“I have that shirt,” I said to the liquor store checkout girl. It was the iconic 1977 Led Zeppelin tour shirt with the Icarus figure on the front.
“Everyone should have that shirt,” she said.
Then she said she had to wear the G-rated version to work. I must have looked puzzled because she then explained to me that the original tour shirt included detailed sketching of the Icarus figure’s junk.
“Ah,” said I. “I see.” Because what else does one say to that?
Speaking of which, I got Hawked the other day.
This rarely happens. I mean, usually it’s “Hey, so, uh, are you related to Richard?” My standard response is a straight-faced “Yes. He is my Uncle.” If I’m feeling especially plucky, I will explain to the person that yes, indeed I am, and that WE were the black sheep of the family.
But I rarely get Hawked. But the guy at the parking garage, man, he started right out with it as he made my receipt.
“So, are you a boxer?” Heh heh heh.
“Yes, of course, I’m the greatest light welterweight that ever was. That’s me, yep.”
(Pryor had 40 fights and one loss in his career.)
We chatted about Pryor for a bit as he finished my receipt. I said from time to time I get tagged in his pictures on Facebook (it’s true). I didn’t tell the fellow that among my most prized possessions is an autographed photograph of the man.
Yeah, I often have people ask after my Uncle Richard. But it’s rare that someone brings up The Hawk. Good form, good sir.
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