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"The Wondering Jew"

Nov. 01, 2003 - 19:32 MST

THE WONDERING JEW

The Way I Am

When I was pretty young my parents gave me a vest made of chamois skin. Plain it was, the fanciest part was a zipper up the front. I loved it and wore it even in the hot summer. I don't know why it was such an almost fetish with me, but it was.

As I grew and the chamois skin jacket had fallen apart and split at the seams, first one and then another article of clothing would be favored by me.

It seems as if favored clothing becomes another skin on my body better looking than the live one I have, maybe.

Heather has a heck of a time persuading me to give up a jacket, cardigan or knitted vest. They're mine and I like them, they have gained my outer shape or have shaped me to their paradigms, one of the family you might say. My bathrobe suits me much as it has for the last fifteen or more years and I suppose it will go before I do as it is getting along in age and fragility. My in house buddy that bathrobe has stood by me in sickness and in health much as a mate does, says nothing though.

Am I what they call "anal retentive" or not ? Damfino, but that is me. I have a few fine, fancy duds to wear to weddings, funerals and other places necessary to wear "good" clothes. Carefully stowed and covered, sometimes pressed a bit when necessity calls for it. I wear them and get out of them as soon as we hit home. Then I find an old set of companions who will comfortably shelter my body without fanfare, shabby but oh, so comfortable.

Heck, some of my clothes have more seniority than some folks have on their jobs. They have served their time and will leave by their own methods, ravel, come apart, get holey by whatever road they choose. But while they are with me, I am also with them. They cover me and I cover for them.

I also have other character defects which I have perfected over the years, they also are mine and make me comfortable. Nobody gets hurt --- until they try to take one of my fabric friends away from me. Weird it is I know, but that's The Way I Am . . . . . . . . . . .

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