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May 9, 2009

It’s funny how you forget you have things, and when you find them it’s like you never lost it. I dunno, maybe it’s because you never thought about it or you had it so long it’s almost like a part of you. Well, I put away a few shirts I found that were collecting dust for years.

Memory lane time…

The ‘70s
The first shirt I loved was a Bert and Ernie shirt where they were playing the piano. It brought back some warm feelings of sitting in front of the telly, singing along with a bunch of glorified sock puppets. I’ll have to find my copy of “The Sesame Street Song Book” and look up “Rubber Duckie”. I have the 33 1/3 they put out, but nothing to play it on since they stopped making needles for LP players. I didn’t actually find the shirt, but memories of it came back.

Anyone played soccer with probably remember how bad I wanted to play forward. What nobody knew is that I would have been okay with being the goaltender. This shirt was from the one time I played goalie. I was in for a quarter of the game—and gave up three goals. Needless to say, I never played the position again until college, when my height had become a disadvantage.

I was still playing soccer that year, and I found one of my jerseys. This was the year we went into the playoffs and kept playing on into the next day.

I also went to band camp, but I'm glad I don't have the shirt any more because I'd be too evilly tempted to start delivering a movie quote...

My last year at soccer camp. That was when I got my first 11-on-11 goal. I’m trying to remember which of my teammates with the Hurricanes were there, I just remember Billy Waller.

Mid-’80s to early ‘90s
Anyone who knew me before 1994 has no excuse (except you, Darlene) for not remembering what I call “The Admiral’s Shirt”. I wore this all the time, and I was constantly asked about it. I didn’t like being asked about it, but I LOVED the shirt!

This was the year of the Texas Sesquicentennial. I don’t remember how I got this shirt, but I sure remember how I met Ron Stone. I’d said I wanted to meet him. Well, my mom and dad saw him ready to report, but I looked at my watch and knew it was a bad idea. But they insisted on it, anyway—AS HE WENT ON THE AIR!!! They never figured out why he was so abrupt and never liked him again, but now you know why.

Only two out of 475 graduates in my class went out of state: me, and national blue-chip Kevin Williams (not the NFL wide receiver). He went to UCLA; I went to the New Mexico Institute of Mining and Technology, which turned out to be the education of Harvard plus the parties of Sam Houston, on steroids. I went wherever to try to study, but something loud was going on everywhere, and I can’t concentrate without music, so I couldn’t take my Walkman into the library—the only quiet place on campus. I finally found out that one of the classroom halls was open all day, so I found a room with no nearby classes from 3-5 each day—until the gamers found out, too.

More next time. I have no idea what about…

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