therealtamara

Teeshirt tourism

It’s an interesting concept, but other people’s messenging can trigger memories.

A Woodstock t-shirt had me reminiscing not so much about the event upstate in the 60s, but.. that I went to camp in the area years before. It had a dual impact for me. Layered over time.

Mind, I wasn’t at Woodstock. I attended a different outdoor muddy festival one afternoon with a friend. Not much there to trigger, but those were times.

Go ahead, and dismiss it with “whatev, boomer.” Those were definitely times.

We marched. We rallied. We were involved. We were political. We never wore a coat that signaled, “I really don’t care. Do u?” Not that Melania can be said to not be political. “Can she?”

All hallows is everywhere

I try, but each year, they suck me in. Gold skeletons and an owl in a ghost tree. My oh my.

Colors of fall and beyond are so upbeat.

This doorway was special in some unspecified way:

And how about this little car:

The scenario

Three old guys on the lam are forced into hiding. Their route takes them to this spot. They are tasked with running down these stairs.

You do well to ask why?

What did they do that sent them on the run?

Good questions.

A beautiful day to take to the water. Well, or near it. I grabbed breakfast, Yura’s best-in-the-nabe yogurt parfait, and sat watching this. There were also French tourists.

At about this time, I promise myself not to succumb to the pull of the macabre. The rise of the undead, of pumpkin heads and skeletons is indigenous to the fall celebration. Trick or treat means candy-infused tummy aches to the young goblins. To older ones, it means decorating their steps with creepy.