent: 0in;"> </span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; text-indent: 0in;">a hyper-air conditioned Southern
juke joint. I still do. Here I am one morning after a Birmingham night out. L.L. Bean Mocs, LaCoste knit shirt, old surplus khakis from Fort Bragg. Just about to spew.</span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6u-iVN5RV_DTHnW5mFfVZ20G0i0IT4BlWGiVabdnbUO9f3TCjkXU9aAP-WGFdYhP2YnQnQ3tbaYOXoHgzPhQO-huq6SYKw3bClXCTqNuyej94bFX_93eMY9-z8NMkDGemx_wjFQUm7xMA/s1600/plaza.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6u-iVN5RV_DTHnW5mFfVZ20G0i0IT4BlWGiVabdnbUO9f3TCjkXU9aAP-WGFdYhP2YnQnQ3tbaYOXoHgzPhQO-huq6SYKw3bClXCTqNuyej94bFX_93eMY9-z8NMkDGemx_wjFQUm7xMA/s640/plaza.jpg" width="506" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; text-indent: 0in;">Tants, The Plaza, and
some really dodgy joint out near the airport come to mind. We would drop my
brother-in-law’s Jaguar off with a guy who detailed private airplanes. His name
was Ike and he detailed the dooky out of cars too. We’d then go to this joint
nearby and eat a cheeseburger and have a dozen beers. Nirvana.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">My Birmingham sorties
trailed off for various reasons and until a couple of months ago, I hadn’t set
foot in Birmingham for a decade. My
sister and brother-in-law divorced he, the Topsider wearing, heavy starched khakis,
bourbon and branch swilling good ole boy has been living with his current wife
in New York for many years now. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_sd4y_sloan_s_V5e4yMnuXBoGZ4hdaK_wW73pWGCfQl8Ocal1VQ5lh9WjIrnq4d5Tj7nJoLmipJ9Dgam6OuzOktt7tLkz_QWYXdO2Ku6O3YBsyLB-vYCmwI3n7wlBovftiDC_x8jpliq/s1600/IMG_2747+%25282%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_sd4y_sloan_s_V5e4yMnuXBoGZ4hdaK_wW73pWGCfQl8Ocal1VQ5lh9WjIrnq4d5Tj7nJoLmipJ9Dgam6OuzOktt7tLkz_QWYXdO2Ku6O3YBsyLB-vYCmwI3n7wlBovftiDC_x8jpliq/s640/IMG_2747+%25282%2529.jpg" width="500" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; text-indent: 0in;">My mother’s</span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; text-indent: 0in;"> </span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; text-indent: 0in;">twenty month odyssey before leaving this
world was transformative for me. Her passing was too slow coming and she’d be
the first to tell you so. And it wore me out so as easy as I can say that it
was transformative, it’s too soon for me to tell you what the final
transformation will net-out. </span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; text-indent: 0in;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">I was just
getting used to wearing my orphan existentiality when I got the text that my
niece was dead. It’s been three months the shocking cruelty and acuteness of it
still has my head spinning. It’s a punishing world when four months after ones
mom passes, the universe decides to rip the fledgling scab off of your heart by
taking someone so young. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiII_K6_Fj3AUkGsnqYEvwxWdU2-o2Ul2Q4AQRaSasB-QOyls3BeWQPObeeVRjHUtV-OAIgFuavomaerOu43XChw1Ahdyicxf8s4Pqw8o8etpafFAQL0Ywar6-JKxrKzDdVy3Gssipx8YFH/s1600/%2524%2528KGrHqNHJCME9ubOoDP0BPnC2%252Bkkz%2521--60_57.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="306" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiII_K6_Fj3AUkGsnqYEvwxWdU2-o2Ul2Q4AQRaSasB-QOyls3BeWQPObeeVRjHUtV-OAIgFuavomaerOu43XChw1Ahdyicxf8s4Pqw8o8etpafFAQL0Ywar6-JKxrKzDdVy3Gssipx8YFH/s640/%2524%2528KGrHqNHJCME9ubOoDP0BPnC2%252Bkkz%2521--60_57.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; text-indent: 0in;">So my sojourn back to
Birmingham was gut wrenching. But I was happy to be in the service of my sister
while there. I ran the errands and did the mundane as well as the less than
joyful duties involving retrieving ashes and such. But after a few days, I
needed a break. So I let my errand running send me over to Mountain Brook in
search of the old Richard’s of Mountain Brook haberdashery site. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">I’d revelled
in my buddy TCD’s email from a few years ago about the shop and I posted it in a previous blog story
but let me share it with you again….<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<b><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<b><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><a href="http://maxminimus.blogspot.com/search?q=birmingham">Richards of Mountain Brook</a><o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<b><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<i><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">“Every
now and then when I write something that really resonates with someone; I’ll
get a private email in response and sometimes the correspondence itself is post-worthy.
I wrote Nuanced Authenticity back in August and received a delightful
recollection about a haberdashery in the affluent area of Birmingham, Alabama
known as Mountain Brook. I’m sharing it with permission from my buddy TCD
because his email is to me, as evocative as my original story.<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<i><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<i><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Or
maybe it just hits all of my maudlin buttons. At any rate, here’s to the
“Richards of Mountain Brook” caliber haberdasheries of days gone by. I’ve said
it before and I’ll say it again, I’m sorry that y’all…the younger set of
Trads…missed these gems. And as my cousin Tin-Tin says of our now more
derivative than ever world…“Not as good as it was. Better than it will be.”<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<i><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Here’s
TCD’s email…<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<i><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">“This
post hit so many memory keys that I can't take the time to list them....but....<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<i><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Our
version of "your Singleton's" in a suburb of Birmingham, AL called
Mountain Brook was "Richards of Mountain Brook".<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdffYvmygfLn1fPz3OMedo2Z879LYEFQ7LCjNn8-lOLETCwVE6KqZoJ52aaYsjwxvTf26qYDcDjeJtxeq5mrRbY7GkembEqazz0XwvK3RUfcrqr1-8nsrRxzQvfDc452huJlfNLvppLDTO/s1600/IMG_9817+%25282%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdffYvmygfLn1fPz3OMedo2Z879LYEFQ7LCjNn8-lOLETCwVE6KqZoJ52aaYsjwxvTf26qYDcDjeJtxeq5mrRbY7GkembEqazz0XwvK3RUfcrqr1-8nsrRxzQvfDc452huJlfNLvppLDTO/s640/IMG_9817+%25282%2529.jpg" width="480" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<i style="text-indent: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">It
was located on a shady side street called Petticoat Lane in an old Tudor style
building with two bay windows flanking an imposing door with a leaded glass
coat of arms.</span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<i><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<i><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">We
knew we were adults when we graduated to Richards from the <a href="http://www.bhamwiki.com/w/Canterbury_Shop">"CanterburyShop"</a> a half a block away.<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<i><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<i><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">"Canterbury"
was our "nuance 101" with Bass Weejuns ( $14.95), Gant OCBD,
surcingle belts in about one hundred color combinations, Corbin trousers &
Southwick Blazers & sport coats....<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<i><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">"Richards"
took a high school freshman to his Dad's world & instantly verified it was
where you wanted to be even if it had not occurred to you before.....<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-bVvNczRjAKrfVVwgLfBAI4WeyjDCH-aM1E8uflU1nnxEwiuGIpW5BaGJUC24FKvIoZjekkvmY10wmzbJqD4UgqSAR5ziZBRBTbAmivwpnITf-LLwmzEXqc2Tc8Gy12YPu1-TNRAUrnmX/s1600/IMG_9820+%25282%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-bVvNczRjAKrfVVwgLfBAI4WeyjDCH-aM1E8uflU1nnxEwiuGIpW5BaGJUC24FKvIoZjekkvmY10wmzbJqD4UgqSAR5ziZBRBTbAmivwpnITf-LLwmzEXqc2Tc8Gy12YPu1-TNRAUrnmX/s640/IMG_9820+%25282%2529.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<i style="text-indent: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">As
you stepped into the doorway, you were confronted by a huge round mahogany
table with reps, clubs, & foulards (all of course labelled..."made in
England expressly for Richards".... arranged spoke in-wheel around the
table grouped by color. Guarding the display on either side were two complete
suits of armor.</span></i></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<i><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Beyond
the battle-ready armor were shelves and credenzas of Troy Guild OCBD....<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<i><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<i><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Just
down the center-hall, waist-high shelving displaying shoes (Crockett &
Jones) and socks....<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<i><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Suits
(private label with requisite..."made in England" as well as Norman
Hilton)....<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<i><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Richard
had a great eye and understood "Nuance" whether in selections offered
or in antique furnishings which abundantly decorated the shop...<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<i><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<i><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Just
a great place (& owner) with a sixth sense in how to deploy service and an
intelligent knowledge base of background of fabric, weave, fit, hand, &
pattern as well as a flair for what was complimentary in terms of tradition or,
if you dare, sprezzatura!<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdILv8119Jm9iEXyQf72hl8p1bpFyWzgFfkf0rKdOgXatbG6PDOdTaNvkl00pjeQaxnZ2OLOcLPU6E6-k0ap0m14Pj1jsZQSwSwylCy4WUV_2Normm9fdFgTS5dL-scnMQfYbS5Xcn10_g/s1600/IMG_9823+%25282%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdILv8119Jm9iEXyQf72hl8p1bpFyWzgFfkf0rKdOgXatbG6PDOdTaNvkl00pjeQaxnZ2OLOcLPU6E6-k0ap0m14Pj1jsZQSwSwylCy4WUV_2Normm9fdFgTS5dL-scnMQfYbS5Xcn10_g/s640/IMG_9823+%25282%2529.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<i style="text-indent: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">He
magically combined both during the Christmas Season when posted Welsh Guards in
full regalia in front of the shop and conducted Changing of the Guard twice per
day....and then, when you had made your purchases....all were gift-wrapped in
festive holiday color combinations of paper & ribbon in complex bows, each
of which held a Johnny Walker scotch miniature.....</span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<i><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<i><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Thanks
for the nudge to remember the late 60s and early 70s.....wonderful then and
cherished now!””<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzo5EfTBooGwxco0lW8IRYN8vrrjW0Q6Iz5AYCySbFpEGJFb6UqdszlkB8_KG-9FU26GZWChuVPy18iTyZL1YvNzlD4EuMru44IWCf0U49T0erJzuEK3YHrmzRLr9BZaVYRh9aXIGx6l0b/s1600/tracery_mtnbrkstorefront.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzo5EfTBooGwxco0lW8IRYN8vrrjW0Q6Iz5AYCySbFpEGJFb6UqdszlkB8_KG-9FU26GZWChuVPy18iTyZL1YvNzlD4EuMru44IWCf0U49T0erJzuEK3YHrmzRLr9BZaVYRh9aXIGx6l0b/s640/tracery_mtnbrkstorefront.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; text-indent: 0in;">And I found it. The old
Richard’s of Mountain Brook space is now some kind of design shop. But as I
snapped a few </span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 18.3999996185303px; text-indent: 0in;">iPhone</span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; text-indent: 0in;"> photos, I imagined it as TCD described it. And standing
there gave me the same great feeling that I so enjoy when I walk any patch
where years previous or centuries past, something significant occurred. </span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNqS5fPbQRyTix430BigtsuE-1SwsHJxTMdxW8NYVHHoh1DnOCFFodgEDPS73qS4VuruMyupSEVaAzGAKIB_hmcdCCecQ3sypDYZJcg-CkztQgy72qqogivdLnoqiUAgorgPmixM2XQSvh/s1600/LABATbullet_ks16_620x300.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="308" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNqS5fPbQRyTix430BigtsuE-1SwsHJxTMdxW8NYVHHoh1DnOCFFodgEDPS73qS4VuruMyupSEVaAzGAKIB_hmcdCCecQ3sypDYZJcg-CkztQgy72qqogivdLnoqiUAgorgPmixM2XQSvh/s640/LABATbullet_ks16_620x300.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; text-indent: 0in;">I kid
you not, the feeling is no less when I discover a Richards of Mountain Brook
site than when I’m standing in the Huey Long assassination corridor fingering the
bullet pocked granite walls of the Louisiana State House or looking through the
sixth floor window of the Texas School Book Suppository. (Ask any country boy…that
wasn’t an impossible shot by any stretch)</span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOd3NnCrYPOlaDt8eCOVN-Vun07LuCnvvQuUUnKd9U9tRa4HU1go4j2yi5s5uWhMKWjdWdzWD2DoK5aNm4ULYDIctRmSYEbG47KZYll9H4p1YORsDwFnE-TVa-dWgce5LqDV-I8MmXjm61/s1600/kju.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="444" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOd3NnCrYPOlaDt8eCOVN-Vun07LuCnvvQuUUnKd9U9tRa4HU1go4j2yi5s5uWhMKWjdWdzWD2DoK5aNm4ULYDIctRmSYEbG47KZYll9H4p1YORsDwFnE-TVa-dWgce5LqDV-I8MmXjm61/s640/kju.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">So my errand running reprieve
from bereavement nourished me even though I knew that the unguent was short
acting. I shot some photos and emailed TCD to let him know that I was on the
grounds of his former sartorial mother church. And then I rounded the corner… <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">I'll have Part Two ready for you sometime in early 2017. Shut up.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 16px; line-height: 18.3999996185303px;">Onward. 80-G-2</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0in;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<br /></div>
ADGhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16612897500610475937noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8818519199109196200.post-62811365824172972252015-02-01T15:33:00.000-05:002015-02-01T15:33:23.064-05:00The Stories…<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">The Stories…<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">I’ll
probably never write. I mean my head is full of them—and good ones, too. But I
don’t think they’ll make it to daylight anytime soon. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTqNeVl5RU5f-YMs6Pf_OFhF1jwvqiLvR1WjntIg5-PSkLhTgRtOQnN0i7iNRnxuQ9uUViXn5kgEsVRqKiHgSTSpmffFT7sad_f5ORdI-S3XjDKhbJW48dReCkPNkF_LKfh_cXDNHhH5jG/s1600/N03846_10.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTqNeVl5RU5f-YMs6Pf_OFhF1jwvqiLvR1WjntIg5-PSkLhTgRtOQnN0i7iNRnxuQ9uUViXn5kgEsVRqKiHgSTSpmffFT7sad_f5ORdI-S3XjDKhbJW48dReCkPNkF_LKfh_cXDNHhH5jG/s1600/N03846_10.jpg" height="640" width="472" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Ennui by Walter Richard Sickert circa 1914</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 150%;">Why
not? <a href="http://www.tate.org.uk/art/artworks/sickert-ennui-n03846">Ennui</a> came to mind but that’s not it. Not at all. Ennui to me denotes waiting
for something—a protracted, slow moving state of simmer—with a barely </span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;">fueled</span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 150%;"> yearn
for something, even if you don’t quite know what that something should be or is
going to be upon arrival. And I’m so settled on this rather comprehensive definition
of ennui that even if it’s miles off the mark, my definition stands.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">Writer’s
block would indicate that I’m a writer so that one’s out too. Boredom? Not so
much. Inability to concentrate, to hold a thought long enough for it to morph
into a cogent flurry of words? Now we are getting somewhere. Inertia. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">My
blessings outweigh my challenges and my decades old strategy of taking the proverbial
plusses and minuses inventory to reground me remains a decent technique. But
one thing I’ve learned in the last year and a half is that pain and suffering
are unique and the degree to which anyone suffers should never be discounted, regardless
of how their pluses and minuses exercise nets out. I’ll never again trivialize
anyone’s pain just because I view it as comparatively trifling.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">Bottom
line is that I think I’m still grieving. And I’m trying hard to step into it,
to participate in its coursing through, yet not wallow. But it’s cold here and
flannel sheets and lush robes and shearling lined bedroom slippers are
conducive to a bit of wallowing. Shut up. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZFatEtd9bcUVqLwlnTFFQRPNnpJE6OkMIjSnL8nA82u_Zz2ra4hPC6gABybWU7nkAI7OKnY5aBNtqSTL0aSYAVYKXI3ym6m7lc13bKIBZUCOy1XbG4gEhytqwZFw01Rem0JPco6b_iOrZ/s1600/photo+1.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZFatEtd9bcUVqLwlnTFFQRPNnpJE6OkMIjSnL8nA82u_Zz2ra4hPC6gABybWU7nkAI7OKnY5aBNtqSTL0aSYAVYKXI3ym6m7lc13bKIBZUCOy1XbG4gEhytqwZFw01Rem0JPco6b_iOrZ/s1600/photo+1.JPG" height="640" width="480" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 150%;">So
if I could write I’d finally do the promised story on this shirt from the nice
people at <a href="http://www.sebastianward.com/">Sebastian Ward.</a> </span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj09g1L07PAdq-JOdoa-WjTnGM5X-IVR6LZ03JXZC8IY4Q6fWFaVy7vUZUE33TzsRg6Lync2rGwwwawZHb1NjteTW-fPdZgl-d1hngu2cDNifgqyIXTejqPtH6nnF1oHH9-Vf7f_yFLQBuQ/s1600/photo+2.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj09g1L07PAdq-JOdoa-WjTnGM5X-IVR6LZ03JXZC8IY4Q6fWFaVy7vUZUE33TzsRg6Lync2rGwwwawZHb1NjteTW-fPdZgl-d1hngu2cDNifgqyIXTejqPtH6nnF1oHH9-Vf7f_yFLQBuQ/s1600/photo+2.JPG" height="640" width="476" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 150%;">I don’t shill so you know that if I agree to write
about a product, it’s gonna be unvarnished. And </span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 150%;"> </span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 150%;">I’ve already got the title. </span><i style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 150%;">Quirky Shirts</i><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 150%;">. Because they are. And of
course that suits the hell out of my fuzzy-diced, </span><i style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 150%;">“give me one of everything that you can possibly add to a garment, please”</i><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 150%;">
proclivities. </span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjh1jxtq1FJ-aFCPvQS_ofGQnWNKN1floUHGZ9KzDZlPMIxpPzKb3v5vjERSnmS_mcyYi8Nf6LClO9GcU0wjr6AWGkqd76oTqLGVvshnnjbtYHoQZPlvkzVfTRN2E4lUnmTcXA1IIpmDQmA/s1600/photo+3.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjh1jxtq1FJ-aFCPvQS_ofGQnWNKN1floUHGZ9KzDZlPMIxpPzKb3v5vjERSnmS_mcyYi8Nf6LClO9GcU0wjr6AWGkqd76oTqLGVvshnnjbtYHoQZPlvkzVfTRN2E4lUnmTcXA1IIpmDQmA/s1600/photo+3.JPG" height="640" width="558" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 150%;">I asked for a third sleeve with holes for three cufflinks and the
narrow thinking, unimaginative bastards at Sebastian Ward shut me down. Thank
you.</span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9QODb8unnB_d_HBxRILzdPJueG7UuDAgaPh_lk3yp0Eomu8OsOekcxy8UUFtZsXFMrB7KgGpm4opbyhbcDPbOCR7bFd1qHga_Nw8lIomJA3LhXSmWM1cyCdjhrMMPUn4E5nwhvJRQY_FS/s1600/photo+2.PNG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9QODb8unnB_d_HBxRILzdPJueG7UuDAgaPh_lk3yp0Eomu8OsOekcxy8UUFtZsXFMrB7KgGpm4opbyhbcDPbOCR7bFd1qHga_Nw8lIomJA3LhXSmWM1cyCdjhrMMPUn4E5nwhvJRQY_FS/s1600/photo+2.PNG" height="640" width="510" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 150%;">And
then there’s the story that if I did write it, I’d title it </span><i style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 150%;">Miracle Mark</i><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 150%;">. About my might as well be
blood brother </span><a href="http://www.paulstuart.com/paulstuart_custom.cfm?headermenuid=5" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 150%;">Mark Rykken</a><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 150%;"> and the fact that back when I was solvent, I had
Puerto make an updated version of my favorite W. Bills brown houndstooth jacket.</span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6G_wgd4BwPSiftqk_B0zMfMQNK1XaiQtngLppc8M4v6pf_78_VrSttxePel64PEkCOv2QQ9Ybs2bCB4egrVK8rZM4f1966P8k77jzNq5x0ObuRoaM65drQJmwCFKWzlE_Pedtnt7FXB4n/s1600/tumblr_nit9gxBCWR1u65pbbo1_1280.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6G_wgd4BwPSiftqk_B0zMfMQNK1XaiQtngLppc8M4v6pf_78_VrSttxePel64PEkCOv2QQ9Ybs2bCB4egrVK8rZM4f1966P8k77jzNq5x0ObuRoaM65drQJmwCFKWzlE_Pedtnt7FXB4n/s1600/tumblr_nit9gxBCWR1u65pbbo1_1280.jpg" height="640" width="534" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 150%;">Rykken
and I are both getting a wee bit long in the tooth. I honestly could afford to
gain eight to ten pounds; Rykken?</span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8HeSESfHxwQQhNhBSiy6Vi1jsZ2M3q35_0TgPK4Cp2f02zHbW3P5t0hZKIibZ5PMrKpvA__YP9-0nkxMYH9glr6b0PzDQ-Z-jNyPLF8TD3Ly5b3cpQOL2IdAkccqTd0F-o4JgcsbTGr40/s1600/Pics+031+(2).jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8HeSESfHxwQQhNhBSiy6Vi1jsZ2M3q35_0TgPK4Cp2f02zHbW3P5t0hZKIibZ5PMrKpvA__YP9-0nkxMYH9glr6b0PzDQ-Z-jNyPLF8TD3Ly5b3cpQOL2IdAkccqTd0F-o4JgcsbTGr40/s1600/Pics+031+(2).jpg" height="640" width="330" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 150%;">I
had a bulletproof, go-to version of this baby that my sartorial daddy, Alan
Flusser in concert with Rykken, made for me a zillion years ago. You can read all about that one <a href="http://maxminimus.blogspot.com/2011/12/houndstooth-diagonality.html">here. </a>And we did
that one faithful to the old Brooks Brothers model…open patch breast, patch and
flap side pockets, welt seams and my ADG 3/2 tweak. Just fuzzy enough, right?
But times change, and gorge, button stance nuances, and other impertanalia redefine
themselves. Redefinitions be damned because W.Bill was out of this houndstooth
for several years. You couldn’t make, or remake one if you wanted to.</span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPJE-KmZMA26BhRsvAbtmGGBLKHkmrTn2yqa3iDIaaE-O8nybTWMtDjEmB1BCa_VUMiWjsmTsu6fHgK8522pdyqeKrWESuD1XUaESEk7WLzLY3Qh_VLQ9xXebuui__O96wdpI8eP1VpT4o/s1600/photo+3.PNG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPJE-KmZMA26BhRsvAbtmGGBLKHkmrTn2yqa3iDIaaE-O8nybTWMtDjEmB1BCa_VUMiWjsmTsu6fHgK8522pdyqeKrWESuD1XUaESEk7WLzLY3Qh_VLQ9xXebuui__O96wdpI8eP1VpT4o/s1600/photo+3.PNG" height="640" width="488" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 150%;"> </span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 150%;">But then a bolt miraculously emerged. So I
transferred the old jacket to a faithful buyer who takes almost any and
everything ADG bespoke off of my hands for win-win prices and put a down
payment on the new one. And it took me a over year to finally get it finished.
Both payment and fitting.</span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXz72W06Yjmdd0rEZi-oo0MXMSbDZ6Ep99U96O_5urKg2vVwlLjQM09vv5bZiTpHnj9j8z2k3eqBTxcQpc7rynpwX6W4uyuFJ4X9maWkRYsIccuQ5wwamsPBhNmeeL5IV7GdcaEBgxwsoi/s1600/photo+4.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXz72W06Yjmdd0rEZi-oo0MXMSbDZ6Ep99U96O_5urKg2vVwlLjQM09vv5bZiTpHnj9j8z2k3eqBTxcQpc7rynpwX6W4uyuFJ4X9maWkRYsIccuQ5wwamsPBhNmeeL5IV7GdcaEBgxwsoi/s1600/photo+4.JPG" height="640" width="492" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="line-height: 150%;">I've always had a thing for brown/tan houndstooth. Here I am in London twenty years ago with my other daddy R.E.B. Read more about him <a href="http://maxminimus.blogspot.com/2010/03/rebs-office.html">here</a>.<span id="goog_2086333122"></span><span id="goog_2086333123"></span><a href="https://www.blogger.com/"></a> I'd just discovered the vintage clothing shop, Bertie Wooster in the Fulham Road earlier that day and pounced on the 3/2 peak number that I'm sporting for the photo opp.</span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilqUWxCIon-D1hiV1Z5vvF3kQyFFlnM-4fJYI5NUEPzY6EeVlWfur3WPImoKzGkwReM-fxxIJiV8fWp9hHippOsEj6H67CAYc7G39wgAn3D-SQwvVYpoHRD-FSw55udjxKDb12tryAEnUe/s1600/photo+5.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilqUWxCIon-D1hiV1Z5vvF3kQyFFlnM-4fJYI5NUEPzY6EeVlWfur3WPImoKzGkwReM-fxxIJiV8fWp9hHippOsEj6H67CAYc7G39wgAn3D-SQwvVYpoHRD-FSw55udjxKDb12tryAEnUe/s1600/photo+5.JPG" height="640" width="484" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="line-height: 150%;">Then a few years later, here's R.E.B. and me again. This time its October in Ponte Vedra and I'm to be married the next day. This houndstoothian version was wool and silk. I wore it to death. Alas.</span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgH8J-g2t8V6k9OWCP9YjACRQUOwN9tETMwSyljNPVJuc1jzdzi3SajB94R1umBgO5bU-8P3vQgnYeVF4q336VEQ22JuP0cPnNuNsTxorGoVZioFZk0qpm6pdADjMu6wj0YlxEnGG3YnQxU/s1600/photo.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgH8J-g2t8V6k9OWCP9YjACRQUOwN9tETMwSyljNPVJuc1jzdzi3SajB94R1umBgO5bU-8P3vQgnYeVF4q336VEQ22JuP0cPnNuNsTxorGoVZioFZk0qpm6pdADjMu6wj0YlxEnGG3YnQxU/s1600/photo.JPG" height="640" width="422" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="line-height: 150%;">Rykken didn't seem too chafed by my dilatory-essence. He offered that the jacket spawned a few additional sales when others gandered it. And after W.Bill ran out of the wool bolt, Rykken simply offered a one-hundred percent cashmere version to his more moneyed masses. </span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCZUQtVEt2YCTqeSbtYb4iDo1-vMkqmA1aaMh9j5IKp2DE7SmXWgG06-2hcaR-fuhj9lfS1dBsqWq3ysGk8qc8rNTFclcKS-4BKbtSMArMNtyT5XoDYWRtIB_31Cyz9Rai7nn5Tpf-JJXz/s1600/hilton.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCZUQtVEt2YCTqeSbtYb4iDo1-vMkqmA1aaMh9j5IKp2DE7SmXWgG06-2hcaR-fuhj9lfS1dBsqWq3ysGk8qc8rNTFclcKS-4BKbtSMArMNtyT5XoDYWRtIB_31Cyz9Rai7nn5Tpf-JJXz/s1600/hilton.jpg" height="266" width="640" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 150%;">And
there’s the story that I never did on my friend <a href="http://nickhilton.com/">Nick Hilton</a> I titled </span><i style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 150%;">Nick of Time</i><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 150%;">. And it was going to be a
good one too. About his kindness and renaissance man-ifestations and how his
wife is as lovely as she is nice, too. Nick made a couple of jackets for me a
zillion eons ago and I have things to say about them but also about his dad,
Norman. And the mantle Nick bears and the Ralph connection and all of the other
stuff that’s been rehashed along these lines. But not by me.</span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0yluTxGqay_cXgjdiXD2ZWx_7hD7wp1klokNRLbs4SWNcbSE9cb-qziKWobe-zZAwurs271mofBfwtCXdkN1ZbFvPR7AGCAAgOsoAmUatqO7W3f73d-toNxRrM1QlhVs8aIahLleOk9uc/s1600/photo+3.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0yluTxGqay_cXgjdiXD2ZWx_7hD7wp1klokNRLbs4SWNcbSE9cb-qziKWobe-zZAwurs271mofBfwtCXdkN1ZbFvPR7AGCAAgOsoAmUatqO7W3f73d-toNxRrM1QlhVs8aIahLleOk9uc/s1600/photo+3.JPG" height="606" width="640" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 150%;">How
could I not ideate on a story about my good friend Hetom at <a href="https://skyvaletshoes.com/">Sky Shoes?</a> </span><i style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 150%;">The Sky’s The Limit</i><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 150%;"> is the working title
of that one. Hetom is a trained shoemaker who, given the right circumstances,
could turn out bespoke shoes right here in D.C. He won’t do that for you but he
is the go to oasis of shodding knowledge inside the Beltway and I don’t know
why others don’t seek his counsel as often as I do. Crocket and Jones and Alden
and other unique tasty goods are there for the having.</span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQcr-YU3bpTyaP5LR0Ju_pm1e6YdFjg33SmxAFsm-9mwXd5OeomRNRTddBFI54XOyMIl75AyBYhQ4_AZwZ9nhz9d3tghosfdJThAFQee4jqTKfUjVoKevFzc9TAAjD_ekBGSqrnCxlkVE6/s1600/tumblr_ni757yk2vm1u65pbbo7_540.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQcr-YU3bpTyaP5LR0Ju_pm1e6YdFjg33SmxAFsm-9mwXd5OeomRNRTddBFI54XOyMIl75AyBYhQ4_AZwZ9nhz9d3tghosfdJThAFQee4jqTKfUjVoKevFzc9TAAjD_ekBGSqrnCxlkVE6/s1600/tumblr_ni757yk2vm1u65pbbo7_540.png" height="640" width="454" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 150%;">So
the blue suede C&J bluchers don’t come with suede tassels? Not a problem.
