Shirts

Shirts

Noel Laflin

7-29-18

I can’t remember the last time I bought myself a shirt.

And despite the annual culling of clothes over the years, I still have a closet-full.

There are the former button-down collar varieties from days of working past – most still in thin plastic protectors placed by the once-frequented neighborhood dry cleaner. I have not seen that nice lady who used to work there in four years now.  I think it’s maybe time to donate or recycle these guys.  I will keep a couple of the white ones just in case there’s a wedding or funeral in the future.

There are the nice shirts that David, Krysten, and my sister-in-law give to me as gifts. These I save for special occasions, like going out for dinner – or Christmas Day.

Those that I have acquired on my own over the last twenty years are now stained with daily forays into the garden.  The garden leaves some permanent reminders of battles both won and lost.  Holes and blood stains permeate most of them.

But as old and ratty as they may be, I find parting with some of them to be hard.

Because they are white – or once were, before blood, sweat, and tears marred the fabric, I wear them on hot days especially, since they better reflect sunlight and keep me cooler - and that is good when out shooting photos for hours at a time.

I also know that I’m just going to trash any new shirt in quick order once I wear it into the backyard jungle.

But mostly, I find parting with these last, well-worn ancient pieces of garb difficult to do, as they remind me of old friends, and worthy causes past.