Family Ties

When I wake up each morning and look beyond the clock on the nightstand toward my closet, the first thing that I see are the bright colors of more than 100 neckties hanging there, somewhat sorted by color and occasion.  And there are at least a half dozen shoe boxes tucked in the corner of the closet, each containing two layers of carefully rolled ties.  Ties that I’ve worn infrequently over the past five years, but which I know will be among the last things standing (or hanging there) when I finally arrive at the sentimental stage of decluttering.

I don’t think that I am overstating in claiming that those neckties once were a central part of my professional identity, which, for better or worse, once was the central component of my personal identity. I realize that’s a heavy burden to place on a small piece of silk, cotton, or heaven forbid, polyester.

Apparel oft Proclaims the Man

I think this short story exemplifies how much a part of me those ties were:

Phoebe Winter, a long-time friend and colleague, and I worked together on TACs, SCASS, and other various projects throughout my entire career – including one weeklong road trip from Raleigh to Richmond to Washington, DC. Not too long ago, she commented on the crucifix and St. Francis medal I wear on a gold chain around my neck – asking if they were new. They were not.

In fact, I’ve worn them every day since 1984 when my fiancée, now my wife, gave me the medal and the crucifix was passed down from my grandmother – brought back from Italy by her sister (most likely tucked into a pocket sewn into the inside of her dress).

After a little thought I realized, that was the first time Phoebe had seen me without a tie.

Packing for a business trip always meant taking the time to pick out the right ties – which was more than making sure that I had a tie to match my signature pink shirt. Depending on the meeting or conference, I had to consider that:

• Roger Trent and I would be discussing our latest ties at the MCAS TAC meeting – his tie honoring his grandchildren was a favorite.
• I would be comparing “Save the Children” ties with Laurie Wise at beginning of NECAP TAC meetings. I’m fairly certain that the reason I called on Laurie first at nearly every TAC meeting was that he was always champing at the bit to speak after reading the meeting materials on his cross-country flight and I knew that I could count on him to start the conversation off in the right direction; but it might have been our shared taste in ties.
• If a topic on the agenda looked a little hairy, I might need the Ralph Marlin “get your ducks in a row” tie that I picked up at an Inner Harbor shop in Baltimore. That same tie also worked for “if it looks like a duck” and “isn’t everything just ducky” presentations.
• Or I might need my Sesame Street “see no evil, speak no evil, hear no evil” tie (thankfully, those cases were few and far between).
• If things were likely to get heated, a calming pastoral tie might be appropriate; but in other meetings I might need to wake people up with something loud.
• Would the meeting overlap (or come close to) any holidays or special events like Opening Day of the baseball season or the Final Four?
• Should I pack a tie likely to match the style of the Jessica du jour – oh, there were so many Jessicas?

The list could go on. Rule of thumb: Pack five or six ties for a 3-day meeting. It’s good to have options.

Like the aforementioned tie from the Inner Harbor, trips also afforded opportunities to collect more ties. A few off the top of my head:

• The tie with old-time presidential campaign buttons from the Sheraton gift shop in Vermont.
• The lighthouse-themed tie from Rhode Island.
• The U.S. Constitution tie from Philly.
• A couple of bolo ties from San Antonio and Boulder.
• And my final tie purchase: the LSU tie I picked up after power-walking and grabbing dinner at Chick-fil-A at the Mall of Louisiana in Baton Rouge.

Changing Times, Changing Ties

While my connection to ties has remained constant, my taste in ties has evolved.

For a brief period of time in the 1980s Liberty of London silk ties with elaborate, bold designs became my tie of choice. A future academic (who was also my brother-in-law for an even shorter period of time) informed me that these were known as tenure ties.

I returned to Liberty in the early 2000s for their cotton ties with their simple pastoral prints. My prize piece from that collection is the tie I purchased from one of the small shops in East Nashville on my first trip to the Nashville with my daughter. (It goes without saying that we were in East Nashville because Taylor Swift had identified it as a favorite spot of hers for shopping and ice cream – the ice cream was very good.)

The very first tie that I bought for myself was a blue monogrammed tie from Jordan Marsh in downtown Boston. I went with a “C” instead of a “D”; not yet having learned the finer points of monogram etiquette from my wool-sweatered classmates in college – thanks, Liz. Most of my early tie shopping, however, took place across the street from Jordan Marsh at Filene’s. Think Boston’s version of Macy’s and Gimbels – which, one at a time, sadly became Macy’s.

Filene’s Basement was famous for its system of automatic markdowns (among other things). It was a rush to see a tie I liked, and then wait, hoping it would still be there the day that the next percentage markdown kicked in. As an aside, the basement at Jordan Marsh was known for its blueberry muffins – a half-dozen of which you could pick up on your way home at the bakery located next to the exit which conveniently opened directly into the subway. You would salivate at the sight of that distinctive Jordan Marsh bakery box tied with string in the way that only bakeries know how to do.

That Filene’s feeling, in many ways, was the same one you get after placing a bid on eBay – which became my primary source when my taste turned to vintage Jerry Garcia ties (gently used, nonsmoking home, detailed photos). I can’t name and wouldn’t even recognize a Grateful Dead song (two different skills as my assessment friends know), but I loved those ties. My “musical fish” tie was also a favorite of Michael Hock from Vermont. When I moved on to the modern-era Jerry Garcia art-inspired ties, the clearance rack at Kohl’s was the place I would find them.

And I would be remiss not to mention the Goodwill store in Middletown, CT near Wesleyan University, the source of several fine ties, the leather attaché case I still use, and the leather jacket I needed to fit in with the cool cats at NEERO.

But it’s the ties that I didn’t purchase myself that are the most special.

Ties That Bind

There is the Grinch tie, a holiday gift from Kit Viator during a very tense time at the beginning of the MCAS program, which along with my Rudolph and Clarice tie are the centerpieces of my extensive Christmas collection. (I gave Kit a bagel guillotine.) One year, my Christmas ties became my Christmas card.

My Harvard Band tie probably gets its own category.

There are the ties from my wife and daughter that became the go to gift for my birthday, Father’s Day and Christmas – most of the colorful Jerry Garcia ties shown above, but with the occasional SpongeBob thrown into the mix.

Can’t leave out the novelty piano keyboard tie – one of the last birthday gifts from my Mom.

Many of my most cherished ties, however, were passed down from my father and Uncle Frank. Actually the line of succession was usually from Uncle Frank to my father and then to me. Uncle Frank was not a bargain basement shopper – only top of the line and the latest styles for him, which from the 1970s and 1980s means that there are some pretty wide and wild ties in my collection (but they went well with the thick white belt).

Beyond the ties themselves, there are the memories of making the jump from clip-on ties to elementary school to sharing my father’s ties, and him teaching me to tie a knot, first a simple four-in hand, then the full Windsor, before eventually settling on the half-Windsor as my knot of choice.

So many stories. So many memories. So many ties. It’s going to be hard to let go.

Header image by Hans from Pixabay