It was time to let you go my old corduroy friend. You were torn, frayed and tired.
Made in Yugoslavia in the 1970s! The suede pockets, the leather buttons, the flannel lining. What a coat!
I thought about hanging you on a driftwood fort and walking away, but then an idea sprung into mind that, with the assistance of a friend and seamstress, would allow you a partial afterlife.
We took thousands of beach walks together, many with my long lost great dogs.
I just took my last one with you.
Purchased for 99 cents in an animal thrift store by a special student who said, when presenting to me, “Mr. Love, this is all you.”
And it certainly was. You became my trademark look. Gigs. Walks. Dates. Shows. Field trips. Camping. Movies. Teaching. We did damn well everything together.
I will never forget the time a gorgeous woman using a cane came up to me in a wine shop, put her hands on my shoulders, looked over you, and said. “You really got it going on with this coat.”
Over the decade I wore you, I received dozens of compliments about you.
Yes, this is goodbye. I’m not even going to bother and find a replacement.