Tommy

Before I head to bed, I just had to share one last "fashion" story with you about my dad. He was never a kin to high fashion, low fashion or any fashion for that matter. Brand names? He was totally generic in every way. My mother shared with us one summer that as they sat at the beach, my father noticed a boy wearing a shirt that proclaimed in very large letters "Tommy". He said to my mom, "Wow! Look, that boy must be a Tommy." My mom, rolling her eyes and shaking her head snuffed, "No, HIS name is not Tommy. The guy designed the shirt is Tommy Hilfiger!" My dad just did his Ernie (Sesame Street) laugh at himself.

Not long after that, my father came home proudly with a pair of Tommy clam digger shorts. They were kakhi, down to his knees and had he wished, he could have even worn them to show off his underwear. Again, my mom rolled her eyes and informed him that for a teenager, those shorts might be appropriate. For his college aged son who wouldn't be caught dead in them they would even pass. But, for a 50 year old teacher they were just completely unwarranted! He loved those shorts, and he wore them with dignity right up to the end. I even saved them for a long time as a remembrance that my father couldn't care less whose name was on the clothing, but sometimes he cared that we cared.