A dozen years ago, I was living in New York City. Those of you reading this in California will not be surprised, as you knew me then and know the reason why.
Those of you reading this in New Mexico will likely be shocked, as you know of my love for the mountains and loathing of cities.
But that was then and this is now, and there is no need to go into more details, but I will share this little memory:
One August morning, I took my kitten to get fixed at his vet and decided to spend a few hours sightseeing - including a visit to the Empire State Building, to which I had not been since I was 10 years old. On the way there, dozens - perhaps hundreds - of police cars descended upon the scene.
Loudspeakers everywhere advised those of us walking around to seek cover wherever possible because there was "an active shooter."
(There actually wasn't; the killer was a recently-fired employee who had shot the coworker he blamed for his firing, he did not attempt to kill any random people, and he was quickly shot dead by the police - WHO ALSO SHOT NINE BYSTANDERS in the process, which is just about the most NYPD thing imaginable.)
I ducked into a giant JC Penney (the site of the former Gimbels), where I hung out for 20 minutes until it became obvious that the situation wasn't all that dangerous. While there, I bought a beautiful purple and grey argyle zip-up sweater, because why not.
I lost the sweater many years ago, perhaps on the move back to California, perhaps on the move to New Mexico, perhaps on a drunken night in some end-of-the-world dive bar where I decided wearing argyle might get me stabbed.
The other day, I was wearing an argyle sweater and a friend of mine complimented it and we started talking about argyle. I remember that sweater from all those years ago and went on eBay and bought it again.
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