Source: Delores at Under the Porch Light

Col. Prentice Hall attended the Annual Festival in his town of Liberty every year. 

After being carefully groomed, he shed his flannel shirt and tattered trousers. A freshly pressed tail coat and pin-striped slacks were carefully hung, ready to be donned.  Col. Prentice Hall donned his brushed top hat and retrieved his polished cane, stepping out the door.

Striding as briskly as a man of 92 could manage, Col. Prentice Hall tipped his hat to all whom he encountered.  A grand turn-out. He mused, smiling to different people along the path.  Grand indeed!

“Colonel!  Col. Hall!”  The photographer for the Liberty Weekly News called out.  “A photo, if you please!”

Smiling, Col. Prentice Hall tipped his hat as the photo was taken.  It is rewarding to still be honored on such a day, he mused.

Two teen age girls giggled as the hat was tipped and the photo taken.  “Who is that old geezer?” one whispered.  “Who knows?  He looks like a zombie!” the other murmured.  They ran off, flaunting henna tattoos and low rider jeans. 

Times change.