We arrived at the chosen lunch spot - a place called "Mother's" on 2nd street in Portland - and went in to see if any of our party had already arrived. The matre'd (a fine fellow who might have liked women) told us that there were no reservations in our name. We told him that we were supposed to have a large table ready for us at noon. He said "no". So, we went outside to start waiting for the rest of our party.

We were supposed to have lunch at noon and had arrived at 11:30 am. About 11:50, my brother Jim, wife and both kids showed up. He wondered why our table wasn't ready. Jeff and #2 daughter showed up almost immediately and then my Mother and youngest brother arrived. It turned out the matre'd had us down for a 12:30 lunch; somehow, it hadn't occurred to him to check for a lunch over an hour away.

There were no inside tables and I mentioned that I'd seen an outdoor table around the corner. Jim got a gleam in his eyes and went into to speak with the matre'd. Two minutes later, we were being seated at this spot. It was an outdoor table. The surprising thing is how busy it was in the surrounding area. We remember Portland from the late 1970s, when it was dead on Sundays. This Portland was as busy as our hometown on a weekday!

We had a completely pleasant lunch; my fears about it going to SHITe were, as usually, paranoi unfounded in reality. (This ignores the family dinners, years ago, when my worst fears completely underestimated how ghastely a family dinner could become. We paranoids are made not born!

It was a delight to visit with my brothers and their families and I sincerely regreted not being able to spend more time with them...

After this broke up, we went for a walk in Portland and ended up buying about $109 worth of books at Powells. It was worth it.

When we were almost to our car, I noticed a used book store that was selling Playboy magazines. My youngest brother was born in November 1965 so I went in to see if they had that magazine. They did and I bought it.

It was only after we got home that I found out that the center piece model was covered in a thin gauze dress that covered hir breasts to the extent that she was nearly "street legal". Her hand covered her pubic (not to be confused with public) hair. The other pictures in this "photo spread" were of her fully clothed. I felt ripped off and even though this issued was published nearly 40 years ago, I think I'll write an aggreviated letter to Playboy. Perhaps they have pictures of a less modest nature?

So, I extole anyone reading this to write dear.playboy@playboy.com and demand that they publish photos of young lady suitable for the 21st century!