The Stride of Pride

The royal road to the unconscious? Not quite, but a certain old-fashioned dignity, middle-class grandeur, Hollywood's red carpet transposed to a minor key on a quiet side street in Montclair...

Instead of paparazzi firing strobes—or, going back even further, courtiers standing at attention—guardian shrubs, autumnal splendor spilled, buttons burst yet chests still puffed, and one impudent green groupie of a bush, leaning in, seeking an autograph.

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