He said it was his father’s and to just throw it away. It had been hanging there since he moved in – about 20 years! I asked if I could have it and he said ‘sure’ in that tone that lets me know he thinks I’m crazy.
I carefully washed it a few times – it was encrusted with dust, but otherwise in good shape and it fits me. In one of the pockets there was the stub of a yellow pencil. I left it there. It’s now my writing jacket! Lots of pockets for a notebook, pens, and camera, and room to collect a few treasures.
It inspires me and makes me feel close to my grandfather. I think it would like a trip back to the farm.