Getting noticed

When I was in 4th grade, I wore the same clothes to school, three days in a row. It was either during Passover, a rare time when we actually had people over for Seder several days in a row, or one of the other Jewish High Holidays. I remember it revolved around Judaism because when one of my fellow classmates asked me why I had the same clothes on for three days, I lied and told him it was because I was Jewish. I said it with such conviction that it seemed believable; to the boy and to myself.

I have no idea why I felt compelled to do this. It's not like we didn't have money for clothes. It's not that my mother didn't do laundry, and that I didn't have clean clothes in my drawers. I was past the age of having my clothes laid out for me in the morning. That responsibility was left up to me. Each morning before school, I had to get up when my alarm clock (read: my mother) sounded off, wash up, brush my teeth, get dressed, and have breakfast. It was a simple responsibility given to me to teach me self sufficiency. My kids are learning the same thing. They have been for years. And as time goes on, we have to intervene less and less.

When I worked at a nursing home in Phoenix, there was a resident there--Carl--who did the same thing. Carl had a closet full of clothes, but insisted on wearing the same clothes--a polo shirt and pair of blue jeans--every day. Carl wasn't Jewish. Carl wasn't in the 4th grade, although his mind--thanks to a stroke--worked the same way. As the facility social worker, it drove me insane when people didn't notice that Carl attempted to wear the same clothes everyday.

I can't pretend to try and figure out why I did what I did when I was nine. I also can't pretend to understand why this memory came to me today. I think it's always bothered me that only one person noticed what I did. I'm sure it's why Carl's situation brought my sanity level to new heights. I noticed Carl when no one else did. It's good to get noticed.