LifeTrain

Earlier this week, I received a call from Barbara across the street. Her daughter, Caity, is in the first few weeks of Freshman Year. Having signed up for Band, she has uniforms to wear that need a bit of alteration. They are kept and used each year on countless students and nothing can be permanently tailored so, I was asked if I could take up the pant legs that have probably been at all of the various lengths before. Up. Down. Up again. Couldn't the generations of McGavock High students coordinate their height so that parents wouldn't have to go to such trouble? Or how about height requirements to participate. "Sorry you play a mean tuba, but you are far too tall." Ha. So, I went over for a fitting and had such flashbacks. Mom was struggling to get daughter to try on pants. "Go put some shoes on with them". Struggle again. "Not those shoes." Struggle. Struggle. You can be the best and smartest kid...but what is it about that age that makes you give your parents such a difficult time?! Oh, if only my mom were still alive so that I could ask for forgiveness. For all of the struggling. All of the rolling of eyes. All of the typical teenage weirdness. (has anyone ever read Zits? They always hit the nail on the head! My mom loved that comic.)

But, in standard adolescent This Is So Uncool tone, Caity nearly apologized for the polyester slacks… as though they were a less-than-fashionable cousin that insisted on showing up uninvited to the popular kids birthday party- embarrassment by association. I didn't think they were bad, but I'm not 13 and I don't have to wear them. I told her that she was lucky her school at least had good colors (blue, red and white). A neighboring school when I was growing up, El Camino, had brown and yellow. My friend Heather went there and she handled it with dignity. Honestly, though, even I remember being less than proud of my high school track warm-ups.

My junior year, I joined track partly due to High School Boyfriend. We had multi-generational warm-ups much like Caity's band uniform. They were gray sweats with read silk screened print that had been worn year after year by numerous students. Other schools had sporty nylon suits with zippers. My sweatshirt even had a different player number than my pants, everything was mismatched by the time it got to me, I guess. The next year they began introducing some new jackets and pants in the highly sought after, previously mentioned nylon. Not enough to go around, though, so only the better runners/jumpers/throwers were given the cream of the crop. The rest of us were able to keep the reliable gray sweats. (Yes, crazy as it may seem to you, I was a terrible hurdler. But just wait ‘til tennis season came around! Much better at tennis.)At the end of the season, and the end of my high school career, I was told there was no need to return the sweats- they were being completely phased out. Finally. So, I kept my #25 gray sweats.

I don't know what happened to the jacket. Maybe I left it in the locker room. But, I still have the pants. They have elastic, but there are holes in the waistband where a drawstring must have been...maybe for the Class of '79. Without it, they are loose and seem to fit better with the top folded down a bit. They are extemely soft and I find myself wearing them around the house because they are more comfortable than the majority of my wardrobe. I was even able to wear them during both of my pregnancies due to the pathetic fit. There is even footage of me on the phone with my dad the day went went to the hospital for Grant's birth ("yes...this is it") and I was wearing those pants! And I was BIG. Whew, I was big. There is something so sweet to me about that; would I ever have believed it when I was issued them ("you can wear them now, but you'll really enjoy them when you are married and pregnant with your babies”)? Ha.

And they are even “stylish” now as places like Abercrombie & Fitch are doing athletic-type T-shirts in that retro-esque print. I guess things have a tendancy to come full circle:

What was once in style, is hip again if you wait long enough.

And the hard time you gave your parents as a teenager comes to haunt you when you, yourself, become a parent to an adolescent.

I can't wait.