Dear John,
Four years ago today, we had a really sucky day, didn’t we.
Surreally sucky, in fact. I got mom’s call around 6:00am – the dreaded call that I somehow knew was coming that morning. I rolled out of bed, crawling into my teal Gap hoodie that I’ve had since high school – a sweatshirt in July seems crazy I know, but I needed the comfort – and headed to the hospital. I got there, and Mom was there, and you were there. But you weren’t really. Your body was, but you’d already peaced out. So to speak.
But I won’t dwell on that day. Because today is a better 24th of July. We’re still sad, Mom and I. We still had tears in our eyes as we headed to the outlet mall this morning, talking about how you would want us to be bargain-hunting today. Not that we needed anything at the outlets – we’re just trying to distract ourselves. And that’s okay.
The air is thick with you today. And that’s okay too.
At the Coach outlet, Mom treated herself to a good lookin’ signature tote bag – first quality, not the crap they’re making for the outlets these days – with purple patent leather trim. The saleslady who helped us was named Hannah. We took that as a sign that you were with us.
Wherever you are – and I do believe that you are still somewhere in this universe, in some capacity – I hope you are happy, and at peace. I hope you have retained your passion and your intellect and your integrity and your quirks (well, most of them anyway).
I hope you know how much we love you, and will always love you.
From Michigan, then, where Mom is finding much-deserved happiness – though I’m sure that’s not news to you,
Love,
Jennifer
Showing posts with label outlet shopping. Show all posts
Showing posts with label outlet shopping. Show all posts
Tuesday, July 29, 2008
Sunday, July 27, 2008
Anniversary Week
Hello from the great state of Michigan!
I am now the proud recipient of a student visa (woohoo!) and am spending a few more days with my mom, trying my best to cheer on the Cubs, eat brats, and get blizzards at the DQ - all cherished American pastimes, at least to me - until I return to London next week.
As for this week, it's a big one for me and my mom. A big, sad one. This is the John Anniversary Week. He and my mom were married (after 18 years of domestic partnership) on July 21 and he died a week later, on July 28. Tomorrow marks the 4th anniversary of his death - and just typing that makes my heart beat a little faster and sends nervous warmth from my heart through my chest down through my arms to my fingertips.
Mom and I got through the wedding anniversary okay. We distracted ourselves by driving to Chicago since my visa appointment was the next day. Tomorrow, for the other anniversary, we will be going outlet shopping, one of our family traditions. Really, our most celebrated family tradition.
John instilled in us a passion for bargain-hunting. He used to tear through the "last chance rack" at the Land's End outlet in Schaumburg, Illinois for dress shirts he could wear to work. For only $5 each, he found dozens of crisp, new Oxford shirts that he wore with a jacket and tie to teach at a boys' school on the Upper East Side of New York City. What landed these nice, clean shirts on the "last chance rack"? These were the shirts that others had had monogrammed with their initials, and then returned to Land's End for whatever reason. Except for the embroidered letters, they were in perfect condition.
Who would want a shirt with someone else's monogram? Well, for 5 bucks and a few laughs, John did. And his students loved him for it. Every day, the boys would file into his classroom and peel back his jacket to reveal the monogram of the day. They never tired of the routine, because the initials were always different. After years of devoted outlet shopping, John had amassed a vast collection of impressively diverse initials. He even found a couple shirts with his own initials - JMH - on them! (Though the boys didn't think those were as funny.)
My mom and I visited the Land's End outlet in Schaumburg when we were in town a few days ago. We scoured the store, finally finding the "last chance rack" buried in with the women's clearance. The dinky rack held only two monogrammed robes (which is somehow a lot less amusing than shirts to me), a hot pink down vest (waaay out of season, that), a pair of jeans that looked like they were made in 1982, and a pair of elastic-waist pants that my grandmother would love. No crisp dress shirts bearing the initials of people we would never know, or, coincidentally, of people we did. No once-in-a-lifetime bargain of a butter yellow short-sleeved polo shirt with "JMH" tastefully embroidered on the chest.
"I guess things change," my mom said.
I guess they must, at some point. And that's okay.
I am now the proud recipient of a student visa (woohoo!) and am spending a few more days with my mom, trying my best to cheer on the Cubs, eat brats, and get blizzards at the DQ - all cherished American pastimes, at least to me - until I return to London next week.
As for this week, it's a big one for me and my mom. A big, sad one. This is the John Anniversary Week. He and my mom were married (after 18 years of domestic partnership) on July 21 and he died a week later, on July 28. Tomorrow marks the 4th anniversary of his death - and just typing that makes my heart beat a little faster and sends nervous warmth from my heart through my chest down through my arms to my fingertips.
Mom and I got through the wedding anniversary okay. We distracted ourselves by driving to Chicago since my visa appointment was the next day. Tomorrow, for the other anniversary, we will be going outlet shopping, one of our family traditions. Really, our most celebrated family tradition.
John instilled in us a passion for bargain-hunting. He used to tear through the "last chance rack" at the Land's End outlet in Schaumburg, Illinois for dress shirts he could wear to work. For only $5 each, he found dozens of crisp, new Oxford shirts that he wore with a jacket and tie to teach at a boys' school on the Upper East Side of New York City. What landed these nice, clean shirts on the "last chance rack"? These were the shirts that others had had monogrammed with their initials, and then returned to Land's End for whatever reason. Except for the embroidered letters, they were in perfect condition.
Who would want a shirt with someone else's monogram? Well, for 5 bucks and a few laughs, John did. And his students loved him for it. Every day, the boys would file into his classroom and peel back his jacket to reveal the monogram of the day. They never tired of the routine, because the initials were always different. After years of devoted outlet shopping, John had amassed a vast collection of impressively diverse initials. He even found a couple shirts with his own initials - JMH - on them! (Though the boys didn't think those were as funny.)
My mom and I visited the Land's End outlet in Schaumburg when we were in town a few days ago. We scoured the store, finally finding the "last chance rack" buried in with the women's clearance. The dinky rack held only two monogrammed robes (which is somehow a lot less amusing than shirts to me), a hot pink down vest (waaay out of season, that), a pair of jeans that looked like they were made in 1982, and a pair of elastic-waist pants that my grandmother would love. No crisp dress shirts bearing the initials of people we would never know, or, coincidentally, of people we did. No once-in-a-lifetime bargain of a butter yellow short-sleeved polo shirt with "JMH" tastefully embroidered on the chest.
"I guess things change," my mom said.
I guess they must, at some point. And that's okay.
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