You can tell a lot about people just by looking at their T-shirts. Seriously. Take a mental inventory of the shirts you’ve collected over the years. They tell your story better than most autobiographies.

This wasn’t true with my father or grandfathers. The only T-shirts they owned were plain white Fruit of the Loom undershirts. Few people ever saw them because they were exactly that — undergarments. Fashion statement? Hardly. They were about as exciting as white socks.

That started changing about a century ago. The U.S. Navy began issuing T-shirts as undershirts with uniforms in 1913. Off duty, sailors and Marines often peeled off the outer uniform and wore only the T-shirt. Workers soon followed suit, appreciating a lightweight shirt that could survive a hard day’s labor. By the Great Depression, T-shirts had become standard attire for farmers, ranchers and laborers.

Then Hollywood stepped in. Marlon Brando famously wore a fitted T-shirt in “A Streetcar Named Desire,” turning an ordinary undershirt into a symbol of rugged cool. A generation later, Arthur “Fonzie” Fonzarelli proved you could wear a plain T-shirt under a leather jacket and instantly become the coolest guy in the neighborhood.

By the rebellious 1960s, T-shirts had evolved into wearable billboards. Protest slogans, company logos, vacation souvenirs and concert merchandise became common. Then came the memorable catchphrases. Remember “Frankie Say Relax”? Whether you understood it or not, somebody you knew likely owned the shirt.

Today, Americans spend more than $5 billion annually on T-shirts. That’s a lot of cotton and a staggering amount of questionable fashion decisions.

Incidentally, the T-shirt gets its name because, laid flat, it resembles the letter T. Not exactly the most creative naming process, but it stuck. The term entered American English in the 1920s and soon earned a place in the dictionary.

Now, think about what’s hanging in your closet. Your T-shirts reveal your favorite sports teams, schools, employers, vacation destinations, concerts, charities, races, restaurants and hobbies. They advertise the causes you support, the jokes you find funny and, occasionally, your questionable taste in humor. You may think you are a private person, but your laundry basket is quietly telling everyone otherwise.

In some ways, your dresser drawer says more about you than social media ever could. At least you know what’s in your dresser. What’s floating around on Facebook’s servers? That’s anyone’s guess.

Today’s T-shirts feature everything from inspirational quotes to political opinions to messages that should probably stay indoors. Will we ever return to the days when T-shirts were just plain white undershirts?

Don’t bet your shirt on it.

Have a fantastic Friday, and thanks for reading. 

Shane Goodman
Editor and Publisher
Times Vedette digital newsletter
shane@gctimesnews.com
641-332-2707

Panorama Days wrapped up this past weekend, and what a ride it was.

The festivities got off to a soggy start Friday evening as rain and wind crashed the party. Fortunately, Erica Matthies and the Panorama Days planning committee were ready. They made Pivot No. 1, moving the evening activities indoors to the Owl’s Nest, including the announcement of Citizen of the Year.

That honor went to Andy Randol, and it is difficult to imagine a more deserving recipient. Few people have done as much for Panora and Lake Panorama as Andy, both professionally and personally. Around here, meaningful community projects usually involve Andy somewhere along the way. There is a good reason for that. He has a remarkable ability to listen, offer thoughtful advice and quietly help get things done. He has helped me more than once, and I know many others could say the same. Congratulations, Andy. You have certainly earned it.

Saturday’s parade once again proved why it is the signature event of Panorama Days. Fire trucks rolled by. Race cars rumbled through town. Confetti floated through the air. Children darted from curb to curb in pursuit of enough candy to keep local dentists employed through Christmas. It is impossible to leave that parade without smiling — or checking your shoes for Tootsie Rolls.

Mother Nature was not quite finished, though. The Lake Panorama Ski Show was scheduled for Saturday afternoon, but high winds made performing too dangerous. That led to Pivot No. 2. The show moved to Sunday, when blue skies and calmer water finally gave those talented skiers the stage they deserved. It was warm along the south shore, but longtime spectators know sunshine is simply part of the ticket price.

