Dead Man’s Clothes

Over the years about half my wardrobe has been purchased from various second-hand stores.

“Still wearing dead men’s clothes?” is a taunt I’ve heard more than once. Of course the odds are that it must be true. A few years ago I picked up a very nice linen shirt at a Goodwill store. A name brand, made in Hong Kong. Geopolitics aside, I wondered if, ecologically, it was better if I bought a used shirt or should I have bought one new? The shirt’s provenance, however, didn’t concern me.

I was out for a walk yesterday wearing the linen shirt. It was sitting a little askew so I ruffled the hem and in doing so felt a smooth tag that had been glued flat to the inside. It had the name of the shirt’s owner—no doubt a laundry tag for a nursing home—used to reunite the clothes with their proper owner after washing. When I got home, a quick internet search found the obit of a man with that name, in my area, at about the same time I bought the shirt.

Well.

The obituary said that the man was 93, and there were testimonies mentioning what a great guy he was. I felt better about my shirt then, that it had been donated, that a charity made some money from it after his passing. It is a great shirt, cool in the summer and linen wears like iron.

Perhaps, someday, it will have a new tag.

With my name on it.