Hand-me-downs? At my age? Yes, they are hand-me-downs.

Yesterday the maple syrup crew, Rick, Bill and I, got together for the final clean-up of the 2013 season and to move firewood for the 2014 season to the sugarhouse. The latter task was delayed by the wet spring and early summer rains which kept the trail through the woods somewhat impassable. The rains have continued as late as yesterday morning; the low spot in the trail was wet enough to coat the truck and tractor tires as an unsightly and unserviceable recapping effort. (I am sure not all of my readers are aware that at one time worn tires were “recapped” and resold.) At the end of a seven hour day with coffee and lunch breaks—one of each—the firewood relocation effort is not yet completed. We plan to go back at it this morning.

During one of the breaks, Bill noted that I was wearing a t-shirt touting the advantages of ice cream and including the Dairy Farmers of Wisconsin logo. Bill then posed the question: “Where did you get that shirt?” I explained that it was a hand-me-down that Mom had given me after Dad passed away. Bill then pointed out that the belt he was wearing was his Dad’s, given to him by his mother after his father’s death. It was his Dad’s dress uniform Sam Browne belt from World War II with the shoulder piece removed. There we were a couple of guys in our late 60’s wearing hand-me-downs with an altogether different emotional content than we would have experienced at age ten when wearing hand-me-downs from an older brother, cousin, or neighbor.

I choose this particular t-shirt for purely utilitarian purposes. The forecast called for temperatures approaching 90 degrees, so I chose from the pile of work t-shirts—as opposed to the pile of dress t-shirts—the one lightest in color and weight. Despite that being my motivation, the history of that shirt is never forgotten whenever I put it on. It was duly worn, before it was hand down to me, so I wear it like I own it. By the end of the day it was filthy, but I didn’t rip it. It has survived a passage into and through the Valley of Filth before and came through the follow-up laundry experience unstained. I am certain that this particular t-shirt will not survive a passage into a following generation unless it simply becomes a member of someone’s ragbag. I plan to wear it and work it hard; it came to me with evidence of hard work, so it ain’t like it has never been there before. And I plan to be able to wear it and work it hard for some time..

Wearing hand-me-downs sourced by the previous wearer outgrowing them is very different than wearing hand-me-downs sourced by the previous wearer’s death. Connections with the previous wearer are also an important element in this exchange. There is a denim jacket in the downstairs closet that was given to my Dad by a neighbor after her husband passed away. This is a neighbor whom I never met. When Mom passed the jacket onto me, she commented that she didn’t think that Dad ever wore it, even after she had shortened the sleeves to fit Dad’s wingspan. The modification also fits my wingspan. What is the difference here? I think I can best sum it up with the following direct and heartfelt statement: If you are going to wear a dead man’s clothes, it is best to have known that man and to have an ongoing attachment to that man’s memory.