I think we all are able to laugh at some of the things that we do in our daily lives that remind us of our parents. Hardly a day goes by for me when I don't have a brief moment or chuckle as I do something that reminds me of my mother or father.
During the zany month of January as I was jumping around completing my voice project and getting served notice of the end of my work contract, I was also trying to get some domestic tasks back under control. One of those tasks was rearranging my sock drawer. Literally.
Sure, I have used the expression "Sorry, I can't meet tonight because I need to rearrange my sock drawer," countless times in my life, mostly in jest, and almost always because I really wanted to get out of doing whatever it was I was trying to decline.
And, I think we can all agree that such an expression is a very polite was of saying no, even if the personal reasons are something as mild as, "Hey, I just don't feel like it this evening," or as harsh as, "No, because I think you are a fuckhead."
Any rate, I have managed to accumulate a lot of socks since I have lived in my apartment in Germany. I am a big fan of comfy socks, and as Tim can attest, the best comfy socks tend to be soccer socks, or at least the ones we always bought. They were extra extra padded on the bottom, and just felt, well, comfy.
The problem with soccer socks is that they are not quite as useful when you no longer play football. Even though I probably still have a pair or two around, I gradually found a compromise is a really durable and thick cotton crew sock. I am not really fan of the ankle socks, preferring a little bit of length up the calf.
When I was returning the states every couple of years for a visit, I would also pick up a 12 or 20 pack of my favorite crew socks, but in the past 5 years I have been stateside each Christmas, and somehow continued to accumulate more and more new socks.
My problem, is that I was not using any of the socks, but instead, just wearing and re-wearing the old ones. (Expect a future post that is remarkably similar to this one, only involving boxers.) So, over time, I had drawer full of new socks, and a jumbly drawer filled with all the socks that were in current circulation.
When I was growing up, we had a running joke in our family around Christmastime, as my father would always respond to my Grandmother's question, "What do you want for Christmas," with a simple word.
"Socks."
We would all laugh and I would think, "Gosh, how come Dad needs so many pairs of socks?"
Well, some 20-30 years later, I can now better understand how this sock saga gets going. Because I effectively have picked up the same habit as my father. Although I always answered my Grandmother's question with something like, "I would like a coat," or " I am looking for an iron skillet," I always needed (or felt I needed) socks, too.
The problem is, I just can't ever bring myself to discard the socks, even after the first holes appear (as they inevitably do) in them. For a while, I had a two toe rule, but as I became more lazy, sometimes I would look at all my toes showing through my sock, think quickly, "Yep, probably need to throw these out," then put on my boots and get on with my day.
Finally, this past month, I have taken on a new approach, and that is one that requires me to inspect each pair of socks as I take them off. If there are no holes, then they go in the hamper. If they do have holes, I put them through the quick criteria test (this little piggy went to market, this little piggy stayed home....) and decide if they need to be put into the discard pile.
The discard pile has been slowly growing, and if I don't throw them out immediately, then sometimes I do wash them and then use them as cleaning rags. (score points for recycling!)
Now, I still have a ways to go, but I am making progress. The jumbly drawer is getting less full, and at the very least, I am better able to match the various shades of black (depending on the number of washes) and amounts of holey damage.
As I walked home from the store this afternoon thinking about I would start this post, I was thinking how cool it was to have new socks a dad like the one I have. (a sock off the old block)
When I opened up the letter box to check the mail, I found a letter from him, posted last Friday (14th of February). It turned out to be a valentine's card, and I was deeply touched. My father, the sock magnate, is keeping up another tradition, one that my mother did particularly well, and that is to send a greeting card for the appropriate occasion.
In the first year after my mother passed away, my Dad mentioned in passing, "Holy socks, Bryan, I can't seem to keep up with all the birthdays and events. Your Mom did this so well," referring to the fact that indeed, my mother made sure all the birthday cards were sent on time and to the intended recipients. Not only birthday cards, but also cards for valentine's and Easter, and sometimes just for the hell of it.
It seems like such an insignificant thing.
Until it stops.
Maybe my father only sent one valentine's card out this year (although I expect my sister got one, also, despite living in the same house, since that's how it always was when we were growing up), and I think it is just cool.
So, today is a particularly high Dad approval rating day...off the charts, as far as I am concerned.
And since he is already really high up in my book, that is no mean feat.
To celebrate, I put on a fresh pair of new socks.
See you out there
bryan
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