The Haberdasher Instructs His Sons
by Stuart Dischell
The sock has been known to march without the foot. Its steps are
lighter and much more clever than the slipper. A man is nothing
without his shoes, he must wait for warmer weather or trudge through
the streets with his feet wrapped in newsprint.
When the shoes and socks depart, the pants are soon to follow. They
have no need to walk; with each leg a wing they soar over the avenues
and boulevards, much the way a goose seeks passage in the barnyard.
The shirt is another story. Like its brother the jacket it is capable
of a strong wind. It can button its wrists and hand to a branch
as long as it likes.
Luckily for the man, the hat and cap have been domesticated. They
have found where their loyalties rest.
Oh my children, if I spoke of women I could mention the countless
handkerchiefs and scarves abandoned in parks by ladies of all lasses
and backgrounds.
The underwear has never left of its own volition. When a man removes
the cloth closest to his skin, he is wary of its presence. He does
not display it like the blazer or necktie.
He will hide his briefs or boxer shorts in a drawer or the basin
of a hamper as though they contained a confession. They are always
the first to be immersed in water.
Yes, more so than the pants, shirts, shoes, or socks, when the underpants
realize their historical task and follow their comrades, the man
will be truly vulnerable.
Stuart Drischell, a graduate of Antioch College, is now enrolled in the creative writing program at the University of Iowa. (Spring 1975)
