MY FAVORITE SHIRT

"I like your shirt"
"Thanks, I like your hat even better", I said to the old man.

I remember the exact day I realized my taste in shirts had changed. It was probably about 7 or 8 years ago. I can remember watching "Cops" and they were arresting some older guy and he was wearing a billboard tee shirt. It had large graphics on front and back and I thought, that guy is too old to wear that shirt.
My next thought was, I'm about as old as that guy and most of my shirts were like the DUI's shirt that was being cuffed and stuffed on my TV.
Nowadays I like shirts with a small graphic in front and I need a pocket. My favorite type is a button up Hawaiian style shirt with a pocket, that's what I got married in when Jojo and me had our wedding on the beach going on 7years ago.

All the shirts I packed for Florida this latest this trip were in line with my golden years style of shirts, except one.
It was a tee shirt that had a large graphic in front and no pocket.
It was the one I wore Thursday evening when Bob and me were going to our favorite steakhouse in Fort Myers.
It was that shirt that caught the eye of the old man sitting at an outside table finishing his drink at McGregor's Grill.
The hat the old man was wearing that had caught my eye said
"WW II VET" and had various campaign ribbons on it denoting battles he had fought in and survived.
After I told him how much I liked his hat I shook hands with him and humbly offered my gratitude for what he did for our nation some 65 years ago. Then I pointed to Bob and said "this guys a combat vet too, he was in Vietnam". "Oh they shot at you too!", he said as he shook Bob's hand.
We talked for a few minutes and walked inside and sat at the bar to wait for a table. As we sat there, the bartender told us the old man was a regular who had recently lost his wife. He was all alone now.
The more I learned about the old man, the more I started thinking about all the people that made incalculable sacrifices in all the wars since the founding of our nation.
I thought about how the sacrifices were made in the quest for freedom, an idea that was paid for in blood. Now we are governed by those who want to let that most valuable commodity be pilfered away in the name of some failed brand of Marxism.
I started to feel really bad for the old man and we watched him through the window as he got up to leave.
A couple of minutes went by and Bob said, "Mark you need to go check on him". He seemed to be having trouble getting into his car. When I got to him he had just finished putting his walker in the back seat. I asked him if he needed help.  "No" he said, "I just dropped my food". We talked again for a few minutes and he told me he was 88 years old. I said "I'd like to buy you a drink sometime" and he said, "I would like to buy you a drink too". I got down on my hands and knees and groveled while I cleaned up the old mans spilled dinner and told him not to worry about the mess, "I'll throw it away for you". I wanted to buy him that drink and another meal but he had to get home. He left me with another warm handshake with his weathered skin and bandaged arms. As I walked back to the restaurant I could feel my eyes welling up. "Don't do it you old softie, get it together", my pep talk to myself didn't help a damned bit.
I felt terrible that I didn't get there in time to help him carry his meal.
By the time I got back to the bar I had tears running down my face. Bob asked me what happened and I started to tell him about the old man dropping his food, but all that came out was a lot of blubbering. Bob looked away and said, "that's why I didn't want to go back out there, I knew I couldn't take it".

I couldn't relate to what the old man had been through and Bob could relate too much. We didn't talk about the old man the next morning and I was glad we didn't. I knew I wanted to write about it, but I also knew I would need to be alone when I did.
Bob had to run some errands so I rode the bike to Lakes Park.
It's a beautiful park and a good place to be alone in case you had to wipe your eyes from time to time, so I figured this would be a good place to write.

I hung the shirt in the closet.
The one shirt that has all the features that I avoid nowadays when I am looking for a shirt.
It's a tee shirt with no pocket and a large graphic in front.
It's the only shirt I packed for my trip that was like that.

It's a shirt that sparked a conversation between a vet from a forgotten war who came home to vocal disrespectful minority.

A vet from a brutal but romanticized war that had saved the world.

And a man who served in a peacetime Army National Guard engineering unit who felt completely inept to comprehend their sacrifice.
It's this shirt.
My favorite shirt.