When I was a kid, my father allowed me to work with him looking like a wild indian. He was a contractor and our family company built houses, commercial buildings and additions. I used to have longer hair and much darker skinned. My summer tan was my trademark. The back of my neck and shoulders turned charcoal color by June 25th. Shirts were optional and if I wore one it became a head wrap sooner than later. My father would allow me the freedom to work shirtless most of the summer. Shorts and work boots were my uniform from June to September. The sun baked my skin without the protection of the current ubiquitous sunscreen.  Saturday morning, I was working on my cars and I thought I am going to take my shirt off because it was hot. I gave this idea scant analysis. As I grabbed the bottom of my shirt, I stopped. On second thought, maybe those days are behind me. The days of walking confidently into a restaurant slithering my way into my shirt on the sidewalk just before entering the lobby have passed with my consistent purchase of SPF45 prior to going to the beach. Maybe when I am older and my kids have moved away, I will relocate to a remote rural location with an old pair of OP shorts and work boots so that Saturday mornings can be spent with my wife shaking her head at me from inside the house as a work shirtless soaking in the sun on a hot July morning. You know those old guys completely out of shape but too old to care what the rest of the world thinks about their stout roundness. I can’t wait for that day and unfortunately I am already prepared I just need the OP shorts and work boots. AH