By ED HUNGNESS
Local columnist
March 08, 2009 12:00 am Recently I was sitting by the hearth enjoying a crackling fire and watching the snow drift down through the boughs of our big white pine. I had a steaming mug of hot coffee and all seemed right with the world. It's times like this, with the television turned off, that my mind begins to wander and sometimes I get inspired to write. For some reason, my thoughts were on neckties. Don't ask me why, maybe it was something I saw in a newspaper ad or a magazine. I began thinking about the fate of the once-honored necktie. As a lad, I sometimes wore a necktie, usually one of my father's, when we went to church or while attending a school dance. All proper young men were supposed to wear a tie to these occasions. I can remember not being able to tie it myself, so Dad would stand behind me and tie the knot while both of us observed the operation in the full-length mirror. It seemed so complicated at the time. It was much later that I realized how difficult it is to tie a necktie around someone else's neck. When I attended college and majored in business, I wore a tie whenever my schedule included a business class. If you were studying business, you needed to look businesslike. You really do feel more professional when wearing a tie. After graduating, I entered the working world starting as a salesman trainee. I was now required to wear a suit and tie along with well-shined dress shoes. My professional attire was topped off with a company-issued briefcase, which seemed to go wherever I did. I can recall thinking how grown-up I looked, but I still felt like a kid inside. As time passed, I moved up the ranks and my collection of ties advanced right along with me. I accumulated so many ties that soon I needed a tie rack to hang them on. Every birthday and Christmas, someone would give me a new tie. Children love to give dad a tie on Father's Day. Even though the rack was full, I still said, "Oh, what a beautiful tie. I really like this!" And so the number of ties grew quickly. The tie manufacturers had a sneaky little trick that they played on those who were required to wear a tie. Every couple years, they would start to make the ties wider. Soon your ties would be too narrow and out of style. These ties would come off the rack and would be replaced with "fat" ties. Being the smart fellow that I was, I didn't throw the "skinny" ties away. They were stowed away in the back of the closet for the day when thin ties came back in style. The only problem was that the tie makers were smarter than I was. When the skinny ties did come back in vogue, they would introduce new patterns and fabrics, still making my old skinny ties out of date. A guy just can't win! Still, I hung on to all the ties ... through "thick and thin." Twenty years later, someone in the fashion world who probably didn't like wearing ties came up with a new concept called "business casual." This may have caused some job security concerns among tie makers. Business casual resulted in a big drop in the sale of suits, dress shirts and, of course, ties. It did, however, delight millions of men who had grown weary of getting dressed up every day for work. Ties continued to hang on racks in closets around the country, waiting for dress requirements to run full circle. In the midst of all this fashion upheaval, I reached that glorious age of retirement. As my wife and I planned our move to northern Michigan, we started to consider what we would move and what would be left behind. We wanted to simplify our new life, plus we were doing the moving ourselves. Garage sales were held and we became ruthless in the downsizing process. On our final packing day, I encountered the tie rack. There it hung on the wall where for years it had resided. I looked at the dust coating the tops of the ties, wondering when I had last worn one. I thought about our new life in Fife Lake and wondered when, if ever, I would need a tie. I unscrewed the rack from the wall and selected three ties from the lot. I chose one for weddings, one for funerals and one for graduation parties. After making my choices, I marched out to the trash bin and happily deposited the tie rack and its entire contents within. I had never experienced a more liberating feeling in my life and knew that I was now officially retired. Years have passed and I must confess that I cannot remember where I put those three saved ties, nor do I miss them. Ed Hungness and his wife owned their cottage on Fife Lake for six years before moving there after his retirement in 2005. His writing draws from life experiences and a love for the outdoors and northern Michigan. He can be reached at edhungness@yahoo.com or care of the Record-Eagle.
—
Copyright © 1999-2008 cnhi, inc.
Photos
Ed Hungness