Clothes Don't Necessarily Make the Man ...

Photo by A. Duarte

Before you get all excited and start thinking that the Sarge has taken up Holy Orders or something, the photo is indeed of Your Humble Scribe at his place of worship on Memorial Day Sunday. I'm still a layman and only make the ascent to the pulpit for special (and fairly rare) occasions. The photo was upon one of those occasions

I have a list of men who I knew, who died in the line of duty and I remember them every Memorial Day, usually out loud and at church. This year my pastor, that's him with the beard behind me, asked if I'd mind reading that list (along with a few chosen lines from various poets, which varies year to year) up front during the announcements and prayer concerns moment of our service.

I didn't mind at all. Well, until The Missus Herself told me that I'd have to wear "something decent."

Argh.

Now I do own a couple of suits which actually fit, a few more which don't which I hold in reserve for that mythical day when I'm no longer fat. (Hey, it could happen. And please no lectures on the health benefits of not being fat. I know them all.)

I would quibble with the "something decent" clause of The Missus Herself's admonition as to my chosen garments for that day. None of my clothing exhibits anything but decency and proper form. I'm just, shall we say, a bit casual in my choice of dress.

I'm that guy at work who needs to be told, "don't wear jeans, we're meeting with the customer." You know, the customer who invariably shows up in camouflage uniform. I don't mind that (too much) as those uniforms tend to be far more comfortable.

The first time I showed up in my khaki slacks and button down shirt for a customer demo and most (read all) of the Navy guys present were in cammies, I let my boss know, "that's the last time I do that." He said, "just because they wore work clothing didn't mean ..."

"I mean it boss, last time. Come on, you know better than to let me loose near the customers anyway."

"But, but, you speak their language, they seem to like your hardbitten, crusty senior noncom schtick."

"Well of course they like me, they know damned well that I'd be wearing my cammies instead of khaki and a button down if I had the choice."

So of course the next time we met with the customer I was wearing canvas cargo pants and a polo. All but one of the Navy guys were in cammies, the exception was an old school captain who wore his nice uniform. He didn't care one iota that I was wearing cargo pants and, as I told the boss, "At least they're not jeans."

So I did dress up, coat and tie, pants matched the jacket and everything. At least for our post-church luncheon The Missus Herself didn't want Italian. If that had been the case I would have destroyed my white shirt, it always happens.

I prefer comfortable to fancy, it's just the way I am. I'm sure that if I predecease The Missus Herself, she'll plant me wearing a suit, after all, she won't want me looking like a slob in front of St. Peter now, would she?

Well ...