David Spates "Therefore I Am" Published May 24, 2005

Rush and Hokies have assaulted my wardrobe

When I'm in a good mood, I smile. When I'm in a really good mood, I buy a T-shirt.

Being a stay-at-home dad has its advantages and disadvantages. One of the more challenging disadvantages is the daily grind. The days will sometimes flow together one into another, flashing by like boxcars in a train. It can be draining. For every disadvantage, however, there is an equal or greater advantage. Call it Dave's Law of Domestic Guidance. The daily grind is tempered with the advantage of being able to wear a T-shirt every day "to work." I have no business meetings to attend, no bosses to impress, no politicians to schmooze, no clients to dazzle, so I can wear whatever I want. Casual Fridays? Ha! That's for you working stiffs. For me, Casual Fridays have been replaced with Casual Years. I like it. I like it a lot.

Even though I wear a T-shirt almost every day, I try to mix up the routine. Even stay-at-home dads are fashion conscious to a point. I don't like to wear white T-shirts on consecutive days -- one day a white, the next day a red, the next a gray, yellow, blue, even a tie dye here and there.

One morning I was flipping through my stack o' wardrobe, and I made a disturbing discovery. Even though I have many T-shirts of varying colors and styles, there are two themes that are decidedly over-represented in my repertoire -- Rush and Virginia Tech.

For those of you who don't know, Rush is a rock band that has been around for more than 30 years. I started listening to them when I was about 10 and haven't come up for air since. I went to college at Virginia Tech, graduated in 1992, and regularly return to Blacksburg for football games. The team stunk out loud when I was a student, so it's fun now to enjoy the wave of a successful program.

Between Rush and Virginia Tech, I counted no less than 16 T-shirts, roughly 80 percent of my total T-shirt population. How did this happen? Where did all of these T-shirts come from? Did I actually buy all of these? Are they reproducing?

On that morning, I had nine Rush T-shirts in my dresser. Yes, I know it's ridiculous. Here's a sobering thought: I recently had a mere eight Rush T-shirts but decided that eight simply wasn't enough, so I bought a ninth. Is the day too far off when I'll convince myself 10 is a nice round number?

The same goes for Virginia Tech T-shirts. I counted seven that morning, and that doesn't include the sweatshirts, hoodies, pullovers, rain jackets and a toboggan hat I bought for those late fall ESPN Thursday night games when the icy wind kicks up over the Blue Ridge Mountains and slices through Lane Stadium like a shoe-hacking Ginsu.

Now that I've taken stock of my Rush and Hokies shirts, I find myself very conscious of when I wear them. In the mornings I now ask myself, "Did I wear a Rush shirt yesterday? Was it a Tech shirt? I don't want to wear two Rush shirts in a row. That would look, well, silly.

When we go to the park later today, the stay-at-home moms will laugh. Did I wear a Hokies shirt the last time we went to the park? Maybe I'll just wear this Rush shirt today and go to a different park." (I have lengthy conversations with myself. Remember the boxcars in the train?)

Based on the preponderance of Rush and Virginia Tech in my wardrobe, I must conclude that I have a bad habit of buying T-shirts when I'm in a really, really good mood. Is that so awful?

Rush shows always get me in a great mood -- the atmosphere, the music, the anticipation, the like-minded fans, the hours of grinning after the encore. Is it any wonder that such a good vibe leads to an occasional impulse buy?

Hokie games are similar but different. They're fun, but it's an aggressive fun. As any football fan will tell you, there are moments during a game -- particularly a game you're attending -- when you feel like you could take a human life. Passions run high, and crushing disappointment is just a field goal away. Thankfully today's Hokies win the great majority of their home games, and usually I leave the stadium satisfied and smiling. The good vibe again leads to an impulse buy, another T-shirt featuring a maroon bird. I don't think I've ever bought a shirt after a loss. What would be the point? Bad mojo.

Speaking of college, I'm reminded of a joke. How many frat boys does it take to change a flat tire? Two; one to change the flat, and another to design the commemorative T-shirt. I suppose I can't poke too much fun at those dimwitted frat boys. If Rush or the Hokies ever offered a tire-changing shirt, I'd probably buy it -- if I were in a good mood.

It's a good thing the hospital where we had our kids didn't sell T-shirts. I would've snatched those up in a second.

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David Spates is a Knoxville resident and Crossville Chronicle contributor whose column is published each Tuesday. He can be reached at davespates@chartertn.net.