LUKY;
My youngest son went to Cyprus for a holiday to stay with a former schoolfriend.
His elder brother saw him off at the airport.
"How did he get away?" I asked my son when he phoned later to report on the departure.
"Very well," the latter said. "Actually he had us in stitches about you."
"That's nothing new," I sighed mentally. "Why?" I asked resignedly.
"Well, he said the trip came twenty years late. It seems he had been asked by his friend and his parents to come with them to Cyprus when he was about ten. You had refused permission because you said he shouldn't be so beholden to his friend."
"I haven't changed my mind since," I said. "I don't believe that when you cannot reciprocate you should accept such generosity because in my experience it destroys equality between friends. But why was that so funny?"
"Actually that wasn't the funny part. That came when the friend returned from holiday and brought him back a T-shirt of Cyprus. It featured a picture of a lady without arms but otherwise well endowed. Not enough that you wouldn't let him wear it but, ever the pragmatist, you had to go and buy a Mickey Mouse transfer and iron it over the offending damsel. Only then he was allowed to put it on."
The reason why my children and I can't see eye to eye on many things is that I cannot appreciate the humour they find so richly evident in my actions.
I still can't see how any mother with common sense would let her little boy walk around in a T-shirt featuring the picture of a topless lady, regardless whether she be Venus de Milo or a model.
It is also the sort of thing that makes my eldest son regard me as an arch-Philistine. Actually I have seen the real Venus de Milo in the Louvre Museum in Paris. Moreover, unlike many others, I have viewed her back view as well as her front. It's a glorious sculpture and does very well in a showcase among all the other art treasures. But it didn't belong on the shirt of my little boy.
A lot of T-shirts are totally tasteless to my mind. One of my children once brought home one with a picture of a man who committed suicide. The slogan proclaimed that it was better to go out with a bang than a whimper. My unsophisticated husband wore it for months, smiling proudly whenever the kids would say:
"Way to go, Dad. Welcome to the New Millennium." He took it off the day he realised the way the man had died. I threw it out when the municipality collected the refuse bags and cheerfully paid up when the child to whom it belonged insisted I do so.
On another occasion I stood behind a young boy at church choir practice whose shirt loudly proclaimed: "Be wise. Condomise."
A new Commandment? I'm not ashamed to say I complained to the preacher who said he'd take it from there.
So there you have it. Not only am I a stick-in-the-mud. I'm not even apologetic about it. My TV remote control must be the most overworked little gadget in my house. I can never forget that when I stand before Almighty God to be judged, the writers of plays which do not uphold the Commandments won't be there to hold my hand. And I'll be in enough trouble as it is.
Catherine Nicolette
I deeply offended a young gentleman some months ago when I told him I found the image and wording on his T-shirt to be offensive and disrespectful to women.
Without wishing to be distasteful in a family blog, I was amazed to be faced with a T-shirt about necrophilia.
I expressed my concern that children - nay, anyone - be faced with the graphic image and wording. It had certainly taken my mind off having my early morning cup of coffee.
The gentleman was not pleased at my remark. I felt it only fair to sit down with him, and we had a discussion. The young man expressed that his T-shirt was his own private business and had nothing to do with me or anyone else.
I expressed my view that a slogan and picture on a T-shirt is a public statement for which the wearer is responsible - precisely because it is in the public domain for all to see.
The gentleman voiced that no-one had ever made a remark about his T-shirt before. I replied that people most certainly would have their own thoughts on the subject; I had, however, voiced mine.
The young man was appalled when I said that if I saw someone wearing a T-shirt with the abovenamed subject, I felt concern about the wearers' stand on the subject.
He hastened to assure me that he wore the T-shirt as a 'fantastical thought - something that could never happen.' He was also appalled that I could even think such a thing as necrophilia could even be possible.
I was happy to have voiced my opinion. I also expressed that such a T-shirt was unsuitable to wear in public to be seen by young children with growing minds. If we, as public, accept such T-shirts without comment, surely our innocent youth will eventually come to regard such subjects as the norm.
We came to an amicable understanding. The young gentleman said that he would give the matter some thought, as he had not seen it in that light. We greeted one another, and as I left the area another young gentleman caught my eye.
He was so grateful that I had said what he had been thinking . . .
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