THE YABERDASHER

It was a great game for college. Ohio State and Michigan, a seesaw battle at halftime. TLW (The Little Woman) entered the house with #2 Son and proclaimed…

“Joe, I’m going to the mall, I need you to come.”

Climbing into the car, I inquire why I’m needed.

“Because your son needs clothes and he won’t shop with me. Says it embarrasses him to shop with his mother!”

“Yes, I see how that…”

“WHAT?”

“Yes, I can see how that tree is shedding all its leaves!”

Into the mall we head, the place is jammed with shoppers and little brats, all running into me as I look like Tony Dorsett, eluding tackles.

I don’t shop, especially for my son’s clothes that has always been TLW’s job. So I am seeing what they are buying for the first time. It shocks me to see that what they are buying they also wear!

A T-shirt that says: “I Don’t Care.”

I go a little further and see jackets that look like the Viet Cong wore them after hiding underground from a B-52 bombing! They look worn and faded and tired!

I finally come to a shirt that has some old lettering on it, looking like the type of signage one would see on an old ad painted on a turn of the last century building. Some of the letters are fading away, and some are only slightly discernable.

“Toots!” I yell, “I found something that will save us a lot of trouble!”

“What?”

“This shirt, it looks very old, it might make sense to buy it, you buy, bring it home and throw it out, you don’t have to wear it, it looks over-worn already! Boy, what will they think of next?”

Of course, we can’t just buy clothes for #2 Son. No, every purchase or consideration comes with: “Do you think he will like this, Joe?”

I see a nice shirt, with a few polo players on the chest, comes with a matching hat, TLW laughs at me.

I start to finger a coat.

“He won’t wear that, he says it will make him look fat, besides, it's leather, he won't wear leather. Has to be Faux leather!”

I wonder to myself if he uses real cream in his coffee or Creamola?

“And what is wrong with fat? It’s in now.”

I see another shirt.

“Here’s something nice, Toots!”

“NO! Too big, he wants small!”

“Small!”

“Yes, nothing that makes him look fat.”

One more try and I find what I think is pay dirt; a grey double pocket shirt, small and dull looking rag.

“He’ll love this Toots!”

“WHY!?”

“Because it makes him look like one of the unwashed masses, needing a union, and living in a refrigerator box under an overpass on the LIE!”

“Yes, he will!”

It’s hard for me to understand why but I notice all the smalls are taken up already. They have XLRG, LRG, MED, and very little SM. All the mothers got there early and grabbed them all. SM stands for; Smart Mother.

I remember when style made you look good. You went into the store, and the item called you, spoke to you, seduced you. Now, I see the stuff they are selling and it looks like it came from Goodwill, and needs to be ironed, desperately!