When your shoe supplier is also a shoemaker, he emails C&J and requests
enough blue suede to make tassels and add them to my shoddings. Aftermarket
fuzzy dice on demand. Bam!</span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2R7SksxWusWPwqTu9s6UStlvRSsUg5_7-EviebtX_A22OjGHDE1nB3oYJR3gygWC3-2HA5AWJRxQO_hwYC5nnnChy1O7NEDMhzM66W4V3zDytefO89i2dPjn5V1jz52TAYrarbC3x_fpf/s1600/photo+2.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2R7SksxWusWPwqTu9s6UStlvRSsUg5_7-EviebtX_A22OjGHDE1nB3oYJR3gygWC3-2HA5AWJRxQO_hwYC5nnnChy1O7NEDMhzM66W4V3zDytefO89i2dPjn5V1jz52TAYrarbC3x_fpf/s1600/photo+2.JPG" height="640" width="592" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 150%;">Sky's new line of almost Belgians are off the hook.</span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4u6wfjiHikAyGg7g7R8sGf32FS-azeMQXN6i__YJ03R4SN9gXjv2-pup8wsx76fFsAJZpejMEHv9gI7JG8iqHIUaNgrduuc6MSwL46OndWiaAa37FieYI0GeD7T1s_UV23IOmWwc5loDX/s1600/photo+5.PNG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4u6wfjiHikAyGg7g7R8sGf32FS-azeMQXN6i__YJ03R4SN9gXjv2-pup8wsx76fFsAJZpejMEHv9gI7JG8iqHIUaNgrduuc6MSwL46OndWiaAa37FieYI0GeD7T1s_UV23IOmWwc5loDX/s1600/photo+5.PNG" height="640" width="448" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 150%;">And they are almost not as
expensive as the NYC originals that I’m such a sycophant about. Shut.</span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7BrTnhTF1TCYpN_zR1uI7QhrCm7S102tEOvCw1rj3kTzaKeLL5mYS4zpPWpH-6lCz6hLszQZfzbIMkkWbQECfzhfH3oba-8N02KaSmo3x7yQqmjfXqNcuPz1Q4pHsLuZAWZrOPbpqwhYk/s1600/photo+1.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7BrTnhTF1TCYpN_zR1uI7QhrCm7S102tEOvCw1rj3kTzaKeLL5mYS4zpPWpH-6lCz6hLszQZfzbIMkkWbQECfzhfH3oba-8N02KaSmo3x7yQqmjfXqNcuPz1Q4pHsLuZAWZrOPbpqwhYk/s1600/photo+1.JPG" height="640" width="442" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 150%;">SteinMart
and <a href="http://www.alanflusser.com/">Daddy Flusser </a>would be in the queue for <a href="http://maxminimus.blogspot.com/2013/09/alan-flusser-and-my-mama.html">round two of Alan Flusser and MyMama</a> or vice damn versa. Why? Because the Flusser goods at SteinMart continue
to be tasty, fun and just fuzzy enough to have me pounce on them.</span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiudcS7-xQBgRblwvdkfUpnioFmColu0-r-gMd3c-S7P6ZsIfv4T71rHzKbkRDD2qmMGm47LzbU35WtQAwuXuMeWTw7KePLNt0wRs9dPAZKhUBgpxYwejNx8mw-NQC0DVkO5524ooJmvMLp/s1600/photo+3.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiudcS7-xQBgRblwvdkfUpnioFmColu0-r-gMd3c-S7P6ZsIfv4T71rHzKbkRDD2qmMGm47LzbU35WtQAwuXuMeWTw7KePLNt0wRs9dPAZKhUBgpxYwejNx8mw-NQC0DVkO5524ooJmvMLp/s1600/photo+3.JPG" height="640" width="496" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 150%;">The
nylon quilted goods this season are strong and at south of forty bucks, I now
own three of these quilted vests.</span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpaPTOb6UAw1lus9-u1OUPIA1MPw5zGoVqKUDy5Ej5Qb0gIRVNgamqOtqeXIS95pc0b587ppNnNR0mUUB01g6DQwoZ7qtIrgS49mXD6nlN1qTJ7qbfFDn1BtayAynEIoAOKeWtythDnSXQ/s1600/photo+1.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpaPTOb6UAw1lus9-u1OUPIA1MPw5zGoVqKUDy5Ej5Qb0gIRVNgamqOtqeXIS95pc0b587ppNnNR0mUUB01g6DQwoZ7qtIrgS49mXD6nlN1qTJ7qbfFDn1BtayAynEIoAOKeWtythDnSXQ/s1600/photo+1.JPG" height="640" width="640" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 150%;">The
FlussMart collection, for the money, is the tastiest thing in the store.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">I’d
also tell you about Alan ringing my phone one morning. <i>“I’m in a car, headed to
Florence to do an appearance at your hometown SteinMart. What’s the name of
that barbecue place that you always talk about? And your mom…”</i> Alan asked about
going to visit my mom. I demurred, knowing full-well that my hospital bed in
the middle of the den, mama would be too embarrassed to receive strangers
without me there. But I’ll never forget the gesture.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjF6dxrMdiufJXUO5xI4gRsOCBTKmYqnpUJrYwm5ygx1uiI5ulbDEhll5zLypC7e-s-EwfkQuzickALlZ0rOcQ7dl4wktOo75BJ3u52czCm0Bh_wN-St2PKVy-OsLkE6D32W8UqXFECak3A/s1600/photo+4.PNG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjF6dxrMdiufJXUO5xI4gRsOCBTKmYqnpUJrYwm5ygx1uiI5ulbDEhll5zLypC7e-s-EwfkQuzickALlZ0rOcQ7dl4wktOo75BJ3u52czCm0Bh_wN-St2PKVy-OsLkE6D32W8UqXFECak3A/s1600/photo+4.PNG" height="640" width="512" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 150%;">My
baby’s too old for me to revel you with twee little stories about our
daddy-daughter vacations and silly antics. But she’s still my baby and I’m so
proud of her I could just bust. Burst? Whatever.</span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8fHic4D4GV9WOZXjH1w_cEO6eBWI6c8Jq1_mJH2BnmwKUfVLWflGdxoB5dh4e6L7pIf-CpAY-nGGBQb10fXNjdsow8ImL0Eh8S_bFBJ9WESo6093DCkpbJrHnUXS0tekWqcNKpd8br2PD/s1600/photo+3.PNG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8fHic4D4GV9WOZXjH1w_cEO6eBWI6c8Jq1_mJH2BnmwKUfVLWflGdxoB5dh4e6L7pIf-CpAY-nGGBQb10fXNjdsow8ImL0Eh8S_bFBJ9WESo6093DCkpbJrHnUXS0tekWqcNKpd8br2PD/s1600/photo+3.PNG" height="640" width="502" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 150%;">And
last night she and her dance company sisters did an open house, pre-recital <i>“let’s
give the parents an update”</i> kind of revue thing. </span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBSlOkmJV1FkZbKKQq4C5ZRG8nRt82H_UPZ9U3-ZvSWehWBBFmUCDKt0QjDSUNWBcZpjUNPoNKtuOPnCjI68Afw_REznwabQFOLTIItBxwmNh1sJI8zoTEsiryH4r8eaxh7ixIe-JpB8FY/s1600/photo+1.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBSlOkmJV1FkZbKKQq4C5ZRG8nRt82H_UPZ9U3-ZvSWehWBBFmUCDKt0QjDSUNWBcZpjUNPoNKtuOPnCjI68Afw_REznwabQFOLTIItBxwmNh1sJI8zoTEsiryH4r8eaxh7ixIe-JpB8FY/s1600/photo+1.JPG" height="640" width="364" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 150%;">She no longer a little
ballerina prancing about on stage. She’s a serious dancer and she has chops.</span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjP0WPpP9P8-rqBHmWwM1onlEygUgbPjJbDtuu8_81d-hGfjeVpYCeu9ZsJwIQo-QYbB8S3daUk4qwfkOQj8qxOKWGz9xD8UQYKmLbsyRY-nIIIoDY3Piz9k2LilE86txzJg-v-Q2xlb4Im/s1600/photo+1.PNG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjP0WPpP9P8-rqBHmWwM1onlEygUgbPjJbDtuu8_81d-hGfjeVpYCeu9ZsJwIQo-QYbB8S3daUk4qwfkOQj8qxOKWGz9xD8UQYKmLbsyRY-nIIIoDY3Piz9k2LilE86txzJg-v-Q2xlb4Im/s1600/photo+1.PNG" height="640" width="528" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 150%;">She
was just transitioning out of believing in Santa when I first shared her with
you. Thirty-six months from now and, if the Lord tarries, LFG will be off to
college.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">Onward. 80-G-2<o:p></o:p></span></div>
ADGhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16612897500610475937noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8818519199109196200.post-82562079708256399152014-12-26T12:33:00.000-05:002014-12-27T13:36:37.041-05:00The Texture of Christmas--2014<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhd2kHhxQ-6yEfkOtsyhDzEMyKwqfV9nWdX-D6gCuH2B0799CZ6kk2rwevZ-5FD9eb0NQpYfKc-gfvqFLkJeg40Jc63dYWBR4BNzjhxITEJauWL7Ptmc-mhsF1ZjBj6ytRtHmJWIKt_ycx1/s1600/photo+3.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhd2kHhxQ-6yEfkOtsyhDzEMyKwqfV9nWdX-D6gCuH2B0799CZ6kk2rwevZ-5FD9eb0NQpYfKc-gfvqFLkJeg40Jc63dYWBR4BNzjhxITEJauWL7Ptmc-mhsF1ZjBj6ytRtHmJWIKt_ycx1/s1600/photo+3.JPG" height="640" width="536" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; text-indent: 0in;">Texture-Pattern-Shape-Color…tactile
and visual attributes. It’s no secret that the fuzzier for me the better. Until
now.</span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQIMWb1o6azZ8JHIX6In_4Cc1-EJJ6HxYCCxdAMVSs43fVMc6f8BB-XVU_QMMslcym9_fIe851abnoSuyjc_nfg_FqL_bxKQ2V4ZO9y5Hi0sADp-ysehy4y0SUOmuMA7aZYQhORJh2lZ9T/s1600/article-2054613-0E87946C00000578-195_306x423.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQIMWb1o6azZ8JHIX6In_4Cc1-EJJ6HxYCCxdAMVSs43fVMc6f8BB-XVU_QMMslcym9_fIe851abnoSuyjc_nfg_FqL_bxKQ2V4ZO9y5Hi0sADp-ysehy4y0SUOmuMA7aZYQhORJh2lZ9T/s1600/article-2054613-0E87946C00000578-195_306x423.jpg" height="640" width="456" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; text-indent: 0in;">Restraint?
Well I’m not gonna go overboard. But I do think in my old-er age I might be
pulling back just a teeny bit from my Southern, country ass, GTH togged </span><i style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; text-indent: 0in;">“look at me, look at me”</i><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; text-indent: 0in;"> cornpone sprezzatura.
Who knows, maybe I’m unwittingly slipping into a phase of official mourning. Somber,
black crepe hanging attire included. <a href="http://www.dailymail.co.uk/femail/article-2054613/Magnificent-Obsession-Victoria-Albert-And-The-Death-That-Changed-The-Monarchy.html">Queen Victoria</a> did it after Albert died.
And God knows she loved Albert better than Peter loved the Lord. That’s almost
as much as I loved my mama. False alarm. I just realized that if you’ve
unwittingly slipped into something, it’s kinda hard to then deem it official
upon arrival. Hold me. I’m confused. Unofficially.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNRSsG_NyBBcH1Q_j_mkVScev8aeME0JzjZt9gBdjVZxjz5SxvkAd1Clh8mW3I0kQJGQE3adq8GHxXq32ADjt_LwczrBwuQ5jhadtbcOfXAMYSnfdE2ujZjnlLsL5Y3HsjbyRXiNfnPlzA/s1600/photo+4.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNRSsG_NyBBcH1Q_j_mkVScev8aeME0JzjZt9gBdjVZxjz5SxvkAd1Clh8mW3I0kQJGQE3adq8GHxXq32ADjt_LwczrBwuQ5jhadtbcOfXAMYSnfdE2ujZjnlLsL5Y3HsjbyRXiNfnPlzA/s1600/photo+4.JPG" height="640" width="466" /></a></div>
<o:p></o:p><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">Case
in point regarding my new, albeit just a teeny-tiny scooch over towards modulated
fuzzy moderation…I took a pass on this orange corduroy Ralph jacket the other
day. I’m only six weeks into orphanhood and it just seemed damn wrong on all
levels to consider taking title to it. Plus I didn’t go to Clemson or Princeton
or Tennessee or Florida or any of those other schools that claim orange as one
of their school hues. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTZs7MkMFMzPOZwkzgCWSV4e-ZxKNs-Ki_wvYIY3BD-e7Cyr_JX-l0aZhpomphVm3-Z8rYJ6nia-hvObw49jZ2vaIStva-dFjDPwUCvlRr2yQnIWJ6mWfWvraLCDGc5Cw_xEyR0Cb8P5KE/s1600/johnny-cash-1210.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTZs7MkMFMzPOZwkzgCWSV4e-ZxKNs-Ki_wvYIY3BD-e7Cyr_JX-l0aZhpomphVm3-Z8rYJ6nia-hvObw49jZ2vaIStva-dFjDPwUCvlRr2yQnIWJ6mWfWvraLCDGc5Cw_xEyR0Cb8P5KE/s1600/johnny-cash-1210.jpg" height="478" width="640" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; text-indent: 0in;">But
forty years of mourning? I do think Victoria took it a bit too far. What with
only wearing black and refusing to leave Balmoral for ages on end and using
nothing but black bordered mourning stationery for the rest of her chubby
little roly-poly life. Johnny Cash is the only fella who had the color black’s
permission to singularly don it for decades on end. And he wasn’t mourning a
damn thing.</span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYm4eVnZC1MLgyJMmKLsxPSNKjCyAJXHL7KUXAQcY2eua75G03eUKfodpoll5FsPkCHR7qITrn3Yq4ykZmos2natdkzdc7O8mx30NrUlt0gg0prcgbbMGCVN1vBG67zNQwaPFNAIIspCb5/s1600/414px-Queen_Victoria_Vanity_Fair_1901-01-31+(2).jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYm4eVnZC1MLgyJMmKLsxPSNKjCyAJXHL7KUXAQcY2eua75G03eUKfodpoll5FsPkCHR7qITrn3Yq4ykZmos2natdkzdc7O8mx30NrUlt0gg0prcgbbMGCVN1vBG67zNQwaPFNAIIspCb5/s1600/414px-Queen_Victoria_Vanity_Fair_1901-01-31+(2).jpg" height="640" width="442" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; text-indent: 0in;">Apropos
of her forty years of black creped-ness, Vanity Fair reissued their original
portrait of Queen Victoria in monochrome black with a mourning border when she
finally joined Albert and Jesus in 1901.</span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPx31uIse9lkcTb6e01GNU_y0mUY4KR0qaRtHNSop6UyXBQC8l5sbxHlNjqHMBwKbcJbm0zVYDqqpP6tAhT6MDDgcv6XWNE16TLCNoT1OOh7OYr46I5GmfVgQ-oNMfaqF1D0bZETLiitWh/s1600/414px-Queen_Victoria_Vanity_Fair_17_June_1897.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPx31uIse9lkcTb6e01GNU_y0mUY4KR0qaRtHNSop6UyXBQC8l5sbxHlNjqHMBwKbcJbm0zVYDqqpP6tAhT6MDDgcv6XWNE16TLCNoT1OOh7OYr46I5GmfVgQ-oNMfaqF1D0bZETLiitWh/s1600/414px-Queen_Victoria_Vanity_Fair_17_June_1897.jpg" height="640" width="442" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center; text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; text-indent: 0in;">Here’s
the colorful original version from Vanity Fair—June 17 1897.</span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAeCA_gOPimer6sidNY9SlHwZ1xljURo1ZQ1WVEynulVJDk086urHF0gwtfr4nqwXx3b_VQ7krh5bX20GL83qHiuz0hfqG7VmhHLv-4Wka7hZy7Z9g35QxHivam1T6yiv9NSO3f4gxENPP/s1600/images.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAeCA_gOPimer6sidNY9SlHwZ1xljURo1ZQ1WVEynulVJDk086urHF0gwtfr4nqwXx3b_VQ7krh5bX20GL83qHiuz0hfqG7VmhHLv-4Wka7hZy7Z9g35QxHivam1T6yiv9NSO3f4gxENPP/s1600/images.jpg" height="640" width="477" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; text-indent: 0in;">And
another thing about Queen Victoria before we move on…What we </span><u style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; text-indent: 0in;">don’t know</u><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; text-indent: 0in;">
for sure is whether or not she was getting some </span><u style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; text-indent: 0in;">real</u><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; text-indent: 0in;"> bereavement comfort
from her trusted <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/John_Brown_(servant)">ghillie John Brown</a>. I sure hope so. And I’m not just talking about
the therapeutic benefits of long walks and talks. We all know that they did a
bunch of that. Lord knows I can talk. And walking still comes easy. I’m thinking
I need me one of them constant bereavement companions for a while. Butcept a
girl one. With benefits.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBc32mHcgU5QSl9CSpNgkF0K2Yn_B5O0iYmTK5Zu7Brl9roT9uuln8X-4orZ5ZtBeynYeAqeHOCdDS6MTxEABYWjCuFUz9sLoOUg9EYUxDU0KeRLiafyD6V8_m96ADxG1OLzqgQA3AwgZZ/s1600/photo+5.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBc32mHcgU5QSl9CSpNgkF0K2Yn_B5O0iYmTK5Zu7Brl9roT9uuln8X-4orZ5ZtBeynYeAqeHOCdDS6MTxEABYWjCuFUz9sLoOUg9EYUxDU0KeRLiafyD6V8_m96ADxG1OLzqgQA3AwgZZ/s1600/photo+5.JPG" height="640" width="566" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; text-indent: 0in;">The
texture of my 2014 Christmas has so far been rough and smooth. I’m alone but
not lonely. My heart is still heavy—now magnified by this being the first Christmas
without my mama—but I’m not wallowing in it. I drove home yesterday. In a MINI Cooper. <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/John_Cooper_Works">John Cooper Works</a> performance edition to be exact ("Performance Edition"MINI...ain't that a hoot?)...with my prostate seven inches off of I-95 for 7.5 hours. I need another car. And a smaller...</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidXHeiudVIuUkZdFRnhLU1M2dw3s_sSOlANC3ILiCD8nVZRoeZNVoVMDLUmYEcd6eATpWWW4B8CUpt1_MDlYzph7pJ_19wCENi7MwgT6cn_eWSYtTgeNuDZchS1ynHitcpSab0sbEUpDQH/s1600/1.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidXHeiudVIuUkZdFRnhLU1M2dw3s_sSOlANC3ILiCD8nVZRoeZNVoVMDLUmYEcd6eATpWWW4B8CUpt1_MDlYzph7pJ_19wCENi7MwgT6cn_eWSYtTgeNuDZchS1ynHitcpSab0sbEUpDQH/s1600/1.JPG" height="259" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; text-indent: 0in;">I’m typing this from my childhood cowboy
bedroom and the monastic silence of being here alone isn’t depressing at all. LFG
is in Florida, my brother is around the corner at his house and I’ve
reconnected with a bunch of childhood friends who are here for the holidays. So
I’m by myself in this once boisterous and noisy holiday house but I’m ok. I had
a visceral, primal need to be here so here I am.</span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSrBXhcodGr0OstwCwrBxiaAxvN39Q8scPv3yZjDi-3zEaugXCAHuZG1Ryi7GGDh_6E_TvzBowcxC-kH3faVqLGyDnpsE8FdCV_GzrdusGmchLXkZFhyphenhyphen_JhYXXVxXn5szm-RLOLBCYkSEi/s1600/photo+1.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSrBXhcodGr0OstwCwrBxiaAxvN39Q8scPv3yZjDi-3zEaugXCAHuZG1Ryi7GGDh_6E_TvzBowcxC-kH3faVqLGyDnpsE8FdCV_GzrdusGmchLXkZFhyphenhyphen_JhYXXVxXn5szm-RLOLBCYkSEi/s1600/photo+1.JPG" height="640" width="638" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; text-indent: 0in;">A
tree? Of course. I’ll never have an artificial one but since I was solo this
Christmas I didn’t need a big one of any type. So I nabbed a piccolo fir and
just donned it with my favorite ornaments.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitSFXSgm3vxNFphTcT1F9XO_z_7WwCST0DsVNqBj49kwn7jts2fKWJ0L46zGKsozmv8xvwJ8Kdcp7OHnUCfT58Oh7Z5OKyTPOIdVuffU_oPDnvr54zBHrtz0l5XURZGdWhKEBJki5dzpgO/s1600/photo+3.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitSFXSgm3vxNFphTcT1F9XO_z_7WwCST0DsVNqBj49kwn7jts2fKWJ0L46zGKsozmv8xvwJ8Kdcp7OHnUCfT58Oh7Z5OKyTPOIdVuffU_oPDnvr54zBHrtz0l5XURZGdWhKEBJki5dzpgO/s1600/photo+3.JPG" height="640" width="466" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; text-indent: 0in;">And
thanks to Susie and Dougie for sending me presents. Otherwise the tree wouldn’t
a been the only thing attenuated.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisMG-mWyvkCfzYhykNEcx6PJnZr_3eQapzVTb95BkEU0vrg66fcaYo2MyvqNf32Km4VidbvcIjMrTlhhVQ64nb8B4KP8ExxXsphD5kAyd2QctcQTTFaRQFPlIg5iK1VCzu9A72uzyxEpYa/s1600/photo+1.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisMG-mWyvkCfzYhykNEcx6PJnZr_3eQapzVTb95BkEU0vrg66fcaYo2MyvqNf32Km4VidbvcIjMrTlhhVQ64nb8B4KP8ExxXsphD5kAyd2QctcQTTFaRQFPlIg5iK1VCzu9A72uzyxEpYa/s1600/photo+1.JPG" height="640" width="458" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; text-indent: 0in;">Back to texture and pattern...I
had to put on real clothes the other day and make some business and personal
rounds. And I coulda put on some GTH Christmas corduroy embroidered caca
trousers and some retail red waistcoating like all the other holiday revellers.
