Saturday, November 14, 2009

I Wish I Had a Picture of This Sweater

Several years ago, cleaning out Mrs. Ureckis's garage, I found her old Arkansas sweater. It's knitted grey wool, with several red A's on the front and an anthropomorphic razorback on the back, leaning on an oversized basketball. The buttons are plastic footballs, and the sleeves fit a woman roughly 5'3". I knew what I discovered was more precious than gold, even if I can sell it for cash.

I don't bring the sweater out often. It an attention grabber, and it's quite greedy. It grabs attention out of the hands of children and non-sentient infants as well as adults. Distracting, it is. But tonight was my last Arkansas game. Home game. To sit in the student section. As a student. I realize there are a lot of qualifying details present, but it was still significant, I believe. Actually, I'm not sure; I tried to skip it, and my pledges made me come, citing these reasons.

Wearing this sweater at the game, I reconnected with many resident mates from my freshman dorm. I hadn't spoken with these people in three years, but suddenly they had to know where my sweater came from. It was as if there was a grossly sized millstone tied to their heart, pulling it down, putting a great strain upon it, and the only way the alleviate that strain was to know OH MY GOODNESS CASS WHERE DID YOU GET THAT SWEATER?

Oh, hello, Tori. It's great to see you again, too, after three years. Don't worry - I've completely gotten over that debilitating crush I had on you for several months spring semester of our freshman year, the hope created by which you crushed when you visibly became disgusted with me after I suggested we watch Battlestar Galatica sometime as a means to hang out. Are you graduating on time?

I had to leave at halftime in order to arrive on time to an engagement party for a fraternity brother. As I walked away from the stadium, I fell into step with two girls, one of which had not only drank a few beers, but had drank all the beers the other had ordered, as well. We began to talk about my sweater. They wanted to know where it came from, and I told them. They asked if a grandmother had crafted it, and I answered that I thought it most likely that robots made it, in a factory somewhere underground. After a moment of confusion, they asked where I was going, and I told them - an engagement party for a friend. But don't tell anyone, because it's supposed to be a secret.

The drunk girl, upon hearing this, began to shout, "Two people are getting engaged tonight! This guy with the sweater is going to their party!" I like to think that when this girl is sober, she's very clever. She would probably have been able to internalize that comment and come up with something much more sharp and funny to say. However, drunk as she was, this was the best she could come up with. I tried to play along, though, and became mock angry, and told her I'd never trust her with any secret ever again. I smiled after saying this, and kept walking, but she stopped and grabbed my arm. I could tell, in about ten seconds, she was going to cry. "I didn't mean it, I swear. I didn't know."

In this moment, I had a very odd feeling, like laughter mixed with the sort of sobs that make your chest heave. The sweater brings out very intense emotions.

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