Quentin, Wife, Baby Yet To Be Conceived.

I hold this truth to be self evident: the person with the best style is the person who looks like they are having the most fun. I don't care how you "wear" that shawl.
Today there are shoes on my feet that don't do me favours. They are the kind of shoe that make old women's feet look like trowles. They look like Mr. Rogers's shoes so there is a major conundrum there.
Quentin used to live on the opposite end of 92nd from me. During the summer, at his parent's house in Chelan, he would let me read some of his poems from his poem journal. In the winter I would go to his house and play NCAA basketball on his Super Nofrendo. I would walk in the door, go up the stairs, turn on the T.V., plug in the controller, turn on the machine, pop in the cartridge, pick North Carolina and bomb away. I think I won the NCAA tournament three times. Sometimes I would do all that and not say more that two words to Quentin. I didn't have a Super Nofrendo at home. As far as I can recall, Quentin's poems were surprisingly good. Maybe I shouldn't have been surprised. Perhaps I should have paid more attention overall. I definitely should have stretched myself to choose a team other than the Tar Heels. Maybe Duke.