I would walk around with my shirts unbuttoned to my pasty navel,
carrying a string for a whip. I ran around the schoolyard humming the
I also loved my Luke Skywalker Underoos. When friends came over, I
would sometimes show them off, coming downstairs wearing nothing but
the orange underwear.
That was decades ago.
Yesterday, a friend asked me what I was going to be for Halloween.
“I don’t know,” I replied. But my hand fidgeted with my shirt
buttons, and I swear my underwear suddenly turned bright orange.