My Own Quiet Statement

Whenever Goodwill comes to call, I bundle up my latest batch of T shirts for donation. Now, I know some people are sentimental/clever, and make pillows and quilts and such from their T shirt collections. I am not a quilter, nor do I sew (nor do I reap, either). I do nothing with my bounty, and only ask that they keep to a reasonable number. But my T shirts apparently mate with each other in the drawer and make lots of baby T shirts; there’s no other explanation for the sheer volume of shirts I consistently possess.

Back in the day, every single activity did not rate its own shirt. Our 8^th grade class trip to DC, my high school Maranatha retreat—nary a 100% cotton souvenir! Somehow in the last few decades the industry has exploded, and now it’s all T shirts, all the time. I recall a T shirt I purchased in New Orleans in the early ‘80s. It was a snappy little number, with dancing crawfish playing instruments and the caption “Cooking with Jazz!” I wore that shirt until it fell apart. And for years, that was my sole T shirt.

But then came the mission trips. I’ve been on 15 of them, and each has rated at least one, if not more, wearable pieces of memorabilia. I have discovered that I end up wearing them only to take out the trash, or when I get my hair colored, to keep my real clothes from getting stained.

They're big. Very big.

In the T shirt pantheon, however, no one beats Martin Luther King Day of Service. We host an event each year for about 120 young children and their grownups, and it is lots of fun (we work on six different, kid-friendly service projects together). If you register on the main website on time, you get free T-shirts for all participants. Every single year I put in my order for 80 youth small shirts, and maybe 20 each of youth medium and large. Every single year I end up with between 150 and 200 shirts, size adult L and XL. Our traditional end of the day photo, with all the children together on the Parish Hall stage, most closely resembles a parade of tiny persons being swallowed by their gargantuan shirts (“They make great night shirts!” I chirp to all who grouse about the inaccurate sizing).

I’m going downtown to serve dinner at a soup kitchen tonight, and I COULD choose from my storied T-shirt collection for my food prep outfit. But I will end up wearing a nondescript sweater with no writing on it, and my T shirts will once more languish, unworn.

Going forward, I vote for a much smaller keepsake from our various adventures—perhaps a miniature button? Or, dare I suggest, no keepsake at all? How about the service organizations keep their money to give to the actual cause? I would be delighted to just say no to the shirt, and make my own (very) quiet statement. 

Small sampling of my collection!