Talking Fashion With Uncle Sid

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It was just after lunchtime when I pulled in the long gravel driveway of Uncle Sid’s and Aunt Sadie’s farm.

I could see Uncle Sid just getting out of his old faded red pickup parked near the toolshed out behind the couple’s white weather-boarded home. A visit with the old farmer always sends me away a much better person than when I had arrived.

As I parked my car beneath one of the huge maple trees near the house, I could see Uncle Sid was all dressed up in his going-to-town overalls, but it was strange to see him without Aunt Sadie walking nearby. She never missed a trip to town and it takes both of them to get there and back. He steers and she directs.

“Good to see you, Boy,” Uncle Sid said while walking and waving at the same time. I’m almost 60 years old, but he still calls me Boy and I guess he always will.

“I was passing by and just thought I would stop by to see how you all were doing,” I said as we met near their white Adirondack chairs under the shade trees in the yard. “Where is Aunt Sadie?”

As he sat down in one of the chairs while inviting me to do the same, he answered and said, “Oh, she had her FCE meeting today and they had a luncheon at Miss Edna Urn’s house over near the church. That left me to fend for myself for vittles, so, I called your Uncle Sad. We went over near the new interchange off of the Interstate to eat at that restaurant built recently.”

Just thinking about Uncles Sid and Sad together in a nice, new restaurant made me wonder what all really happened over the past two hours. They have a reputation of being up to something whenever they get together.

“Well, how was it?” I asked.

“The food could not have been better,” he said as he leaned back in the yard chair. “They had the best cornbread you can get without being at home and real tasty pinto beans. They were seasoned just right with plenty of juice, just like I like them.”

So far so good, but I was starting to see a twinkle in his eye that meant something else was about to be told.

“But, Boy, those folks who stopped in there while on vacation sure do dress strange,” he said while looking off into the nearby cornfield.

Of course I asked, “What do you mean?”

“Some folks must not look in a mirror when they get all dressed up for vacation. They put on shirts that resemble some of my late grandma’s wallpaper and those Bermuda shorts don’t do anything but show off their ‘very-close’ veins,” he said as he expressed himself about the morning’s visit.

“And, all those tattoos that these young folks are putting on don’t make a bit of sense to me,” he said with a wrinkled-up nose showing dissatisfaction. “I bet in 40 years from now, the new game down at the nursing home is going to be ‘name-what-my-tattoo-used-to-be’ rather than bingo.”

With that comment I had to look away to chuckle and the thought of 40 years from now just wasn’t the same great expectation I had hoped for.

About that time Aunt Sadie arrived out front and was getting out of Miss Bertha Sprite’s car. Uncle Sid was already up and almost to the car telling Aunt Sadie and Miss Bertha about his lunch at the Interstate restaurant. I just hope they will be invited back again for cornbread, pinto beans and vacationer dress bashing. And, hopefully being seated way away from any person with a tattoo.

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