Favorite T-shirt

I have this t-shirt that I love. I have had it for years. It is a light blue short-sleeved ringer t-shirt with a picture of Underdog on it. Remember Underdog? That canine defender of all things good? I love that shirt. Of course, my children have never seen Underdog and have no clue why I would wear a shirt with a flying dog emblazoned on it. Underdog belongs to a certain generation. A certain place in time. Yes, it is a ratty old t-shirt, but I get more compliments on that t-shirt than any other article of clothing I own. It makes people smile. Complete strangers are constantly telling me that they love my shirt or asking me where I purchased it. I think people adore it so much because it takes them back to a moment in time when things were simpler. It hearkens back to a time when we drank grape kool-aid from brightly-colored aluminum tumblers. A time when we baked brownies with light bulbs in our Easy-Bake ovens. A time when Saturday was "Cartoon Day," as opposed to today when cartoons are readily available on 100 different channels 24 hours a day. It makes me think of the days when kids could run around the neighborhood all day long in relative safety. It reminds me of Afterschool Specials and American Band-Stand and Solid Gold Dancers. It awakens memories of penny candy and bicycles with banana seats. I look at that shirt and envision other beloved cartoon characters of my youth...Captain Caveman...Grape Ape...Scooby Doo. Velma rocked my world. That ratty old t-shirt takes me back to a time when all was right with the world. A time when a little girl growing up in small-town Kentucky could climb up onto the roof of her best friend's house and discuss all of her hopes and dreams...the exciting places she would go and the amazing sites she would see one day. That shabby old t-shirt has power beyond what it's 100% cotton fibers suggest.

For my birthday, Ruanita bought me a new Underdog t-shirt. A cream-colored shirt with an orange and yellow vintage image of Underdog flying across the front. As you can imagine, I fell in love with it instantly. As I was standing in line at the bagel shop on Saturday morning, the harried-looking thirty-something cashier behind the counter glanced at my t-shirt and smiled wistfully. "I love your t-shirt," she said. Yea....I love it, too.