Story Material: Part 1

With apologies to Mary Ann Hoberman...

When I was little, my mother would return home from her visits to Minneapolis with a bag full of tee shirts my relatives had outgrown. Unlike the tough skinned jeans they sold at Sears, these shirts were perfectly broken in. Pulling one over your head and down your back was like being given a familiar hug from an old friend. And because they bore exotic words like "Eden Prairie" and "Lacrosse", they also seemed wonderfully foreign. I'm pretty sure this is when I began my love affair with old clothes.

I don't think there is anything more comfortable than a grey athletic tee. It's wearable relaxation.

Typically, I don't wear shirts from road races I haven't run, but I think it's okay to wear this one because it's a training shirt, not a finisher's shirt.

I'm always excited to find shirts that reflect my love of Des Moines and its past.

I think old Dam to Dam shirts are particularly cool.

Since it's May 3, and there's almost two inches of snow on the ground, I'll throw this one in, too.

I bought this sweater in a Sioux Falls Goodwill store when I was 16.  It has lived in with me through three dorm rooms, two apartments, a townhouse, and a condo. Currently it's at our house in Daphne's closet. Whenever she wears it, I say, "Hey, that's my old sweater."

She always replies, "I don't know what you are talking about." And then she leisurely walks away.

Yet another hair band whose career was cut short by Nirvana, I like to think this Bullet Boys shirt was purchased at a concert by some kid wearing a long mullet and acid washed jeans. I hope he yelled "Wuff, Wuff, Wuff" like Arsenio Hall when the band took the stage. 

I think I have an idea about that one.