A change in lifestyle

Tag : fancy socks

Published July 11, 2008 LAKE JACKSON  It was to be a summer party for the ages, a Fourthof July soirée ranking right up there with the one theythrow in New York City. Minus, of course, the Statue of Liberty,which wouldnt have fit in the yard, anyway.

We were to gather as a group at the picturesque hacienda owned byour friends, Annette and I.J. Brown. They are important socialplayers in this Brazoria County city.

Besides joining other friends from the old homeplace  high schoolpals one and all  to mix and mingle, there would also be bountifulpiles of food. Food is always nice at parties.

(NON-EDITORS NOTE: The womenfolk brought various dishes and theBrowns, who can afford it, supplied tasty barbecue. The men,however, fought vigorously over a large tray of watermelon slices.With so much other wonderful food available, I couldnt help butwonder what that was all about.)

The guys would watch the Astros lose again, and then thewell-heeled partygoers would adjourn to the Browns driveway conveniently located outside of the house  to watch a magnificentfirecracker display.

Now, if you attend as many of these sociable events as Katie Couricand I do, youre in a constant fret over what to wear. Should I buysomething new at the resale shop? Or should I just wear somethingold and hope none of the folks attending have seen my outfitbefore?

With this in mind, I wore a stunning green shirt withalmost-matching green shorts. These were accompanied by comfortableboat shoes, tan in nature.

Despite my concerns as a fashionplate, there was one thing I didntdo. I didnt shave. Nor had I for approximately four days.

Thats what this sermon today is about  my changing lifestyle. Imno longer the same old Jimbo. Am I still smooth? Yes. Still a JamesBond look-alike? No, not anymore.

Sure, I looked swell, but there was that angelic face full ofwhiskers, most of them gray or white for some reason. What would myfriends think? What would they say?

The first test would come when Wife Margie and I picked upBaytonians Pat and Gary Thomas, our friends for well over ahalf-century. They said nothing about my scruffy appearance, but Ilater figured out why. I was driving, and you dont look a gifthorse in the mouth, especially if that thoroughbred is driving.

For certain, there was some talk at the party. Some of it washurtful (He is so uncouth!), but I ignored it. Being a newshoundfor all these years has allowed me to grow a thick skin, inaddition to whiskers.

I must say that after years and years of having to dress up in tiesand fancy pants, etc., and, yes, to shave every single day, I grewweary. Thusly, the change in lifestyle.

I figured, hey, Im no longer a powerful managing editor or anAssistant Congressional Executive (ACE). I am but a lowly columnist though a leading one  and I do all of my work in the Bat Cave,my Real Newsman Office, often wearing only underbloomers.

Besides, Ive gotten to the point where I hate shaving. Id bet youa nickel to a hole in a doughnut that even Nancy Pelosi shaves morethan I do. Next time you see her, look right there under her noseand see if Im not correct.

Another thing. Most of the time nowadays, all youll find mewearing in public places are Wranglers and my beloved boat shoes,minus socks. That is, unless Im going to church or attending a SunEditorial Board meeting.

So Im working on the New Me. But as the Brown partygoers foundout, inside Im still the same sweet guy.
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