#56
Where did this day go? Oh My God. There was just one thing after another and nothing seemed to go anywhere. Oh well, it is over. Emma and I ended the evening with a Sherlock episode. Kind of a funky note to end on.Anybody else with a sweater story. I was trying to think of one. I kept very few things of my father's after he died. I have a bottle of ink, his color, which I have let Emma use with her quill. I had a silver cigarette case that his buddies at Princeton gave him at graduation which I think my brother, Geoff has now. He was smoking, I wan't. And I had a sweater of his, a beautiful blue sweater that I took to college and wore a lot throughout the 4 years I was at Marlboro. It was way too long for me and I always felt to warm in it, even in Vermont snowy evenings. But I loved it none the less.
Sometime after I left Marlboro and was living in Massachusetts, my good friend Peter borrowed it. He looked very handsome in it so I let him keep it. I think that maybe the story of all of my sweaters. I actually only own one at the moment and I love it. It is thick cotton, navy blue and buttons up the neck. I always feel smart in it. But again, it is really warm, so I don't let myself feel smart too often.
My husband has a sweater story, and I never dreamed I'd get to tell it. When he was 16 his mother took him and his younger brother to live for a year in Paris. They flew via Iceland, and Mark's sweater looks Icelandic in design. His sweater is blue and white, his brother's red and white. Those sweaters weren't purchased in Iceland, however, but in San Francisco--fifty years ago. Mark still has that sweater and still wears it, and it still fits. I have absolutely no idea what this little story means, beyond the fact that my husband wears his clothes for a looooong time
ReplyDeleteThanks, Pam, great story. Post a picture of it sometime. Lindy
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