My dad was never one to let stuff go to waste. Particularly clothing.
Don't get me wrong. He dressed nice for his job. Wore a suit. Perfectly pressed shirt, and conservative tie. But when the weekend came? He completely morphed.
Instead of his contact lenses, dad would wear his horn rimmed glasses from 1964. He'd also wear an Ohio State sweatshirt. That in of itself wouldn't be so bad if it had not turned pale pink from 30 years of washing. The lettering so worn he now appeared to have earned his degree from "--io Stute Inivsty"
We were were always used to dad's routine. Even laughed with him about it. Mostly because everyone knew his actions really burned my mom's ass.
Living in the suburbs according to my mom, meant sizing yourself up against your neighbors...right down to what you wore when you did yard work. I remember so many times watching her look out the window with total disdain as my dad mowed our grass.
Sure he was shirtless wearing dark socks with tan Bruce Jenner sneakers with his shorts. But really, it's just yard work right?
I'd sit in the kitchen and smirk as my mom would greet my dad at the door. "Goddamn it you look like a damn bum! Would it kill you to wear a shirt? And take off those socks! For God's sake! What will the neighbors think?!"
Anyway...Dad also had some pants as pictured above. Leisure pants from the 70's. Groovy right? Mom didn't think so. She finally had enough of my dad wearing his vintage clothing and decided to make a run to our local Salvation Army.
A week or so later Dad came into the house one evening after returning from work. Seemed a bit perturbed. He yells up the stairs to my mom, "Hey! Did you clean out my closet?" My mom yells from their bedroom, "Yes, I did because I'm sick of seeing you in those crappy clothes!"
Dad replies bluntly, "Yeah, well, I was walking to my office this morning when I ran into a bum begging for change. I was pretty shocked to notice he was wearing my pants."
Nothing to add here...
See ya...
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