They sat indiscriminately on the clearance rack marked down like a thousand percent from their initial price. Hand towels. Not your everyday, ordinary, run-of-the-mill hand towels. These happened to be emblazoned with the letter "P" as in the first letter of my last name. I contemplated my good fortune for a millisecond before tossing a pair in my cart.
A couple bucks later, I returned home with monogrammed towels.
Monogrammed towels. I figured I'd finally hit the big time. Never mind they cost like a dollar apiece. It's not everyday you find yourself confronted with the possibility of a monogram. A monogram practically sings your name - at least the first letter of it. Monograms are snazzy and jazzy and they look like they were made just for you - or for someone who shares your initials. I hung them in the bathroom and waited for company to come over.
Meanwhile, I took the old, worn and tattered towels that had previously hung in the bathroom and tossed them in the back of a cupboard. No need for friends, family or visiting strangers to witness our tatters.
I took another proud look at my new monograms and the metaphor hit me: People are like towels. (Which I realize is actually a simile, but bear with me here.)
We display our monograms for the world to see and hide the tatters in places where they aren't as likely to be noticed. Whether it's a monogram on a towel, a logo on a purse, a label on the back of jeans or a brand name on the back of a vehicle, we work hard to show only our best side when the world's camera comes in for our close-up.
Consider social media. When's the last time someone posted "At a youth sporting event. My kid struck out twice - so far," or, "Report cards came home today. Billy got three D's. At least it's better than last semester." How about, "TV dinners again tonight," or, "Please excuse the lack of beach photos. We can't afford a vacation this year."
Posts like these aren't going to happen because these examples simply aren't monogram material. They're probably all real and all accurate, but they are not our choice for sharing in public because we consider them our tatters. We don't want people to see our worst; we want them to be aware of our monograms. In all honesty, life is messy and flawed. There's just no need for anyone to know about it.
If you visit, and you use my bathroom, you might note I have monogrammed towels and you might surmise that I have money to purchase monogrammed towels. From there you might jump to the conclusion that I have an orderly and well-organized household where the laundry is never piled high, no one ever gets angry, homework is done on time every time without any reminders from parents and the towels remain perfectly folded on the rack monogram side out never becoming soiled or tattered.
And if you thought that, you would be wrong. Despite the monograms bought on clearance, I have my share of tatters - and piles of laundry. And it is okay. Even during the best times, life is not meant to be perfect. I've discovered over the years that good can be great and so-so might be the best you're going to get, depending on the day. But even when it's two steps forward, one step back, you are making the effort and that counts for something - whether you are monogrammed, tattered or, like most of us, somewhere in between.
And when you have friends and family who love you, tatters and all, it begins to make sense and you understand there's no need to hide behind a monogram. Not really. Even though I still do sometimes.
But I'm working on it.
- Jill Pertler's column appears every Thursday in the Times. She can be reached at pertmn@qwest.net.
A couple bucks later, I returned home with monogrammed towels.
Monogrammed towels. I figured I'd finally hit the big time. Never mind they cost like a dollar apiece. It's not everyday you find yourself confronted with the possibility of a monogram. A monogram practically sings your name - at least the first letter of it. Monograms are snazzy and jazzy and they look like they were made just for you - or for someone who shares your initials. I hung them in the bathroom and waited for company to come over.
Meanwhile, I took the old, worn and tattered towels that had previously hung in the bathroom and tossed them in the back of a cupboard. No need for friends, family or visiting strangers to witness our tatters.
I took another proud look at my new monograms and the metaphor hit me: People are like towels. (Which I realize is actually a simile, but bear with me here.)
We display our monograms for the world to see and hide the tatters in places where they aren't as likely to be noticed. Whether it's a monogram on a towel, a logo on a purse, a label on the back of jeans or a brand name on the back of a vehicle, we work hard to show only our best side when the world's camera comes in for our close-up.
Consider social media. When's the last time someone posted "At a youth sporting event. My kid struck out twice - so far," or, "Report cards came home today. Billy got three D's. At least it's better than last semester." How about, "TV dinners again tonight," or, "Please excuse the lack of beach photos. We can't afford a vacation this year."
Posts like these aren't going to happen because these examples simply aren't monogram material. They're probably all real and all accurate, but they are not our choice for sharing in public because we consider them our tatters. We don't want people to see our worst; we want them to be aware of our monograms. In all honesty, life is messy and flawed. There's just no need for anyone to know about it.
If you visit, and you use my bathroom, you might note I have monogrammed towels and you might surmise that I have money to purchase monogrammed towels. From there you might jump to the conclusion that I have an orderly and well-organized household where the laundry is never piled high, no one ever gets angry, homework is done on time every time without any reminders from parents and the towels remain perfectly folded on the rack monogram side out never becoming soiled or tattered.
And if you thought that, you would be wrong. Despite the monograms bought on clearance, I have my share of tatters - and piles of laundry. And it is okay. Even during the best times, life is not meant to be perfect. I've discovered over the years that good can be great and so-so might be the best you're going to get, depending on the day. But even when it's two steps forward, one step back, you are making the effort and that counts for something - whether you are monogrammed, tattered or, like most of us, somewhere in between.
And when you have friends and family who love you, tatters and all, it begins to make sense and you understand there's no need to hide behind a monogram. Not really. Even though I still do sometimes.
But I'm working on it.
- Jill Pertler's column appears every Thursday in the Times. She can be reached at pertmn@qwest.net.
