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Sad to say, this is my favorite picture of me. I am so blasted. About a drink away from blacking out. But I am happy and easy. I am in my off-campus apartment at some point during the third year of law school. There is a party underway, although nothing big. Why I am wearing a windbreaker in my own house is something that only alcohol might explain. If you didn't know better, you'd take me for a shallow frat boy. (Sigh.) How nice it would have been to be the surprising frat boy who turns out not to be shallow. Alas, I overshot.

Can someone tell me: is that a "popped collar" that I'm wearing? Or just a mess? I went to school too early for jargon and theory. I do know that the windbreaker was commissioned by a coal company that my father's operation bought sometime in the Seventies. The seal is obscured by the turned-back front. It was called the Youghiogheny and Ohio coal company. Pronounced (according to Dad) Yahkah-gayny. "Youghio" is obviously the aboriginal form of "Ohio." Have you ever heard "Ohio" spoken by a Frenchman? It's "O-yo." How cool is that?

I thought it was very cool because having lived in Texas was a blight that it would take years to overcome or outlive, whichever came first. For just seven years I'd lived in Houston, but you'd think! "So you're from Texas?" people would say. It was wrong on so many levels, even though it was right, technically.

About the fingernail: the previous summer, when I was in New Hampshire clerking for my uncle (great forbearance on his part!), I slammed a car door on my finger. That took a long time to outlive, too. I'd have completely forgotten the colossal suffering that I felt for a few hours in the summer of 1979 if it were not for this souvenir.


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I think that is a "putting on your jacket while drinking" collar. Love the beard.

I second John's second sentence. Is my seconding still legitimate when I'm blasted, too?

Looks suspiciously like a "popped" preppie collar to me, albeit slightly out of kilter due to demon rum - and I should know; I don't think the back of my neck has seen the light of day in close on 40 years...

Mess, very definitely mess, not style at all. Style, at least that kind of style, not being your style but then it is an Izod. "Blight of Texas", eh? You, blighter, you.

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