Handkerchief

Note: This essay marks the transition of my writing from my landlord’s NoeHill site to my own Matte Gray in SF site. Shoulda done it years ago.

I am sitting here with a snot-soaked handkerchief in my pocket, which is not all that unusual except that the handkerchief is over half a century old.

It was a high school graduation present fifty-one years ago and has been sitting in various drawers all these decades because it was too nice to use, being Irish linen and monogrammed.

Realizing that i didn’t want to be outlived by a handkerchief, i pressed it into service this morning.

And then on Saturday when i went to the Noe Valley Farmers’ Market, i whipped it out and showed it to Liz, pointing out that it’s older than she is.

What is it about my generation and the too-nice-to-use syndrome? Or eating your least favorite jam first so as to save the best ’til last? Years ago my friend Jim pointed out that you should eat the good stuff first, and then, when you were out and it was a choice between the second rate and none, the second rate would taste considerably better.

Hard to put that into practice, but i’m trying.

one treeAnd OK, i’m the ten millionth person to take this pic, but i gotta do it before the last paint peels off and the new trees grow so high that they conceal everything. The artist Rigo 23 did it in 1996, and i find it a delicious irony that the little trees that have been planted since then will obscure the mural as its paint peels. Thanks to my friend Mark for cluing me in to Rigo:

This entry was posted in Uncategorized. Bookmark the permalink. Post a comment or leave a trackback: Trackback URL.

Post a Comment

Your email is never published nor shared. Required fields are marked *

You may use these HTML tags and attributes <a href="" title=""> <abbr title=""> <acronym title=""> <b> <blockquote cite=""> <cite> <code> <del datetime=""> <em> <i> <q cite=""> <s> <strike> <strong>

*
*

  • How far back should we go?

    July 2010
    M T W T F S S
    « Feb   Aug »
     1234
    567891011
    12131415161718
    19202122232425
    262728293031  
  • Recent blog entries

  • Archives