See this old shirt? I wore it to my son’s first baseball game tonight. Not because I wanted to—it’s just what I had on after work. I’m a welder, and my work shirts don’t last long. They burn, tear, and get worn out fast. This one’s been on fire more times than I can count.
I barely made it to the game after work, but I got there. And as I stood there, I could feel people staring at me—looking me up and down like I didn’t belong. Yes, my shirt had holes in it. But those holes are from long, hard hours of work. That shirt has helped me pay the bills and feed my family.
People need to stop judging others by what they wear. I’m not poor, and I’m not lazy or worthless. I work hard. I don’t have fancy clothes—I’ve got work clothes and bedtime clothes. That’s it. But guess what? I’m the only parent who sponsored my kid’s team this season.
So where were your suit and tie when the team needed support?
—Jacob Ray