But I didn’t. Remember, I’m in mourning.</span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2Fd5b3__buUTZW4we6s40rCZv-0BF7-_e0y3n_M55bC5oIxEuYjUEQyfQQXqNzEiLS-u-DKTopX-RKDPNxZMr_tAeB3byb4JWzjBMJBsWFZJI-snvl2EBLCI1SGNghVZQf4sbKWnEn71w/s1600/pants.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2Fd5b3__buUTZW4we6s40rCZv-0BF7-_e0y3n_M55bC5oIxEuYjUEQyfQQXqNzEiLS-u-DKTopX-RKDPNxZMr_tAeB3byb4JWzjBMJBsWFZJI-snvl2EBLCI1SGNghVZQf4sbKWnEn71w/s1600/pants.JPG" height="528" width="640" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; text-indent: 0in;">So
it was a navy blazer and my Daddy Flusser semi-GTH Bronco Buster wool challis
togs. Oh, and my Meermins which are holding up just fine in year-two by the damn way. Shut up.</span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; text-indent: 0in;"> </span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5iFj4BdRwxjZuWLezR1hghVxKZwxVj1cPSrCVDDpFw-vzis-P3Pi3iOjpG0dfWjWemJG_aU-8xcaT2tXFpW6z24CA_hzphjLpF9ZrJr2Tn9arm1WgJn7Tj41ww6V1IszN9xbvOvw1O1KU/s1600/photo+2.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5iFj4BdRwxjZuWLezR1hghVxKZwxVj1cPSrCVDDpFw-vzis-P3Pi3iOjpG0dfWjWemJG_aU-8xcaT2tXFpW6z24CA_hzphjLpF9ZrJr2Tn9arm1WgJn7Tj41ww6V1IszN9xbvOvw1O1KU/s1600/photo+2.JPG" height="580" width="640" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; text-indent: 0in;">And
I even got a mourning haircut. I figure another year and my follicular
vacancies will be such that I’ll go back to cutting the remaindered sprigs
myself.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghHlhkhF0ps8GJowAGe1LT7MjlE4XNiNWl3otpoCgk6by_hCNTfLkLveJnow-C-5JUndzVk4aoamPyV3GRCLU_kWQJr-nysOOYHMYx0FApUlNo8t7HtUtVAsFRCNJqeYn4pBD-0HcMO6VO/s1600/photo+1.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghHlhkhF0ps8GJowAGe1LT7MjlE4XNiNWl3otpoCgk6by_hCNTfLkLveJnow-C-5JUndzVk4aoamPyV3GRCLU_kWQJr-nysOOYHMYx0FApUlNo8t7HtUtVAsFRCNJqeYn4pBD-0HcMO6VO/s1600/photo+1.JPG" height="640" width="244" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">My
bereavement is evident in this Polo Chevy Chase selfie that I took while out
and about. Time will bring back my smirky little pinch mouthed puckishness. But
time has deemed six weeks not enough. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCGKzZ5lUyzNnHJdh-sVkr67PFrEtLks9CeUq_St7vjn_ZbKERy6IQARlxWazFKnSUOP-vzfohFVNPcMm-rVpneeITR1ZJQNYAr2bFiFEod2p157xThqwc8V_XlHsqVkGpH4SoJglJ_zKp/s1600/photo+2.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCGKzZ5lUyzNnHJdh-sVkr67PFrEtLks9CeUq_St7vjn_ZbKERy6IQARlxWazFKnSUOP-vzfohFVNPcMm-rVpneeITR1ZJQNYAr2bFiFEod2p157xThqwc8V_XlHsqVkGpH4SoJglJ_zKp/s1600/photo+2.JPG" height="400" width="218" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; text-indent: 0in;">Oh,
and by the way…don’t dress like this and visit a retail establishment lest you
want them to think you work there. I don’t.</span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1qSa7hpBRohjmhDuq1Ulu-YLqVIAIAnEtuxIiNBNz4IeGiZPR35HQ_RyLEfrc9dKTQx-17ubn8IzsUR5zh8rzGGImHU9ntMCPaZZ_AdeL06qVp0BXTvi230JVdvyh1igy0Ix_EFnZ_vlr/s1600/photo+3.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1qSa7hpBRohjmhDuq1Ulu-YLqVIAIAnEtuxIiNBNz4IeGiZPR35HQ_RyLEfrc9dKTQx-17ubn8IzsUR5zh8rzGGImHU9ntMCPaZZ_AdeL06qVp0BXTvi230JVdvyh1igy0Ix_EFnZ_vlr/s1600/photo+3.JPG" height="640" width="306" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; text-indent: 0in;">And
I tried on a few things that I can’t buy. Including this bereavement brown
vest. Buy it for me.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">Maybe
brown is my mourning color. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi75MCMCTqHekBjpwXQoAyiXQWe1XSLt_uKpZAVBN2Q2IRcZ5YfpNbRhjk5INLOWTvVRz4ho2xFrNjPmEJg_zFCJHCMdL8sl-TFfBN-Fl2xwGamIAj6aCdq3iUZjNUyjV_i4T7YKKNPtXPj/s1600/photo+3.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi75MCMCTqHekBjpwXQoAyiXQWe1XSLt_uKpZAVBN2Q2IRcZ5YfpNbRhjk5INLOWTvVRz4ho2xFrNjPmEJg_zFCJHCMdL8sl-TFfBN-Fl2xwGamIAj6aCdq3iUZjNUyjV_i4T7YKKNPtXPj/s1600/photo+3.JPG" height="640" width="556" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; text-indent: 0in;">Kinda.
Brownish green-essence with a green leather club chair. I mean really…how
damned crepe laden can a fuzzy-ass flâneur like me become?</span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjd48beLt1yKsw25SBN6EyW-qCivCd5hDvnKao1J42RLt1z-jh8sGs4BrrYMiW4US5R4FpCWwibBdgOC56eCIRlU35DwibtDgYiGcf-6h8WNC4rH9p_NQVy_6r9D9-N_yEVQ1yQFWtV-oho/s1600/photo+4.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjd48beLt1yKsw25SBN6EyW-qCivCd5hDvnKao1J42RLt1z-jh8sGs4BrrYMiW4US5R4FpCWwibBdgOC56eCIRlU35DwibtDgYiGcf-6h8WNC4rH9p_NQVy_6r9D9-N_yEVQ1yQFWtV-oho/s1600/photo+4.JPG" height="608" width="640" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; text-indent: 0in;">Brown.
It’s a restrained color ain’t it? But who says the texture-pattern thang has to
be? I vote no and you should too.</span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.youtube.com/embed/e-ffHxvTtMY?feature=player_embedded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; text-indent: 0in;">I’m
gonna close this drivel load now. It’s off to the shower and off to lunch. Christmas just ain't Christmas this year. But it's ok.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">Onward.
Rough and Smooth. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";"><a href="http://80-g-2.tumblr.com/">80-g-2</a><o:p></o:p></span></div>
ADGhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16612897500610475937noreply@blogger.com16tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8818519199109196200.post-59641734470102598982014-11-22T18:43:00.001-05:002014-11-23T18:08:12.544-05:00Flusser Apologetics and JMW Turner Unapologetically<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_X4zD8J3TvD2U9fKzREb7AAF72rffwvfwACScU3J8T_G7iekYTrttVCEjXpuA8mSjlBRC5q5CFSqjTqXy7CtUBdog7rATroasTLzuwXTfMW2im-03FxugAAd5rmwOGyF-luCDzvfev1ZN/s1600/lilyalan.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_X4zD8J3TvD2U9fKzREb7AAF72rffwvfwACScU3J8T_G7iekYTrttVCEjXpuA8mSjlBRC5q5CFSqjTqXy7CtUBdog7rATroasTLzuwXTfMW2im-03FxugAAd5rmwOGyF-luCDzvfev1ZN/s1600/lilyalan.jpg" height="640" width="478" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 200%;">I kinda miss ole Daddy. ‘specially now since I’m a full-fledged orphan. Daddy this time
being <i>God</i>, aka Alan Flusser. <i>God</i> you say? Yep. He’s a reluctant owner of the
moniker but not too reluctant. I mean really, it makes no difference if you are
a nice Jewish boy turned Buddhist from the upper middle class enclaves of the
Garden State and then four decades Gotham habitué or like me, a country-ass
redneck from the Palmetto State. Everyone loves a bit of adulation. </span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 200%;"> </span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 200%;">But my life circumstances have had me missing
Alan’s Washington visits and my scant Gotham sorties haven’t offered Flusser
Fellowship in over a year.</span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7vpEDZMywTz5Q981WywBZPDnIRFBkkYvu0oOO7U9IGDdTfTpQS_ACBxSnsSaf6HWBKGvciKiydMERpQkcYQiZz_cgXWa7Q1MxhLQtyvs9vp_C9OplZ_z-C7lZhSrweDmu-z8Deh1bmpVJ/s1600/IMG_3953.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7vpEDZMywTz5Q981WywBZPDnIRFBkkYvu0oOO7U9IGDdTfTpQS_ACBxSnsSaf6HWBKGvciKiydMERpQkcYQiZz_cgXWa7Q1MxhLQtyvs9vp_C9OplZ_z-C7lZhSrweDmu-z8Deh1bmpVJ/s1600/IMG_3953.JPG" height="640" width="428" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 200%;">I
started it. I’m the one who first called Alan </span><i style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 200%;">God</i><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 200%;">. I’ve admired him since way before he ever befriended me and started
taking a lot of my money. And I’ve said it a zillion times and I’ll say it
again to you knuckleheads who say </span><i style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 200%;">“Alan
Flusser? What happened?”</i><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 200%;"> </span><u style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 200%;">Nothing </u><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 200%;">has happened, dumbasses. Alan’s
riding the waves of time just like the rest of us. </span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdW3lmal2SSN0f7NjGWzy_aWJdXNtgTIx-ZsL23z9IoeGFtGv8R4sXTzbKrsXfQV-waEgf8-w3n7EIW_hq1u-WtGdBCE_esAlQayxcl6TrjpDV5f9zei7PGERMMGokmX_zOfOlrzhrhBc1/s1600/flusser.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdW3lmal2SSN0f7NjGWzy_aWJdXNtgTIx-ZsL23z9IoeGFtGv8R4sXTzbKrsXfQV-waEgf8-w3n7EIW_hq1u-WtGdBCE_esAlQayxcl6TrjpDV5f9zei7PGERMMGokmX_zOfOlrzhrhBc1/s1600/flusser.jpg" height="304" width="640" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 200%;">And the </span><i style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 200%;">“What happened?”</i><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 200%;"> question seems always posited on those forums in
context to thirty year old publicity/jacket cover photos of Alan. Unless you
are splashing on embalming fluid every morning, I’d bet that a thirty year
progression of your mug shots would show us a journey not dissimilar. So back
off of Daddy.</span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGvA-b5t39mEXYxTtushNmVN1-pBzXdpj7M_KZS9nHenXIPUt5lJQT4JlMTc3zcD_5GBYZGiMPZwIUPMg7qiah6xW3zCWEiNc82DhkP_tQL9b-30yzgEDrNN3djGPjztUVkKitvmt4wSkE/s1600/photo+(2).jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGvA-b5t39mEXYxTtushNmVN1-pBzXdpj7M_KZS9nHenXIPUt5lJQT4JlMTc3zcD_5GBYZGiMPZwIUPMg7qiah6xW3zCWEiNc82DhkP_tQL9b-30yzgEDrNN3djGPjztUVkKitvmt4wSkE/s1600/photo+(2).jpg" height="307" width="400" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 200%;">I’ve
aged ten years in eighteen months. Shut up.</span></div>
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixFtgW4vMzBFhLK2L34oGc5_M6aiWHcNJr5itmBvekGTpA67OcfzJ6Fki9p5T3xmmG9tJmSPvhj-yXTjTgXHYQGaaeVbTJD9TQOSRLw7Lp3WArVayQomQlI8u9CjeQHQYJC8lPgbCQG8wM/s1600/item23.rendition.slideshowWideVertical.ss24-wall-street-25-fashionable-films.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixFtgW4vMzBFhLK2L34oGc5_M6aiWHcNJr5itmBvekGTpA67OcfzJ6Fki9p5T3xmmG9tJmSPvhj-yXTjTgXHYQGaaeVbTJD9TQOSRLw7Lp3WArVayQomQlI8u9CjeQHQYJC8lPgbCQG8wM/s1600/item23.rendition.slideshowWideVertical.ss24-wall-street-25-fashionable-films.jpg" height="640" width="476" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 200%;">I
too used to hang on to the idea of Alan Flusser, circa 1984 just like I did with
Ralph Lauren, circa 1978. These were my Ed Sullivan moments for both Beatles-esque sartorial acts. The moments when they not only forever installed themselves in my sartorial and aesthetic register, but when they were also both on f_cking
fire. Shut up. These were Ralph’s horse blanket Shetland plaid sport jackets </span><i style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 200%;">(made in the USA by Lanham)</i><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 200%;"> moments and Alan's horizontal dress shirted, gut end braces, chalk striped drapy trousered, double
breasted days.</span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQrMxqWC5kKVWeU8QW1xFfOhQuYPDZKFyXwXzlZDMnri1XmkvwE-8aafO7T0zHd_N0PKV6nKThHHP2xGJstmgS9MUg5wHLNexmcSmjqoyPzqi18HwtOy5UBvo7A3c3eYukyWLgSTGq6hyphenhyphenU/s1600/RalphLauren.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQrMxqWC5kKVWeU8QW1xFfOhQuYPDZKFyXwXzlZDMnri1XmkvwE-8aafO7T0zHd_N0PKV6nKThHHP2xGJstmgS9MUg5wHLNexmcSmjqoyPzqi18HwtOy5UBvo7A3c3eYukyWLgSTGq6hyphenhyphenU/s1600/RalphLauren.jpg" height="428" width="640" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 200%;">But
things change—all life is transitory and that includes sartorial epochs. Bruce
Springsteen said </span><i style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 200%;">“every now and then you
have to break your own narrative”</i><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 200%;"> and National Geographic photographer Dewitt
Jones said that </span><i style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 200%;">“if we don’t question our
patterns, they become our prisons”.</i><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 200%;"> </span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 200%;">Alan and Ralph have never strayed too
far from their core strategies but for the sake of their own engagement, relevance,
and perhaps amusement, they mix it up a bit.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_1OIFHj58MHxUvXzjubrXgDnbhWY4mlLoH0H9axKcy9wH9RdcS71jzFLzmlQYmhp1BsVyph_Wc3BPzmeoQEmD0cS5J3TdMIa9r-jgHlMMUH3BnMaDBv_vcIyxAHjPOPYUVI3GOqvgeN1A/s1600/DSC09967.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_1OIFHj58MHxUvXzjubrXgDnbhWY4mlLoH0H9axKcy9wH9RdcS71jzFLzmlQYmhp1BsVyph_Wc3BPzmeoQEmD0cS5J3TdMIa9r-jgHlMMUH3BnMaDBv_vcIyxAHjPOPYUVI3GOqvgeN1A/s1600/DSC09967.JPG" height="480" width="640" /></a></div>
<i style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">Artistic licence</span></i><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 200%;"> (If he’s is anything, he’s an
artist) and <i>relaxation</i> would be two
characteristics of Alan that I’d use to distinguish the current state of his evolution.
