The Sweater
In case this looks familiar ... This is from January of 2023. I'm using it again for three reasons. One is that I really like it. Two is that Duane is still wearing the sweater in the picture. Three is that sweaters and love are synonymous and we all need some of that sweetness.
Twenty-plus years ago, Duane was given a gift certificate from Rock Hollow by people at work. He was thrilled because they thought of him and because he loved Rock Hollow. I'm sure he played golf with some of the gift certificate, but he also bought the Sweater. While I am deathly sick of looking at and washing the Sweater, even I must admit it deserves a capital letter at its beginning.
It's light gray, no collar, and has three buttons at the neck and the Rock Hollow insignia where a breast pocket would be if it had one. It's loose enough to wear over a shirt, but perfectly comfortable without one, too.
A few years ago, I felt a little bit of hopeful glee when a small hole wore though the front of the Sweater. Maybe we could give it a Christian burial after all. I don't know of any scripture exactly right for threadbare Sweaters, but ...
"What do you think?" said Duane. "Think you could patch it?"
So much for burial. "Sure," I said. "Maybe."
You could barely see the mended place and he was happy with it. The Sweater went on. And on. I washed it more often than I wash sheets. Sometimes its owner puts it on before it ever makes it to a hanger—it's so nice and warm straight from the dryer.
No surprise that when Duane went to the hospital for back surgery last week, he wore the Sweater because it would be comfortable for going home. Before he put it back on, we squinted at the patched place (squinting comes with age, in case you weren't aware of it), and sure enough, the patch has worn through, as well as another hole close to it. If the Sweater were a shower curtain, the bathroom floor would be soaked.
I didn't even think about a funeral. How could I possibly think of getting rid of a Sweater that was just reaching its sweet spot in life? Its owner had stitches in his back because of a lifetime of wear and I hadn't even considered getting rid of him. All right, I talked about it, but not seriously.
"I can fix that," I said.
The Sweater will live on.
Nan Reinhardt dresses really well. I'm always kind of happy when she hands down something to me that she doesn't wear anymore because I know I'm going to like it.
But then there's her Sweater. I asked her if it had a story and she said, "I put it on over my jammies and go to work in my office every morning." Nan and I travel together sometimes on writing retreats and I've seen her pajamas—I'll bet they cringe every time she puts that sweater on. It probably looked nice when it was newer, before it had holes in it, but I'm not placing any bets.
Her husband, whom she calls Husband in print, also has a Sweater. He's had it for ... oh, a long time. It's referred to in the family as his Mr. Rogers sweater. It was with ... er ... Husband every day in his office until he retired in 2014. Now it's in his home office. Except for when he's wearing it.
The last Sweater is mine. Tahne, my daughter-in-law, bought it for me from a store near Biltmore in North Carolina. It's deliciously soft and seems to fit me no matter what size I am. It was expensive, and I told Tahne I was going to save it to wear when I was dressing up.
She said No. She wanted me to wear it to be warm and comfortable in while I was working or whenever I needed it. I didn't argue. It does, after all, have pockets and is the perfect length and I roll the sleeves up to wherever I want them to be on any certain day. And every time I wear it, it's like being hugged by someone I love.
I love sweaters. I have a blue-green one with sparkles that gives me some shine on a day when I need it. When I was in the fourth grade, teacher and I had the same royal blue cardigan, I was so impressed and felt so grown up! I doubt Mrs. Kotterman was all that excited about it, but I certainly was.
I bought a burnt orange one on clearance once and wore it with everything. Although I admit burnt orange isn't much of a neutral, it still works for me. It's a warm color. Forty-some years later, my raincoat is that color. So is a down jacket I just bought on clearance. It was the only color available in my size. I think that was a message.
When my grandmother died, we found a brown cardigan she'd never worn, and I took it home with me and wore it until there was little left of it. That's what Grandma did—she looked after us.
This is one of those interactive blog posts. Tell us about your Sweater. Your favorite or your least favorite or one that wakes a memory.
Stay warm. Have a good week. Be nice to somebody.
My Dad had a red cardigan which he stopped wearing in the late 1960s. When I left for PT school, I asked him if I could have it. Our labs were cold but I was warm...and it had pockets! Now I have a black cardigan that I wear all winter. I am again warm...and ,of course, it has pockets!
I have a blue and black cardigan that I bought in 1989. I wore it the first time to a company event when I was trying to catch the eye of a certain young lady I was working with. The sweater must have worked because I got the girl and 35 years later, still have her and the sweater!