Call me cheap or be kind and say I'm thrifty.  Either way, I've worn a whole batch of coats that were handed to me by others.  I'm currently using a lovely wool navy coat, long and with a belt, that my mother-in-law decided was too heavy for her narrow frame.  I can only sport the navy a few days of the year here in Texas, but it surely is warm and classic-looking--even though my body is a bit fatter than Gloria Deane's. This coat doesn't feel like mine.  Every time I wear it to church, the other women say, "oh, what a lovely coat!" It sounds like, "since when do you own an expensive thing like that?"

   My ordinary jacket is a lined polyester number, quite washable, but originally waterproofed so my children could stay dry at Texas A&M games.  We bought four such jackets on discount, and this one was Krystal's.  Of course, she's wearing something  more maroon now. But I remember the day we stood standing in the pouring rain at Kyle field, watching a game which became an endurance test, when we were thrilled to have the jackets.  Even so, we were damp and chilled, ready for hot chocolate, by half-time.  The dilemma is that the tickets are so expensive that you hate to leave, and die hard fans just stand there (no umbrellas allowed) and fight the shivering.  Who knew that such an occasion would imbue her with love for Aggieland?  Who knew

     One year when I was in dire straights for warm outerwear (and pregnant with ourn first baby), I asked my husband for a warm trench coat for Christmas.  My miraculous mother-in-law reached in the closet and pulled out hers, barely worn, a khaki London Fog, which she said I could have. 

    Now, this is a truly remarkable woman.  Through the years she has chided me for being chubby, wondered why we had so many children, clucked her head at our homeschooling, and still she pulls money and checks and coats out for us. 

     Going back a few years, I brought from Pennsylvania a collection of jackets after Mom passed away from her closet.  They were pretty well worn, but I couldn't ditch them at first.  They still had gum wrappers in the pockets from when she was well enough to walk around the block in Ligonier, Pa.  I never really could wear those jackets.  They made me too sad.  So I bundled them up for the Purple Heart to collect.  However, I had a tan jacket of Daddy's that I wore a lot.  It smelled of Beechnut tobacco and his Old Spice aftershave, wonderful sweet smells, to me. 
    When I was a child at home in Pennsylvania, my parents needed to buy me a coat.  In the 8th grade, your coat means everything about how you look getting on the bus.  It covers up your clothes and lets everyone know how much money your family has, especially if you have a cute hat and gloves with it.  My mom took me shopping to Sears where we had a charge account.  I guess a coat was one of the few things she couldn't whip up on a sewing machine for me.   I tried on several that I really really liked. 

    "Look at this pretty one," Mom said.  It was purple, midi-length, and it had some kind of Southwestern trim on it.  I could see she liked it because the price tag was $9 less than the other coats.  I very quickly made up my mind to like it, because after all, I was getting a new coat, when Mom made do year after year with an old one.  If I had the right scarf, you wouldn't even know that the neck didn't fasten just right, and the hood was more ornamental than useful, it was so big and floppy.  When I was all decked out for the bus stop down to my zippered boots, I could hold my head up.  The snowy wind might sting my face, but my trunk would be warm all the way down to my calves.   

         The  purple coat warmed me as Jeanie and I walked up to the bus stop, while my brothers ran ahead.  We whispered secrets to one another, she tried to flirt with Mark.  I didn't use it for sled-riding, because it was a nice coat, not a vinyl utility-type coat.  It protected my  clothing, but would have flapped right open to the elements if I were zooming prone on a sled.

           I wore that coat up until it was no longer fashionable in high school, because I never grew out of it.  For awhile, I wore sweaters under thinner coats, which made do until I got my majorette's letter jacket in 11th grade. Now, that was a jacket to flaunt.  I wore it until I was a married woman in Texas, pregnant with Julie Ann, and my husband thought it was time to put the majorette's jacket way back in the closet.

     And now I have more money, and I still find it hard to go purchase suitable jackets and shoes and new underwear.  I have been too poor and cheap too long.  The children are in college, we are no longer scrimping to buy them school clothes, and I still love my hand-me-down jackets. Maybe it's time to look at something expensive and leather, and then another nice light rain jacket for this semi-tropical weather.  For heaven's sake, how many days of the year will I need a leather jacket?  This hooded navy blue thing, glorified wind-breaker will probably do just fine.