Wednesday, August 11, 2010

My father changes.

When I was a kid, say ten years old, my father worked in the city and went to work dressed in pretty much the same outfit every day. He work a dark blue suit, a grey suit or a dark brown suit, along with a white shirt maybe with a minimal pattern, a thin dark tie and dark brown or black lace-up shoes.

One day, my father abandoned all his old clothes. His lapels and ties went from being narrow and muted to being wide and ostentatious. His suits were less subtle--they now had patterns that included bolder colors like reds, greens or even purples. He bought a pair or two of Beatle boots.

My father looked completely different. Everything had changed.

Everything, that is, except my father.

That's kind of how I feel about a lot of what's going on today.

There would be some people who would have proclaimed my father a different man. I knew better. He was the same old guy, my old man.

He was just clothed differently.