My mother is carrying my dad’s 30.06 rifle
Me and mom, walking down Front Street in Portland, circa 1969. I’m a babe, 16 years old, hair down to here, skirt up to there, rockin those wedge heels. Mom, 20 years my senior, is dressed to the nines in professional suit, fully accessorized with purse, shoes and jewelry. And her hair, her amazing auburn hair done up in a French Twist. She is such a beautiful woman. We’re turning heads as we walk along. Passersby and cars alike. We’re walking along like we don’t notice. My mother is carrying my dad’s 30.06 rifle, fully sheathed, that we just redeemed from a pawn shop from the seedy waterfront district of Portland, carrying that gun just like it was a bouquet of flowers. Damn, that woman had such style. I’ll say this for her, she taught me the meaning of aplomb.