Guest Columnist
“> By John Grindrod Guest Columnist
Most know that when it comes to aging, much changes. Not only do we know this when we look at old photos of our wrinkle-free visages but we also know it when we debate whether a trip up a staircase at home is really all that necessary. Beyond the physical changes, at least for me, there are also changes in my thought processes as far as my points of emphases.
I thought about that last February when I read in my local paper that Lima’s oldest retail establishment specializing in men’s apparel was closing its doors after 125 years. Hofeller, Hiatt and Clark was my father’s go-to shop to ensure that when he made a sales call to sell his steel and copper wire, he looked like a pro. It was a lesson tacitly taught to his namesake son, one I tried to emulate while growing up and while growing older over my 32 years in education. Pretty much every school day morning began with my tying a proper Windsor knot that matched my dress shirt and slacks.
As a teen, I took a job at Butler Shoe Store overlooking that wonderful fountain in the Lima Mall, and it really was that job, where a dress shirt and tie were required that really ramped up my interest in dressing well. While Dad had his Hofeller, I had my own go-to places like the Varsity Shop on North Main and Chess King at the Lima Mall.
However, once I retired from teaching at the end of May in 2005, I found myself in jobs where the expectation was that I wear the apparel of the organizations paying me, such as the Knights of Columbus shirts when I was working my bar shifts and my Mid-American Cleaning Contractors apparel that I still wear while doing work-week job. And, that, I think, has put me in a far more relaxed frame of mind when it comes to my clothes. Now, when I’m not working, it’s T-shirts, sweatshirts, jeans, shorts, ball caps and sneakers.
In my early days at LCC in the late 1960s, I won’t say all my clothing choices were all that good, only that I thought a lot about the choices I made while trying to catch the appreciative eyes of the girls that moved about those T-Bird hallways with me.
Back in those days, velour pullovers were popular. However, whatever drew me to an orange one remains to this day a mystery to me. That choice also led to an exhaustive search for a pair of orange socks to match, which ended successfully, which led to a look that was probably anything but a success.
Another choice in hindsight I regret as I tried to follow the latest fads involved shoes. While boys generally stuck with penny loafers, there was a small window of time that bolder fellas like me took a chance on a type of shoe ordinarily worn by the girls, black-and-white saddle shoes.
I can remember once I made the purchase, the very first day I put them on as I awaited my ride to make the trip to school, I looked down and instantly felt self-conscious. However, realizing the questions I would face from my mother that the shoes I cajoled her to buy for me were never on my feet, I headed out the door when I heard the beep. I literally sprinted to the car from the front porch of our ranch house, feeling the faster I ran, the less my pals would notice the new look. Did I actually think I could sprint up and down the halls all day?
I also have to laugh thinking about that crème-colored safari jacket I got at the Varsity Shop. The first time I wore it, I paired it with a dress shirt and a red V-neck sweater underneath for a night at the Teen Center on North Main. A combination of the crowd and the heat generated from that crowd and the nerves of a young fella desperate to find his way in the teenage social order created an embarrassment that took several weeks to subside. Sweat glands working a double shift that night caused me to sweat through undershirt, dress shirt and sweater, creating large pink half circles under both armpits of that safari jacket, which certainly made me the object of derision.
Those days when I thought the well-dressed young man had a shot at conquering the world differ so very greatly from today when I’m pretty much satisfied if I can distinguish black from navy blue socks to match either a work shirt that’s gray or blue. Indeed, there’s far more that changes as we age than not having the ability to bound up a flight of stairs two steps at a time.
John Grindrod is a regular columnist for The Lima News, a freelance writer and editor and the author of two books. Reach him at [email protected].