Young K has been dyeing her hair and cultivating a fringe. We rarely manage to establish eye contact these days. “You look like a Gonk,” I said.
” What’s a Gonk?”
Sometimes, I feel very old. I felt even older when I Googled Gonks and found that, since the far-off days of the 1960s when my grandma, who was a dab hand with the needle and thread, went into full-scale Gonk production, the name has been appropriated by bogus Gonks.
I figured it was time to reclaim the name. I found a picture of the original patterns that grandma had used, and set to work. And here it is. Young K likes it, apparently. I tried calling her a Beatnik.
“What’s a Beatnik?”