![]() Or some ripstop pants for your annual hiking trip out west. Maybe a couple of the unshrinkable tees with a crew neck to protect you from the harsh Florida rays. I flip through the pages, considering what I would have chosen to order for you. Make him happy on Father’s Day, the catalog entreats me. ![]() The Bean guys, sporting polo shirts, chino shorts, and loafers with no socks, hang out on docks over pristine blue lakes or flip burgers on the grill. ![]() So I sit on the couch-next to the ghost of your rented hospital bed-and open the catalog. I want to walk along that stream beside that healthy man. But I can’t resist the lure of the cover, which shows a youthful mom and dad walking beside a stream, a child riding high on the dad’s shoulders. My first impulse is to toss the catalog in the recycling bin. Bean catalog arrives in early June, in an avalanche of hospital bills, condolence cards, and COVID-19 reopening announcements from Red Lobster and the Pinch a Penny pool supply store that proclaim, Jeffrey, we want you back! ![]()
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