Memories: Old Tee-Shirts

I turn 70 this fall, and in the meantime, I’ve decided to step up my efforts to get rid of stuff I’m hanging on to for no good reason (except memories, a non-trivial reason but a topic for another day). A Clearance Deal — All Items Must Go!

Over the last few years, I’ve donated a lot of books and DVDs to the library. I think this year I’ll try to get rid of all (or nearly all) of the DVDs and a lot more books. I have some collections I may put up for sale on craigslist or Nextdoor. There’s a lot of stuff I’ve just tossed, which breaks my heart a little.

For example, a while back, I tossed a lot of old-but-beloved tee-shirts…

Most were worn beyond reasonable wearing, but they all linked to important and wonderful memories. To mitigate the pain of loss, I took pictures of them before I trashed them. Now that I’m trying to be more weblog-like on this blog, I thought I would post those pictures here.

Jumping right into it, here’s the oldest tee-shirt in the set:

It goes back to college days and was given to me by a gal I hung out with. It reminded me of her — we had some good times together — but also of having met (albeit briefly and in passing) Jenny Agutter, who played Jill Mason in the 1977 Sidney Lumet film Equus (which is based on his 1973 play).

College Gal Pal.

It also reminds me of how I met Ms. Agutter. I was doing sound for an interview show on an itsy-bitsy community cable channel, but in Los Angeles, so we had guests like her. And Madeline Kahn. (Who laughed at a joke I made — which made my decade.)

The reason I hung on to it for so long (50-some years) is because of all those memories. Happy little gems every one of them.

By the way, full disclosure, I’ve touched up these photos quite a bit. In part because the lighting when I took them wasn’t great. In larger part because most of them are so faded or yellowed or grungy. For instance, the “black” in the tee-shirt above has faded to an insipid dull gray, and the stylized horse head has yellowed considerably (you can see traces of the yellowing despite some serious tweaking).

Here’s another one dating back to college days:

I did some stage lighting work for the Gloria Newman Dance Theater group. [Getting into stage lighting was my second rebirth. See My Life 2.0.] Lighting dance is always fun because it can be more colorful than realistic. Also, dancers are fun.

The strongest memory associated with the shirt is the trip the group took to Jacksonville, Florida, for a special college performance. We all hung out and had a great time. The head lighting guy (for whom I was working) even brought hashish.

At one point (we were there for four days), he “found” two joints between his hotel mattress and boxspring. Big mystery — where did those come from? I realized later that, although we crew knew he brought hashish, the dancers didn’t, so those “found” doobies allowed the dancers who hung out with us to catch a buzz without admitting to possession It was the crazy 1970s, but it was still beggared the imagination to just find two (fresh) joints under the mattress. (After all, maids make those beds daily.)

[I take it as a sign of a life well-lived and mostly on my terms, that the telling of many of my fonder memories depends on the statute of limitations or changes to the legal code. My “permanent record” is marred.]

Here’s the first a bunch of tee-shirts from after college but while still in Los Angeles:

Several years after college, between 1980 and 1984 (when I transferred back to Minnesota), I had a best friend, call her “Shelly”, who became my workout partner. Every other day, we’d run five laps around a soccer field at UCLA that happened to be one kilometer around and then go to a local exercise place with those elliptical machines.

Between running a 5K and working out every other day, I was in the best shape I’ve ever been before or since (sad to say). The tee-shirt above is from that exercise chain.

One Sunday around noon Shelly called me and said she and some other friends were going to see a live concert at the USC Coliseum and did I want to join them? I did!

I went there, saw that, bought the tee-shirt. (I’ve waited a lifetime to use that line literally.)

Pretty decent concert — we got there late because it was a last-minute idea — so missed some acts and ended up at the very back row as far as possible from the stage. We were a group, though, so it was a fun social event.

Not mentioned on the tee-shirt, the Rolling Stones, so we got to watch a teeny, tiny Mick Jagger prance around the outdoor stage.

The next one reminds me of an awesome road trip Shelly and I took:

Shelly had a Fiat Spider that was a gas to drive. One time we took a ten-day driving tour of the American Southwest. Started in Los Angeles, headed out through Arizona and into New Mexico. Then up to Colorado along the west side of the Rockies to checkout Ouray and (illegally spend a night in) the Black Canyon. Then it was back west into Utah, and then down to Arizona and the north rim of the Grand Canyon for another night of illegal camping. Then over to Nevada, Las Vegas, and eventually back to L.A.

One place we visited in Arizona was the Grand Canyon Caverns. It’s thought that the cave system connects to the Grand Canyon. So far, my only experience in a major cave system. It was very cool (in both senses of the word).

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During this same time period (1980–1984), I saw Bruce Springsteen (seven times):

He was on tour promoting his new album, still my favorite of his, The River (1980).

I’ve told the story of that first concert at the beginning of the tour and the six times I went when he returned to L.A. at the end of the tour. [See The Night of Bruce Springsteen] Definitely the most memorable concert experience I’ve had until I saw Peter Gabriel in 2023.

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In 1984, my job transferred me to Minnesota, which was vaguely odd to me because we’d lived there from 1960 to 1967 before we moved to California. So, for me it was a return.

