Of Stuffed Bunnies and Band Jackets

I am having a small issue here with the word “youth.” Do they mean three? Twelve? Twenty-seven?

Cause from the perspective of almost sixty, well, they all meet the description.

I was also a kid that got attached to EVERYTHING. I once formed an emotional attachment with a stuffed bunny rabbit at Kaufmans. My parents found me…I think I was a teenager, and not a young teen either…but they found me in the toys and games section and when they told me it was time to leave, I told them I needed to buy the rabbit because “I can’t just ABANDON it.”

And then there is the time my mother traded in the vacuum on a newer model.

I cried.

So, my relationship with inanimate objects is not normal, I think is what I am saying here.

But even given those parameters, man I loved my band jacket.

I’m not sure when athletes get their letterman jackets, but for us, for the band geeks at my high school, we got them at the beginning of our sophomore year. They were ordered, like, the first week of school, and they usually came in in October or November. They were navy blue wool, and they had the school letter and the year we graduated. My year, there was a gold contrasting flap on the back. I think it just said “West Greene Band” in navy script. On the front, they were embroidered with our names and instrument. Mine said “Lori—Clarinet.”

My high school was a Jr-Sr combined school, serving grades 7-12. So by the time I qualified for the jacket, I was already in my fourth year in the band. I had seen three other classes before me get their jackets. I so desperately wanted mine.

And I made a promise to myself that that fall—the fall of 1981–I would wear no other jacket until my band jacket arrived. I would remain pure. I would not sully myself with a lesser jacket.

And winter came early and fierce that fall, and I went to school several days with my teeth chattering and my lips trending toward blue. But I did not waiver. I held fast.

And I wore it constantly for the next three years. It was quite literally the only jacket I wore. I loved it so. Today, I know what my hands would feel like in those pockets.

I wish I could take you a picture. It’s in this house, but when Kevin moved in two years ago we turned the room where it was stored into his office and I am not exactly sure where it ended up. But I know it’s here somewhere. There is no way that it still fits, but sometimes I like to just look at it, you know? And remember being fifteen.