Waiting for the flood. Age 7, Skokie, IL, about 1954

When confronted about how she could have allowed me to roam the neighborhood in pants that short, mom swore that I could not be dissuaded from wearing these baggy trou, cinched as tightly as possible without doing permanent damage to the liver. The argyle shirt is killer but I never grew into the ears as all my kin had assured me I would.