Sorcerer's Apprentice Ties

The house has been drowning in ties.  In Norm’s bottom drawer, mile-wide ties from the late 1940s, when manufacturers were giddy about the availability of fabric after war-time rationing.  Some hand-painted – he couldn’t bear to throw them out.  Way back in the closet, those skinny affairs from – I forget, some time between then and now – including a couple of navy knit ones.  Ties on the tie rack, on the other tie rack, ties in the suitcases, ties on the top shelf. 

I sent them to the Goodwill.  I found more.  Took them to the Open Door Mission.  Found more.  I kept out a dozen of the best and pitched them to visitors: sons, son-in-law, grandsons. 

“That’s okay, I already own a tie.”  “Never seem to need ties, thanks anyhow.”  “C’mon, Mom, who wears ties these days?”

            Who indeed?  And then yesterday on his way home from work, my attorney stopped in with yet more papers to be signed. Sat at the kitchen table in his dark lawyer suit, white shirt, and --- !!!  Who wears ties???  You betcha!!!
            He took the navy one with the thin red stripe.  He took the yellow one with the little diamonds once known as a power tie. He took every dignified one in the lot.  Wish I’d thought to take a picture of them.  All I can show you is the frivolous ones he declined. 


Would you trust a lawyer who wore these?

                If anyone reading this leads a frivolous life and would like them, do get in touch with me.  I really mean it.