The Pleasures of Slightly Faded Style. . .

 

Out and about yesterday afternoon with the Young Master for his usual math tutoring, a subject he maintains he dislikes, yet he does remarkably well with it and enjoys his visits to the tutoring center.  More of the usual summertime gear for our errands yesterday, but there is something wonderful about donning slightly faded, old, yet still serviceable attire in the early morning post-shower.  

These two items, purchased 10+ years ago from Land's End, are an example.  And I must admit to loving the obnoxious Madras shorts, which so closely resemble those worn by three generations of family when we used to convene on the Carolina coast or the Chesapeake Bay (Virginia) when I was a child and teenager, depending on who hosted the extended family for a couple of weeks each July or early August.

Most family members hailed from North Carolina, Virginia, and Maryland.  We were the outliers living north of the Mason-Dixon Line outside Philadelphia, but one great uncle came from Massachusetts and another was a Georgia boy.  Episcopalians, Methodists, Baptists, and one Catholic.  Yet everyone got along famously.

The most pressing issues during these visits, during the 1970s and 80s, included early morning walks down the beach to pick up a newspaper with my maternal grandfather and one of his sisters (Great Aunt Marnie, who typically ran the kitchen), occasionally driving inland for lunch somewhere, ongoing games of Bridge for the adults, and playing on the dunes outside or in the surf for the younger set until dinnertime.  That would be followed by various activities outside, chatting with family members on the deck or porch, in the sea air and, of course, more games of Bridge that lasted into the wee hours for the adults.  

It was, in a word, idyllic.  Little disagreement.  No open conflict.  No drama.  No raised voices.  Quiet laughter that was not mean-spirited and without torrents of obscenities spewed forth every time someone opened his or her mouth.  I realize that last bit makes me seem impossibly old, since blue language seems to be the lingua franca for so many in 2023.  But everyone seemed nevertheless happy in each other's company.  Or at least kind and polite enough to pretend they were. 

-- Heinz-Ulrich