The man with a yellow scarf, and the boy in the green flannel shirt

I was running out the front door Saturday morning, and Winston (a tall, slender man in his seventies, who always wears a yellow silk scarf knotted around his neck) was sweeping the concrete outside our front entrance.  When he saw me, he said “Hi Babe!  We got another beautiful weather day, enjoy it while it lasts!”

I smiled back and said I’d see him later.

When I got to my destination (the barbershop) and Rose (my barber) asked if I had any new stories to share, I told her about Winston.  The first year I lived here, I’d see him downstairs on occasion but he’d just smile at me and nothing else.  Then one day he held the front door open for me while I was fishing out my keys, and I thanked him and introduced myself.  And the next thing I know he was calling me “Babe.”

I mean, all the time--“Hi Babe, where are you off to now?”  “It’s cold out there babe, that jacket warm enough?”  “Babe where’d you get those shoes, navy blue is my favorite color!  I have it all through my apartment!” 

Rose laughed and asked if it bothered me.  I said if I was in my twenties, it might’ve creeped me out a little.  If I was in my thirties, I’d be grossed out.  In my forties, hard to say.  But in my fifties?   Bring it on.  My sister Shawn (who became a mother a bit late in life, as her 14 year old likes to remind her) has often said Sophia keeps her young.  As for me, a 77 year old gay man (oh he’s gay alright) who refers to me as “babe” is just what the doctor ordered.

The reason I’m sharing this is that he seemed to be the topic of conversation that day.  When I returned home from my haircut (and the bakery—cough) a small older woman was sitting in the lobby reading a book.  (The older people here sure love that lobby.)   I smiled at her and went to my mailbox.  She said “I heard you talking to Winnie this morning.”  I said “Winston?”  She said “Yes, I live on the second floor, my windows face the front of the building.”  Oh, okay…  She said “Have you known him a long time?  I’ve only lived here a couple years myself.”  I said that was about as long as I’ve known him. 

She said “He always wears that yellow kerchief around his neck.  I think he thinks it makes him look stylish.”  I said “Well, he’s a pretty colorful character, but a very nice man.”  She said “Oh I think the same, I like to tease him about his scarf.  But he never talks to me.”   A couple thoughts sprang to mind:  this woman digs Winston, but doesn’t have a clue he’s a “confirmed bachelor” for a reason. 

My second thought was, why does this all sound so familar?  And then I remembered my green flannel shirt.

A couple years ago, a girl from my high school class friended me on Facebook and to be honest, I didn’t want to accept it.  She teased ME a bit back in the day, and at the time it felt mean-spirited.  (Some things just stick with you.)  I had this green flannel shirt I liked to wear—a lot, I guess—and she felt the need to point it out everytime I wore it.

There I am on the left, playing my trumpet in Band practice— wearing the infamous shirt

She was in color guard, and during marching practice would say things like “Doug must think that shirt makes him look cool, he wears it enough!” or “You should tell your mom you need some new clothes” or “The next time you wear that shirt I’m going to rip it off you and burn it!”

Her silly threat worked, I was so embarrassed I never wore it to school again.  I never spoke to her again either—until 30+ years later, on Facebook.  We even talked privately a couple times; while she’s happily married now, she told me once she never dated in high school as she had a tendency to rub guys the wrong way.  I never brought up the shirt.

By the way, here’s a funny side note:  when I went looking through old photos for that green flannel shirt, I didn’t find just one—I found several!  (Here’s a couple of them: on my 16th birthday, and a month later at Thanksgiving.)  I guess she was right about that shirt after all!

I actually found two more, in one I’m strewn across my bed wearing a giant pair of headphones and asleep, and my mouth is hanging open.  Who the heck took that picture??

As for the older woman on the second floor, who’s likely sweet on Winston… I should let her know her teasing is probably rubbing “Winnie” the wrong way. 

Instead of focusing on his silk scarf, she should find out his shoe size and get him a pair of Skechers like mine. 

I’ve been told navy blue is his favorite color.