Damn this Heat

All this heat has reminds me of the hottest time of my life. I was living in Baltimore MD, on a LDS mission.

I worked my ass off, literally, I gained almost twenty pounds while eating pseudo-southern food in Baltimore and lost almost all of it in the summer. Upper ninety temperatures were accompanied by constant hundred percent humidity, and I was stuck ridding my bike an average of fifteen miles a day.

In the middle of a particularly hot day I went to visit a man who ordered a Book of Mormon from a TV commercial. These visits were my favorite because the tables were turned. Instead of me knocking on their unsolicited door, they made the cold call and we were following up on their request.

This man lived in one of the high-rise project buildings. During the sixties and seventies the government funded a Baltimore special project project. The idea was that if they gave the lower income citizens a higher income housing they would rise to their living situation. Over the two to three decades the projects went to shit. Horror stories about throwing babies from the top floors floated through the trash covered streets (honestly, I once found a dead dog rotting in a garbage bag no where near a garbage).

So, when the elevator stalled there was little surprise on the faces of the locals. However, when the elevator was still stuck after thirty minutes the locals began to speak their worried minds.

I would like to say that because I was on a Christian mission my mind was settled by the “bigger picture.” I wish that I could have spoken words of comfort into the dozen fellow captives, but I was just happy to be out of the heat.

Golden Boy

This past week has been a mess. I feel like I’ve been trying to put together a puzzle with pieces from ten different puzzles.

Despite my relatively hectic life, my mind still prefers to dwell on simple things.

While putting on my shoes this morning I remembered what a co-worker once told me about them. He liked my shoes and wanted to know where I got them. These are the kind of questions I sometimes live for because these specific shoes are unique in that they are from the UK but can’t be sold in the US because another company owns the rights to the name. This made me feel good and as a result I have a good feeling about/for these shoes.

While thinking about my shoes I realized that my shirt also has a story behind it. A different co-worker from a different job complimented me on this shirt while wearing a sweater over it (the collar and bottom of the shirt were showing). But the story continues. I am also wearing this shirt in a picture that has brings back strong feelings/memories.

I’m starting to notice that every piece of clothing I own has a unique history. Of course I don’t remember every time I wore a specific shirt, but I can safely say that I remember at least one thing about every article of clothing I own (except socks because they are too hard to tell apart).

“If these walls could talk” is a fairly common expression used when someone is reminiscing about days past, but I think clothing has better stories. Walls don’t get thrown off in passion (and my shirts rarely do either), stained during an embarrassing spill while on a first date, or cut open to perform first aid.

Perhaps this is why I have a hard time throwing away clothing (I have over thirty t-shirts that I have not worn in over three years), if feels like I’m throwing away memories. Maybe I’m a bit obsessive to remember bizarre histories of my clothing, but it always feels good to put on a shirt that reminds me of a specific girl because it used to smell like her shampoo after I spent some time with her just after she took a shower.

Room for one more on that Jacket?

I have been reading, and enjoying, the book The Tin Drumb by Günter Grass, translated by Ralph Manheim. This book won the Noble Prize in 1999, however my copy is from 1962. Originally I had a problem with the endorsements on the back of the book jacket. There are five endorsements, one from Germany, one from France, one from The United Kingdom, and two from the United States. How dare the Americans suggest that their opinions are more valuable?

Then I thought about it more. There are a lot of Americans (United States citizens –300 million). In fact there are more Americans than there are Germans (82 million), French (60 million), and United Kingdom Citizens (60 million), combined. So, I guess if you want to appeal to the majority, you appeal to the Americans.

I always thought that Americans were hubris, now I know they are just populous.