When Memories Meet Scissors

Last night, my wife opened up a storage tub of t-shirts I’ve been saving for twenty years and, using a pair of scissors, systematically cut each one of them in half as I squirmed and watched.

The majority of shirts in the tub were concert t-shirts, most of which I purchased at concerts decades ago. There were Danzig, Stone Temple Pilots, Motley Crue, Faith No More, Pantera, and a whole lot of Metallica shirts in the tub. Almost all of the ones I purchased at concerts had Oklahoma City listed as one of the tour dates on the back of the shirt. Concert t-shirts used to be more affordable than they are now, sometimes less than the cost of the ticket. Also in the tub were a couple of shirts from bands like Slayer and Primus that I didn’t buy at concerts, but from local record shops like Midnight Music and Happy Days Records.

The oldest shirt in the tub, I think, was a black Harley Davidson shirt that came from the shop just down the street from my Grandma’s house in Homewood, Illinois. I’m pretty sure I got the shirt when I was fifteen or sixteen years old. The shirt is thinner now than it was then. I wish I could say the same for myself.

None of these shirts fit anymore, nor will they ever again. Most of them were extra-larges that had shrunk from hundreds of washings. Some of them didn’t fit all that well when I was in high-school. If I lost half my body weight, still none of them would fit. Many of them, even if they fit, I wouldn’t wear anymore. Some of them contain vulgar language in big, bold letters — rebellious when you’re 12 years old, borderline funny when you’re 22, embarrassing when you’re 32 and downright offensive when you’re 42.

And yet, I still had them, waiting out in the garage, for something.

I’ve always wanted one of those t-shirt quilts that people make. The difference between Susan and me is that I will spend twenty years wishing I had or had done something, while if you mention it to her, twenty minutes later she’s on the phone making things happen.

The company Susan found requires thirty t-shirts (14″ squares) for a king-size quilt. Technically that could be as few as fifteen shirts (if you included both the front and back). Their other requirement is that you cut the shirts in half, and only send the side you want included on the quilt.

With a nod and a sigh, I gave my blessing.

SNIP!

The cat felt my hesitation and did her best to flop down anywhere Susan prepared to cut.

Before long, the deed was done. Metallica? SNIP. Slayer? SNIP. There were a few shirts that didn’t make the cut because they didn’t mean anything to me. Funny how I will save a shirt for almost three decades only to decide it holds absolutely no sentimental value to me whatsoever. I didn’t keep any of the shirts, whether they were used or not. All of the unused backs, along with all the shirts that didn’t make the cut, are gone. The ones with graphics are going into the trash. The ones that are plain will go to my dad’s garage and become cleaning rags.

The t-shirts are being packed into a FedEx shipping box and mailed away. We’ll see what I get back in a few weeks!