I finally got rid of my old cotton shirt. This is years after both my mother and my wife refused to repair it any more. This was my favorite shirt from my teenage years. It matched my favorite blue jeans perfectly. It was lite blue and long sleeved. The buttons all had been replaced with whatever my wife could find. Yea that was one of the ways of discouraging me from wearing it in public.
My wife’s argument for the quick disposal of my favorite shirt just never took with me. Her claim that my favorite jeans were long gone and it was the respectful thing to do that I lay to rest my old cotton shirt. I had a great counter to that argument that she could not say anything about. I got rid of the old jeans because I had gained weight because of her great cooking. They just did not fit anymore, but the shirt still does. That is when she would walk away in a big laugh.
She just did not understand. That old cotton shirt is the same one I wore to my first concert featuring Aerosmith back in the late 1970’s. It was also the last shirt I wore before joining the army and serving my nation. It traveled with me overseas and was my constant reminder of just what I was fighting for. Most of all it was one of the last things my father gave me before he passed away. A great deal of my life’s history was tied up in that old shirt. Each time I saw it or wore it, the memories would flood back and reminded me just what I had been thru in my life and the experiences I encountered thru the decades.
My wife knew not to throw it out but she did try to hide it a few years back. She soon realized that was a big mistake. We really did not argue about it, the problem arose when I would not stop looking for it. I began tearing rooms apart looking for it. I have known my wife for many years and knew she had done something with it. I could see it in her face when I asked her about it's whereabouts. We were supposed to go over to our friend’s house for drinks and dinner. That got delayed to the point my wonderful shirt just magically appeared in the laundry hamper. Too bad it was already clean. Just to make a point I worn it to our friends house that evening.
The final demise of my old 100% cotton shirt was my doing and not my wife’s or my mother’s. I was working in the garage changing the battery on my old Plymouth. My hand strength is not what it used to be and the battery rested against my belly. That must have been when the acid got on it. The next time it was washed, a huge hole was where the front of the shirt use to be. It was either part with my beloved shirt or advertise I had a beer belly so I finally gave in. I guess it's time to buy a new one.