Alan is a grandfather and is long past
the need care too much about the opinions of the general public or investors
or journalists. So what if most of the world thinks he needs a haircut? I hope he grows it down to his ass and then sells locks of it. I'll buy some and a make a bracelet. Shut up.</span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrIkDLrAwfUsEox92E_43zQe5fKuRzFCi-S8Amo22bOUypvd0QsSXf8RWD7P9nFmlPb6V1i6LTZj_XXNv6wzM6L9q13v1ZBzUVmnwpnsteHM6EYXGxo5GWHyNGpZdu8ZHUSwpJ00lfDUlr/s1600/Alan-Flusser-at-His-Office.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrIkDLrAwfUsEox92E_43zQe5fKuRzFCi-S8Amo22bOUypvd0QsSXf8RWD7P9nFmlPb6V1i6LTZj_XXNv6wzM6L9q13v1ZBzUVmnwpnsteHM6EYXGxo5GWHyNGpZdu8ZHUSwpJ00lfDUlr/s1600/Alan-Flusser-at-His-Office.jpg" height="640" width="470" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Courtesy of Gentleman's Gazette</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 200%;">Look at the sockless daddy...with kick ass Gucci Deal Sleds on. Stronger than wolf nooky. Yep.</span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 200%;">The one-time
arbiter of beltless, Thurston braced drapy trousers and made by Old Man
Cleverley himself, buckled or laced shoes, now wears slip ons and flat front
belted trousers almost exclusively. His two daughters flipped out when they discovered
that he actually bought a pair of jeans. </span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4NpMnJbUqlex2F7vLQmTzXntDpUd1I8AUtOcy_3ut2-v7dd4CV3GdNLL_WKugAoZKhBIciiMrAvrchYcH82UXP-6h8oCuwD5m50abvBjzuR7SdsQVhj3MUDChpRWLq5ASGzn15sbNNSN-/s1600/IMG_5568+(2).jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4NpMnJbUqlex2F7vLQmTzXntDpUd1I8AUtOcy_3ut2-v7dd4CV3GdNLL_WKugAoZKhBIciiMrAvrchYcH82UXP-6h8oCuwD5m50abvBjzuR7SdsQVhj3MUDChpRWLq5ASGzn15sbNNSN-/s1600/IMG_5568+(2).jpg" height="400" width="300" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 200%;">And the man is obsessed with comfort.
Lora Piana drawstring lounge togs? If they exist, I bet Daddy Fluss has them
on right now. Me? I’m in a dirty, terrycloth zebra print robe that I stole from
the Hotel Monaco. </span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhksGyWd9EPgKmr2rgOtpNQrIQjlJn1L5BIn1usorvueWifL530Fr08fNiGqGeQZfBUO4ro7xAWVAlHRg9MXOnSvRQUjWEJYJspNDYhBJCd3vFj8cHpAcM8iAfAmEkjSzPAthdZ91fUfXrY/s1600/Alan+Flusser+GTH.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhksGyWd9EPgKmr2rgOtpNQrIQjlJn1L5BIn1usorvueWifL530Fr08fNiGqGeQZfBUO4ro7xAWVAlHRg9MXOnSvRQUjWEJYJspNDYhBJCd3vFj8cHpAcM8iAfAmEkjSzPAthdZ91fUfXrY/s1600/Alan+Flusser+GTH.jpg" height="426" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Photo from The Trad</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 200%;">When
scores of you suggested that I remove of couple of the dingy-ass cotton
bracelets from my left wrist, I added three more. I only thinned out my circular fellowship of bracelets for my mamma’s funeral last week and I hope
that Alan only grooms differently for such rare situations. I walked my sister
down the marital aisle twice. I don’t think I’ll have to attend a re-do of my
mamma’s send off so I’m going to reload my wrist. GTH.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjO1pqrAEjEFKIlnGovUl4TVrnFO7w6eR0S0KwO3bt03P6v7HoqoY6KuKNCFzBO9JZixg_ypOS31WzXZmhD_NnH2QQ9hRnUBZt-XzuaO6nK_V1n7alTwuw01S1ZIMCplHKN-Do9SC2P18i/s1600/Turner_selfportrait.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjO1pqrAEjEFKIlnGovUl4TVrnFO7w6eR0S0KwO3bt03P6v7HoqoY6KuKNCFzBO9JZixg_ypOS31WzXZmhD_NnH2QQ9hRnUBZt-XzuaO6nK_V1n7alTwuw01S1ZIMCplHKN-Do9SC2P18i/s1600/Turner_selfportrait.jpg" height="640" width="490" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 200%;">And
speaking of </span><i style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 200%;">“GTH devotees”,</i><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 200%;">
I just saw the </span><a href="http://www.tate.org.uk/whats-on/tate-britain/exhibition/ey-exhibition-late-turner-painting-set-free" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 200%;">JMW Turner Late Pictures</a><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 200%;"> exhibition at the Tate Britain and was
blown away. Every picture in this show was Turner aged sixty-five to his death at seventy-six.
Nothing earlier. Radical. Mind bending. And imagine how imposing his pictures
were to the aesthetic sensibilities of the Art Establishment of the time. Oh and here's a Turner self portrait as a young man. Probably idealized a bit but still, he was a young shaver when he painted it.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbWXR_6txAtBSPR6ubcoDL83Cp0VdZ42IloBoPe07-CPu2IwoPOhdhYQLzaSokukulAtEma5eYunoPNjKQtOMz6hR0MMyE6EqKSlxzG7dXxlL_PrJxJ2Aiq_9MixVzaka2jimesFb2gp5X/s1600/late-turner-banner.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbWXR_6txAtBSPR6ubcoDL83Cp0VdZ42IloBoPe07-CPu2IwoPOhdhYQLzaSokukulAtEma5eYunoPNjKQtOMz6hR0MMyE6EqKSlxzG7dXxlL_PrJxJ2Aiq_9MixVzaka2jimesFb2gp5X/s1600/late-turner-banner.jpg" height="360" width="640" /></a></div>
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<em style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 0in;"><span style="background: white;">“The</span></em><span class="apple-converted-space" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 0in;"><i><span style="background: white; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";"> </span></i></span><span class="caps" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 0in;"><i><span style="background: white; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">EY</span></i></span><span class="apple-converted-space" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 0in;"><i><span style="background: white; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";"> </span></i></span><em style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 0in;"><span style="background: white;">Exhibition: Late Turner – Painting Set Free</span></em><span class="apple-converted-space" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 0in;"><span style="background: white; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";"> </span><span style="background: white; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">is the first
exhibition devoted to the extraordinary work<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span></span><span class="caps">J.M.W.</span><span class="apple-converted-space"> Turner created between 1835 and his
death in 1851. Bringing together spectacular works from the<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span></span><span class="caps">UK</span><span class="apple-converted-space"> and abroad, this exhibition
celebrates Turner’s astonishing creative flowering in these later years when he
produced many of his finest pictures but was also controversial and
unjustly misunderstood”.</span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhx3BNk1wimevcd-nFPuuahRya_ku1KtXcqxAUwI_ptUZlqBalLC0-za07W0sHfa0KugthAB_mfobV61IzGXMyWGcw5ae8X8UHBPqOBbbQq111U_jESdlhyphenhyphenqA_Ls-MB9YPGrFz3igzs423N/s1600/Dido-Building-Carthage-by-007.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhx3BNk1wimevcd-nFPuuahRya_ku1KtXcqxAUwI_ptUZlqBalLC0-za07W0sHfa0KugthAB_mfobV61IzGXMyWGcw5ae8X8UHBPqOBbbQq111U_jESdlhyphenhyphenqA_Ls-MB9YPGrFz3igzs423N/s1600/Dido-Building-Carthage-by-007.jpg" height="384" width="640" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 200%;">Turner even as a young man was always an incredible capturer of water and clouds.
Water and air’s movement, energy and emotion are difficult to memorialize in
any medium; watercolor, pastel, drypoint, tempera, or oil. And an artist’s
attempt to convey it tests greatly their mechanical </span><i style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 200%;">skill</i><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 200%;"> and even more so their </span><i style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 200%;">talent</i><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 200%;">
for finding and then really, really </span><i style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 200%;">seeing</i><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 200%;">
these magical properties.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUYGzrKZSilLSSvDnW6XLifVNWzWsiQg-FhdG-VJ5ahmJtSOUAcpwVdDXOZQaVDgFX_P3cNswE0qHp1ZgaxzGmXiISzw0xrpusXeYr-oTWfOjYcptSC-qCNZf7X_KLT-GLLedQvolOImgW/s1600/Nocturne_Blue_and_Gold_Old_Battersea_Bridge.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUYGzrKZSilLSSvDnW6XLifVNWzWsiQg-FhdG-VJ5ahmJtSOUAcpwVdDXOZQaVDgFX_P3cNswE0qHp1ZgaxzGmXiISzw0xrpusXeYr-oTWfOjYcptSC-qCNZf7X_KLT-GLLedQvolOImgW/s1600/Nocturne_Blue_and_Gold_Old_Battersea_Bridge.jpg" height="640" width="476" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 200%;">Whistler
had the same talent for seeing and conveying dawn, dusk and midnight. Anyone
with basic artistic skill could capture a lush, painterly image of the old
Battersea Bridge. But Whistler shrouded it in atmospherics. Twilights and dawn
peeks, mists and vapors. He and Turner saw what others didn’t but that’s only
one part of the gift. The artist must then transfer it. And this is the moment
when talent and skill must congregate. Ralph and Alan. Congregationalists.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpHi8YZLRBOhrYvjwm6bSWsyFbPfn85Y4jj0iEO-Vqi3Kx0Oqm-80B0WeOX00bRj9ehE39sGqf5mQVhdSif0WioirumsUaW7pak81Sug6YGLyyZc2CbZyb6IB8FiOXyDApZWd3rzx2mUli/s1600/thumbnail.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpHi8YZLRBOhrYvjwm6bSWsyFbPfn85Y4jj0iEO-Vqi3Kx0Oqm-80B0WeOX00bRj9ehE39sGqf5mQVhdSif0WioirumsUaW7pak81Sug6YGLyyZc2CbZyb6IB8FiOXyDApZWd3rzx2mUli/s1600/thumbnail.jpg" height="422" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 200%;">The
volume of Whistler’s Venice pastels exist mainly because of chilly mornings and
early evenings. </span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 200%;"> </span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 200%;">When he deemed it too
cold to transfer artfully his mind’s eye capture on to an etching
plate with a needle, he would bide his time drawing, courtesy of a little box of pastels and light
brown cards that he kept in his pocket. </span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4e7yMSx9uwjWvcEsk7eyAs6fxl_KnITzB_LTGDVTbNpUHhn-oe9fs9UvR_dS3MRillawFNrU2y2gOf7w9ZscOMJZlsWZ_6eohSwUNLfJ31fwrjqNovK5k6rGxSIGeIRerwrxp-ZEv0gvq/s1600/march1113whistlerlittle-canal-venice-pastel-on-brown-paper_edited-1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4e7yMSx9uwjWvcEsk7eyAs6fxl_KnITzB_LTGDVTbNpUHhn-oe9fs9UvR_dS3MRillawFNrU2y2gOf7w9ZscOMJZlsWZ_6eohSwUNLfJ31fwrjqNovK5k6rGxSIGeIRerwrxp-ZEv0gvq/s1600/march1113whistlerlittle-canal-venice-pastel-on-brown-paper_edited-1.jpg" height="640" width="438" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 200%;">When his hands warmed up, he’d tuck
away his pastel kit and commence etching. I'm just happy that there were days when his hands were cold.</span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiM8ODJOdmtYbPQ9ppYcwngGaM-5pOA6oqRFeekB8K0cFx63Dq61bUTLU1xNBKWMu-a-p8ndBhjkf9hZrg2-4pgnqTym3ubb6M6zt7gorLCgFwlXG_bnwcCabFbTkft0f-zKKHtbrzQuFG7/s1600/photo+2+(2).jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiM8ODJOdmtYbPQ9ppYcwngGaM-5pOA6oqRFeekB8K0cFx63Dq61bUTLU1xNBKWMu-a-p8ndBhjkf9hZrg2-4pgnqTym3ubb6M6zt7gorLCgFwlXG_bnwcCabFbTkft0f-zKKHtbrzQuFG7/s1600/photo+2+(2).jpg" height="640" width="466" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Photo Courtesy of My Damn Self</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="line-height: 200%;">Folks, to be able to do that is </span></span><i style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 200%;">talent</i> <u style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 200%;">and</u><i style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 200%;"> skill combined </i><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="line-height: 200%;">and Flusser has it out the ass.
Still does. His eye remains </span>unrivaled<span style="line-height: 200%;"> and his skill for conveying it courtesy
of colors, textures, and mediums is as Turner-esque as ever. I deemed Flusser </span></span><i style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 200%;">“God”</i><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="line-height: 200%;"> long ago after manifold moments of him gently pulling me back from
the crag where I’d unwittingly almost fall into the Canyon of Clowndom. Had Alan not steered me to this heathery green cashmere and wool option, surely I'd have ended up with some kind of bright green hootchie cootchie coat.</span></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCQom-UvdTY-Xv7HlpKL-nv-vosohpdl6QrfBG_pHhuP6JBnT3NlIvDCH_2a6qv62b0HZYanYem04R23jyquzya0qk_o8WY_KeYa3vF6U3URHZDyk2RR_k9QwymiJy_nceqaUZlW4Ovxcv/s1600/dsc07404.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCQom-UvdTY-Xv7HlpKL-nv-vosohpdl6QrfBG_pHhuP6JBnT3NlIvDCH_2a6qv62b0HZYanYem04R23jyquzya0qk_o8WY_KeYa3vF6U3URHZDyk2RR_k9QwymiJy_nceqaUZlW4Ovxcv/s1600/dsc07404.jpg" height="480" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Photo from Off The Cuff DC</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 200%;">And I'd ape the hell out of Alan. There was a time when I’d simply see what Alan was wearing at the opening
of a season or a trunk show and just say, </span><i style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 200%;">“I’ll
have <u>that</u>.” </i><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 200%;">And </span><i style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 200%;"><u>that</u></i><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 200%;">
was always a good decision. Why try to knock off Turner and Whistler when you
can simply have the Master create one for you?</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi407eLeeB6aL11zyRdRHGIfGj5FkmvOTxoF4oaI8EUst5ULBif98xAa_cZZbeLn3S2HfiIQPmN1LeKfpRbgL5CgyrLee1i8mQQDz3VgxGU5pdxlAHNbfbt9VqHrBRewdSIfdl_AWrsSrrC/s1600/download.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi407eLeeB6aL11zyRdRHGIfGj5FkmvOTxoF4oaI8EUst5ULBif98xAa_cZZbeLn3S2HfiIQPmN1LeKfpRbgL5CgyrLee1i8mQQDz3VgxGU5pdxlAHNbfbt9VqHrBRewdSIfdl_AWrsSrrC/s1600/download.jpg" height="479" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 200%;">Turner
was sixty-five when he threw into overdrive his slaying </span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 200%;"> </span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 200%;">of the staid opinions and calcified mores of
London’s Art Establishment. And he didn’t let up until he died eleven years later.</span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 200%;"> </span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 200%;">They literally thought Turner was demented.
