This is William Windom. He's a character actor who played a ton of memorable roles, including Kevin Bacon's father-in-law in the John Hughes movie "She's Having a Baby".
Of all of John Hughes' movies, "She's Having a Baby" is my favorite. Sure, "The Breakfast Club" did an incredible job of capturing my generation's angst, but it didn't get etched in my brain as deeply as "She's Having a Baby".
One of the scenes I don't seem to be able to shake features William Windom. I was, and am, obsessed with his dog tag or health alert tag, or whatever it is hanging around his neck. The chain is tight. I know the goal was probably to give a visual cue that this guy has some quirks that justify him getting a dirty steak (watch the movie). But, wow, that chain is tight.
A walk I took a few days ago may have unlocked for me why William's chain is so friggin' tight.
See, during my walk, I noticed how tight my shirt was. If I lifted my arms, it would expose my ever-expanding gut. It was a shirt that I've worn for years, and I wasn't giving up on it even if it made me a match for Barney Gumble. I'm pretty sure kids were pointing and telling their parents that I looked like Winnie-the-Pooh, only depressed and sweaty.
I grew out of my shirt like William Windom grew out of his dog tag. We didn't really notice it happening. It's the kind of change that creeps up on you, and the next thing you know, you're being choked to death or applying sunscreen to your oh-so-very-white underbelly. We wear the tag and the shirt because neither of us cares. We're old, and we don't give a shit.
I'm still trying to decide if this makes me feel sad or liberated. Either way, you should see the shorts I'm wearing for my bike ride tomorrow. I feel bad for those who wind up behind me. My crack will be their ticket to Trauma Town.
