I struggle to remember my life growing up. I visited my parents in Indiana a couple of weeks ago, and I took the time to photograph photograph albums and the photos within. I recall the stories associated with many of them, but I cannot bring to life a feeling that I was that same person depicted in the scene.
Here and now, as I prepare for school to start tomorrow, I find myself increasingly lost to the world in which I live. For example, this morning Sandy turned Auden around and had him change his shorts. The shorts were no longer to be worn in public, because they were so stained and filthy looking. It was even suggested that new pants, jeans like the ones I purchased for Sandy from the Gap would be more suitable.
And I understand. There have been times when I lamented that the boys do not have a sense of decorum. That they are not involved in different societal functions such as church that would require them to dress accordingly. They have never had to make the distinction between play clothes, school clothes, and church (or special event) clothes.
Still, there’s a part of me that has been proud of my filthy children. I know that sounds insane, but their second hand shirts, pants with torn knees, and jackets that have seen better days has been a signal. Something that says we are not wholly members of the upper middle class who send their kids in nice school clothes regardless of whether they are going to ruin them on gardening day, because if they did ruin a nice set of clothes, they could replace them readily.
Of course, we are part of that class. Of course we can afford to replace a pair of jeans as needed. I just don’t want to admit it.
I tried so hard to escape Indiana, to reach the place where I am. But as we raise our children in this privileged environment, I feel lost. This is Sandy’s world. How and where he was raised. We’re in his comfort zone, and it is the qualities of his life and transitively of him that are considered worthy. The boys will grow to be their own versions of this. I’m just the odd man out, cousin It.