For the first time since retirement at the beginning of this year, and maybe a few weeks before that, I wore a tie tonight.  We went to a fancy Paris restaurant (3 Michelin stars) for a romantic dinner that was planned a month in advance of our Paris trip.  Unfortunately, both of us had a bit of a stomach bug, so it took the sizzle out of the evening.  The restaurant required a jacket and I added the tie.  Men in Paris do tend to dress more on the formal side, so I certainly did not feel out of place on the short walk from our hotel via the Champs Elysees.

It’s tough when you save all your life for retirement travel, and you sometimes feel nothing but guilt as you start to spend it.  There are so many homeless families on the streets of Paris (and everywhere else for that matter.)  Not to mention, those individuals who have to work all their lives and never experience the freedom of retirement.  We helped a couple of these challenged families tonight, but they will probably never experience a dining extravaganza like we just experienced.  We are so fortunate, but our small fortune only goes so far!

Question:  Since none of our travel companions actually saw me in the tie, does that mean that it didn’t really happen?  Here’s a short poetic take on ties:

Tie Guy

.

The shine on my shoes,
Wasn’t always there.
Back when I had,
Much longer hair.
,
Patched blue jeans.
“Doors” t-shirt.
When being carded,
More than hurt.
,
The Draft a scare,
Career unsure.
My biggest joy,
A concert tour.
,
My radical pledge,
Avoid a tie.
The compromise,
Buy tie-dye.
,
Putting on a tie,
Back then meant.
Joining the ranks,
Of the Establishment.
,
A tie was a symbol,
Many would insist.
Of being a traitor,
And a Capitalist.
,
I also felt,
Every tie was bad.
Not just the ones,
Picked out for Dad.
,
Ties were ugly,
Too wide or thin.
And wearing one,
An unforgivable sin.
,
I’d tie one on, though,
Every chance I got.
Be it alcohol,
Or shameful pot.

,

Those days long gone,
And much of my hair.
I paid too much,
For silk neck wear.
,
Designer ties,
Are like a noose.
We think much better,
When they’re loose.
,
Women flock,
To guys in ties.
Are these men,
Considered wise?
,
And who invented,
The bolo tie?
Is this a good look?
And, if so, why?
,
My ties now stored,
On an electric rack.
To college days,
You can’t go back.
,
I wore one today,
I can’t deny.
So am I now,
A wit-tie guy?
.

copyright 2011 johnstonwrites.com