Stuff That Works- Old Coats

 "Stuff that works, stuff that holds up. The kind of stuff you don't hang on the wall.  Stuff that's real.  Stuff you FEEL.  The kind of stuff you reach for when you fall."

                                                                                        -Guy Clark "Stuff That Works"

It's a rough season of life, for sure.  I spend a good bit of time just trying to either survive the next surprise of life or trying to make sense of what I have survived.  

I find I am more attached to "things" than I wish I was.  Original Cee-Tee slip-joint pliers- "pinchers," my Grandaddy called them.  My old Santa Cruz H guitar. My Dad's pocket knives.  My Mom's paintings.  

And two coats that were not really mine.  Coats that belonged to two men who I loved dearly- a very, very good friend who was taken by cancer way too young, and my Dad.  

I've been wearing both of their coats this winter.  I haven't worn any of MY coats this year at all.  Actually- I tried to wear one of them and found it just felt strange.  

So I went back to these two coats.  

Maybe there is some psychological explanation for all of this, but I just know I have these coats, and they are comforting to me.  

Strange, right?  

So, there is a new poem today.   Enjoy?  

Dead Men’s Coats

I have 2 coats

I wear them differently

Based on

Mood

Need

Or just 

Whim

I have my friend’s coat

It is soft and comfortable and warm

More than a little worn

The zipper is broken

There is a hole in one pocket 

Where things slip into the lining

To be found like treasures 

In a future winter 

His wife left it for me 

After he was taken too soon

Unfairly, suddenly

She left it for me

When she moved forward

To a new life

In his absence

I wear it 

Over dress clothes

When the wind is bitter

To keep out the bite

His coat is a little big for me

But I wear it

I have my father’s coat

It is rugged on the outside

Quilted and soft on the inside

It was a new coat 

Worn through one winter

Dark navy denim

Brown corduroy collar

Sturdy and almost too warm

I found it in the closet 

When both Mom and Dad had gone

I took it selfishly

And

I wear it 

To work outside

When it is brutal cold

To keep out the freeze

To brace against the snow

To be comfortable

When things are not

His coat fits me

Like a shadow of himself

Protecting me 

So I wear it

I wear these coats for every normal reason 

One wears a coat

And 

I wear these coats to’

Remember my friend

To feel my father’s presence

To carry a piece of them

In this world

In their absence

I wear these coats

Hoping against hope

‘To be worthy of them