What’s big green

and lucky?

During my senior year of high school, I tried to go 90 days without wearing the same t-shirt twice. It was a challenge, a memory game that I played with myself. Plus, I loved t-shirts, had tons of them and knew if I pulled it off, it would be an accomplishment and a story to tell in those certain situations where adding a small personal detail comes in handy.

I would go so far as to say that I was a t-shirt junkie at the time. I would frequent the Honesdale, PA Salvation Army Super Center weekly—searching the cheap racks of color-coordinated shirts that seemed to stretch for miles. I would ask for t-shirts as gifts, buy them on trips and order them from catalogs. I built up quite a collection. But the majority of them came from trips to the Salvation Army.

There is a certain smell that lingers in a Salvation Army store. It’s very old and musty, but at the same time clean and sanitized. It’s a strange combination and it you hits squarely as you enter. At first, it would make me dizzy and I would have to browse quickly. But after awhile, I grew used to it, maybe even grew to like it, and was able to spend more time perusing the shirts before making my selections.

My favorite purchase of all time was a long-sleeved white shirt that said in big letters on the front, “What’s Big Green and Lucky?” On the back, there was a large green rabbit’s foot and an ad for a bar in Chicago. It was a dollar more expensive than the $3.99 short-sleeved varieties, so I paused before adding it to my small collection of purchases. I crossed quickly to the mirror, holding the shirt against my chest, gazing at the mirrored letters reflected back at me.

I wasn’t sure that I actually got the joke but I found it hilarious anyway, and smiled about it as I paid the familiar cashier and got into my car. I tossed the shirt into the backseat and pulled out of the parking lot, realizing then that I was going to like the shirt and probably wear it quite often.

It was the kind of shirt that got a reaction out of people. Their eyes would scan down the front; they would think for a moment, and then say, “I don’t know, what is big green and lucky?” I would turn slowly around and they would see the rabbit’s foot and chuckle, probably thinking the same thing that I had upon first laying eyes on it, “Is that funny?”

As for my challenge, I made it. At least I tell people I did. It got really hard at the end, and it started to seem more and more pointless. Late in the game, I found myself buying shirts simply to surpass the 90-day benchmark.

I’ve gotten rid of many of my shirts since, donated back to the very same Salvation Army, going for more of a quality over quantity approach. I’ve also realized that the more shirts you have, the more laundry there is to do and the easier it is to lose them.

I haven’t seen that particular shirt in three years. It has gone the way that all things you lose go. It has disappeared, simply forgotten somewhere or loaned to someone. It’s been so long now and I’ve moved multiple times that the chances of it turning up are slim to none.

Perhaps it’s gone and continued the cycle. I certainly got my fair share of use out of it. (I started wearing it more after my 90-day challenge) Maybe it’s moved on to a new owner, who hopefully appreciates it as much as I did.

And I have a new favorite shirt, a gray-and-blue-striped button down. I bought it at a flea market on Avenue A a year ago. It’s pretty spiffy.