The General's Overcoat

by

Fred Narvey

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"The collar and lapels of my tweed coat are frayed," I said to my wife. "I think I should take it to a tailor and have it art mended.

"Art mending would cost you a fortune," my wife replied. "I wouldn't have it repaired at all You've already had that coat for twenty years. It's so worn, I'd be ashamed to give it to the Hadassah Thrift Shop."

"lt. might not be good enough for Hadassah, but it's good enough for me," I said. "A coat like this would cost, at least, $400 today."

"I know how you become attached to your clothes, dear," my wife replied "Shall I remind you about our passport pictures?"

"Please don't," I pleaded. I knew what she had in mind.

It happened like this; We were planning a trip to Europe, so we had our passport pictures taken. Five years later, we were planning a trip to Israel and we had to renew our passports, complete with new pictures.

When my wife compared the new pictures with the old ones, she started laughing and couldn't stop.
"What's funny, what's funny?" I asked.

"Look at those pictures," my wife exclaimed.

"I've already looked" I said. "We are aging very gracefully."

That isn't why I am laughing, dear. It's because you put on the same suit, shirt and tie that you wore for the last passport pictures, five years ago."

You know what? She was right, as usual.

But let's talk about the overcoat. True, I bought it about twenty years ago for $100. That was a lot of money in 1974. It was a double-breasted, gray tweed coat that extended well below my knees. It had big, black buttons, and a huge collar and lapels t hat made me look like an army general.

After wearing the coat for ten years, the collar an lapels became somewhat grayed, so I had a tailor cut the collar and lapels down a little bit, but not too much. After all, I didn't want to be demoted to a "private". The tailor did his work and the c oat still made me resemble an officer, not a general but like a captain, at least.

As the years went by, the winters seemed to get colder, so I had the coat fully-lined with chamois. That was good and it was also bad. The coat kept me warm as toast but it also seemed heavy as lead. But a captain doesn't complain, so I wore the coat f or another ten years.

Now that I am eighty years old, the coat really feels heavy. I know I should dispose of it, but my heart wouldn't let me. How could I say good-bye to a devoted friend that accompanied me all across Canada when I was a commercial traveler? That coat shel tered me from frost and blizzard for 20 winters.

I was motoring back to Winnipeg from Val d'Or, Quebec one winter, and ran into a blizzard between Hearst and Long Lac, Ontario. The snow was so deep that the car stalled and couldn't move an inch. The blizzard didn't let up several days so I sat in the car. Fortunately, I had a thermos full and some snack food for it was four days before I was rescued. If it wasn't for my tweed coat, I would have frozen to death. That coat is like a member of the family. Should I discard it? No Sir!

I decided to take the coat to a tailor, who did art mending, in a commercial building, on Henderson Highway.

"All right, if you insist," my wife said, "but if the charge is more than twenty dollars, forget it."

The tailor shop turned out to be a combination of repair shop and bridal salon, operated by a petite, charming lady from Barbados.

"Yes, we can fix the collar and lapels for you, sir," the lady said. "Our charge for art mending is eighteen dollars an inch." I was taken aback.

"This is a coat, not a bridal gown, madam," I said.

"To be sure," she laughed, "but the price is still eighteen dollars an inch."

How much would you charge for regular mending?"

"That will cost you thirty dollars."

"You've got a deal," I said, "When may I pick up the coat?"

"Nine o'clock Thursday morning."

That sounded fine to me so I thanked her and left.

My wife asked me what the repairs were going to cost, so I told her twenty five dollars. I figured that a small compromise of the truth wasn't really lying, so my conscience was clear.

I was back at the tailor shop, Thursday morning, nine o'clock sharp, and found a note on the door that read: "Back in one hour." Well, I didn't want to make another trip, so I went into a cafe, down the street, and ordered a cup of coffee and a cinnamon bun. Between eating, sipping the coffee and telling the waitress some of my old jokes, the time passed rather pleasantly.

The lady tailor turned up shortly after ten o'clock and was very apologetic."

"I'm very sorry, sir," she said, "I had to deliver a wedding gown."

"Far be it from me to hold up a wedding," I replied, "but if I spent any more time in the cafe, they would charge me rent."

"I like your sense of humour!," she chuckled.

"So where is my coat?"

"I'm sorry, Sir, I've been so busy with wedding gowns, I didn't get around to working on your coat. I promise it will be ready for you tomorrow morning."

"That will be fine," I said.

When I got into the car, there was a paper under the windshield wipers, blocking my vision. "Oh, oh," I thought, "What's this?" Sure enough, it was a ticket from our efficient police department, advising me that I had overparked in a one hour parking zon e. So now the repair job cost me forty five dollars, not thirty, and that's not including the $1.60 for the coffee and cinnamon bun.

I decided not to tell my wife. Why should I upset her? Tomorrow would be a better day.

Friday is always a good day for me. My wife prepared a delicious breakfast for me, as she has done every morning for the past 57 years. I was in high spirits. 'The tweed coat will look terrific on me,' I thought.

I was smarter this time. Instead of parking in front of the tailor shop, I parked around the corner, in a neighbourhood district, where they weren't any parking signs, whatsoever.
My charming little tailor had my coat ready for me, and it looked fine. I was delighted with her work, and I whistled all the way back to the car. Another good Friday!

Before getting in to the car, I happened to look at the wheels - I couldn't believe my eyes. All four hubcaps were missing! "Don't panic, don't panic," I kept saying to myself. "Its a theft. Autopac insurance will pay for it."

But my other self kept whispering: "There's a hundred dollar deductible clause." So now the repairs on my beloved cost me one hundred and forty five dollars.

I refused to allow an unfortunate incident like this to ruin my day and came home, all smiles. "My tweed coat looks beautiful honey!" I said to my wife, triumphantly.

My wife examined the coat very thoroughly and finally said: "That's very good dear. Now we can give the coat to the Hadassah Thrift Shop."