Save the mural or I’ll cry.
Here’s why. In June 1970 I bought my first pair of white capris because of that mural by Jac, circa 1952, at the Vashon Theater. Now I own two others, a black and a grey. Even though I’m two months shy of 80, I rotate those lovable capris from April to October and intend to do so until the end.
Capris have been my equipoise from Brooks Bros. ad man to Vashon beach bum. They prodded me to manliness and ushered me triumphantly into barefoot samba dance. Capris are my ticket to uncharted territory, the mysteries abound. They bloom like a flower between two rivers. Next, this summer — a shaved head.
P.S. You know that bolt of light coming out of the guy’s eye? It’s a samba dancer doing the splits. Look closely. It’s me.