This article was originally written in March of 1991 and subsequently published in Cairn that year. After a lot of positive feedback I later published it in the IOCA newsletter.
I had written it because at the time the wearing of "Red Shirts" in the club had basically died out. At the time very few members were wearing them anyplace, not even meetings. So, I got on my high horse and wrote this. It may not have as much bearing now as then, but I still think it's an interesting article.
I was sitting on the bed in my mom's guest bedroom folding my laundry (ayup, college student at heart, do laundry at parent's since it is cheaper... :-) when I picked up my Red Shirt. This is not just any red shirt, rather it is a very special one. I've had it for six years, and it shows. The right sleeve has been patched twice and is destined for another patching. The edge of the cuffs have warn away and have had to be resewn. Buttons are falling off, (the cuffs and pockets no longer button) and yet I won't give up that shirt. Why? It's certainly not the type of shirt that you wear to keep warm, or to a formal dinner, yet I love it. Why?
Well, history and identity are two of the reasons I won't give up this shirt. That shirt has been on a lot of trips with me. It has gone to 5 Fall Lake George trips, 3 UVM conferences, 4 IOCA Spring Conferences, and numerous hiking trips.
In the summer of 1987 I hiked a portion of the Appalachian Trail from my dad's house to Dalton MA. On the second day, the trail got a bit confusing and I ended up bushwacking. It had gotten hot, so I removed my Red Shirt, and stuffed in between the pack and frame. About two miles down the trail I stopped for a break. Taking off my pack, I realized my shirt was missing. I knew I must have lost it. I was in a dilemma. That day I knew that I had to hike at least 20-25 miles to the next campsite. I was not too keen on hiking back and looking for it. This would only add to my mileage. After a few minutes of thought, I realized I had no choice but to go back for it. So of course I did, and of course I found it. Much later that day, as dusk was coming, I realized I'd never make the next campsite. And on top of it, the last four water sources had been dry or contaminated, so I had no water. Eventually, biting the bullet, I took a few steps off the trail, pulled out my sleeping bag, and lay down. For a pillow, what did I do, but use the red shirt.
That is some of the history of the shirt. But what about identity? Well on the left arm is my Rensselaer Outing Club patch. I earned that my freshman year. On the right shoulder is my IOCA patch. Each has meaning to me. It also shows others where I'm from and who I'm associated with. The red of the shirt along with the red and white of the patch is the color of RPI. The hat is representative of a Swiss guide's hat. On the other shoulder is the IOCA patch. The green backrground represents the outdoors. The pot and fire is dinner after a long day of hiking, and the axe is obvious. But, what is that other thing in the IOCA patch? It's a dough stick. Wrap some dough around a stick, hold it over a fire and cook.
But in all, the shirt and patches remind me of people. Over the years I've met a LOT of people from outing clubs all over the Northeast. It's not unusual to go hiking some place and find people from another outing club. From there, it's easy to find something in common to talk about. I've visited colleges all over the Northeast, and have had people from many different colleges visit me. I know people who have travelled across country by staying with people in outing clubs or alumns of outing clubs.
This article is wandering, but I think you get the idea that the shirt means a lot to me.
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