Similiar to Hemingway's Robert Jordan and Pablo, who battle it out over blowing up a bridge in "For Whom the Bell Tolls", Jackie and I are engaged in power struggle over my old t-shirts.
Despite the fact they take up little space - folding up flat and getting tucked away in closets or seamlessly mixed into our usual mounds of laundry - my "vintage" t-shirts have a way of getting themselves marked for irradication. Every time "spring cleaning" or some other wild hair strikes these poor, tattered cotton friends find themselves squarely in the crosshairs.
Like this one - a super fly Smashing Pumpkins t-shirt I got sometime in the 90's while following SP from Des Moines to Minneapolis to Omaha in 4 days. Chief among the complaints here are the rather prodigious holes. I say its "vented".
Or this one - that says INTRAMURAL CHAMPION. This gem was EARNED (after umpteen tries) from an impressive display of team broomball DOMINATION. Jackie says it's fugly. She's right, it is but no way it falls victim to the Fascist. No way, I tell ya.
I recently sacrificed one; it was a very well-vented softball team shirt. We were sponsored by a local Ostrich farm so it had a great picture of the great bird on the front. Do you know how hard it is to come by Ostrich-themed apparel? Do you?! That was no small sacrifice, but it had to die so that others may live. I fear it will not appease for long.
If you've read the book you know, it doesn't end well. I hope my t-shirts have a better fate than that of Robert Jordan and the bridge.....
I've gotta go. I keep the t-shirts moving these days. It's not safe to stay in one place too long. If anyone knows of a safe house for old tees on the lam, let me know. You'll have to respond in code however; I fear our lines of communication are too easily breached.