I Might As Well Be Spring: The Attire for Monday. . .

Cold, blustery, and wet here in Mid-Michigan today although we might possibly have a couple of inches of wet snow at some point. It just started actually. Still some limited cross-country skiing up north at one of the Nordic ski centers we like, apparently, but I have not been able to get away for that.

But it is springtime according to the calendar. Attire-wise, I managed to stow the fall and winter stuff and bring out the spring-summer-early fall gear on Saturday. Always fun to rediscover what you have not thought about in several months.

Equally satisfying to discover items that have not ever seen the light of day. Such is the case for today's shirt from J. Press (hanging in the closet for a year or more) and the necktie, which (hanging on the back of my tie rack, where I keep all of my repp stripe numbers) for 8-10 years. Imagine that.

-- Heinz Ulrich

P.S.

Believe it, or not, someone actually just used word "please" (rather than the brusk "Can I get __ ?") at the recently reopened cafe here in the library on campus where I spend a lot of time. I'm skeptical, but there might be a glimmer of hope for us.

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Avoid Careless Chatter. . .

E specially about the personal details of our lives. There is a lot that OUGHT to be kept more private in 2022 than has become the accepted norm for many. With the conscious and intentional cultivation of classic style in mind, however, we want to avoid oversharing and keep a bit more of ourselves to ourselves. Exactly what personal information and how much of it to keep private seems to be a slippery concept though. Here’s my take based on what I was told and observed as a child and young person at home. Basically, one should keep oneself to oneself in all respects (finances, personal worth, accomplishments, politics, sex, dirty laundry, etc.). As my late father used to advise when we were very small, and I am talking preschool and kindergarten, there were particular subjects that were not discussed outside the immediate family. There is a time and place for sharing certain details of one’s life, but most of the time, those should be played very close to the chest,

Chilly Late April Wednesday Attire. . .

Y ou know, if it is going to remain this cold and blustery, I need about eight inches of snow for some more cross-country skiing. But since the white stuff is long gone, it was time to fish through the cedar closet down in Zum Stollenkeller and pull out some cold weather attire for a seasonal reboot. But I decided to forgo the usual gray herringbone jacket from J. Press (my go-to tweed sports jacket) and instead opted for this number from Hart, Schaffner, and Marx plus the tan cords that hang on the same hanger, so strenuous mental effort was not required. Pressed the shirt after tucking in the Young Master last night at 8:30, grabbed these shoes, and socks, and Bob is your mother's brother as they say. Occasionally gazing through the large library window to my immediate left this morning, and I keep hearing that old Jobim tune drift through my mind this morning (aided by the windmills), as sung by Astrud Gilberto ( together with Leonard Cohen and Paolo Conte, the musi

The Pleasaures of a Well-trained Dog. . .

A few final photographs from my visit to my sister in Washington, D.C. last week. These include one of 'Mr. Beau,' my sister's meticulously trained and truly wonderful Doberman, another of my sister, second cousin, step-father, and yours truly on the steps of the church outside Lexington, North Carolina just after our late mother's interment service, two of me solo at the National Cathedral, and a final one of my sister and me hamming it up during a long evening walk the day before I returned to Michigan. My sister routinely walks to the cathedral, about three blocks from her place, to enjoy the grounds and gardens. The Bishop's Garden, in particular, is a place she likes to sit for quiet contemplation and internal dialogues with our late maternal grandparents and mother, very much in keeping with the Episcopal side of things. Our grandfather, who was raised Methodist, became an Episcopalian when he married our grandmother. Before you ask, I am not sure tha

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