Meet Will and James Mason. Don't the grandpa and grandson make a dashing twosome with their alternating cherry reds and Carolina blues and those seriously glam straw hats. I saw them crossing Coliseum Road, a six lane beast of concrete where everyone drives at high speeds and pushes across town, streaming with purpose, moving east to west and west to east.
It was in the middle of all that mess that I spotted them happily idling. They waited it out on the little island turn lane. Calm and collected. Looking anything but disabled. They wanted to get somewhere, specifically to the Ford dealership, which is where I ran to catch them.
The moment I spotted this twosome, I pulled the car over and parked. The duo had balls, crossing that wooly street, acting like it was a quiet country road, no big whoop.
Don't they look so connected and Hollywood confident. Check out the easy way their bodies merge and mold together. Their legs alone tell a story. And their faces, the way they looked out from underneath their brimmed straw hats, each with his lips pressed together in mild curiosity, suggest a familial look of je ne c'est pas.
So glad I met this pair. The Masons definitely opened up my somewhat limited ideas about what's possible.
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