Sitting in the Yankee Doodle Tap Room of the Nassau Inn in Princeton waiting to have breakfast with my daughter. Kind of says it all, no? Beautiful late spring day in the Mid-Atlantic region but in the way of places where weather isn’t always wonderful, I am underground. The table of my booth is dark wood. Initials carved in everywhere. I know I am sitting in centuries of tradition, but since it’s my turn to see my daughter graduate, at this point I have to make myself notice much of anything else. Sort of like, oh look, Michelle Obama is on the wall, well, that’s great, where’s D, what will she want for breakfast? Waiting to see that red hair round the corner. And I just spilled hot tea on myself. Right. Back to the centuries of tradition. Dark wood. Initials. I wonder if any of the people who did the carving spilled tea on themselves?
Am I serious? Privilege? Yes. At least when I'm not joking. While privilege can teach you what color shoes to wear with navy blue, nothing beats the privilege of being alive. So let's talk style, in the context of culture. Let's focus on the over-50. For more, please go here. Or you can reach me at my email: firstname.lastname@example.org. That's the name I wanted to be called when I was 16. Ah. 16....
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