"Just Me and My Jacket"
By Jerry Dennis
Excerpt from A Place on the Water
Published by St. Martin's Griffin, New York, NY
Thanks Jerry!
"My wife can't understand why I
choose to remain ignorant of outdoor fashions.
Contrary to what she thinks, I do not hate clean
clothes or hope secretly for opportunities to roll
around in mud. I must admit I prefer well-worn
clothing, but I don't necessarily want it unwashed.
It's true that as a child I slept with my dog, but
not until he had dried off from the day's explorations
and never if he had rooted around that day in the fish
that sometimes washed up dead on the beach near our
house. I might be a bit of a slob, but I have certain
standards.
The truth is, when it comes to
clothing, I just can't keep up with technology. While
many of my friends have been converted to Gore-Tex and
Thermax and those other super-synthetics that were
discovered accidentally in corporate labratories and
tested in outer space, my favorite article of clothing
remains a red-and-black wool hunting jacket. It is a
jacket essentially unchanged since the days of
ax-slinging lumberjacks. My grandfather worn one just
like it, along with red wool pants that fastened snugly
around his ankles. Seeing me in my jacket, Gail once
suggested that in a previous life I inhabited an
unchinked log cabin near James Bay and passed my days
on snowshoes, tending a trap-line, and making smoked
jerky out of hunks of moose meat. It's an attractive
idea.
Any jacket as dependable, warm,
and comforting as mine is worth defending to the
death. Unlike the modern synthetic models I've
handled, mine is pleasantly heavy. You know you're
wearing it. It's as satisfying to heft around on
your shoulders as a well-loaded packpack. It's
durable in the manner of good leather boots and it's
equipped with so many pockets I'm still discovering
new ones. Pockets are important to me. I like to
put my hands inside and be surprised at what I find:
a flattened pack of Doublemint, a book of impotent
maches, pinecones, fossils, a berserk compass, one
jersey glove, a magnifying glass, a twenty-gauge
shotgun shell, a grouse feather, a packet of crumpled
and arcane notes to myself. Whenever any small but
important object somes up missing around home my
kids automatically look in Dad's jacket pockets.
Even if it's not there they come away contented,
certain to have discovered something of equal or
greater value.
These days, when so many people
outdoors appear to have stepped from the pages of an
L.L. Bean catalog and invariably examine the labels
on your clothing before they meet your eyes, it's
satisfying to believe fashion is irrelevant. I
want functional clothing that leaps beyond trends
to comfort and durability. My coat is appropriate
whether I'm canoeing on brisk September mornings or
fishing for December steelhead; it works equally well
for grouse hunting, cross-country skiing, hiking, or
cutting firewood. When camping I roll it inside a
cotton sweatshirt and it becomes a pillow. In a
pinch I could use it to smother a brushfire or
signal a rescue plane. I can wad it, beat it,
wipe my hands on it, drag it through brambles,
toss it in a corner, stand on it barefoot while
drying my socks over a fire, even spill Craig
Date's industrial-formula Texas chili on it
without fear of spontaneous combustion. If I
were desperate enough I suspect I could boil it
down into a nutritious broth. It never berates
me for the abuse it suffers and it stays warm
even when wet. And when wet it smells - faintly,
just enough to recall old friends - like a wet
golden retreiver.
I realize my jacket needs
washing, and has for several years, but the label
under the collar says it must be dry-cleaned and
I don't trust the chemical processes used in dry
cleaning. Besides, you can't actually notice it
needs washing unless you get very close. The red-
and-black color scheme is designed to mask stains,
and when dirty the wool improves in wearability and
maybe even increases in insulation value.
My jacket and I will probably
never be asked to model for the cover of
Gentleman's Quarterly, but we can live with
that. I figure it's the fashion world's loss."
~ Jerry Dennis
For more of Jerry Dennis's insights, read the
excerpts from the River Home
below.
You Might Be A Fly Fisherman If...|
River Home, Part 1
River Home, Part 2 |
Creative Counting
Best By Test|
E Pluribus Unum
All About Entomology|
Fly Tying Types
Brook Trout
Going crazy; the World's Smartest Fishing Dog (#1)
Crazy Man|
|