Tabasco ties

My dad's large selection of colorful ties. Note the childhood favorites of mine. 

When I was little my family lived in a small house, so the options for a game of hide-and-seek were few and far between. One had to get very creative when playing such a game, especially when your siblings also knew the house like the back of their hands and thus knew every nook and cranny to search.

The choice spots for hiding were (in order of hiding expertise required): the cupboard under the bathroom sink, inside the dress-up clothes trunk, and behind the row of ties in my parents' closet.

Alas, I have given away my favorite hiding places and now have lost all further hide-and-seek games if I play with any of you, but this story does have a purpose in this blog post other than revealing my closely guarded secrets to winning this childhood game.

In The Mezzanine my favorite footnote of the entire book is on page 27. It's a rather lengthy footnote (as Baker's footnotes go), but it is my favorite footnote because of all the ideas and emotions that this footnote contains. It's a footnote! It's supposed to be boring, additional information, right? Wrong.

At first Howie describes his love for glass doorknobs and the click-click noises of the turning signals in cars, but then he turns the footnote into an interesting explanation as to why he loves glass doorknobs so much. It's as if he's also discovering for the first time that the reason he loves glass doorknobs is because his father hangs his ties on doorknobs. Howie and his father share a love for quality ties, and in this footnote Howie seems to realize just how meaningful of a memory one doorknob can bring back for him.

I found this passage endearing. I loved getting to see Howie's character through his interactions with his dad and his fond memories of his dad's odd habit of hanging ties on doorknobs. Another reason why I loved this footnote so much was because it brought back a memory of mine from my childhood--the hide-and-seek games where I hid in my parent's closet.

--------------------

My sister squints her eyes shut and then starts counting very fast.

"1, 2, 3, 4,"

"Not so fast!" I yell, annoyed.

"5, 6, 7, 8," she says, even faster just to spite me for pointing out her cheating habit.

"If you're going to go that fast then at least give me 'till 30!" I shout over my shoulder as I dash to the closest hiding spot--the closet in my parents' bedroom.

I run in, shut the door as fast as I dare, and sit and wait for her to find me. I look around and the only interesting items in the closet, other than my mother's shoes, are my father's ties. He has the typical boring business ties. The blue, gold, and red are lined up next to each other (the green one is gone to work today), but there are better ties on the rack that stand out to my childish curiosity.

I rub the fabric of the tie where Charlie Brown is chasing his runaway kite as I glance at the tie covered in Tabasco bottles. I wonder to myself what exactly Tabasco is, and observe that the bottle looks like it could hold something alcoholic, but that would seem scandalous for dad to wear on a tie, so I'm left to ponder what the bottles contain and why they're worthy for a tie design¹.

I'm just moving on to the horribly orange and purple UT tie when suddenly the closet door is slammed open allowing bright light to stream in around the shadow of my sister's curly blonde head.

"Found you! You're it!" My sister giggles, as if she knew I was there all along.

I walk away from my hiding place, trying to look calm and collected, confident that I would beat her in round two.

I found her under the bathroom sink.

---

^{1. It's now 10 years later and I still have no idea why anyone would want a tie with bottles of Tabasco for a design. I think that my dad used to have a mild obsession with the condiment. He would pour obscene amounts of red hot sauce on any food item--from green beans to meatloaf, there was nothing that Tabasco couldn't make better. I think it was because the extra spice made it easier for dad to swallow his vegetables, and therefore provide a good example for his children at the dinner table. Except nowadays, instead of Tabasco sauce, all of his children spike their food with horrible mounds of ketchup. Coincidence? I think not.}