"OLD BLUE THREADBARE ROBES"

Why is it in literature ( or on TV) when someone is ill with the flu, sitting on the end of the couch by an inhaler, sniffing, coughing, and sneezing into a handkerchief, mumbling incoherent words, eyes watering, staring at the floor with a "why me?" look, being most miserable; that they are always wearing "an old blue threadbare robe?"

Can't any of these people afford a new robe from Macy's or maybe even...Walmart?

Yet these people present such a cozy picture of warmth, security, leisure, self-
pampering, idleness and freedom, accountable to no man, relaxed, glassy-eyed from their medicine, remote in hand, all set for the day...in spite of their abject misery.

But wait, go back with me 60 years to childhood. (Adults are grown-up children anyway, aren't they?!) The little boy has a sore throat and a cough and his mother announces: "Today you have to stay home, you're sick." And the little boy, actually somewhat of an actor, says: "Oh no, shucks, do I really have to?"

So he puts on his old blue threadbare robe, gets out his Lincoln Logs, his Tinker Toys, his dominoes, his Old Maid cards, puts them in the middle of the floor, all the while sniffling, coughing and sneezing, the smell of Vicks in his nostrils, sipping on his Delaware Punch ( a  grape soda pop in the 40's, favored by sick kids...) After a while he may get bored and look for his "Dave Dawson, RAF Spitfire Pilot" book, work some on his model airplane, or take a break and listen to "Would  You like to Be Queen for a Day? On the radio at 1 p.m.

Life is tough for sick kids...or adults...in blue threadbare...robes.


by Mil

Sent from my iPad