I can't show the other photos, you might recognize a face, so I offer only this one, showing a far-off distant place. Suffice it that the generation, mine, would have been ran out of town on a rail, or even, just a maybe, ended up in jail. The styles were almost as weird as the 'Wall-Mart Shoppers' pictures on the WEB.
By Arley Steinhour 101211
When I was graduating,
I bought myself a suit,
One of status stating,
At the Rummage sale, a beaut.
I was the only Senior,
Wearing Double breasted coat,
Good condition hardly wore,
With fabric made from goat.
It never crossed my empty mind,
Nor would I have had the gall,
To present my beautiful behind,
More than one inch from a wall.
The Old-Folks would have strangled,
And lie twitching on the floor,
If we'd worn anything this fandangled,
we'd be branded: 'Don't come back, no more.'
At that time I didn't suffer,
From a Social name called 'Poor,'
Now, what creative minds do offer,
Gives 'me' a rash clean to the core.
I've uttered my 'opinion,'
Stated my poetic 'gripe,'
I now go eat an 'onion,'
Pass along this 'fashion tripe.'