Out and about the other night and a pretty friend teased about my penchant for wearing Hawaiian shirts. I playfully protested that they're fantastic and she, correctly, said, "Oh, you know they're terrible. That's not the point. They're your thing." She's one of the few smart ones.
My mother's father (Gammie's husband) was/is my role model. He died two years before I was born. That makes him the perfect role model, as I only ever got the amazing stories about him and none of the failings that even the best of us have. Born in the Philippines to South Carolinian parents (Connor and Moorer families), he spoke Spanish before English because of his nanny. He developed an exquisite ability with languages that resulted in his being fluent in five (English, Spanish, German, French, and Italian) and capable in three others. He went to UVA after graduating early from high school, only because he was too young to be accepted to West Point. After graduating 26th out of a class of 276 (that included 3 Army Chiefs of Staff) at West Point, he was selected for a Rhodes Scholarship. He rose to the rank of Brigadier General (1 star) and was a recipient of the Silver Star. After he retired he taught German at the College of Charleston.
More than any of that, though, was that Gammie was my favorite person, and he was her idol. He was 29 and she was 19 when they were married. He showed her the world; she kept him vibrant. They absolutely adored each other, were in love with each other until the day he died, and lovingly raised four children. He was a professional success, sure, but it was as a man that made him stand out. He was kind, beloved by friends and family alike, and wasn't set to put on airs. After retirement, he'd ramble around Charleston in his Hawaiian shirts (while I know he was stationed in Hawaii when my mother was a child, I think he and Gammie were married there in 1939).
My father, my grandfather's son-in-law, asked for the Hawaiian shirts after my grandfather passed away, as a mark of respect.
My brother wears Hawaiian shirts independently of all of that (we have different mothers), though perhaps he recalls somewhere in his distant childhood memories the kind old man he spent time with when our father and my mother were dating.
I wear them for a host of reasons, one of which is as an homage to my grandfather/role model and another is that it's now a thing that my brother and I do. Yet another is that, frankly, they're awfully comfortable.
However, here's the part where the Hawaiian shirts serve two social functions for me that are going to make me seem awfully conceited veering on sociopathic, but it is what it is:
We are animals. All of us. We're civilized, thinking animals of course, but the animal is still what our civilized psyches are built on.
In regards men, there is a natural tendency towards dominance and competition with each other. I am a tall, reasonably athletic, relatively funny, highly educated, attorney/army officer who's been more places and done more things than most other men, particularly the ones my age. I wore a tie every day my first year of law school (in my mind, at the time, it was a professional school); guys that interacted with me liked me fine, but guys who didn't know me and heard a little bit about me automatically assumed I was an arrogant assbag. Without having any interaction with them at all, my appearance was actually an antagonizing force. It bred a lot of d--- measuring that I had (have) no interest in participating in. "Imma be me. You be you."
A simple switch to a Hawaiian shirt neutralized all of that. Whether men who don't know me think I'm simply laid back, an abject buffoon, or have no understanding of style, I couldn't really care less. So much the better. Long story short, the Hawaiian shirts keeps a lot of dummy dudes from annoying me.
In regards women, I'm a tall, reasonably athletic, relatively funny, highly educated, attorney/army officer who's been more places and done more things than most other men, particularly the ones my age. If I choose to, I can draw at least a modicum of feminine attention. I like pretty women, because, duh, but I'm attracted to intelligence and personality in addition. Women like that don't grow on trees and brains and personality aren't just "see her across the bar" qualities. Also, for better or worse, I'm not one for picking up strangers. So the Hawaiian shirt is awfully useful with all of that because it keeps a lot of dummy chicks from annoying me. Sure, if I wanted to, I could "dress to impress" but, I'll be honest, if a costume change is what gets a woman to realize I'm attractive, then gothehellaway.
Aloha.
My mother's father (Gammie's husband) was/is my role model. He died two years before I was born. That makes him the perfect role model, as I only ever got the amazing stories about him and none of the failings that even the best of us have. Born in the Philippines to South Carolinian parents (Connor and Moorer families), he spoke Spanish before English because of his nanny. He developed an exquisite ability with languages that resulted in his being fluent in five (English, Spanish, German, French, and Italian) and capable in three others. He went to UVA after graduating early from high school, only because he was too young to be accepted to West Point. After graduating 26th out of a class of 276 (that included 3 Army Chiefs of Staff) at West Point, he was selected for a Rhodes Scholarship. He rose to the rank of Brigadier General (1 star) and was a recipient of the Silver Star. After he retired he taught German at the College of Charleston.
More than any of that, though, was that Gammie was my favorite person, and he was her idol. He was 29 and she was 19 when they were married. He showed her the world; she kept him vibrant. They absolutely adored each other, were in love with each other until the day he died, and lovingly raised four children. He was a professional success, sure, but it was as a man that made him stand out. He was kind, beloved by friends and family alike, and wasn't set to put on airs. After retirement, he'd ramble around Charleston in his Hawaiian shirts (while I know he was stationed in Hawaii when my mother was a child, I think he and Gammie were married there in 1939).
My father, my grandfather's son-in-law, asked for the Hawaiian shirts after my grandfather passed away, as a mark of respect.
My brother wears Hawaiian shirts independently of all of that (we have different mothers), though perhaps he recalls somewhere in his distant childhood memories the kind old man he spent time with when our father and my mother were dating.
I wear them for a host of reasons, one of which is as an homage to my grandfather/role model and another is that it's now a thing that my brother and I do. Yet another is that, frankly, they're awfully comfortable.
However, here's the part where the Hawaiian shirts serve two social functions for me that are going to make me seem awfully conceited veering on sociopathic, but it is what it is:
We are animals. All of us. We're civilized, thinking animals of course, but the animal is still what our civilized psyches are built on.
In regards men, there is a natural tendency towards dominance and competition with each other. I am a tall, reasonably athletic, relatively funny, highly educated, attorney/army officer who's been more places and done more things than most other men, particularly the ones my age. I wore a tie every day my first year of law school (in my mind, at the time, it was a professional school); guys that interacted with me liked me fine, but guys who didn't know me and heard a little bit about me automatically assumed I was an arrogant assbag. Without having any interaction with them at all, my appearance was actually an antagonizing force. It bred a lot of d--- measuring that I had (have) no interest in participating in. "Imma be me. You be you."
A simple switch to a Hawaiian shirt neutralized all of that. Whether men who don't know me think I'm simply laid back, an abject buffoon, or have no understanding of style, I couldn't really care less. So much the better. Long story short, the Hawaiian shirts keeps a lot of dummy dudes from annoying me.
In regards women, I'm a tall, reasonably athletic, relatively funny, highly educated, attorney/army officer who's been more places and done more things than most other men, particularly the ones my age. If I choose to, I can draw at least a modicum of feminine attention. I like pretty women, because, duh, but I'm attracted to intelligence and personality in addition. Women like that don't grow on trees and brains and personality aren't just "see her across the bar" qualities. Also, for better or worse, I'm not one for picking up strangers. So the Hawaiian shirt is awfully useful with all of that because it keeps a lot of dummy chicks from annoying me. Sure, if I wanted to, I could "dress to impress" but, I'll be honest, if a costume change is what gets a woman to realize I'm attractive, then gothehellaway.
Aloha.
2 comments:
I bet you get lei'd all the time.
One would think, but it's a dilemma. I don't go for strangers and yet once a woman gets to know me, well, of course that's not happening.
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