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Hanging in my closet back home is a beige button-up shirt. It’s too small for me now. The sleeves are too short, and I’ve developed a bit through the shoulders in this last decade. Given my growth, though, it still fits surprisingly well. The length is about right, the neck is a comfortable diameter, and I can easily give myself a hug, all of which makes me wonder how I wasn’t swimming in it as a youth. An Old Glory patch adorns the right shoulder, balanced by a Council patch and three numbers on the opposite side, all sewn with machine precision. On the left breast pocket, a golden flour-de-lis over a crimson heart is stitched with rather less finesse; you can count the loose loops of thread on one hand. And embroidered on the opposite pocket, in the same brilliant red, four words: Boy Scouts of America. In the wake of their decision to allow girls into the organization, they’ve been on my mind.
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May 2020
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