Geetting Old

When you're young, 10, 20, 30 death is an abstract. Even if you experience the death of a friend, relative, beloved pet, or even have a brush with the grim reaper yourself, death is not blowing its cold breath up your backside. But at seventy, my view of death change, I felt its cold, boney finger tap me on the back.

Skirts, I like em.

I seem to recall the major shift away from skirts and dresses for women's business wear, toward pant suits, gained momentum sometime in the mid seventies.

My wife started wearing pant suits around that time, and I was pretty cool to the idea. Not because I thought, women shouldn't cross over into men's dressing style, but more for the sake of appearance.