God, country and Notre Dame T-shirts
Kate Rowland
Senior Columnist
Of all the things that Notre Dame has changed about me, my wardrobe has probably benefited the most from my time here. On the other hand, perhaps benefited isnÕt the right word. Suffered is maybe more like it. In just four short years I have gone from owning a collection of T-shirts that represented a wide variety of retailers, like J.C. PenneyÕs and Goodwill, to owning a collection of tee shirts that represents Notre Dame.
During a very touching and emotional ÒLast Time Doing Laundry in the Dorm,Ó I was folding my quasi-dry clothing and I noticed that I havenÕt paid for a single one of these shirts. I would wager that two-thirds of your student activities bill goes to T-shirts, because SUB knows that free T-shirts are the hallmark of any good (read: well-attended) event. Where tee shirts are being handed out, there flock the students. Credit card companies know this, too.
People will wear any kind of nonsense on a shirt if you give them it free. I have seen people wearing shirts that say in big dopey lettering: ÒDo you YAHOO?Ó My mother, an avowed ice-cream disliker, wears a shirt that extols EdyÕs in graphic form. I personally own a shirt I got in the mail from someplace called TWEC. I didnÕt order it or pay for it, as far as I can tell, and donÕt have any idea what TWEC is. The shirt, in fact, says on the front: Òwhat the heck is TWEC?Ó It just showed up in the mailroom one day. Of course I wear it. It is a shirt, after all, and one more shirt means one more day I can go without doing laundry.
Or how about those Late Night with Coach D shirts? Those are really, really ugly shirts. Even Coach DÕs attractive face cannot detract from the fact that these shirts have a full-sized black-and-white disembodied head on them. But people wear them. People whose wardrobes consist entirely of Abercrombie and Fitch or J. Crew will wear truly funny-looking NDToday shirts (that light blue color is so flattering) if you are handing them out. The same people who would never dream of wearing white shoes before Easter or Memorial Day or whenever will, of course, wear CBLD shirts at any time of year.
I hit a T-shirt crisis at Christmas time as I was preparing to pack for a visit with my grandparents in Tecumseh, Mich. I would be visiting for four days, so I only needed to bring a couple of changes of clothes. But as I looked at the pile of T-shirts IÕd brought back from Notre Dame with me, I couldnÕt decide what to bring. I wanted to wear my Domer Run T-shirt to show off my stunning (not-quite-last-place) finish there. I wanted to bring the neat Dillon Hall shirt IÕd gotten from my date to their Christmas dance. I certainly wanted to show off my St. Joseph County Disaster Drill T-shirt and to tell them about the plane crash. The AnTostal shirts and the ÒEat an OrangeÓ Scurvy Boy T-shirt I won from the dining hall would make them laugh, too. I couldnÕt make up my mind, though. I had this stack of shirts that represented things I was intensely proud of or about which I had really fond memories, and I couldnÕt decide which I should leave behind.
Six months later IÕm in the same bind. What should I take with me when I go? I know that some of them, like the filthy, torn and ratty Lyons Hall Volleyball Tournament shirt I have worn to every sporting event I have played in since I got it, for free, freshman year, need to go. Their time has come and gone. But IÕm not ready to send them off to Goodwill yet; IÕm not even ready to cut them up and make a T-shirt quilt out of them. IÕm still too proud of the events they advertise and of my participation in them.
It will be hard to start wearing these shirts in places where I have to explain what ÒThe ShirtÓ is, or where Lyons Hall is, or what an SYR is. Sure, IÕve had my practice with explaining what the heck TWEC is (ÒIÕm telling you: I donÕt KNOWÓ). But I want to show off the accomplishments these shirts represent. Not only my personal feats, such as losing the Mara Fox Fun Run, but the accomplishments of all the people who put time and energy into planning the Breast Cancer Awareness Baseball Game, Late Night Olympics or the Irish Iron Classic.
ThatÕs the kind of place this is: nearly every shirt I have that IÕve gotten for free has come as the result of a lot of work on someone elseÕs part, and nearly all of them are events planned for the sake of a good cause. The people who bought the shirts are concerned about whether or not the people who made the shirts are paid a livable wage. ItÕs a good feeling. ItÕs the kind of feeling, and people, that Notre Dame has produced.
So, to close, an open note to Monk: Give back to the students who have done so much for this school. Fling Graduation 2000 shirts into the crowd at halftime of Commencement.
Kate Rowland wants to say hi to her mom, Eileen and her dad, Frank and her grandparents in Tecumseh, because she has never done so in a column before. She wants to point out that she dredged 800 words of meaning out of a T-shirt, and encourages you to try before you start making fun of her.
The views expressed in this column are those of the author and not necessarily those of The Observer.
All Viewpoint Stories for Friday, May 19, 2000
