Last Friday when I was getting ready for lunch I threw on my jacket as I did so I heard a faint tearing sound. Then I noticed it a small 2 inch tear in my right sleeve. The tear allowed my pointy elbow to protrude. While a tear in a shirt sleeve isn't near as exciting as loosing your pants while on the uneven bars or even the more common tear in the crotch, in fact I was feeling a completely different emotion—one of loss.
You see over the last two years and four months I had become quite fond of this shirt, I now had to realized that our relationship was over. Sure I could mend it but the shirt was in such a state that at any moment it was ready to completely unravel. So rather than try and extend the life of the shirt I decided to create a memorial page for it. One where I could return and contemplate all the great times we had together.
Laura S. hands me the package which contains the Shirt and I graciously unwrap the present, before heading for a week in Joshua Tree National Park.
The Shirt and I travel to Lake Powell for some mid winter Kayaking/Exploring, on the return home the roads are closed in end up spending the night in the Budget Inn in Price Utah.
I apply for and am admitted to the Bachelor of Fine Arts Program, Visual Communications Track. This came as a shock to a great number of people as I slowly began my trek out of the Ceramics Lab.
I become a certified level one yoga teacher, the class was taught by Corena Hammer.
While I wasn't wearing the shirt when it happend I break my back and endure 6 finals with the help of morphine and opiate pain killers and professors who let me stand rather than sit.
I spend a few weeks doing what I can for my pre-arranged NOLs course in Colorado.
The shirt accompanies me to the many hospital visits x-rays and MRI scans that I must endure for.
With summer in full swing I enjoy the light feeling of the brushed cotton, and the long sleeves for the cool summer nights.
With my back feeling better I do something really really stupid. and later that evening I'm back in the hospital.
As consequence for my actions I spend the next six months hobbling around on crutches.
With the weather getting cooler and cooler I pack the shirt in my backpack and enjoy a week in Buffalo, NY for work, where I win first place in the halloween contest—the shirt had nothing to do with my costume
We go to Thanksgiving
One year later I'm wearing the same shirt and back on the Interstate 80 heading south, not to Joshua Tree this time, This time Mexico.
With my shirt 2000+km away in the trunk of Steve's car, I'm curled over in pain fearing I may lose a testicle with the worst case of TT ever to be experienced my any mortal human. I lay in a mexican court yard and listen to a mixture of heavenly angles and rap music — I'm sure I'm experiencing death. 2 hours later after some untangling we are back on the road heading north to San Diego.
My shirt and only my shirt accompanies me to a jazz concert. NOTICE what the day was, needless to say I went home with a bitter taste in my mouth. The rest of the evening was spent listening to Damien Rice and Angie Aparo.
Unpacking my shirt again I pull it over my head and make my way down to the Santa Monica pier where I spend the day riding beach cruisers and making unfulfilled promises of ocean swimming—I ride the bus to the airport dry.
Covering my Iron Maiden T I feel like I'm dressed up enough and head down to the AIGA 100 show to receive my award, I find out I'm not
After a two month sabbatical from reality I pack my backpack yet another time this time I've limited my wardrobe to 2 t-shirts, and you guessed it. at eleven am I'm dropped off at the SLC airport and begin my flight to Florence, Italy.
For the next four months I fight all the urges to buy new clothes and follow the cycle of wash wear four days wash. By august I'm extremely sick of wearing the same thing and feel like I'll never wear the shirt again
The Shirt and I return to Los Angeles, to receive a good wake up call
I enter the "realworld" and start working nine to five
While at diner with L and H they politely point out that I was wearing my "Italy Shirt", I realized then how much I truly love my shirt.
After another wash I pulled out the shirt threw it on, unaware that with in 4 hours It would have a small tear in the right sleeve.
After finding the tear I begin to think of ways to immortalize the shirt, and the Idea for memoir is born.
If you have an experience with the above shirt that isn't mentioned I'd love to hear from you and can be reached at mail@jasondilworth.com