My Old Tattered Coat

My life is pretty much an open book.  I find the old adage, "Honesty is the best policy," to be very true.  All of my early life I was raised with strong ethics such as these.  These tried and true lessons we not only given verbally, but also lived out before my brothers, my cousins and me.  There just seems to be something about being raised poor that teaches you that which everyone else does not learn.  I will not say that we lived in poverty, but we did not always have a lot.  I can remember holes in our living room carpet and if memory serves me well there were a couple of holes in the ceiling.  Our old roof leaked so bad one time that there were buckets all over the back three rooms.  Once you became accustomed to the rainy  weather drip, its rhythmic sound would lull you off to sleep.  My dad, at times, worked two jobs to support our family that was comprised of my mom, an older brother, myself and a younger brother.  We always had a dog (or several dogs) and cats as well.  Once a stray duck arrived, being chased by our curious canines.  He was rescued and secured in a pen all his own.  He was white and seemed huge to me.  I think now that he was probably a Pekin like the ones I currently have.  You just never knew what or who might show up.  My dad always had a free and charitable heart, he welcomed them all in.

Mama was just as giving.  She was a homemaker throughout my school days.  She operated her free "taxi" service not only for us boys, but for Grandma, my great aunts, cousins, and anyone else who had somewhere to be.  She tirelessly cared for my grandmother after her strokes never considering it an option to place her in a home.  Later she did much the same for my great aunt in her late stages of Alzheimer's.  All of this background information is to fill the canvas of this portrait I wish to convey to you.  There were a lot of us for one working man to support.  I never once remember being wanton for something.  Every need always seemed to be met.  I am sure that there were times that my parents worried where the money would come from, but I was never aware or concerned. 

Did I as the middle child catch a lot of hand me downs?  I absolutely did.  This never made me feel like less of a person.   In the photo above you may note my old worn, brown coat.  I am standing in front of one of my favorite places on earth that we simply called "the pond."  Built by my grandpa decades before, it was the only pond we knew for so many years.  It also was my only connection to my grandpa who passed away when I was too young to remember him.  That piece of land will always hold a special place in my heart as will that brown, corduroy jacket.  It was not new when it became mine, but it kept me warm just the same.  For some reason of all the coats I have had through the years, that long-gone, tattered coat is number one.  Don't get me wrong.  I have had some great coats, leather, goose down, wool, expensive brands, etc.  Although I am grateful for them, they, to me, are just coats.  I was so proud of that old coat. 

My mom had some Dolly Parton records when I was a kid.  For some reason there has always seemed to be a common kindred between me and the country legend.  Perhaps our less than wealthy childhoods bear striking similarities.  Maybe it is the story she shared of a coat of many colors.  There is a line in the song I especially love, "They couldn't understand what I was trying to make them see.  One is only poor if they choose to be."  We never had much money but I appreciated everything we did have.  I never felt slighted or as if something was lacking.  Yes, I dreamed of being rich and owning half the world.  Somehow, though, I was content in the world I was in.  Things do not make you rich.  Love makes you rich and happiness is worth far more that gold.

I learned that lesson in a house that needed repairs, riding in cars that were only new to us, and wearing clothes from someone else's closet rather than a rack.  Those things the teenage me was self-conscious of, I realize today, made me who I am.  I would not trade that for anything.