Sometimes you notice things that you ignore every day. Sometimes you think about architecture and decoration, about design. Sometimes you notice that each wall is a different color above the wainscot and dado rail. Sometimes you notice exposed girders and the hydra heads of air conditioning ducting snaking around, all sprayed with the same glossy brown. Sometimes you notice switch boxes with conduit of metal tubing or flexible aluminum held to the wall with clasps, running to each outlet and fixture. Hanging lights and exit signs, smoke alarms and surround sound, track lighting and emergency floods, fire alarms and thermostats, suspended ceilings and tiled floors. Sometimes, every once in a while, you look around at the details of sitting inside, out of the weather, enjoying shelter and climate control and light and music and some modicum of safety and coffee. Mostly, though, you just come and go.
An exchange we had this morning with River, my son, reminded me of me. Sometimes, when you are searching for your identity, you will stumble upon some totem or charm or banner that tells the world what sort of person you are. We bought my son a jacket for Christmas. It's a gothy, black hoodie with skulls and angels in the architecture and rough-looking seams. It says, "I'm gothy. I'm dark and cool. I'm emo." He has never owned an article of clothing that said these things before. He's not sure that he is gothy or dark or cool or emo, but it's better to be something than to be nothing.
"He's spraying Lysol on his jacket," Susan said, coming into the bedroom.
"River, you don't want to smell like Lysol," I told him as he rounded the corner. "Lysol smells like bathroom cleaner."
"Okay," he said, donning his gothy hoodie.
"River, do you wear that jacket every day?" I asked him, becoming suspicious.
"Yes."
"Son, you don't want to be one of those guys who becomes obsessed with one thing like that," I said. "You don't want to be the guy who wears that jacket every day, even if it stinks. You'll get to the point that you feel like you have to wear it. It will be 85 degrees outside and you'll still wear it. You don't want to be like that."
He paused for a second, and then said, "Okay." He took it off and went back upstairs, coming back down after a minute in an athletic-looking, pullover sweatshirt.
I have to admit, I was surprised he was that easy to convince. He's a smart kid. I think he understood what I was saying and agreed. What a novel concept.
I never had a gothy hoodie, but I had my things. I once had a denim jacket with the sleeves ripped off and "JESUS" painted on the back in big, white letters (I was very religious at the time.) I wore it every day for months and months. At one point I had a full-length, black trench coat with "ASK ME ABOUT JESUS" painted on the back (see parenthetical note above.) I know how pathetic you feel when you finally admit to yourself that you just can't wear it any more because it caught on fire and half of it is gone, or because it is 105 degrees Fahrenheit and a black trench coat just isn't appropriate. I know how naked you feel when you go out without it. I know how stupid you feel when you realize how naked you feel. I also know how healthy it feels when, a few days later, you see the remains of that stupid jacket (or whatever it is) in a heap on the floor of your room (if you're like me) and you realize that you never, ever, ever want to wear it again.
Anyway, nothing earth shattering. Just noticing things this morning. Just an echo of my past bouncing off my son. It's funny. I think he's better at these things than I was at his age.
Hello, friends. How are you today?
Later. Love.