One of the biggest surprises of the weekend was the car show. I cannot remember seeing so many beautifully restored classics and customs gathered in one place. Roger Dorr deserves tremendous credit for making it happen. He promoted the event relentlessly, personally reached out to car clubs and convinced owners to make the trip. A little sunshine certainly helped, but Roger’s effort put those gleaming chrome bumpers on Main Street.

The fishing derby was another highlight, thanks to Scott Stanley and the Fin and Feather organization. It remains one of the best ways to connect the lake with the community while introducing young anglers to a pastime they can enjoy for a lifetime.

Of course, Panorama Days is much bigger than any one event or one volunteer. It succeeds because dozens of people quietly spend countless hours planning, organizing and, when necessary, improvising. Festivals are easy to enjoy but difficult to produce. This year’s proved that the best community events are not defined by perfect weather. They are defined by dedicated people who refuse to let a few storm clouds rain on everyone else’s parade.

Have a terrific Tuesday, and thanks for reading.

Shane Goodman
Editor and Publisher
Times Vedette digital newsletter
shane@gctimesnews.com
641-332-2707

“Find a penny, pick it up, and all day long you will have good luck.” Unless, of course, you find one jammed inside your washing machine. There is nothing lucky about that.

I recently discovered a 2019 penny — or what was left of one — wedged deep in a crevice of our washing machine tub. Armed with a pair of needle-nose pliers and the concentration of a heart surgeon, I carefully worked it loose. It felt like playing the old game “Operation,” except there was no buzzer, and, thankfully, no electric shock. The washer survived. So did I.

What fascinated me most was not that the penny nearly took out an expensive appliance. It was what the washer had done to the coin itself.

Like many people, I knew pennies had not been made entirely of copper for years, but I never paid much attention to when that changed. The washing machine, however, conducted its own scientific experiment. After countless spins, the thin copper coating had been scrubbed away from Honest Abe, revealing the dull zinc core hiding underneath. So much for the “copper penny.”

The U.S. Mint switched to zinc pennies coated with copper in 1982, ending generations of mostly copper cents. That makes 1982 one of those quirky years for coin collectors because pennies from that year can be either mostly copper or mostly zinc. During World War II, pennies were even made from steel so copper could be reserved for the war effort.

And now the penny has reached another milestone. This year, the U.S. Mint stopped producing new pennies altogether after years of debate over whether it made sense to spend more than a penny to manufacture a one-cent coin. Existing pennies will remain legal tender, but no new ones are rolling off the presses.

That means the penny I rescued from the washing machine may someday be remembered as a relic from a bygone era, even if it looks like it lost a fight with a cheese grater.

If you are wondering if those old copper pennies are worth more than a cent, the answer is yes. Their copper content alone is worth more than one cent, although melting them down for profit is prohibited. They also weigh more than today’s zinc versions, tipping the scales at about 3.1 grams compared with 2.5 grams.

Most of this information probably is not worth two cents to you. But the next time you hear a penny rattling around in your pocket, treat it with a little respect. It may be the last generation of a coin that jingled through our childhoods, hid beneath couch cushions and, in my case, nearly brought laundry day to a screeching halt.

Have a fantastic Friday, and thanks for reading. 

Shane Goodman
Editor and Publisher
Times Vedette digital newsletter
shane@gctimesnews.com
641-332-2707

A pain in the neck. Literally. That is what I deal with after flying in airplanes and sleeping in hotel rooms and trusting those fluffy pillows that look comfortable but somehow feel like sacks of mashed potatoes by morning.

As it turns out, I am not alone. During conversations with others, I keep hearing the same phrase: “I miss my own pillow.”

There it is, the adult version of a child clinging to a favorite teddy bear. We might pretend we are rugged travelers, but deep down, most of us just want our own pillow. Jolene and I have officially reached that stage of life. When we travel by car, we pack our own pillows. Years ago, I saw older people carrying pillows into hotels and thought, “I will never do that.” Well, here I am, marching through the lobby with a pillow tucked under my arm, looking like I am checking into a weeklong nap camp. The older I get, the less I care. Comfort beats cool every single time.