Maybe he was and thanks be to the neurosynaptic gods for it. Look at this picture. You almost need to dress for it. Barbour at minimum. Maybe a crash helmet too. </span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJaYtokBtNYCrOQaKYtPR_Ys42vgyf3OGtd5dh-pYysUb2a-7S6ULrWYbrM-OXpF0Tod4nMIeXdOHeLLo2QfO270HUcUQn115N_eHU0edcfphH3WmO7msSINugo1eT7JE51AXIaTyIgarx/s1600/p-0980.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJaYtokBtNYCrOQaKYtPR_Ys42vgyf3OGtd5dh-pYysUb2a-7S6ULrWYbrM-OXpF0Tod4nMIeXdOHeLLo2QfO270HUcUQn115N_eHU0edcfphH3WmO7msSINugo1eT7JE51AXIaTyIgarx/s1600/p-0980.jpg" height="400" width="275" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 200%;">Turner looked like this when he opened his final can of whoop ass, punching the Establishment right in the nose. Not quite the dashing fella of previous decades but still loaded with juice.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHiEewCqvZ4k1s1sHihWBW87aG1jhY2ERyu-_Vwn0z85muBUNiasf5mqcQf5wxigt-Mrr3oEXbxbx075Vx4FZDpkiDxmgD4pUWl6vnhtkL5rv3YmNhUqtOsBqj2ClQyUkNZpXHzHrZ5JYL/s1600/tumblr_inline_n3o10m8iFp1qfex1b.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHiEewCqvZ4k1s1sHihWBW87aG1jhY2ERyu-_Vwn0z85muBUNiasf5mqcQf5wxigt-Mrr3oEXbxbx075Vx4FZDpkiDxmgD4pUWl6vnhtkL5rv3YmNhUqtOsBqj2ClQyUkNZpXHzHrZ5JYL/s1600/tumblr_inline_n3o10m8iFp1qfex1b.jpg" height="484" width="640" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 200%;">And
how could I have rambled on about all this without including my friend and soothsayer
of balance and restrained playfulness, the mighty eruditey, </span><a href="http://dieworkwear.com/post/82104926804/bruce-boyer-in-free-easy" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 200%;">G. The Bruce. Boyer.</a><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 200%;"> Bruce’s afterburners didn’t even feel the need to kick in
till he was into his fifth decade of extolling on things sartorial. I know of no one who has more thoroughly
enjoyed…</span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;">reveled</span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 200%;"> practically, in the digital age of sartorial expression. Like
I’ve said before, nobody shit-talks Bruce Boyer.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg49n3k8ha7w9_a2DyGKbguAGZF2k5p30imaoTE9m4t5pOQzJt41DNQ29Q29vAqrGmtYZi5N3gegF-mU0hNjxjdHUIpkKocj4H4SKH2g0GLiYEzhhiPsc_QnjkNqf5vkYzBUVkI4HCuM5_k/s1600/Alan_Flusser_200.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg49n3k8ha7w9_a2DyGKbguAGZF2k5p30imaoTE9m4t5pOQzJt41DNQ29Q29vAqrGmtYZi5N3gegF-mU0hNjxjdHUIpkKocj4H4SKH2g0GLiYEzhhiPsc_QnjkNqf5vkYzBUVkI4HCuM5_k/s1600/Alan_Flusser_200.jpg" height="640" width="501" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 200%;">Flussdaddy remains the go-to man, the unimpeachable control
tower for the sartorial takeoffs and landings of stick and rudder Cessna guys like me who think they are the lead solo jet on the sartorial <a href="http://thunderbirds./">Thunderbirds.</a></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 200%; text-indent: 0in;"><br /></span>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.youtube.com/embed/d6XkFlygtJg?feature=player_embedded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 200%; text-indent: 0in;">Now get your b_tch ass in the
kitchen and make me some pie.</span></div>
</div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">Onward. Going home this week to
mamma’s for Thanksgiving.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">ADG2. Thankful. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
ADGhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16612897500610475937noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8818519199109196200.post-19775461884033051452014-11-16T15:13:00.000-05:002014-11-16T15:13:17.715-05:00I’m Home<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKyxvbEHNOrTnLKLWuMc_QIVzXq52NVijoCGOEKq1QYOUjoYqo7kFZikgp5rBFaRBxMtgT9x1o9GyErMIi1Bw7ZgYDXuWIG041OSeVirrEOvr0OusjQus39wKGBHonVwl1ccJNoFojkGw-/s1600/photo+3.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKyxvbEHNOrTnLKLWuMc_QIVzXq52NVijoCGOEKq1QYOUjoYqo7kFZikgp5rBFaRBxMtgT9x1o9GyErMIi1Bw7ZgYDXuWIG041OSeVirrEOvr0OusjQus39wKGBHonVwl1ccJNoFojkGw-/s1600/photo+3.JPG" height="640" width="516" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 150%;">After a flight from Florence to Charlotte and then DCA. And
it’s been an incredible past seven days. Home’s now redefined for me and I’ll
have to see how this new definition takes form as time now moves on without my
mom.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 150%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">I’ll
write something else later but for now I’m revelling in the ear shattering
monastic silence that my aloneness this morning at home in Bethesda offers me.
It’s good. It’s allowing me to reflect on how lush and rich and raw all of the
humanity was last week. I suck at describing things with one or two words but
if I had to, I would use <i>“joyous relief”</i> to describe the passing of my mother
and the week of her funeral and outpouring of love from all who came to be with
us. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgD-GmJOUMM-5m-mls1ZNGym4tLuIxhJMKuxXU63F2Mb_H6f6LXoCT80BXDkv1FkIdhz_lPCDWxKxFrQsTpPn5eKP2NCzdOl_tk1dEAuY6nLEN51JYhSz6eiT0wAEKwjR7lvqxZl-j9Ft0S/s1600/photo+4.PNG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgD-GmJOUMM-5m-mls1ZNGym4tLuIxhJMKuxXU63F2Mb_H6f6LXoCT80BXDkv1FkIdhz_lPCDWxKxFrQsTpPn5eKP2NCzdOl_tk1dEAuY6nLEN51JYhSz6eiT0wAEKwjR7lvqxZl-j9Ft0S/s1600/photo+4.PNG" height="320" width="218" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 150%;">I
cannot begin to express my amazement that Toad drove nine hundred miles one-way
to be with me and my mom and family.</span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrxoIDtZnNdOY9g8IXZPJbitDhqvqGg9OoJ2t8O3RNsYKiVwUz-U50540rbH0_AJ7DcmlrZTA2nnpzKwWiCLIve0Mmh5wyqj03pr2pX_XbpF2QqYlKUBKLtdL4HqLuxeYKdMaOlGF7aQcr/s1600/photo+1+(2).JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrxoIDtZnNdOY9g8IXZPJbitDhqvqGg9OoJ2t8O3RNsYKiVwUz-U50540rbH0_AJ7DcmlrZTA2nnpzKwWiCLIve0Mmh5wyqj03pr2pX_XbpF2QqYlKUBKLtdL4HqLuxeYKdMaOlGF7aQcr/s1600/photo+1+(2).JPG" height="640" width="516" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 150%;">There
remains hope for this ugly world when Tom Tevlin, my tumblr friend and father
of two lovely daughters, gets off work and drives thirteen hours the day before
my mom’s service, bagpipes and kit in tow, and pipes her in and out of the sanctuary
and then at the gravesite from a distance, sees her home, piping Amazing Grace. He then drives home to New Jersey after trying to eat a piece of fried chicken
at my mom’s house with a knife and fork. My family is still bowled over by his
gesture. (Not the knife and fork fried chicken rookie greenhorn thing, </span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;">dumb-ass</span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 150%;">) They absolutely loved his presence.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">Both
of those mugwumps will get exclusive blog stories of praise and appreciation
sometime soon. </span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKZ1b6NQTsRipqyfHAHBryQyquby1pQw7ZbTFIO-51G5EYIc4AuBM2tagy7AEmCY9It4lIBg9B35V-pYDkgqiE_LqDtQZWZrWiQeJYJ2KFF9Jj2FWwLvejOoLyg2q3Q-AVPXPETHRuc_gs/s1600/photo+2.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKZ1b6NQTsRipqyfHAHBryQyquby1pQw7ZbTFIO-51G5EYIc4AuBM2tagy7AEmCY9It4lIBg9B35V-pYDkgqiE_LqDtQZWZrWiQeJYJ2KFF9Jj2FWwLvejOoLyg2q3Q-AVPXPETHRuc_gs/s1600/photo+2.JPG" height="320" width="265" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 150%;">And my redneck country-ass brother from Greenville, N.C. was
there too—in brown suede shoes. Kinda kills the assumption that these so called
friendships, courtesy of the blogosphere are really at best, ersatz alliances—amorphic
and when called to form. Non-existent when needed. Shut up.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">Your personal emails to me have been incredible too. Here’s an excerpt from one that
I got about ten days ago when my mom was still deciding to leave. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%;">
<i><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;">“I hope your S.C. riding is not too bumpy. And if it is, you are riding
the bumps with grace and love. I am confident you are. I have not been where
you are, so I can only imagine the reflection, the joy, the sorrow, the
transitory nature of watching someone you love deeply slide to death. To
stopping. To stop. We are such 'go' creatures. Stopping is often so elusive; we
enjoy slowing down so that we can take in all the senses. Falling in love is
slowing down. Falling out of love is the senses gone amuck. We don't taste,
feel, smell, hear any more--at least not the way we once did. Maybe death
brings us back to love since it rocks our senses. And that, I believe, is a
good thing: to be rocked by love. Rocked in both meanings of the word:
comforted gently and also to experience life with vigor and vitality, dancing
and not caring if anyone is watching. I hope that you are rocked by your mom”.</span></i></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0.5in;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0.5in;">And I replied to
it again today with this…</span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2j0FtfnuDT8iFrAjBgL4gzgxZFZpHIFd-6BuQcPWxYd4cW7Fpi6I5MIrzY-uitqR1Bl1ZiN0V3HxHLD3ANa1coz8f69NedB_G2asFF_ECUFCSs3M9Pr2-97ko7iRM0aqXLxURjQU7sXri/s1600/photo+2.PNG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2j0FtfnuDT8iFrAjBgL4gzgxZFZpHIFd-6BuQcPWxYd4cW7Fpi6I5MIrzY-uitqR1Bl1ZiN0V3HxHLD3ANa1coz8f69NedB_G2asFF_ECUFCSs3M9Pr2-97ko7iRM0aqXLxURjQU7sXri/s1600/photo+2.PNG" height="640" width="504" /></a></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%;">
<i style="line-height: 150%;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;">“The first paragraph, as lovely as it was the first time I read it, is
now lovelier. It struck me so the first time, as my still alive mother was
amidst contemplating her departure, because it captured for me another way to
look at death and loss and letting go. And I loved how love and cadence were
key themes. And now after burying my mother, I’ve again read it simultaneously
through the somewhat weary eyes of grown man Dustin and the always present eyes
of the six year old me—the ukulele playing Dusty. And its lushness is even
greater”.</span></i></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFCEZOQFXwi9MVRWKmbF5bWEPLRMiv2gV205X9yDiZOSyW3vnFPui399l7RgL5oZmVQ9U8Ud02ZIMBQSqNVwwc1XAf0OnZI8xjy6nlH3FKxmAPFWcur5JZfCQQoux4I3lgCdanxNbKdDWn/s1600/photo+1.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFCEZOQFXwi9MVRWKmbF5bWEPLRMiv2gV205X9yDiZOSyW3vnFPui399l7RgL5oZmVQ9U8Ud02ZIMBQSqNVwwc1XAf0OnZI8xjy6nlH3FKxmAPFWcur5JZfCQQoux4I3lgCdanxNbKdDWn/s1600/photo+1.JPG" height="640" width="366" /></a></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0.5in;">I’ll now smugly begin
plowing through the piles of unattended life things that have either been
ignored or on hold for so many weeks. Fake swagger will be my guise to prop me up till I regain my sea legs. </span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0.5in;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0.5in;">I appreciate all of you and my mom does
too.</span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;">Onward. Home.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: 150%;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;">ADG2<o:p></o:p></span></div>
ADGhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16612897500610475937noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8818519199109196200.post-11311044273697678312014-11-09T12:22:00.000-05:002014-11-09T12:22:12.266-05:00I've Been Priviledged<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwcYNWKMyLAV-0i0NEo-aTPRiPtIAkxH8A6I4nn1uLZI6s1kr0QEwylCXpjLdGD12xu1OQ1PLZiY5FiyZ0x2hEdYGTGcG61jiaT3xx4gSTCVE0_IpeBfqhrIx8LQ74ONjTLiDGF8F6f3cc/s1600/momspeech.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwcYNWKMyLAV-0i0NEo-aTPRiPtIAkxH8A6I4nn1uLZI6s1kr0QEwylCXpjLdGD12xu1OQ1PLZiY5FiyZ0x2hEdYGTGcG61jiaT3xx4gSTCVE0_IpeBfqhrIx8LQ74ONjTLiDGF8F6f3cc/s1600/momspeech.jpg" height="640" width="480" /></a></div>
To have had such an incredible mom. And it's always intrigued me to read her Salutatorian welcome speech from her high school graduation ceremony. She was sixteen when she crafted such a well written expression--only two years older than my LFG. My mom passed away about an hour ago.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMrZ1zIwNyqsB7HwUDC808cml-7jnZV8mvWPEE-nADPQ5CQllQLkmNo126qG6-R-7IONLRi5LN24XRh0oI43AP0CXoUbMibMieKCCjHnOocrWqr0R3PN68P-LKy5QC9Rfjg4bAdiQ73OsQ/s1600/DSCN0460.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMrZ1zIwNyqsB7HwUDC808cml-7jnZV8mvWPEE-nADPQ5CQllQLkmNo126qG6-R-7IONLRi5LN24XRh0oI43AP0CXoUbMibMieKCCjHnOocrWqr0R3PN68P-LKy5QC9Rfjg4bAdiQ73OsQ/s1600/DSCN0460.JPG" height="640" width="480" /></a></div>
And I feel fortunate that LFG, the last of her grandchildren, got here soon enough to firsthand see and feel my mom's love.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhwodjuN7mIQTeNKYLESWIcER6Y0j2Cycc6y8NnhlyXWDL7qTNK8BY0XRyjewnUV7tebNKJjgQjQvCFYZdo82iZbFSscUh_p6vZdTOKpeCznX8Du5dqJ9psNhUsLAM2V7ojxVVOSaC3HS3/s1600/photo.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhwodjuN7mIQTeNKYLESWIcER6Y0j2Cycc6y8NnhlyXWDL7qTNK8BY0XRyjewnUV7tebNKJjgQjQvCFYZdo82iZbFSscUh_p6vZdTOKpeCznX8Du5dqJ9psNhUsLAM2V7ojxVVOSaC3HS3/s1600/photo.JPG" height="640" width="518" /></a></div>
My mother was a gift of inestimable value. And I'm awash in the joy of relief--knowing that she is relieved--relieved of her suffering. And I'm reveling in the blessing of having no regrets--no unrequited issues or situations that would be forever gnawing at and asking for resolution now impossible. My mother and I were rock solid in our uncomplicated and unencumbered love for each other during these last months of her journey.<br />
<br />
My only regret is that the sixteen year old woman who wrote that lovely little welcome letter never read Friedan's The Feminine Mystique.<br />
<br />
Onward. Now untethered.<br />
<br />
ADG2ADGhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16612897500610475937noreply@blogger.com23tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8818519199109196200.post-43438831552543919212014-11-08T10:38:00.002-05:002014-11-08T10:38:55.872-05:00She is Safety--She is Home<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 200%; text-indent: 0in;">She is Home. </span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 200%; text-indent: 0in;"> </span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 200%; text-indent: 0in;">The source of our very essence.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">We are born from either collaborative
concept or randy capriciousness. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">In three trimesters. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">Conditions of our residence be damned.
She’s our mother ship and safety is assured.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 0in;">
<b><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">Always<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">Yet we are groomed for departure
and encouraged to leave. Healthy leaving
sees our mother ship go from umbilical confine to swaddling base camp. You can
always go home again. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">But is base camp really home?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">Forever allegiant and drawn back
towards it. Circumstances dictate how often we return and how long we stay. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 0in;">
<b><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">Intervals<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">The brevity or duration of our
visits lessens not the value of our base camp returns. Nor the need to again
return when we are too long away. She is
succour. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><b>Tethers</b></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">Our earliest attempts ex base
camp see us scrambling about on the lower slopes. Where the risk is low and she’s
never out of eyesight and earshot. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 0in;">
<b><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">Tentative<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">Ungainly but confident in our
knowing. Not that our scrambling will improve but that she awaits us. Home. Our
base camp. And for now to her we frequently return. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 0in;">
<b><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">Ego<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">Ambition. Compelling Options. Wanderlust
and Seduction. Skill and Achievement. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">All bolster our willingness and ability
to venture above the lower slopes. The higher we go the thinner the air and we allow
ourselves to believe that this air is somehow rarefied. Exclusive when it’s merely attenuated and less
nourishing. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 0in;">
<b><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">Hubris<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">Our worst self fails to see the
scores of others all around us, eyeing the summit and poaching our rarefied air.
