Out to erstwhile Barren Island to do some last minute research for an article I’m working on. This license plate is from 1951 if I’m not mistaken. Damn kitchen sink was out there, too. It was high tide, the worst time to go, but it was a last minute trip. Saw a mess of least terns. Rosa rugosa blooming. A brown thrasher leaping from the beach grass. It looked very cinnamony.
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As the temps have risen, I’ve noticed that some of previous years' fashion disasters have returned. The hip-hop boydress, for instance: that long white tee shirt that goes to the knees? I mean, that’s a dress, homeboys. Not that there’s anything wrong with wearing male unbifurcated garments - I’ve got a kilt myself - but I don’t think they think of it that way. Of course, this is the same crowd that favors those big baseball caps that makes the wearer look like a pinhead. Meanwhile, in another socioeconomic sector, Capri pants for men? Please, Lord, spare us. What’s the matter with a pair of shorts? Why the silly not-quite?
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