Mamie and I went to town yesterday, which means we drove one
mile to the little village center for a walk. I thought it would be a nice
break for her from the Mobius strip of sidewalks in our condo complex.
As usual, we parked in the small shopping area
that’s made up of a bank, a pizza shop, an insurance guy, and a hairdresser,
and then we walked from there to the library in back to drop off some books.
She was thrilled to have new places to sniff and pee and trotted ahead of me,
tail in the air.
Through the
park with the Civil War statue, past the village coffee shop, and we were on
the grounds of the private academy. It was a beautiful sunny day and the
students were out in force, passing us on the brick sidewalks. A group of three
were paused in front of one of the dorms and they caught my attention because
two of the three were wearing camel hair coats, something I don’t remember
seeing in a while and particularly not on 16 year-olds. An ankle-length version
passed me a few minutes later. All I can figure is this is one more fashion
trend I’ve missed, although it could be limited to the stratospheric income
range of these students’ families.
These coats
reminded me, though, of a conversation I had with my son-in-law over
Thanksgiving. We both remember winter as a time when you just resigned yourself
to being cold.
I have a good twenty years on him,
but we both grew up in the pre-puffy coat, pre-Thinsulate eras. As a general
rule, you only had one layer of wool and a shiny rayon lining between you and
old man winter and you would just deal. That’s the way it was - of course you
were cold; you were outside.
Maybe being cold from November through March
toughened us. What with the need to get through the cold from point A to point B as quickly as possible, we might have even been in better shape since everyone
probably walked faster then, too.