The audacity to think it theirs. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">The deceitful cocksurety of exclusive
air carries us to even higher summits and makes home superfluous. Base camp
unessential. You can never go home. Nor do you need to.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 0in;">
<b><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">Prodigal<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">Yet we return. And she loves us
and questions neither our impertinence nor the length of our absence. You can
always go home. Our ego gives way to the reception of restorative love.
Shelter without judgement. Lush oxygen. Base camp.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 0in;">
<b><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">Untethered<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">Home’s permanence foreshadows base
camp’s temporal utility. And we are forgiven for toggling her back and forth between
the two. She was always there regardless of the construct. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">But what are we to do? To what do we return when both are gone? <o:p></o:p></span></div>
ADGhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16612897500610475937noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8818519199109196200.post-89792232339991187032014-10-19T12:27:00.000-04:002014-10-19T16:05:34.865-04:00My Mama-Socks-And Hoping to Die at 75<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmvZtEKUGMAg1or7ePJJjDFndLyvtcd2YS5TuI7HYflyaY7iLOlkMvl0BfF47NJax36yjRZCPiLq9_hC4BVrU-H7E31MWfIIn73YX9-bEfp0qJPgmdltIObEj1hJwlz2ksqgk67k7BxbYN/s1600/photo+3.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmvZtEKUGMAg1or7ePJJjDFndLyvtcd2YS5TuI7HYflyaY7iLOlkMvl0BfF47NJax36yjRZCPiLq9_hC4BVrU-H7E31MWfIIn73YX9-bEfp0qJPgmdltIObEj1hJwlz2ksqgk67k7BxbYN/s1600/photo+3.JPG" height="640" width="394" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0in;">Look at these great socks. <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Glen_plaid"><b>Princeof Wales Check</b></a>—Prince of Wales Plaid—Glen Plaid—Glenurquhart Check—Glenurquhart
Plaid. </span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJF1VMiS8J3yzPnM88HaQztQsWgOq4jaud3VKTIVFt0yC5YFTGDGz8vjozgyZKwuP9xrZaRqvnNjUGCLU27mGNLSOCG5LO6HqwYq9YazHTiAOWnMCUve762zjSfxo7DQDo38l3qXm8C7V8/s1600/photo+4.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJF1VMiS8J3yzPnM88HaQztQsWgOq4jaud3VKTIVFt0yC5YFTGDGz8vjozgyZKwuP9xrZaRqvnNjUGCLU27mGNLSOCG5LO6HqwYq9YazHTiAOWnMCUve762zjSfxo7DQDo38l3qXm8C7V8/s1600/photo+4.JPG" height="640" width="394" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: center; text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0in;">When was the last time you saw a pair of these? Never. That's right.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjypu6eBwujNnIsxM2qUFgC52gGLSWt93inqrzwU9SnrY2l1VSCjqj20q4sIAXMp45IwefqHHPDo8owmIP7UA-QZr0UOWS_fqAeWCqoU0s4kVLmT-cGqjOr237jq-8TGUPoOC_sT0BV-iS5/s1600/photo+5.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjypu6eBwujNnIsxM2qUFgC52gGLSWt93inqrzwU9SnrY2l1VSCjqj20q4sIAXMp45IwefqHHPDo8owmIP7UA-QZr0UOWS_fqAeWCqoU0s4kVLmT-cGqjOr237jq-8TGUPoOC_sT0BV-iS5/s1600/photo+5.JPG" height="640" width="480" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0in;">Seems that there are lots of names for this pattern. And the nuancified,
overwrought cataracts that differentiate <b><a href="http://www.gq.com/style/blogs/the-gq-eye/2013/10/dropping-knowledge-glen-plaid.html">these definitions/characterizations</a>
</b>are tedious. Honestly, who gives a sh_t? It’s a pattern just jaunty enough to
dodge boredom and variable enough in its repitition to sidestep redundancy. </span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2jkQLTDivT1CUwUyaznxr0Gxbwlgj47f5SjS5q4fdz8GAuc1w_12uYdGhkPOwbTyBs4Eph88qBWOMsD9wtVFErenIA0Lu-Zjq20RituBSWhh63IJtAjyYEFTgcX_05AGnOv9Wwef2rwCF/s1600/Dropping-Knowledge-Glen-Plaid-Fabric.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2jkQLTDivT1CUwUyaznxr0Gxbwlgj47f5SjS5q4fdz8GAuc1w_12uYdGhkPOwbTyBs4Eph88qBWOMsD9wtVFErenIA0Lu-Zjq20RituBSWhh63IJtAjyYEFTgcX_05AGnOv9Wwef2rwCF/s1600/Dropping-Knowledge-Glen-Plaid-Fabric.jpg" height="640" width="640" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0in;">Domesticated
Wildness. Think about it. As long as the Glen is woven within reasonable color
combinations and scales, it conveys a rather civilized and, especially in our
current world of slovenly dress, cleaned up—buttoned up—casual formality.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6C6UzlraDCBbFOsqORUbNfrX2CHo-joIknpuFSQRWE04N12p41SEzN8G5Tj6_AJrnCJOX2VWnKGfEYon-JbfhxtL8Akx87bthO-K8ja493q3knvunNO-C_SuiaMKPcAnqmupcUqTMUg4X/s1600/36pg_TomFordDetail.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6C6UzlraDCBbFOsqORUbNfrX2CHo-joIknpuFSQRWE04N12p41SEzN8G5Tj6_AJrnCJOX2VWnKGfEYon-JbfhxtL8Akx87bthO-K8ja493q3knvunNO-C_SuiaMKPcAnqmupcUqTMUg4X/s1600/36pg_TomFordDetail.jpg" height="640" width="504" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0in;">Yet blow the scale up and contrive
it with other outta scale caca and what have you? <a href="http://www.whatisjameswearing.com/duke-of-windsor-style/"><b>A damn clown outfit.</b></a></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdV7etQqJZ_GmJ01_fpmePAWlO2YxKu_8GRSLDMpSrEsO3J1mFDAQBOTB8aeA0LNe1NgVf8C-YwD-4PodteTACNA97rr4xEfXn0mseCOqEmBzdLRr1IRZWu6wZ5keJqyJIZHju7sulFn48/s1600/tumblr_mg3ttsj6AY1ro3vfko1_1280.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdV7etQqJZ_GmJ01_fpmePAWlO2YxKu_8GRSLDMpSrEsO3J1mFDAQBOTB8aeA0LNe1NgVf8C-YwD-4PodteTACNA97rr4xEfXn0mseCOqEmBzdLRr1IRZWu6wZ5keJqyJIZHju7sulFn48/s1600/tumblr_mg3ttsj6AY1ro3vfko1_1280.jpg" height="640" width="478" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0in;">
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0in;">Now don't get me wrong. You can play with color and scale to a fair degree and still avoid clowndom. <a href="http://preppybythegraceofgod.tumblr.com/"><b>Todd Hogg Howell</b></a> teeters on the edge with his overcoat.</span></div>
</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJVV68-Z_i4TFDF8C53iOdY1Gx3v9ACjZY2KQQzt63BcmEa8jgToOwQfo1oo5xiutxxTZGkRk1h9v-bskF06AN-RPX6if5U9IGeqkDFAyOOKPLUyd-D95lX4SlyNXKdLZTR0OqjV_Y3Q-e/s1600/tumblr_nddv2sphdW1qlmxcoo4_1280.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJVV68-Z_i4TFDF8C53iOdY1Gx3v9ACjZY2KQQzt63BcmEa8jgToOwQfo1oo5xiutxxTZGkRk1h9v-bskF06AN-RPX6if5U9IGeqkDFAyOOKPLUyd-D95lX4SlyNXKdLZTR0OqjV_Y3Q-e/s1600/tumblr_nddv2sphdW1qlmxcoo4_1280.png" height="640" width="568" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0in;">Here’s another example of what
happens when you take traditional patterns and make 'em fuzzified beyond
good measure. This abusive goat rodeo of pattern inbreeding broke out in
houndstooth and there's nothing domesticated about this wildness. It flat out jumped the fence and started shamelessly licking itself...in front of everyone, right in the middle of the road. Best thing that could happen here is for a car to come run over it mid-lick. Lordy. Just wait till you see what I do with the Glen hose. Shut up.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjS0JEfqx6Xc-85aV7xhKW-c_HwTiIH7VxQzLcOqqqRGz_Ynw_ND80jP_QZegTh9ZlQIBy1jUhqffzuN2aYdqamdHosng_rlJf9lEOdyj6GtsP1eInL1nBgg8rQD27RODktP87sgOK3bz80/s1600/thighs_edsullivanshow1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjS0JEfqx6Xc-85aV7xhKW-c_HwTiIH7VxQzLcOqqqRGz_Ynw_ND80jP_QZegTh9ZlQIBy1jUhqffzuN2aYdqamdHosng_rlJf9lEOdyj6GtsP1eInL1nBgg8rQD27RODktP87sgOK3bz80/s1600/thighs_edsullivanshow1.jpg" height="484" width="640" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0in;">Kind of a Domesticated Wildness
this Glen thang is. Yep. That’s it. Sorta like the Beatles’ North American debut
strategy. Domesticated Wildness. Jackets and ties on the Ed Sullivan show. None
of that hippie ass beatnik-alated kit. Suits. And ties. Yet accompanied by head bobbing mop top hair
that American parents found off putting and American girls found irresistible.</span></div>
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<iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.youtube.com/embed/JC0MEF6d1eU?feature=player_embedded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: center; text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0in;">Here's the Beatles' third appearance on Ed Sullivan's show. See for yourself. </span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_NyGe-DwRSx5JcXkhh5uyD_10RC0weiAuWBgLqp91DJOrzxl9uurWdjnELnXo_zYqRmhXMKUMhK-btOSHaG_WahnScFaLaKIH2UAZ1S4SmqPqE11qv6A0d4OFjZ82-YVUq1HqIpU6t1Di/s1600/beatles-in-chelsea-boots.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_NyGe-DwRSx5JcXkhh5uyD_10RC0weiAuWBgLqp91DJOrzxl9uurWdjnELnXo_zYqRmhXMKUMhK-btOSHaG_WahnScFaLaKIH2UAZ1S4SmqPqE11qv6A0d4OFjZ82-YVUq1HqIpU6t1Di/s1600/beatles-in-chelsea-boots.jpg" height="468" width="640" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0in;">And Chelsea boots. Not those usual shoddings that accompany suits intended
for the City, Church’s cap toed whatevers from their home country. Not for these
boys. Chelsea Boots—boots that conveyed keeping your daughter out past curfew,
having been let into the Colony Room Club in Soho because your dad knows
Francis Bacon. Oh, and their pants were ever so slightly slim. Not tight. Not
in a pecker protrusion way. Remember, this was 1963 and the Jim Morrison
leather britches potato in the front routine woulda never made it onstage at
the Ed Sullivan Theater. But their pants were just so-so enough to just piss off dads and intrigue dad’s
little girl. Nice boys but watch them. They'll shag your sister.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqdFtVWhy4yxwkgPjdlbZZzNMk_7zTKqG6LxvRBiggDKQEIBep0Kj5MhagTPFLeme4PrxpNgMrrxcJuwNWylqUskG9ciLnG0uUXQLFOlNf9sigeh-_iYewP0OEBpkY_ZcPf5j72Smwr5Kc/s1600/download.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqdFtVWhy4yxwkgPjdlbZZzNMk_7zTKqG6LxvRBiggDKQEIBep0Kj5MhagTPFLeme4PrxpNgMrrxcJuwNWylqUskG9ciLnG0uUXQLFOlNf9sigeh-_iYewP0OEBpkY_ZcPf5j72Smwr5Kc/s1600/download.jpg" height="416" width="640" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0in;">How did I get this far off course
when trying to extol the whateverishness of Glen Plaid? I’ll get back to it but
final thang about the Beatles’ strategy. History assigns its inception to their
first manager, Brian Epstein. </span><i style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0in;">“Epstein
took the <u>raw energy</u> of <u>generational conflict</u> and made it
acceptable.” </i><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0in;">The caged heat at the Beatles' Shea Stadium concert offers evidence of their strategy's efficacy.</span></div>
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</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEBfHCts41nX53lPSkA5HdrbjjhEVUh1TaFJwU5o1kd96AlYTe3eKgLUdiz-7GO_Afdx4Plr3xqekh_hnU3c22rauzDMvP5ZYPd2olmeuBpF2OJtqdGVrCEgjSQjAZBGK_lFWOqF_Jh_af/s1600/pow+Duke.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEBfHCts41nX53lPSkA5HdrbjjhEVUh1TaFJwU5o1kd96AlYTe3eKgLUdiz-7GO_Afdx4Plr3xqekh_hnU3c22rauzDMvP5ZYPd2olmeuBpF2OJtqdGVrCEgjSQjAZBGK_lFWOqF_Jh_af/s1600/pow+Duke.jpg" height="640" width="544" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0in;">And let me also clear up something
about the genesis of one of the names of this pattern. The Prince of Wales
Check or Plaid. It’s been assigned to both Princes…later to become Edwards VII
and VIII.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNBmJIuzx1_DP5lffUDkSEFN3pimarYeZU3NnTWe5kLCI1hHHy6BAM2s7C8fMhDijc2Bz-Akr43KAT8W0z3K35Y09Pqc5d0Mc-V_pMwB51toRvHc4o2L0cPZ2t4N586tA4pXg33eZWdnEa/s1600/pow+5041131.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNBmJIuzx1_DP5lffUDkSEFN3pimarYeZU3NnTWe5kLCI1hHHy6BAM2s7C8fMhDijc2Bz-Akr43KAT8W0z3K35Y09Pqc5d0Mc-V_pMwB51toRvHc4o2L0cPZ2t4N586tA4pXg33eZWdnEa/s1600/pow+5041131.jpeg" height="640" width="476" /></a></div>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0in;">Some are more prone to assign it
to the Duke of Windsor but <a href="http://www.greyfoxblog.com/2012/12/prince-of-wales-check.html"><b>Bertie wore it</b></a> long before that little
whippersnapper Nazi understudy took it on.</span></div>
</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBDY1F5s3uTmh-lH4xecqLHFM3YNP_SPkhU6Rx5m1oNjsChafX_4x8mddOWSVe93UJnz5go1XZ8UCDULX_4t9mtffVKAPJowHdndBWArjcSCciJNgbRhXaXzzZXb3MapiPP1pkTxp7IiHd/s1600/charlie+watts+a70bf8d44213b2117782371cb1c70532.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBDY1F5s3uTmh-lH4xecqLHFM3YNP_SPkhU6Rx5m1oNjsChafX_4x8mddOWSVe93UJnz5go1XZ8UCDULX_4t9mtffVKAPJowHdndBWArjcSCciJNgbRhXaXzzZXb3MapiPP1pkTxp7IiHd/s1600/charlie+watts+a70bf8d44213b2117782371cb1c70532.jpg" height="634" width="640" /></a></div>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0in;">And others have worn it in fine
form. Not the least of whom is my sartorial brother in peaked lapelled contrivances,
</span><a href="http://www.greyfoxblog.com/2013/10/charlie-watts-wears-prince-of-wales.html" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0in;"><b>fellow drummer Charlie Watts.</b></a></div>
</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhktV87RsDVRN8u-kbYtRrH69qvFWJhdIclnJaOYetXlqJZj1F5DnbaByz1j3ebs_DC3dwA_fs51GXYpOI-LS6CAUlY0WxHx1tCTeM2vaXu6VK7D7cq5ax7UR0BOr0KkWQ9-COh2e1TJpac/s1600/cw.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhktV87RsDVRN8u-kbYtRrH69qvFWJhdIclnJaOYetXlqJZj1F5DnbaByz1j3ebs_DC3dwA_fs51GXYpOI-LS6CAUlY0WxHx1tCTeM2vaXu6VK7D7cq5ax7UR0BOr0KkWQ9-COh2e1TJpac/s1600/cw.png" height="640" width="376" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0in;">Oh, and I met up with Charlie the
other day on Savile Row. I kid you not. </span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUOj371keoDJwjHCMipFLCCX1Aw4zwEySQ1N94FJxbv14919ChnZ7myCjdgmWZ-hPtHoKHzJNmcueMt7sLkfMTvGQCxmXZONkFkVo8PTL7-5QGNojQO9wy_WdQcy1VSJquzJNJuDOWlTKu/s1600/cw2.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUOj371keoDJwjHCMipFLCCX1Aw4zwEySQ1N94FJxbv14919ChnZ7myCjdgmWZ-hPtHoKHzJNmcueMt7sLkfMTvGQCxmXZONkFkVo8PTL7-5QGNojQO9wy_WdQcy1VSJquzJNJuDOWlTKu/s1600/cw2.png" height="640" width="466" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0in;">I’ll write a proper story about it
someday soon.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBYny9IpaISl1u5JMwnsZRLVDp_E1cp82Q2Et4ZibUw9HQAZsi5FgWv33Fbhr2hglymry7Yzgz6kKv_tipGS6Y-m2K2lpkwg7nIU8T8-__8x1PNU_KztNw4Ze43ATuPzDydPXOHBurZfRv/s1600/DSCN1988_1150.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBYny9IpaISl1u5JMwnsZRLVDp_E1cp82Q2Et4ZibUw9HQAZsi5FgWv33Fbhr2hglymry7Yzgz6kKv_tipGS6Y-m2K2lpkwg7nIU8T8-__8x1PNU_KztNw4Ze43ATuPzDydPXOHBurZfRv/s1600/DSCN1988_1150.JPG" height="480" width="640" /></a></div>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0in;">And here I am several decades ago
in a somewhat tame version of the glen whatever pattern. Rather attenuated
compared to my later fuzziness. Same with the woman.</span></div>
</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAzg4vCrOgWzuH8iKaNthYCa6DJye-0oCbzDT5fR34-l4__0ZPbdgeR5g8CWWIj5eDubwfjgGVt8jAbezL0eBGC-B3BABKR2Rf4U7NIBSGm7apyVm2uUzdriubJqAdMezI1JPJtMNOYrXH/s1600/original.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAzg4vCrOgWzuH8iKaNthYCa6DJye-0oCbzDT5fR34-l4__0ZPbdgeR5g8CWWIj5eDubwfjgGVt8jAbezL0eBGC-B3BABKR2Rf4U7NIBSGm7apyVm2uUzdriubJqAdMezI1JPJtMNOYrXH/s1600/original.jpg" height="422" width="640" /></a></div>
