Declan Feeley, Humor Apprentice

 

Today marks a sad day in the history of Notre Dame.  With much sadness and a heavy heart, I tucked away my Nantucket red shorts into a corner of my closet.  My eyes dimmed as the closet doors slammed shut, and I was forced to don those hated long pants.  For weeks, my friends had begged me to give in and adopt those smothering shackles of fabric.  They had remarked on my shivering kneecaps, my blue tinted calves and my frostbitten toes.

 

Yet, I had remained strong.  Nay, nay!  I cried out.  I would not give in to the tyranny of long pants.  My people are an ancient and proud race.  We, the inhabitants of the sun drenched beaches of Los Angeles, would never forgo our board shorts and sandals.  To wear more than a t-shirt and flip-flops would be an affront to our good name, and would never be allowed by a true son of Cali.  Come death or high water, I promised myself, I would remain firm.

 

Unfortunately, as a freshman at Notre Dame, I soon learned that Mother Nature was a far deadlier opponent than I had first suspected.  I tried to accommodate her in different ways, while still remaining true to my heritage.  For a time, I adopted high socks in place of my usual bare flip-flops.  That lasted for a while, before a strong northeasterly wind caused me to have more goosebumps than skin on my daily walk to DeBartolo.  After that, I turned to home remedies, experimenting with chugging hot tea or cider before sprinting to class.  These solutions worked admirably, but as the temperature continued to drop, my options began to run out.

 

Perhaps, I mused, the answer to my problems could be solved if I could just return back to LA for a little while.  Perhaps a week-long recharge of my batteries would allow me to return to ND with a new sense of resolve, and fight against the threat of long pants.  With much joy, I was able to journey back home for midterm break.  While the inhabitants of ND huddled in libraries and coffee shops, I was frolicking in the sand, soaking up the 80 degree sun and clear skies.

 

I reemerged from my vacation reinvigorated, ready once again to fight back against the trend of winter coats and UGG boots that had emerged in my absence.  Two undershirts and a jacket, I scoffed?  I would have been toasty in a long sleeve shirt!  Yet, my blustering lacked any conviction.  Slowly yet surely, I was losing the battle.  Memories of LA faded to the background as the chill set in.  My fortitude depleted, my reserves exhausted, I began to consider the possibility of a conditional surrender.

 

The surrendering of my sword occurred on October 29, 2013.  I had fought the good fight, but my demise had always been all but certain.  As I pulled up my jeans and struggled to roll up my long socks, I shed a single tear for my loss.  How many others before me, I reflected, had also thought they could resist the Siren call of Mother Nature?  How many others to come after me will also fall prey to the torture of turtle necks, the chains of coats and the shackles of socks?

 

Yet, to all those future lost souls, I have but one piece of advice: Have faith.  Though the winter may seem to last a lifetime, spring will come.  Soon, the sons of Cali will rise again.  Before long, our t-shirts and tank tops will once more reign supreme.  Though the cold may batter us to our knees, it can never take away our hope.  Long live flip-flops!

Declan Feeley “feels ‘ee” needs to return to warmer climes soon…get it? Contact him at dfeely@nd.edu.