There are fires all over Texas and many places around town are collecting donations, so this weekend I went through my clothes, if I hadn't worn it in a year, then I was giving it away.
I managed to get quite a bit,. Shirts I was given that aren't my style, pants that no longer fit, etc, but when it came to my flannels I paused.
I have a green, red, white, black, blue, and a couple of shirts in blue and red made of shirt material, but still flannel.
After reducing my closet to less, I stood in awe, blinded by a section of my closet apparently reserved for lumberjacks.
Thinking about it, I know how this all got started.
and of course
On the cusp of my daughter fourth birthday I reflect. I'm forced to look at all the things my dad wore, symbols of his youth never thrown away, stored in a closet, kept close, but still a a memory of what we are on the path on what we are to become.
As where all my other symbols of youth have been lost or given away, these functional testaments maintain forever in a section of my closet now reserved for those things lucky enough to be a testament or a cautionary tale for the time when my daughter is old enough for me to embarrass her with my outdated clothes and bands no one her age has ever heard of.
I asked myself as a kid "Are my parents trying to embarrass me?" turns out I would answer my own question some day,
"Yes, we sure are.".
My Father's gym shorts, his testament to his lost age, sit in a drawer some where, me still mortified they exist, waiting for the day they meet my flannels and hash out who has it worse. Gym shorts, a perspective of a the long gone 50's and the innocence of an age. Worn before his friends went to Vietnam, worn before the troubles of the real world set in, I understand now why he came home, dropped everything he was doing, and put them on.
I just wish for colder weather so I have an excuse. In the mean time, I stare at a corner of my closet, the less complicated corner, listening to
thinking of simpler times.
"One of the very advantages of youth- you don't own any stock in anything. You have a good time, and all the grief and trouble is with the other fellows."- Mark Twain.