The Two Pants

I don't remember why or when the other day I remembered that for a long period of my life I only had at most a pair of jeans. This seemingly irrelevant memory brings back a number of other, hopefully more insightful, memories of my childhood.

Life was way simpler back then. Jeans were part of the uniform during primary and high school. The uniform consisted of: black leather shoes, white socks, (dark) blue jeans, a black or brown belt, a white polo shirt (a specific model that one had to buy at the high-school, at the beginning of the academic year). The uniform was mandatory: every morning, teachers would check that one would wear it correctly. (A "decent hair cut" was also considered as part of the uniform, by the way.)

As I mentioned before, every academic year I only had two pairs of jeans. The first pair was the "old one", which was inherited from the previous year. Hence, it wasn't not that blue, and often was patched around the knees, as I was good at breaking pants while playing football. My mom was always keen to patch broken jeans and socks. One of the joys of beginning a new academic year was the idea of having a new pair of jeans, one that wouldn't have any of the embarrassing marks and defects of the old pair. The two pairs of jeans were to be used alternatively, one week one pair, the following week the other pair. (This would give enough time to wash and iron the jeans.) I remember that my mood was a bit better when using the new pair of the year, as somehow they made me feel more elegant and confident. So cool. Wearing the good, new pair, however, entailed some responsibility, as one had to be careful of not doing things that would break or ruin them too fast. The weeks with the "old pair" were then not that bad, as one could care less about the jeans when playing and getting dirt: in any case, the "old pair" would be history at the following June, when the academic year ended. Some sort of "pant-based" equilibrium, you could say.

While having only two pairs of jeans for going to school was probably a consequence of the financial limitations of my family during part of my school life, I don't keep negative memories of that period. Rather on the contrary, all the memories I have go beyond any negative aspect: together they represent the many efforts that my parents did to make sure that I would receive a decent education. (Not a trivial task when you have four kids.) Now that I have apparently reached the end of my formal education, it seems only fair to acknowledge, once again, all of their efforts.