It was
his choice outfit that caught my eye. He was sporting these satiny knee socks
that would normally be nestled in a pair of nice Wing Tip shoes were instead being
consumed by a pair of sensible black sandals. But it wasn’t until I looked
further up on this gentleman that I realized the socks and sandal combo was the
least shocking of the outfit.
From
what I observed so far, I could tell that he took precious time in finding just
the right thing to wear. He had on the brightest pair of BVD’s I had ever seen.
Of all the colors of tightie whities, he had to pick canary yellow; canary
yellow with white trim, no less. Those suckers were bright! It was like looking
at the moon only to be blinded by the sun.
Not
only was the outfit one of a kind, but I would soon find out, so was the guy.
He was a 92 year old man that was covered from his neck down with old, old
tattoos. They were so old they were blue and running together. It was as if he
had been painted with the colors of the ocean.
I
couldn’t get over all of the history that was tattooed all over his body; the
designs, the styles, the ink and the tools that were used. I was captivated. I even
tried to picture what it might have been like to get a tattoo back in the 1920’s
and 30’s. What were the tools like? How clean was the place? How drunk was
everybody?
I know
he’s passed on by now (this was back in 1992), but he still pops in my head
once in a while. I can still see him walking along with a big grin on his face
enjoying all of the attention from the people there. He looked like he was
having the time of his life. I hope that if I’m lucky enough to be kicking a
long like that at 92 that I’m as vibrant as he was and that I have better
fashion sense.
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