Generations of men have walked down North Pearl Street during lunch to buy socks at B. Lodge. I joined their ranks this week. Even Garrison Keillor, visiting Albany 20 years ago, hit Lodge’s for a pair of socks. Red of course — and naturally, he talked about it on the radio.
We have a sock crisis in our household. It seems that black socks have been mysteriously vanishing. My guess is that the boys are helping themselves to whatever they can find, declaring the socks communal property. Calling it stealing would be too harsh.
Some cite the old axiom that the washing machine is eating them, but I know better. So I plopped a dozen pairs of black socks on the counter.
The man at Lodge’s has seen it all. He claimed he had this problem once and solved it by getting black socks with a red stripe on them. “My sons wouldn’t take them because they didn’t look cool.â€
Maybe I’ll try that. I’m way past worrying about looking cool — and besides, a guy who spends too much time thinking about his socks has bigger issues.
B. Lodge rules! I used to go there every few weeks or so when I worked downtown.
Boys taking their fathers’ socks is nothing new. In my family, it only ended when my father passed away. The remaining socks in Dad’s possession were bequeathed to my eldest brother. You don’t have issues, Rob. This is normal for our age.
I’ve been considering segregating my laundry from the rest of the household. Some of my underwear is missing too, but that’s just too odd to write about.
We don’t even bother matching them anymore. Just try to grab ones that are somewhat similar. Ditto for the white ones. God are we sad!