This answer, while helpful, is not the complete story. Many years ago I mastered all four of the main knots used to knot neckties. I am equally adept at the 4-in-Hand, the Pratt, the 1/2 Windsor, and Windsor. (Some refer to the Windsor as a Double Windsor. This is a mistake. I attempted a true Double Windsor one time and I couldn't button my coat around the beast.) Why master all four styles? As you probably know, the preferred knot size changes with the times, much like the length of a woman's skirt, and maximum flexibility is achieved only through practice. If you want to know the currently preferred knot size, a general rule of thumb is to watch Sports Center, and duplicate that which you see. Do not trust the attire of talkshow hosts, weathermen, or the anchor of your local news.
Since the razor is a travel/political sex scandal blog, I'm sure you're wondering why I'm addressing fashion today. Good question.
Some years ago, when my grandfather died, I came to possess a couple of his ties. Since his birthday would've been this weekend, I decided to wear one of them today. While fashionable in its time, referring to this polyester baby as vintage, would be a bit of an understatement. To satisfy your curiosity, I've included an image of it here:
Notice the 60's green and orange. And yes, that is an alligator eating a hunter. I love it.
Mind if I indulge in a story about my Papa? Several years before he passed away, he called me on the phone. His request? The Baltimore Orioles were coming into Atlanta for some inter-league play, my cousin Bron wanted to go, could I get tickets? At the time, one of my mentors had season tickets to the Braves games and passes to gain entry to the 755 club. (For those too lazy to click the link, the 755 Club is a cross between a luxury box and a restaurant located in Turner Field. Almost every table has a sweet view of the field, they serve great food, and it's air conditioned.) I secured the tickets, made a reservation at the club, and arranged for Papa and Bron to meet me and my Dad at the stadium.
Keep in mind that Papa had no idea that the 755 club even existed, and certainly didn't know that we'd be headed up there. Plus, I made the reservation in his name. Once inside the stadium, we approached the exclusive elevator that takes you up to the club. I flashed our pass, but more importantly said, "This is Harold Thomas, I think you're expecting him." I'm quite sure that Papa was shocked when the attendant confirmed that they were indeed expecting him and that his table was ready. If you are accustomed to the conventional ballpark experience, stepping out of the elevator into the 755 club can be quite striking. Hardwood floors, plush carpet, waiters in tuxedos, etc. There is also the possibility that you might bump into Hank Aaron or some other random Hall of Famer.
So they escort us to the table. I tell Papa, "We're headed for the bleachers to check out batting practice. It's 100 degrees outside. Hangout up here where it's cool, eat and drink anything you want, and we'll come meet you at game time." I'm not 100% sure, but I think he had the time of his life. It was his day to be king, and I helped arrange it. Later, I heard bits and pieces of stories of him taunting his friends at the senior center, recounting how he'd been to the rich-folks section of Braves stadium.
That is how I choose to remember Papa. It's also how I choose to remember that day. I remember the feeling of satisfaction that Papa finally consider me a man, and not a child too scared to shoot a shotgun (10 years previous). If Dad or Bron remember the details a little differently, that's fine with me.
Happy Birthday Papa
