Mid-60’s. Hendersonville NC. A small youth group from Binkley Church spent a few weeks at a migrant workers camp helping out at the day care center and small store.
While sorting donated clothes one day for the small shop, I found a denim railroad jacket and bought it for about $2. It was well-worn, raggedy in places, and I loved every stitch of it.
Back home in Chapel Hill, my mother was horrified by the jacket and my insistence on wearing it everywhere. I ended up sleeping in it for months knowing that if Mom had a chance at getting the coat, that it would end up in the trash.
I still had it in art school evidenced by this drawing (which I clearly romanticized by ignoring the tears and rips – it’s how I saw it), but I’m not sure what happened and where it ended up. It’s surely out there with the baby blue suede Frye boots that I lost somewhere too.
The sweet memories often outlive the belongings. Such is life.