Blogtrotter

Leo, or the Other White Meat

Yes, son #1, my firstborn, I have wanted a pic of you to put up, since little brother got his mug up last Saturday the 21st here for baseball prowess. (His team hung on last night, barely, to best their freeway-- well, one exit or two up off the freeway that whooshes past the park where they play-- rivals the Highland Park Angels.) Sitting down this morning, big brother left his MySpace page running on the computer all night. A no-no as he knows. But, since it was open, here's a snapshot he was sent. He can be a handful, to put it mildly, but he has taken his parents' love of music and film, if the latter to extremes with his horror-zombie kick. I do love him, naturally.

Note his jaded mien. Note his sloppy hair-- all the rage now among disaffected adolescents, sort of 70s gone limp and suitably beige attire rather than horizontal stripes, shirts with Western yokes (which I liked back then), or those collarless knit ribbed form fitting shirts with rings to zip up from at the breastbone. Finally, note his vintage Joy Division pin, inherited from yours truly.