Rrrrrriiiiippppp !!!!
I felt a sudden wave of cool air across my back. My wife had finally got her way.
She hated that old shirt of mine. For the past few weeks, or is it months, she told me the shirt made me look like a bum. She was embarrassed to be seen with me, she said. Once, in a drug store, she told me to wait at the back while she got her prescriptions. I made a point of telling everybody in the store that I was her husband. About a month later she started talking to me again.
Maybe women don't like customized clothing. Maybe it's a guy thing to wear old clothes until they fall apart. Things that make a personal statement about how comfortable we are in our own skins rather than our place in the world. My now two-piece shirt was one of those things. It used to be green. With the passing of the years it became a pastel olive color. It never had a collar, just buttons down the front. It was made of pure cotton and fit loosely around my ever-growing middle. That shirt of mine was with me many a summer on the beach, in the campgrounds, at my favorite bar and grill, and of course on me. I loved that shirt, and now it has been retired to the great closet in the sky where I know it will be waiting for me, in one piece, to wear comfortably through eternity.
I have other favorite things. Like my sneakers. A pair of old Nike's I wear to mow the lawn and, of course, go to the beach. They are black now and appear to be made of some indestructible velvet. The soles are pretty well worn down but otherwise they don't look that bad. I have washed them before in bleach and detergent and they didn't seem to like it much but a day at the beach, marinating them in good old foot sweat, sand and salt water restored them to their full beauteous character. I think they knew they were guy sneakers.
My wife hated those sneakers and, I have to admit, they did have a certain distinctive aroma. My family wouldn't ride in the Jeep with me while I had them on and a few times I had to open the windows myself so I wouldn't lose consciousness while driving.
Once, I made the mistake of going to the dentist wearing them. As I left I watched the staff through the window as they sprayed down the waiting room.
The only problem is they felt so damn good. They have molded themselves to every bump and contour of my feet. They are time tested and true. They are my friends. And when I take them off I have to hide them from my wife.
Another favorite thing to wear is my Maine baseball cap. I think it is about 10 years old. It used to be a blue like the color of the ocean in winter, a pale, grayish blue that takes years of weathering to achieve. The stitches are all gone so I'm not exactly sure how the thing stays together. I think it may be bonded together by layers of old sweat. It also covers an increasingly grizzled scalp that used to be covered with hair.
My wife will not allow me to be seen wearing it in her presence. She always makes me take if off before we arrive wherever it is we are supposed to be. A month ago my daughter bought me a new summer hat. I think it said Calvin Klein. My head was not meant to be covered by anything that said Calvin. Needless to say she is now wearing it.
My combination shorts, bathing suit and pajamas is another of my favorite things. It is long and black. I used to think black was a good color to help hide my growing weight. I now believe I've hit the point where no color existing today can hide my bulk. The shorts are very loose and never make me feel fat. This is another item that I am not allowed to wear in public, or at least the public where my wife is included. She makes me wear shorts that need a belt and look best when a shirt is tucked into them. I always watch what I eat and drink when I wear the more dignified shorts. That is because I don't want to stop circulation to my feet. The beach crowd I hang out with doesn't mind my shirt, hat, or shorts. But then again, they look worse than I do.
An automobile can be a favorite thing. I used to drive a 1994 Jeep. It was white and I felt very comfortable driving it. It had been everywhere with me. The beaches, salt marshes, mud flats, etc. It had the look and smell of the ocean. The last time my wife was in my car she asked me if I'd ever washed it? I lied and told her I washed it once. The inside felt like it was made just for me. I think it had mats but I can't say for sure because its been years since I saw the floor. The back of the Jeep was full of papers and other important stuff that I can't remember. Things that I have forgotten why they are important. I also think the seats were clean, but they were the color of sand and dirt so it was hard to tell. At least I think they were always that color. Another nice part about the Jeep is that it took me where I wanted to go.
So, I have been forced to part with one of my favorite things. My shirt has been consigned to the garbage. That same day, as I was closing the house to get ready for bed I heard my wife call from our bedroom. She wanted to know where her pajamas were. I answered, with a smile, that I thought she didn't have favorite things.
Jim Fabiano is a teacher and writer living in York, Maine
You can E-mail Jim: james.fabiano60@gmail.com
