I’ve written before about how Eric was a man of many t-shirts. He had an array of Be Kind t-shirts that he wore to school every day. He had t-shirts from the afterschool groups he sponsored, like the Breakdancing Club. He had t-shirts from our travels, rock and roll t-shirts and a t-shirt he got from sending in 50 Dum Dums lollipop wrappers.
I still haven’t been able to sort through Eric’s clothes. Too painful - especially the t-shirts. But I am kind of, sort of, beginning maybe to try. Each garment contains so many stories! That’s what hard about going through them. That, and they feel part of him still. A physical link to him. Anyway, without further ado, here are five shirts at the top of the pile:
My brother always gave Eric a silly shirt for Christmas. Why Long John Silver’s for this one? Because as a teenager Eric worked at LJS. He manned the hush-puppy fryer. He said it was awful, so greasy that he had to keep a container of Stridex pads in his car to try and defeat each day’s fryer-induced acne.
I have no idea what this shirt says. I don’t read Hebrew. Eric does. He got the shirt in Israel, which is the one place he traveled to without me. (He went with his uncle.) He loved it. His favorite thing was the street food, specifically falafel sandwiches with French fries in them. Here’s the other thing about this shirt: it’s the one Eric wore to every MRI for some 15 years. His superstition was indefatigable. He kept wearing it, believing in its power, even when the MRIs were getting bad.
Eric wore the tuxedo shirt to the Amundsen High School prom. Yes, Eric went to prom most years to give extra support to his special ed kids. Fun fact: as seniors, Eric and I both went to our high school proms in Ohio with a date who had the last name of Gary. Because that’s how soulmates roll - with same-named prom dates. (Also same-named grandmas, same-named cousins, and same-named brother/uncle.)
Friends bought Eric this shirt to mark the day we got married. Eric wore it every July 4th without fail, but never any other time. One year Eric caught on fire while donning it. How? Well, every 4th our neighbors set off a ridiculous, weapons-grade, house-shaking arsenal of fireworks, one of which landed on Eric’s shirt while he was drinking a beer. We quickly doused him, though a burn on the shoulder forever marks the spot.
I had to suck a lot of Dum Dums to make this shirt happen. Mr Healthy Food Guy Eric ate like one lollipop. The rest were my responsibility. The things we do for love...
Now I just have to go through about 100 more shirts. And shorts. And jeans. And socks.
Some day.
I wish I was a quilter, bc I'd make a cozy t-shirt quilt (apparently, t-shirt quilts are a thing now). For when you visit our island on your Tour of Sorrow: the makerspace where I teach writing also has a fiber arts studio that teaches quilting. :)
KZ... remembering each one a labor of love. I love your love with E. thanks for sharing, always.