According to Sleep Junkie, nine out of 10 people say a comfortable pillow is an important part of getting a good night’s sleep. About 70% believe their pillow has a major impact on how well they sleep. Apparently, we have become a nation emotionally attached to stuffed rectangles.

Then there is the question of quantity. About 31% of people sleep with two pillows. More than 13% use three. Even more surprising, 27% pile up four pillows. Four? At that point, you are not sleeping. You are constructing a fort.

I fall into the two-pillow camp. I know the experts say one pillow is often better for neck alignment, but every time I try sleeping with just one, I spend the night rearranging it like I am solving a geometry problem.

Eventually, though, even the best pillow gives up. The Sleep Foundation recommends replacing pillows every one to two years to keep them supportive, clean and free of allergens. Polyester pillows may last only about a year, while latex pillows can survive closer to three years. Like so many purchases, quality usually costs more up front but lasts longer.

So perhaps my sore neck is not from the hotel bed after all. Maybe it is my pillow waving a little white flag. If that is the case, it may be time to go shopping. And if you happen to see me walking into a hotel carrying my own pillow, do not laugh. You will be doing the same thing soon enough.

Have a terrific Tuesday, and thanks for reading.

Shane Goodman
Editor and Publisher
Times Vedette digital newsletter
shane@gctimesnews.com
641-332-2707

The key to keys. That is what I am trying to figure out as I stare in frustration at the dozens of mystery keys scattered across my desk. I have absolutely no idea what most of them open. As tempted as I am to throw them away, I am convinced that the moment I do, I will discover one was the only key to something critically important. Can you relate?

Keys have certainly changed over time, and they keep evolving. Historians trace the first lock-and-key systems back thousands of years to ancient Egypt, where the keys were made of wood. Wood. Imagine carrying a wooden key ring around. Forget losing your keys — termites could have stolen them.

Today, vehicle keys are not really keys at all. They are oversized electronic fobs packed with buttons and features. They unlock doors, start engines, flash lights and probably communicate with satellites. At least it seems that way. They are convenient, but they are also about as pocket-friendly as a baked potato. And whenever I stick one in my pocket, I somehow manage to activate the alarm. Nothing boosts your confidence like your car announcing your arrival to the entire parking lot.

A few years ago, I wrote about my solution: clipping my keys to a carabiner attached to my belt loop. Problem solved. Mostly.

The catch was the office-door fob. I could not reach the scanner without performing a maneuver that resembled a circus act. Then I remembered Schneider, the maintenance superintendent from the 1970s sitcom “One Day at a Time.” Inspired by his key collection, I bought one of those retractable pull-string key holders. Success. For a while.

Then the string snapped.

So it was back to the carabiner. Now I stretch up on my tiptoes like a ballerina, hoping I can reach the scanner before my calf cramps.

Business owners know another key-related headache. Employees leave, and suddenly you are playing detective, trying to recover keys. If they are not returned, locks need to be rekeyed. That gets expensive. Years ago, we switched to electronic fobs at our office. If someone does not return one, we simply deactivate it. Replacing a building fob is inexpensive. Replacing a vehicle fob, however, can require a small bank loan.

I still miss the simplicity of old-fashioned keys. When I was about 5 years old, I accompanied my father to an abandoned farmhouse he planned to tear down. Old iron skeleton keys remained in several locks. The property owners told me I could keep them, and I proudly collected every one.

I wish I knew where those keys are today.

Recently, I bought a hand engraver and started labeling new keys: house, garage, shed and so on. It helps, but it does nothing for the collection of unidentified relics already hanging around.

So for now, I will keep them. Because experience has taught me one universal truth: the most useless-looking key in the bunch is almost certainly the one that opens something important. The challenge, of course, is remembering what that something is before I need a locksmith, a therapist and a tetanus shot to find out.

Have a great week, and thanks for reading.

Shane Goodman
President and Publisher
Big Green Umbrella Media
shane@dmcityview.com
515-953-4822, ext. 305
www.gctimesnews.com