I saw this cartoon the other day and flashed back to my youth.
There’s a common saying among mothers, “Make sure you have clean underwear on. When you leave the house to go out for the day, make sure there are no holes in your drawers.” My mom was a big proponent. She was so devote in her mantra, I wrote a blog about her obsession. Here’s an updated excerpt from that post from April 18, 2018.
Our extended family had lots of gatherings. We celebrated everything. Every time someone had a birthday we got together for cake and ice cream. While preparing for a trip to my Aunt Ruth and Uncle Harry’s for somebody’s something, I discovered I didn’t have any clean underwear. I told my mom and she gave me a pair of hers to wear. I was about five, and in the time it takes to say “holy cow”, I became America’s youngest cross-dresser. I don’t remember much about my new wears, and perhaps I wouldn’t have remembered anything at all if it weren’t for my cousin, Gene.
I didn’t question my mom. Looking back I could have just dressed commando style that day (If I would have known it was an option), or perhaps flipped a pair of my about to be laundered drawers and worn them inside out. But I didn’t. I did as I was told.
After arriving at my aunt and uncle’s house I needed to go to the bathroom. I needed to go “number two” which required sitting on the toilet.
Nine year old Gene was occupying the bathroom, but he invited me to join him. As he was washing his hands, and preparing to depart, I dropped my pants and took a seat. (We were close cousins and about to get closer.) He noted I was wearing pink underwear and asked where I got them. I told him the story of my laundry dilemma and my mom’s directive to put on a pair of hers. He started to laugh. About the time he started laughing his dad, my Uncle Harry, knocked on the door. Seems he had to use the bathroom too. Gene invited him in. Our bathroom crowd was getting bigger as each moment passed.
My uncle had poor eyesight and wore thick glasses to help him see. He may not have noticed the pink panties if Gene hadn’t pointed them out. But he did. So we had a five-year old sitting on the toilet wearing a pair of his mother’s underwear, his nine-year old cousin laughing at his miss-fortune, and the cousin’s thirty-something dad joining in the laugh fest at the five-year old’s expense. Gene and Uncle Harry laughed until they cried.
The last time Gene visited Ruth and me was the spring of 2018. He and his wife, Lauren, came to see our newest home in The Villages. We reminisced about growing up and our many adventures. When I brought up the underwear caper, he didn’t remember it. It’s my youngest memory of him that’s been locked in my brain for sixty-nine years. I reminded him of the misadventure, and we laughed until we cried. It was a wonderful day.
Gene’s been gone for over two years. I think about him every week as I write my blogs. He was a huge part of my life and I miss him every day.