Craig Shockley was born and raised in Colorado. Always a bit confused, he joined the Army instead of the Navy to see the world. But nevertheless, even wrong decisions sometimes work out. During a twenty year career he found himself "visiting" Germany three times, Korea three times, Viet Nam twice, and Panama once. In between overseas tours he resided in several stateside posts but never quite long enough to get caught up on network TV shows. The military has no sympathy.
His military career behind him, but apparently being a slow learner, he went straight back to work for the Department of Defense as a civilian. After another twelve years of toil and drudgery for Uncle Sam he finally said, "Enough is enough", packed up his 401K savings, and set out for parts unknown, which turned out to be Deming, New Mexico.
He now resides with his faithless companion, Ivan the Stupid, an AKC registered German shepherd who really isn't stupid, but is hyperactive and suffering from doggy dementia. An opportunist, Craig is keeping an eye out for an attractive young lady who is willing to commit to a totally noncommittal relationship. He has had very little success in this area.
Craig manages to keep himself busy by participating in area "Cowboy" shooting matches - usually losing badly, drinking beer every Thursday at the VFW, and harassing the editor of "The Deming Headlight" with regular contributions. Although his humorous articles are generally very well received, this may actually be a reflection on the Deming population.
Craig is greatly interested in getting huge sums of money for his work. In fact, his aim is to become as filthy rich as Dave Barry. He says that anyone reading this who would like to help him achieve his goal (the rich part, not the filthy part) is more then welcome to send along an e-mail. For those who feel telephone communications are more appropriate, his phone number is also shown. If there's no answer, call again in a couple of hours. Except on Thursdays, of course.
My ideal in high fashion involves a tee shirt with a pocket, blue jeans, loafers, and one concession to style - leather suspenders. Sometime back I found ordinary belts just wouldn't do the job.
We expect appliance repairmen and plumbers to show some posterior cleavage. Many believe the look is part of union uniform requirements. In my case, using a belt produced the same look, but I wasn't garnering many compliments - or broken appliances either. Figuring a photo of my backside wasn't ever going to grace a centerfold, suspenders became an item of necessity.
Here in New Mexico, most folks take a casual approach to style. It's a matter of common sense more than anything else. Thanks to sun, wind, and dust, that heavy wool suit is pretty far down the list of clothing choices.
Occupational conditions also influence what we wear. While the new car salesman may feel at ease wearing a short-sleeved white shirt, tie, and sport coat, it's a sure bet the mechanic out in the garage wouldn't.
Howard spends most of his working day outside maintaining machinery. At times this can be dirty, grimy work. Howard carefully chose his work clothing with job conditions firmly in mind.
In the summer he wears a tee shirt, shorts, and sandals. In the winter it's a tee shirt, jeans, and work boots. He uses a heavy shirt for a jacket. His baseball cap is one for all seasons. "That sounds practical," you say, and of course you're right. Howard though, has carried practicality, and maybe we should add frugality, to a place where most of us have never dreamt of going.
The dream is that clothes should be self-cleaning. Scientists spend many long hours valiantly searching for materials that will repel dirt and grime. Is it a combination of rayon and mutant cotton? Will it be a weave of newly discovered polymers and yak wool? Those scientists, with lots of hope in their hearts, keep looking. Meanwhile, Howard believes he's found the answer. I was enjoying a cool brew when Howard sidled up to the bar after he got off work. I would have edged over to give him plenty of room but I was already in the corner.
"You know about dogs," Howard said.
"Yeah, I've got one," I replied.
"What keeps 'em looking clean all the time?" Howard wore that Perry Mason, "Never ask a question you don't know the answer to" look.
"Well," I said, "they have a naturally oily pelt and if they get into dirt or mire it just kinda slides off their fur after a while. If it didn't, every dog in the world would look like a mud ball with eyes."
"Right," said Howard. "And where does this oil come from? From little oil glands just like our sweat glands?"
"Well, dogs don't sweat, that's why they pant," I said. "But other than that, I guess they're like humans."
"Right again," Howard said smugly. "It's the oil in sweat that makes my system work. I only have to change these work duds once a month. You see any dirt on this shirt?"
By this time my eyes were watering so badly I could've been peeling onions in an outhouse. "Nope," I said truthfully. "But where'd you get a gray tee with camouflage markings?"
"It's a stunner ain't it? It's kinda like I designed it myself," Howard said and thankfully turned away to chase down the bartender. On saving laundry soap, Howard's discovery may have more than minuscule merit. As a matter of practicality, think of the time saved by not having to choose fresh work clothing daily.
Even if you flung them into an unfamiliar corner the evening before, sniffing out clues to their location would be easy - assuming they weren't standing up in plain sight.
As I see it, the major drawback in Howard's discovery is the way he applies it. A lone maintenance man toiling in the hot Southwestern sunshine is one thing. A lone maintenance man interacting socially immediately after work is something else again. Especially when he interacts with one fashionably attired in a clean pocket tee, clean jeans, loafers, and stylish leather suspenders.