Stretch pants, it must be acknowledged, are the Rodney Dangerfield of fashion. No respect. No respect at all.

But I rise — albeit slowly these days — to their defense. Folks who no longer buy green bananas find great value in pants with a waistband that stretches. Once upon a time I would not have been caught dead in stretch pants. That time has passed. Now I fully expect to be caught dead in them.

Allow me to expand upon the theme (OK, “expand” might be a poor choice of words).

One of the joys of life is experiencing something new. It might be a visit to a national park; it might be the birth of a first great-grandchild. I’ve experienced both in the last two months. Now I have come to appreciate a simpler joy — pants that stretch. Mine are cool. They have stripes down the side of each

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