When I was a young boy my parents would buy me a new suit every Easter. Not only was I out-growing the one from the previous year, but it was important to have a new suit to wear to services on Easter Sunday. Always the same store (Robert Hall) but more importantly, always the same color, a dark blue.
After getting countless dark blue suits, I spoke up. I just wanted one that was a different color. I wanted white, green, charcoal, brown, any color but dark blue. I begged and pleaded and finally, they gave in. We went down to Robert Hall as always and we picked out a suit. It was a light shade of grey. I felt grand and could not wait for Easter morning to come. Finally the big day arrived. I dressed early and I looked sharp – white shirt, red tie, new black shoes and one fine looking suit. It was pretty warm that Easter so I didn’t need a top coat. I hastily ate breakfast, got dressed and headed outside to show all my friends and neighbors my new ‘not dark blue’ suit.
As I mentioned before, it was rather warm that Sunday and the snow and ice had all but melted away. I ran to the door, swung it open, bolted outside and slipped on what little ice was left. I fell down the five steps and tore a huge hole in both knees of my new not dark blue suit. My father took me inside and quickly sewed up the knees, muttering something about the grey suit, and we got ready for church. In church, my skinned knees bled through the pants, and the suit that had the hasty patched knees was highlighted by crimson stains. The next year, and from then on, I returned to the dark blue suit.