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<i style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">“Oh
no, ADG, punter of all things fuzzy, the ONLY version of this pattern that’s
truly, authentically, artisanally, curitorially the Prince of Wales check is
the blue/brown combination”.</span></i><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0in;">
Well let me just head off at the pass you sartorially autodidactilated, no
life, still living with your mama, smartass anonymous commenters. Save it. We
don’t care. And by the way, that particular combination is the ugliest version
in the line-up. Go ask mama for an advance on your allowance and get yourself
an outfit made from this legacy version, ok? And be sure to ask for the Jethro
Bodine, Thom Browne shrunk up pattern. It’ll be sick. Shut the ….</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5L0x1O-6kErzeWcww7fVWJfiqCrcpQWbD0LEwR69IdPJX5uvbfPknbEI-bDBUu07pJnuoX-_jwsyl5I_8MtM0WvQ-j5dUSqlWi3HVIim-fvv1__qnZESZQTbi9UkDqQ_oaP4-us242Awi/s1600/Prince_PurpleRain_single.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5L0x1O-6kErzeWcww7fVWJfiqCrcpQWbD0LEwR69IdPJX5uvbfPknbEI-bDBUu07pJnuoX-_jwsyl5I_8MtM0WvQ-j5dUSqlWi3HVIim-fvv1__qnZESZQTbi9UkDqQ_oaP4-us242Awi/s1600/Prince_PurpleRain_single.jpg" height="640" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0in;">Bottom line is that the
assignment of this pattern to either of the Princes of Wales, later Kings
Edward has been wrong all along. Truth is that the pattern was named in honor
of Prince’s 1978 Wales tour. Prince and his hoochie coochie retinue played forty-three
concerts in twenty days. </span><i style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0in;">“It was my most
rewarding tour”</i><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0in;"> said Prince. </span><i style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0in;">“The
travel time from one concert venue to the next was easy-peasy”</i><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0in;">. I still can’t
believe that Prince actually said “easy-peasy”.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3RXE4Ot-38wR42yILgs_mqkqb9og0FhTiZ5gCXX_HREs3UgwoJ073w106TeKjKqkoaM4fM55-vgcXCKc3i3Um6kCnlkY8GQ0SQpMt8hsuuHi1Grav_tw_iKbF3TH8taj7gJw6jpgk74BE/s1600/lead_large.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3RXE4Ot-38wR42yILgs_mqkqb9og0FhTiZ5gCXX_HREs3UgwoJ073w106TeKjKqkoaM4fM55-vgcXCKc3i3Um6kCnlkY8GQ0SQpMt8hsuuHi1Grav_tw_iKbF3TH8taj7gJw6jpgk74BE/s1600/lead_large.jpg" height="370" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0in;">Ok, I’ve done my duty regarding
sartorial subjects. Seems that this blog used to be about such things. But I
now want to point you to Zeke Emanuel’s article in the Atlantic, <a href="http://www.theatlantic.com/features/archive/2014/09/why-i-hope-to-die-at-75/379329/"><b>Why I Hope toDie at 75</b></a>. And please, if anything pisses you off (other than the aforementioned
rant about the Prince of Wales pattern caca) to the point of wanting to rage
against me with a comment, please read Zeke’s article first.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">My mother has now been back in the
ICU for a week. And my brother and I
this weekend—our fifty-seven year old sister, a critical care nurse by
training, is too incapacitated amidst her own struggle with lupus to either come
and help us or offer objective input—are discussing the discontinuation of
antibiotics for my mother’s intractable infections and working out the
logistics of getting her back in the home that she’s been running for fifty-one
years—the last year, from a hospital bed in the den. Hospice and palliative care
are the only tactics we are willing to now discuss. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglM1MqLIcvN0wm_I5XZi0koU9OfKB4zmSnW2fzmT5TBurvGXP4ndE21-gadMWboiUit31tTO_KweJ6kU4bjZtvlB8kHXZtEQ717g3u0M7y0TgjGkzdoQp0hNjiahctU8oN89GnUQ4ATCOf/s1600/Mom+(2).jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglM1MqLIcvN0wm_I5XZi0koU9OfKB4zmSnW2fzmT5TBurvGXP4ndE21-gadMWboiUit31tTO_KweJ6kU4bjZtvlB8kHXZtEQ717g3u0M7y0TgjGkzdoQp0hNjiahctU8oN89GnUQ4ATCOf/s1600/Mom+(2).jpg" height="480" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; text-indent: 0in;">This is my </span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; text-indent: 0in;">sister and me a year and a half ago...saying goodbye to our mom the first time. I'm tired of saying goodbye. And we know that we </span><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif; text-indent: 0in;">aren't<span style="line-height: 150%;"> special or unique in
this journey with our mom. Thousands of other siblings are amidst the same right now, all over the world. But we are exhausted. <a href="http://maxminimus.blogspot.com/2013/03/tatas-and-milk.html"><b>My mother has been toying with death</b></a> for a year and a half now. I’m tired to the bone and
weary of this eighteen month roller coaster of emotional whack-a-mole. The toll
that it’s taken on me, physically, spiritually, emotionally and financially is
alarming. I’ve never been pulled in so many directions simultaneously by forces
that are so intensely demanding. And the guilt associated with under delivering
on each demand has been paralysing. </span></span><i style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0in;">(My
reasons for using the British spelling for paralyzing are twofold. One is that
I just returned from England. The other is in honor of those Americans who
affect in their writing, some connection to England by using “colour” instead
of “color” and say herb—like “Herb Alpert” instead of herb—like “urb”. Here’s
the deal—unless you have at least on British parent or you went to school in
England for more than one year, stop with the Anglo Sycophancy. I gave up the
practice as soon as my Aunt Tootie and Roxanne Burgess called me on it. So now
I’m calling you out. Stop it.) </i></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVBC6HaWK5xLb3s_6B-Q3hZ8vokYZqorCD8CyENIjkjG70fEvCK1J7n-DCahslYnn8ulARaUGIDet8BOAxly65rkkoFJxGYcKfjzSxCWrxt8LdmJfofFnqE2_Ewcs2OM3IR9gF4-gMdhNX/s1600/tumblr_n7fts3Dqx31qlmxcoo1_1280.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVBC6HaWK5xLb3s_6B-Q3hZ8vokYZqorCD8CyENIjkjG70fEvCK1J7n-DCahslYnn8ulARaUGIDet8BOAxly65rkkoFJxGYcKfjzSxCWrxt8LdmJfofFnqE2_Ewcs2OM3IR9gF4-gMdhNX/s1600/tumblr_n7fts3Dqx31qlmxcoo1_1280.jpg" height="480" width="640" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0in;">Ok, back to my mama. I say the
guilt </span><i style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0in;">“has been”</i><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0in;"> because I’m over it. At
least I am trying to be. I didn’t drop everything this past week and run to South
Carolina to participate in the vigil yet again. I can’t back burner my life
here to do it this time. My mom and I are rock solid and she knows that I’ve
been there in service to her as much as physically possible over this last year and a
half. I’m suffering from sympathy fatigue and I’m exasperated at the thought of
selecting the next appropriate emotional state to check into only to have the
universe once again tell me that I’ve selected the wrong damn one. Again.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">Modern medical interventions don’t
always prolong life. They forestall death. And the interim between what was a
decent quality of life and the reaper’s
rap on the door is a rather hellish stretch of ennui. Nobody loves their mother
more than me and my sibs. But if we are brave enough to disentangle ourselves
from the tentacles of maudlin sentiment, my sibs and I should without guilt, face up to
the reality that our mom should have died a year ago. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";"><span style="line-height: 150%;">Had we been citizens of Germany
or several other very countries who offer better overall population
based health management than we do in the States, my mother would have never
survived the initial incident a year and a half ago. Why? Because independent
of advanced directives, they would have never put a feeding tube down her nose. We don't do a good job of having healthy dialogue about end of life issues here in the States. We don't do death very well. Countries that have a euthanasia option utilize it, </span><span style="line-height: 24px;">surprisingly</span><span style="line-height: 150%;"> to me, not that often. But what the option allows is the platform for more candid discussions regarding end of life decisions. I'm not advocating it for the States. I'm just saying that we need to rethink how we manage the life journey.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBGAwO8fsxICE5egtItq05JscEnfO1tAGklrGFk95HTjsW-8rtLhabUk0qkfu92p6RpGrRGwCVI6ovmy2ja7OX_p9Eod8Hk2qwBA-XyaHkuL8EKV4e4JIrlP8RlazcNK-EGlqcYg04hQdn/s1600/tumblr_myhz15dlpC1qlmxcoo1_1280.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBGAwO8fsxICE5egtItq05JscEnfO1tAGklrGFk95HTjsW-8rtLhabUk0qkfu92p6RpGrRGwCVI6ovmy2ja7OX_p9Eod8Hk2qwBA-XyaHkuL8EKV4e4JIrlP8RlazcNK-EGlqcYg04hQdn/s1600/tumblr_myhz15dlpC1qlmxcoo1_1280.jpg" height="320" width="240" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0in;">And I can’t tell you what a
tempest of every describable emotion I’ve had to work through to be able to say
out loud and put in print my belief that it would have been better if my mom
had passed on back then. I’m getting nauseated just typing this even though I’m
resolute in my opinion. Why? Because my mom and I have had some lovely and
humbly instructive moments over the last eighteen months. Laughing, eating
barbecue, reminiscing, being humbled—both of us as I’ve put her on and off the
bedpan and wiped her. But the cost has been too high by any and every measure
one could use to assess the upside.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="line-height: 150%;">I’ve been to church more times
than most of you who read my stuff. So please—don’t offer me that ethereal hall
pass/permission slip bullshit that supposedly gets us off the hook for having
to answer such tough existential questions. </span></span><i style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 150%;">“It’s just not in our hands, Dust. There are higher powers at work here
and we as mere mortals won’t know why things play out like they do till we get
there.”</i><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="line-height: 150%;"> Folks, it’s the god given
tools and intellect that allow mere mortals to perpetuate in the name of
humanity, this cowardly and discourteous end of life shepherding process so don’t
hand me the bullshit about how we are not in control of this journey. Yes, you can </span><span style="line-height: 24px;">believe</span><span style="line-height: 150%;"> in a higher power and not subjugate your common sense as a condition of belief. </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="line-height: 150%;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="line-height: 150%;">The
shepherds, or at least the committee that wrote the Standard Operating
Procedures for the end of life shepherding process, should be fired. And if after this; my admonishment to you, the mind
numbingly naive members of the doctrinally impertinent, you still insist on offering
me solace along the <i>god’s in control </i>lines, I’ll drive to your house—I don’t
care if you live in Outer <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Vulgaria"><b>Vulgaria</b></a>—and deploy my pimp hand or maybe even a
closed fist, right in your pie hole. Until you've wiped pee from the maternal conduit through which you emerged...until you've locked eyes with your mother while doing so and realized that in her eyes there's shame and in yours, </span><span style="line-height: 24px;">embarrassment</span><span style="line-height: 150%;">, don't <u>even</u> try to school me. I mean right now. I can hurt you.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBMHKHLwJA5tGT7nT1lrrA4jpqrroB3CQDezv1u5QQIaH1Mt1Ai-eHCRvv_RHrXoHSkagT6hyphenhyphenyey3lsHVLoBqbzRmhX133DAZLbhnSIr3OZYzAbSmkcG-WItYyjUAQC92s459gwbvL26pp/s1600/peas.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBMHKHLwJA5tGT7nT1lrrA4jpqrroB3CQDezv1u5QQIaH1Mt1Ai-eHCRvv_RHrXoHSkagT6hyphenhyphenyey3lsHVLoBqbzRmhX133DAZLbhnSIr3OZYzAbSmkcG-WItYyjUAQC92s459gwbvL26pp/s1600/peas.JPG" height="480" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0in;">Let me tell you, if anyone is
going to get </span><i style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0in;">“there”</i><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0in;"> it’s my mom. And
five gets ten that both of her husbands and her eight brothers and sisters already
in residence up </span><i style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0in;">“there”</i><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0in;"> are going to
say </span><i style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0in;">“What the hell took you so long?”</i><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0in;">
And her answer should be… </span><i style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0in;">“Well I was
more than ready eighteen months ago but the United States of America’s Medical
Industrial Complex wasn’t quite yet finished fiddling with me, my wallet, and
the physical-financial-spiritual reservoirs of my kids. Oh, but for all those
costs, I was able to dictate to Dusty the recipes for his favorite things that
I’ve cooked for him these last fifty years. And I taught him to make stove top white
trash cornbread in a cast iron skillet. You know he always did love that. Oh, and the last time he was home we shelled butterbeans".</i></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwIMOCk7ntmIskNxneypO14YlrXsDDgtG4atvTzVWdQ_KDplgO2nxKI76lH7Y8XH_kVsbnRlWCkVN651awSayRSshL0MiSatNRLfa5IF7ZsLgyUezKhaeSc6dvZMBlIUQJ8hJG6ZIKqEHv/s1600/photo+1.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwIMOCk7ntmIskNxneypO14YlrXsDDgtG4atvTzVWdQ_KDplgO2nxKI76lH7Y8XH_kVsbnRlWCkVN651awSayRSshL0MiSatNRLfa5IF7ZsLgyUezKhaeSc6dvZMBlIUQJ8hJG6ZIKqEHv/s1600/photo+1.JPG" height="320" width="306" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0in;">Yes I’m exhausted and frustrated
and deciding whether or not to select door two or three of the
bereavement-depression-letting go game. But either way, I’ll be wearing some
kick ass socks.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaiy8CTk7-wIGkWeZGpWAzv3vOfibcpAFDQXYN7xenPibcbMkOQgjzdxSIdZVUSUcZQQIZoTpGro62S52t-tt1iof0PBGo9FRdJndoxnC0-G4VVDerMJEX_PGsz-1yS0jHEYjwhcx3XDW2/s1600/photo+2.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaiy8CTk7-wIGkWeZGpWAzv3vOfibcpAFDQXYN7xenPibcbMkOQgjzdxSIdZVUSUcZQQIZoTpGro62S52t-tt1iof0PBGo9FRdJndoxnC0-G4VVDerMJEX_PGsz-1yS0jHEYjwhcx3XDW2/s1600/photo+2.JPG" height="640" width="498" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0in;">Onward. Two Glenurquhart adorned steps forward. Three
back. And listening wholeheartedly to Zeke Emanuel.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">ADG2</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
ADGhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16612897500610475937noreply@blogger.com23