My Father's Clothes

Several times in the year or so after my father passed, my mother would call me over to one or two closets in which she'd neatly hung my father's clothes with a veneration reserved for a priest's vestments. "He hardly wore these," she'd say with a sad, delicate wave of her hand. I’d look in her eyes and what I'd see there was not so much her grief in the lengthening absence of her mate of over 53 years. What I'd see most, was her hope in my acceptance of the utility of the offer. These were reverential, intimate moments between the two of us. The third presence, the obvious one, Dad’s, was hanging on the clothes rack. So, each time, I selected two or three items that I liked more than the others and thanked her. 

It's an odd, sad and complex thing to walk around in your dead father's clothes. There are times I asked myself that if his clothes retain some essence of him, would I absorb it?  I already had 90% of his genetic makeup. Would the clothes make it complete? All his successes, setbacks, beliefs and experiences–would I inherit these by osmosis?

Dad was 5'9" and barrel-chested. I am 6'1" and barrel-chested. At the top, we are alike. Dad's legs were short, thick, muscle-knotted and bandy. I have my mother's longer, more graceful legs. Dad's scent is sweet and masculine. It is cinnamon, musk, Irish Spring soap, Old Spice aftershave, graham crackers and face stubble. I’ve known this scent/signature all my life. My own scent is much harder for me to describe, though I know it is similar to his.

I passed over his sportcoats, which I really did not like and assumed would not fit me properly. The first item I chose smelled the strongest of him, even though freshly washed. It's a navy blue zippered pullover. As I held it to my face, a flash of grief surged through me with the knowledge that once I took it, wore it and washed it, eventually my molecules would displace all his molecules and its scent would change, become entirely mine, not his. Everything fades. Molecular traces are replaced. Though I honor his memory by wearing Dad’s pullovers, I actively erase his imprint by doing so. This is not something one can do casually.

Father's Day Catch

I've never been a huge fan of this Hallmark holiday, even after I became a father. The boys do cute little handmade things which I have to get creative (clean) to find room for in my tiny office. Mrs. W found a cafe table at Lowes and I have to get creative (clean) our tiny backyard to put it to use. Today's most unexpected catch took up no room, except a bright stray byte snagged by my spam filter.

To wit:

Dear Sir/Madame,

Kindly accept my apology for sending unsolicited mail to you as I sourced your contact from a human resource profile database on your Country. I am writing you hoping that you will lend ears to my honest and sincere request due to the urgent need transfer my inheritance funds abroad for investment purpose.

I am Miss Lois Karia 22 years and the only child of my late parents Mr.and Mrs Donald Karia. My father was a highly reputable Gold and Cocoa magnet who operated in Abidjan ,the economic capital of Cote D' Ivory during his days.It is sad to say that my father passed away mysteriously as a result of poisoning during one of his business outings on 12Th February 2009. Though his sudden death was linked or rather suspected to have been masterminded by an uncle who traveled with him at that time. But God knows the truth. My mother died in 1987 when I was just 2 years old, and since then my father took me so special. My father's second marriage could not stand due to the ill treatment being given to me by the woman. Before his death on February 12 this year he called the secretary and i at his hospital bedside and told him that he has the sum of Ten Million, five hundred thousand United State Dollar(¨$10.500,000) left in fixed/suspense account in one of the leading banks Morocco. He further told that he deposited the money with my name as the next of kin, and finally issued a written instruction to his lawyer who he said is in possession of all the necessary documents of this fund in the bank. I am just a university undergraduate and don't much about financial issues. I need an account oversea were I can transfer this funds and after the transaction i will come over to your country , because I have suffered a lot of set backs as a result of incessant political crisis here in the country. The death of my father actually brought sorrow to my life and i wished to invested under your care please, particularly in the AIR LINE FIELD.

I am in a sincere desire your humble assistant in this regards so that i will leave here and have a settled life which is the wish of my father before his untimely death. Your suggestions and ideas will be highly welcomed but permit me to ask this two questions:-{1} Can you honestly help me on this without betraying me?{2} Can I completely trust you ?Note: While i am offering you 10% of the total money for this important assistance, you will also be the overseer of the investment untill i finish my education here in Morocco. I will give you a reasonable percentage from the total sum for your assistance while I pray that you do not betray me at last. Please it is important you reply me immediately for more details on the next step hence it is my wish to relocate to your country as soon as the transfer is concluded.

I wait to here from you soonest
Yours,

Miss Lois Karia.
Please send your reply to my private email: "misslois_karia@ymail.com">misslois_karia@ymail.com

Creative in the extreme-the most creative I've seen of this genre and even unintentionally funny. With it's Hamlet and Perils of Pauline references, this nuanced and tragic story got a second look from this jaded scrivener. A hit, a very palpable hit. Poor Donald, gold MAGNET that he was, probably wasn't done in by foul play by your evil uncle, but merely hit upside the head by a wayward ingot. And uh, Miss Lois, if you were 2 in 1987, that would make you 25, uh I mean 24, not 22. Either way, sorry for your loss. So here's some free words of advice. You're a creative, with sucky math skills--I can relate. You're right about one thing. You have no business managing $10.5M on your own. Forget your Morrocan education, come to the US and earn an "honest living" as a copywriter. With you to bankroll us, we can start our own full-service agency together. You have the touch and people will pay you to exercise it. Sure, this advice is free, but if you merely want to deposit something in my Morrocan account in gratitude, send me your bank routing numbers, a full-body picture and your social and we'll take it from there. You can trust me on that.

What? There's real creative networking at work here people! A little respect.