On Easter Sunday I wore to church the brightly flowered tie Janet made for me forty-five years ago, and it still fits.
She made several ties the first year we were married. She bought the pattern at a fabric shop and went to its remnants table and picked out all the patterns and colors that appealed to her. Every man on her Christmas list got one. I got a rust colored one with little flowers for Christmas and the one with the big flowers for Easter. She cut it so the biggest flower was right in the middle of the widest point of the tie. If I tied it properly, a blue flower with a red spot was perfectly situated in the center of the knot.
Back in the seventies it was my hippie tie. That’s about as close to counter culture I got back then. When I really wanted to shock people I wore it with a bright pink shirt. This was, of course, in Dallas, Texas, where such things easily shocked people.
In the last ten years or so it had become my storyteller tie, usually with a pastel pink striped shirt which seems to delight the children who listen to the stories. When I set up my tent to tell stories at the local arts and crafts festival, I always get compliments on the tie. And I am always quick to tell people Janet was the one who made it.
In the fall I wear the rust colored tie with an orange shirt when I tell harvest stories. I have a spider web tie I wear with a black shirt to tell Halloween stories. When I tell stories on the farm I forgo ties altogether and rely on bib overalls, white shirt and a bright bandana around my neck.
I bet you didn’t know wardrobe selection played such a big role in storytelling.
Well, the ties Janet made for me mean much more than just an accessory for storytelling. They’re another way to keep her close to my heart.