Do you remember my blog back when I told about a women in Wal-Mart looking my way and yelling that there is Wild Bill Hickok? Here is a link to it Clicky Here.
After I figured out she was looking at me, I took it as a compliment. After looking back on it, I am not sure it was, but I am still going to take it as a compliment.
That day I was dressed in Western attire, cowboy hat and boots, western shirt, vest, and blue jeans. Now yesterday, I was back in Wal-Mart. This time I just had on a pair of old jeans (you know, the kind with holes starting to form in them) and an old very relaxed flannel shirt. Of course I did have my boots and hat on, but I still looked a little rag tagged.
My wife and I were checking out when another employee was setting up at the isle next to us, getting ready to open that register. She looked over at me and said “you look distinguished”. I tipped my hat, bowed to her, and said “thank you mam”. I thought that it was a real compliment. After reflecting on the word distinguished, I am not so sure. Aren’t most “distinguished” men either real old or dead? Guess I better pinch myself or look into a mirror.
There are all kinds of definitions of that word, but the one that stands out is being different. That I am, for sure. They say some people march to a different drummer, heck, I don’t even hear the drummer. . . and the older I get, the more I do things my way. Like, when I turned 65 years old, I decided to quit cutting both my hair and my beard. Maybe that is why I look like Wild Bill or distinguished? What do you think?