It was my first desk job, my step into the white-collar corporate world. Thirty years later, I retired. In my first position after the transfer, I found myself in an office relationship and found out first-hand why that’s usually such a bad idea.

One of the last trips she and I took was to Duluth. Exciting, I know, but we also vacationed in Florida and had a cherry-red convertible to drive (after our low-price compact piece-of-shit died on us).

The relationship ended rather badly, but it was great while it lasted. It was the first time I seriously considered marrying someone.

In the rebound, I had many unsatisfactory one-night dates. I saw Bob Seger with one of the rare exceptions:

We dated for several months, including over Christmas and New Year’s but somehow never really clicked. I think we both found the other a bit odd.

What I remember about the tee-shirt is that buying a tee-shirt before the concert is a bad idea because you have to deal with it during the concert. Which is a pain. This one fell off my seat into a puddle of spilled something, which made it icky and in need of an immediate wash once I got home. Of all the tee-shirts I reluctantly tossed, I was least reluctant about this one.

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One bonus my job brought me was travel. In that 1980–1984 period I was a field tech and traveled all over Los Angeles and surrounding area. A lot of driving time listening to radio. The job back in Minnesota often entailed traveling all over the country, usually to install a machine and train the users how to use it.

I traveled to be trained on something on a few occasions and to attend conferences on a few others. The most memorable of which was a conference in Boston. With a great craft brewpub walking distance from our hotel:

I’ve told that tale here already [see Boston Boondoggle], so I won’t say more about it here. Suffice to say it’s another great memory.

I will add that it also reminds me of a time when the craft beer industry was starting to explode. It has since declined, due to attrition, over-saturation, and buy-outs by giant corporations, but many good independent craft breweries remain.

Speaking of beer, my camping buddy “Scott” and I (and anyone else we could talk into it) used to regularly patronize one of the better local Oktoberfest events:

The owner of a local German restaurant (Mario) would put up a giant tent in part of his parking lot every year; fill it with long tables and benches; hire a polka band; fly in kegs of German beer; and provide brats, pretzels, and other things to eat. Not to mention the roving gals serving shots and snuff:

Snuff gal Jessy and her snuff launcher.

In the old days, it was a wonderful German-style beer party filled with people but not so crowded you couldn’t move. We got to know them, and they got to know us. I used to go watch Jessy (pic above) perform at local bars and clubs (she went on to tour with Foo Fighters and P!nk).

With those long tables, you never knew who you might end up drinking beer with — unless you came with a large enough group to take over a whole table (which made it an awesome party and ensured we all kept our seats — sometimes it was risky to leave a vacancy).

Mario also threw a Maifest (May fest) that was the Yang to the Yin of Oktoberfest. Different beer types, usually, but just as delicious. Both occasions were opportunities to drink fresh German beer — that was the main attraction. (And to annoy some people by enjoying the opportunity to smoke cigars while we drank.)

[I’ve never smoked cigarettes (except a few times when very drunk) or used tobacco other than the rare cigar. But between the snuff gals, the cigars, and sometimes even a pack of exotic cigarettes, I think the lion’s share of the tobacco I have consumed was under Mario’s tent. Or camping in Canada.]

Over the years word spread about what a great outdoor party it was, and it got so crowded Mario added a second adjoining tent (further reducing the parking). The crowd noise drowned out the polka band, which wasn’t awful, but also drowned out the raffle number announcements every hour. I got a lot of German beer mugs (filled with beer) that way.

It reached the point we didn’t enjoy it anymore. Truth be told, I kept going for years after it was really fun anymore — getting another beer or brat required elbowing through a tightly packed group of people standing around hanging out at the back of the tent. The thing was, they really had nowhere to go. SRO.

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Here’s one of my favorite tee-shirts of all time:

While I was married, we vacationed at Disney World several times (it’s almost weird how many times I’ve been to Florida). The shirt wore out, but I still have the Mickey Mouse Yin-Yang pin from Disney (and a ton of other pins — got mildly into it).

I loved that shirt. The concept of Yin-Yang features prominently in my thinking (and, I think, in the world), and I’ve written about it here many times (starting with one of my first posts).

I was drawn to the more off-beat Disney tee-shirts:

Beloved because Winnie the Pooh is my spirit guide. The Tao of Pooh (1982) is a much-cherished little book [see Catching Up for more]. He’s one of my earliest role models [see My Old Top Ten].

Another favorite, my proudly worn Grumpy tee, has faded beyond recognition:

There is serious image tweaking involved in getting Grumpy as visible as he is here. And the name appliqué looks much better in the image than on the shirt.

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Lastly, here’s the shirt behind the lede image:

Opus the Penguin was fairly well-known back in the day, and I was a fan. I learned about Bloom County from the office relationship gal, so this shirt reminded me of both her and the comic. Unfortunately, it was a size too small and fit me like a sausage skin, so I hardly ever wore it. Which left it in the best condition of any of the tee-shirts I tossed.

And on that note, I’m out.

Stay teed, my friends! Go forth and spread beauty and light.

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