You know, I really don't mean to sound like a spoiled whiner here. But last week I was thinking back at some of the shit my parents would pull with seemingly no rational basis. "Because I'm your father, and I said so" is a really shitty reason to give to somebody. You may as well say "I have no good reason why; I just want to impulsively control you". Shit, if your kids can out-debate you, then maybe -- just maybe -- you should think over whatever it is that you're enforcing.

And again, I'm not saying "Oh boo-hoo, I had such a miserable life." So readers: please keep that in mind before you send me any hate mail or pissing contest challenges (i.e. "You think YOU had it bad, well I..."). Now then...

Before Gloria left one morning, I happened to show her my denim jacket. I wore that when I was about 14, but I kept it stowed away over the years. It still has all these band logo patches on the back. Led Zeppelin, AC/DC, Metallica, W.A.S.P., Anthrax. And some stuff personally drawn on with magic markers, especially favorite bands that I couldn't find any patches for ANYWHERE (you simply could not find any merchandise from Alice Cooper or Black Sabbath in the stores). The front on the jacket used to sport tons of those buttons/pins. More band logos, but some humor pins as well. And if you were a heavy metal fan in 80s, that's exaclty what you were wearing: a denim jacket sporting one or more patches of your favorite bands. The center of the jacket had a huge back patch. It was usually be some album cover.

To a lot of people at the time, these jackets were more than just jackets, though. At 14, it was an identity. Have you seen bikers and the like who have denim or leather jackets that are highly personalized? Maybe with tons of pins, patches, or airbrush work? And you see somebody wearing a jacket like this 365 days a year? It's the same idea. The jacket was an extention of yourself. Sure you could say that we were following some meaningless subculture fad, but you still tailored it to your own individual tastes by advertising the bands that YOU liked. And again, at 14, these were not just bands. For a lot of teens at the time (and I'm sure it holds true for many even now) music was one of the only things one found solace in. You were too old for toys, too young to drive, too inexperienced to find a summer job, too broke to buy a guitar, not as focused and well-liked by the teachers to be student of the month, you would have your weekends interrupted by trips to religious services you were highly doubting, you would get harrassed by the cops at the mall...but damn, you at least had that music. With that powerful sound, and those incredible fantasy lyrics you knew you'd never hear in the over-abundant top 40 music. And you showed that great appreciation by donning the T-shirts and logos of those bands that really spoke to you. But the jacket was all YOU. Letting somebody else wear it would feel as strange as letting somebody wear your underwear.

Also, if I had to pick one particular object from my life that was the ultimate source of fights with my parents, this jacket would be it. No question. Length of hair was always a source of argument. And later, presence of facial hair too (I had to wait to college to grow a goatee, otherwise I was threatened to be grounded). Certain t-shirts, and of course the fact that I simply didn't believe in xtianity and they insisted on dragging me to mass every weekend. Those certainly all led to domestic fights, even a rare few violent ones. But the JACKET...oh boy. That was an issue every time I left the house for anything other than school. And my brother, who was 2 years younger than me, already knew why: my dad's biggest fear was running into a client in public and being seen with one or two less-than-wholesome looking sons. So whether it was going to baseball game or a trip to a computer store, reaching for that jacket would just get the arguments going.

To be continued...