My grandfather's jacket.

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The Story's in the Seams - Part Two

I never knew my grandfather. He passed away long before I was born, and all I have to remember him by are faded photographs and stories that I've heard from the rest of my family. He's the one who got my family to the United States, and all that I have, I am thankful to him for first and foremost. From what I've been told, we would've gotten along great.

Now, my grandfather was an incredibly frugal man. This was to be expected from someone who lost all of his possessions when he escaped North Korea atop a steam train and immigrated to Argentina, where he and his family worked a farm and market. He endured incredible hardship, gained and lost more times than I could ever imagine, but somehow managed to provide for his family, even sending my mom to USC.

My grandfather didn't leave behind much when he passed away, but by some strange instance of chance, I ended up with this handsome suede jacket of his. It is incredibly comfortable, and I marvel at the amount of life that has gone into it. The lining around the collar is worn through and discolored by the sun, and paint on the zipper is long gone, and the entire piece is broken-in beyond belief.

You see, even when he had money, the last thing he spent it on was clothes. He wore only the most inexpensive of items - threadbare shirts and jackets that would fall apart regularly. But he always had his eye on this one jacket, and one day, after months and months of longing, he finally bought it. It was the least he could do for himself after his years of perseverance and hard work. He's wearing this jacket in most of the pictures that I've seen of him - this jacket was probably his most prized possession.

The jacket he left behind.