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| What do you wear to Church? |
As a rancher, during the work week, Dad
was usually seen in work shirts and pants.
Heavy boots.
Leather gloves.
But on Sundays, all of that changed.
He would appear, dignified and tidy, in
'church' attire.
Suit.
White shirt.
Polished boots.
And a tie.
Usually, Dad chose his own ties.
He had good taste.
Well . . . conservative taste.
No garish patterns.
No fluorescent colours.
Yep. Conservative.
But one of his ties stands out in my
memory.
One that . . . wasn't conservative.
It was a quiet, dark tie.
With tiny, white polka-dots.
His favourite.
He wore it for three years.
And that is hilarious.
Maybe I should explain . . .
One day, just after church, I was
giving my dad a hug.
Something I did often.
But now I was getting tall enough that
his tie and my eyes were pretty much on the same level.
I buried my face in his clean, white
shirt.
Then I opened my eyes.
And saw . . . dots.
No . . . wait . . . they weren't dots.
They were . . . something else.
I grabbed his tie and examined it
closely.
Huh.
“Dad, do you know what's on this
tie?”
“Polka-dots,” came the ready
answer.
I lifted the end of the tie up to his
face and held it there.
He looked.
Then took the tie from me and looked
again.
A bit more carefully.
“Oh,” he said.
That tie he had been wearing for the
past three years.
Teaching and/or officiating in church.
Before lots and lots of people.
That tie.
Well, the tiny, regular pattern?
Wasn't polka-dots.
No.
It was playboy bunny heads.
Tiny little white playboy bunny heads.
My dad had been a leader in our local
church congregation for three years . . .
Wearing a tie with playboy bunny heads
on it.
See? Hilarious.
I think he thought it was funny, too.
But the tie disappeared.
Never to be seen again.
Dad still has quite a collection of
ties.
Long.
Cork.
Bow.
Feather.
Bolo.
But not one of them has polka dots.
Real or imagined.
